The grey heir

The letter sat on the windowsill, parchment still faintly glowing with residual magic.

Harry dipped his quill into plain ink and wrote in steady strokes:

Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,

I accept the invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I shall be ready on the designated date.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

He sealed the letter, tied it to the leg of the owl still patiently waiting, and whispered, "Take it to Hogwarts." The owl took off silently into the early morning sky.

---

Two nights later, a thunderous BANG shook the Dursley house.

Petunia shrieked, Dudley dove under the table, and Vernon burst into the hall with a frying pan.

A massive shadow loomed in the doorway.

"Sorry 'bout the door," the giant said cheerfully. "Name's Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

Harry stepped forward calmly. "I'm Harry Potter."

Hagrid's eyes lit up. "Well, o' course yeh are! Yeh've got Lily's eyes, yeh do."

Vernon tried to bluster, but Hagrid's glare silenced him. Harry packed his small bag and followed Hagrid into the night without looking back.

---

They made their way through London, arriving at the Leaky Cauldron. Tom, the barkeep, greeted them warmly.

"Room for the lad tonight?" Hagrid asked.

"Of course. Room eleven," Tom replied with a wink.

Behind the pub, Hagrid tapped the bricks. With a ripple of magic, the wall parted, revealing Diagon Alley's crooked charm.

Harry stepped through with quiet awe. Hagrid leaned down and said, "Welcome, Harry. This is Diagon Alley. Everythin' a young wizard could need. Shops fer robes, books, potion ingredients, even broomsticks!" Every movement was measured, but he kept his expression perfectly boyish.

---

Gringotts loomed at the far end, all white marble and menace.

Inside, they approached the counter.

Hagrid cleared his throat. "This here's Harry Potter. He needs to make a withdrawal from his vault."

The goblin's eyes flicked to Harry, then back to Hagrid. "Key?"

The goblin nodded and called a cart.

They rattled down twisted tracks and reached the small trust vault. The goblin opened it with a sharp key. Harry entered, gazing at the neatly stacked coins. He scooped a measured sum into his pouch, enough to maintain the illusion.

Further down, Hagrid collected something from the high-security vault. He looked rattled when he returned, but Harry said nothing.

---

After Gringotts, they stopped for lunch at a small café tucked between a cauldron shop and a second-hand broomstick store. Over butterbeer and steaming pasties, Harry looked up at Hagrid.

"Do you know anything about my scar?" he asked.

Hagrid scratched his beard. "Only what people say, Harry. That You-Know-Who tried to kill yeh and couldn't. Left yeh that mark instead. No one's survived him but yeh."

Harry nodded, fingers brushing his fringe. "And it was just… a curse?"

"Some say it was a dark curse," Hagrid muttered, avoiding Harry's eyes. "Real nasty stuff. But no one really knows what spell it was. Only that it should've killed yeh, and it didn't."

Harry sipped his drink quietly, filing the conversation away.

Then they stood and continued their way into Madam Malkin's for robes.

The shop was quiet, lined with bolts of enchanted fabric and mannequins that adjusted themselves as if posing for unseen tailors.

"Hello, dears," Madam Malkin said as she bustled over in lilac robes with floating stitches trailing behind her. "Hogwarts, I presume?"

"Yes," Harry said. "First year."

She smiled kindly. "Up on the stool, then. Let's get you sorted."

As she worked, pinning fabric and muttering small fitting charms, she asked, "House yet?"

"Not yet," Harry said.

"Ah well. They all start somewhere." She paused. "Would you like the standard trim, or something more… classic?"

"Classic," Harry said. "Dark lining, if that's allowed."

Madam Malkin gave him a look of mild amusement. "It's rare to see a child with taste for tradition."

"I like knowing where things come from," Harry replied smoothly.

She smiled at that. "You'll go far."

As she finished the measurements, she added, "I can have it done before evening. Something discreet, but reinforced.do you need anything else on it?"

Harry hesitated. "No just make it classic and do with best material you have ma'am."

"Understood." She gave him an appraising look. "You're not the usual sort, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled politely. "I'm not trying to be." Harry was polite and distant, allowing the woman to take his measurements without resistance.

"I'll also need a travel cloak," Harry said. "Black. With silver lining with hjp on it."

She raised an eyebrow. "You have fine taste."

"I've read ahead," he replied lightly.

---

Their last stop was Ollivanders.

The shop smelled of dust and old secrets.

"Ah… Mr. Potter," Garrick Ollivander said, emerging from the back. "I wondered when I'd be seeing you."

The man's pale eyes studied him far too closely.

Ollivander handed him wand after wand—maple, ash, yew. None reacted.

Then came holly. Eleven inches. Phoenix feather.

The moment Harry took it, warmth bloomed through his fingers. Golden sparks burst from the tip.

Ollivander stepped back, eyes shining.

"Curious… very curious," he murmured. "That wand's brother gave you your scar."

Harry met his gaze evenly. "So I've been told."

Ollivander tilted his head. "You are… remarkably calm."

Harry offered a faint smile. "I try to be prepared."

The wand gave a final pulse of acceptance. The match was made.

Ollivander slowly circled Harry, eyes gleaming. "Your mother, Lily—she had a wand made of willow, ten and a quarter inches. Swishy and good for charm work. Your father, James, wielded mahogany, eleven inches. Pliable and excellent for transfiguration. Powerful pair, they were."

He stepped back, gaze sharpening. "And now their son stands before me. This wand—holly and phoenix feather—is not theirs. It is yours. And it chose you."

He lifted a long, pale finger. "Remember this, Mr. Potter. The wand chooses the wizard. It's not always clear why, but… it always does."

He smiled faintly. "And it never makes mistakes."

Harry remained quiet.

"You will do remarkable things with this wand," Ollivander murmured. "Great things, perhaps terrible things. But always remarkable."

He stepped closer and added in a whisper, "The last boy I gave its brother to… he changed the world."

Harry nodded slowly. "So will I."

---

As the sun dipped lower, Hagrid led Harry back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Dumbledore's got me fetchin' somethin' else," Hagrid said. "You'll be alright here 'til the train?"

"I will," Harry answered. "Thank you, Hagrid."

The half-giant gave him a fond pat and left.

Harry turned, Hedwig perched on his shoulder, and climbed the stairs to room eleven. Behind him, the Leaky Cauldron quieted.

And above, the sky watched—silent and full of storm.

---

To be continued...