Harry Potter: Awakening the Unknown

Diagon Alley bustled with life as Harry, Hermione, and Elizabeth Granger followed Professor McGonagall down the cobbled street.

Despite having been here before, the excitement never quite faded. Hermione had pulled out her checklist the moment they left Gringotts, double-checking every item they still needed.

"Since you already have some of your books, we won't need to stay at Flourish and Blotts for long," she noted aloud, glancing at Harry.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, just a few left. And we still need a cauldron and some potion supplies."

McGonagall led them toward Madam Malkin's first. The shop was quieter than usual, with only a few students standing on stools as enchanted needles zipped through the air, stitching robes with careful precision.

"Ah, new students," Madam Malkin said cheerfully as she approached. "Come in, come in. Step up here, dear."

Hermione hopped onto the stool first, standing straight as Madam Malkin began measuring her. The witch hummed approvingly, "You'll be easy to fit—good posture, balanced proportions."

When it was Harry's turn, the measuring tape wrapped around him automatically, and Madam Malkin frowned slightly. "You're a bit on the thinner side, dear. Your robes might need a few adjustments to sit properly."

Harry tensed for a moment, but he simply nodded. He was used to comments about his size, though he knew he would outgrow that image soon.

Mrs. Granger had noticed too. She didn't comment, but her expression softened as she exchanged a glance with McGonagall.

Once their fittings were complete, they left the shop heading towards their next stop Potage's Cauldron Shop. Harry quickly grabbed a standard pewter cauldron, while Hermione debated for a moment before grabbing the same one.

They picked up potion ingredients, scales, and telescopes, Hermione pausing every so often to inspect something new.

Flourish and Blotts was their last stop before Ollivanders. While Hermione could have spent hours browsing, they kept their visit efficient only picking up their required books.

As they stepped back into the street, the excitement between them was undeniable. Only one thing was left on the list.

McGonagall gave them a knowing nod. "Now, for your wands."

The group made their way toward the narrow, slightly crooked shop with its peeling gold lettering: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

The moment they stepped inside, the air changed. It was quieter here, the towering shelves stacked with thin, dusty boxes giving the space an almost reverent feel.

Before they could say a word, a voice drifted from the shadows.

"I was wondering when I'd be seeing you both."

Garrick Ollivander emerged from between the shelves, his pale eyes seeming to look right through them.

Ollivander's gaze settled on Harry first. "Mr. Potter," he said, almost in a whisper, as if testing the name on his tongue. "Yes… I remember every wand I've ever sold, and your mother and father's were particularly fine ones. Your father's—a mahogany wand, eleven inches, pliable… excellent for transfiguration. And your mother's—willow, ten and a quarter inches, swishy… a wand particularly adept at charms."

Harry swallowed, unsure how to respond. Something was unsettling about the way Ollivander seemed to be studying him.

"But," the old wandmaker continued, his eyes narrowing slightly, "I believe we shall find something… quite unique for you."

With that, he turned swiftly, running his long fingers across the shelves before pulling out a slender box. He flipped it open and handed the wand inside to Harry. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Supple."

The moment Harry's fingers wrapped around the handle, a warmth shot up his arm, like a fire that didn't burn. A golden glow emanated from the tip, illuminating the dimly lit shop for a brief moment.

Ollivander's expression shifted, his pale eyes gleaming with something unreadable. " How curious for the first wand to be a fit especially one with such a history," he murmured.

Harry hesitated. "What's curious?"

Ollivander studied him for a long moment before speaking. "The phoenix that gave the feather for that wand… gave only one other. The wand that feather resides in… was responsible for giving you that scar."

The words sent a strange chill down Harry's spine. He tightened his grip on the wand, but he felt no malice from it.

"Nevertheless," Ollivander said, stepping back, "the wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. I daresay this is a powerful match."

Harry nodded slowly, still processing the information as Ollivander turned to Hermione.

"And now, Miss Granger."

Hermione had been watching the exchange in fascination, but as Ollivander turned to her, she straightened, eager for her turn.

He studied her for a moment before selecting a wand and handing it to her. "Vinewood and dragon heartstring, ten and three-quarter inches. Slightly yielding."

The moment Hermione took hold of it, a faint, silver mist swirled from the tip, shimmering in the dim light. A breathless excitement crossed her face as she turned it experimentally.

"A strong and intelligent match," Ollivander noted approvingly. "Vine wands often seek those with great determination and curiosity. I expect you will do well with it, Miss Granger."

Hermione beamed, clearly thrilled by the selection.

As they paid for the wands, Ollivander gave them both a final, knowing glance. "Take care of them. A wand is a wizard's greatest ally."

With that, they stepped back out onto the bustling street, both still feeling the lingering effects of their wand experiences.

Just as they were preparing to head home for the day, a sudden commotion drew their attention.

A loud hoot and an indignant yowl rang out from the nearby pet shop.

Through the window, a snowy owl flapped its wings aggressively, seemingly displeased with its confinement, while a sleek, intelligent-looking cat prowled along the edge of its cage, its golden eyes locked onto the owl as if trying to challenge it.

Hermione immediately stepped closer, intrigued. "Look at them."

The shopkeeper, a middle-aged witch in dark green robes, sighed as she noticed their interest. "That owl's been refusing to bond with anyone, and that cat has a mind of its own—keeps scaring off potential buyers. Stubborn, the both of them."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance before stepping inside.

The snowy owl quieted when Harry approached, tilting its head at him in what felt like recognition. Slowly, he lifted a hand, and the owl gave a soft hoot and stepped toward him.

Meanwhile, Hermione crouched down watching the cat, who studied her in return. After a few seconds, the feline stretched before gracefully leaping down and rubbing against her leg, its golden eyes gleaming with interest.

Her mother smiled softly. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt for you to have a companion at school."

McGonagall, who had been silently watching, gave a nod of approval. "An owl will be useful for sending letters, and cats have always been a favorite of mine."

Harry and Hermione finalized their choices, leaving the shop with two new companions in tow, Harry cradling the cage of his snowy owl in his arms, and Hermione carrying her new cat as if he had belonged there all along.

Hogwarts was no longer just a distant idea. And it was coming fast.