Harry Potter Getting Even

It only took a moment for Harry to recall exactly what else had happened the day he had gone to Diagon Alley and he cursed his stupidity. The stone! Thinking back, however, Harry thoughts soon turned to suspicion. Why was it that Hagrid was sent for the stone on the day he had to pick up Harry? Surely the better option for Dumbledore would have been to send somebody who could actually do magic? If not pick it up himself….

Thinking on the situation, Harry cursed his own stupidity and had to hand it to Dumbledore; he had well and truly played Harry. The entire situation was a setup - he was testing Harry and Harry had fallen for it every single time . Laughing in spite of himself, Harry wondered how Dumbledore would try to get Harry after the stone this time.

Barely able to stay awake, Harry wondered why he was so tired but figured time travel probably left one sleepy and quickly stripped from his clothes and slipped into the bed.

The next day Harry looked at his transfigured clothes. They were still usable but looked rather lacklustre; that was the problem with transfiguring clothing when you were not a professional: the charms faded quickly. Sighing, Harry transfigured them again, and vowed his first order of business after getting a wand would be clothes.

After a breakfast of pancakes and bacon, Harry quietly joined the crowds of Diagon Alley, making his way straight to Ollivander's.

Unlike in his first life, the shop was not empty, and much to Harry's chagrin the person was none other than an eleven year old Hermione Granger. Narrowing his eyes in distaste, Harry barely stopped himself from cursing her just to get it over with; this was the first time he had seen somebody on his hit-list and he was not feeling magnanimous. He was surprised to see that she didn't have a school escort but was with her parents, who were standing looking shell shocked in the corner.

Hearing the bell chime over the door as he stepped through, she had turned to look at him. Her brown eyes narrowing as she ran her eyes over him, looking at his casual wizarding clothing with distaste.

Just then Ollivander spoke, "Ah, Mr. P-"

Harry quickly cut the peculiar man off before he could say Harry's last name, "Please sir, call me Harrison."

"That's rude you know," said Hermione in a matter of fact tone that had Harry clenching his fist to stop himself from lashing out. "You shouldn't interrupt people when they're talking,"

Harry just looked at her with distaste. "Indeed," he said, unconsciously mimicking Lucius Malfoy, "if you're done Miss…" he let himself trail off.

Hermione seemed to puff up at his tone with indignation. "Yes, actually, I am finished," she said contemptuously. "And my name is Hermione granger," she added.

Harry hummed, "Granger, I've never heard of that family before." He really didn't have a problem with muggleborns, not at all, but he hated how Hermione treated the Wizarding world. She thought their customs were outdated and scorned their culture just because it was different from the muggle world. She didn't try to understand them, she just ignored them and complained.

"That's because I'm the first witch in my family," Hermione replied, looking at Harry challengingly.

Making sure to put as much distaste behind his words as possible, Harry said, "I see."

Turning then, as though to dismiss her, Harry only had to wait a second before she exploded in self righteous indignation, "What? You think you're better than me because you have a magical family?" she demanded.

Harry hummed again, "No, I never said that. That belief is all yours, Miss Granger."

Just as Harry was sure she was about to explode, her parents seemed to pull themselves out of their fearful state and noticed she was done.

"Oh, come on Hermione, we've got to get going," Mrs. Granger said, practically making a run for the door.

Watching them leave, Harry let a small smirk form on his face when he saw Hermione struggle and glare at him.

"Well, that was interesting," said Ollivander voice, drawing Harry's attention to the man who had been silently watching his interaction with Hermione.

Harry shrugged. "I really don't have a problem with muggleborns," Harry said. "I just hate people like her who come into this world and try to change it into a replica of the muggle one."

Ollivander hummed again and nodded, "Well then, let's see what the wands make of you, Harrison."

Stepping forward, Harry watched as Ollivander seemed to lose focus before looking at Harry intently. "Your wand arm, if you please," he instructed.

Handing out his right arm, Harry considered just telling him what wand was his but decided to go with the process. Maybe his wand would have changed.

Eventually Harry decided that his wand hadn't changed as, like last time, after testing dozens of wands, Ollivander finally produced a familiar dusty old box.

Picking up his holly wand, Harry felt his magic sing. Although he was now more than capable of wandless magic, the feeling of unity between a wand and its wizard was something special.