Diagon Alley

Arabella was furious when she found out what happened; though she didn't outwardly say it, the elder woman made no secret of her dislike of the Dursleys, especially since she knew how they treated Harry and Dudley's bullying in school. How Mr. Dursleys had basically threatened her granddaughter today only served to deepen her disgust. 

"Those damned tossers!" Arabella growled as she limped back into the living room and offered Cheyenne a box of tissues with a scowl on her face, "Why, if we didn't need to save face with them, I'd limp straight over there and give them a piece of my mind, I would! Treat my granddaughter like dirt, will they? Oh," Her hand tightened on her crutch, "I'll give them such a wallop!" 

Cheyenne sniffled and blew her nose, "What're we going to do now, nana...? Mr. Dursley said they won't let Harry know who he is...and knowing I'm a witch, too, they're not likely to let me 'round him again..." 

Arabella clicked her tongue, "Well, based on how the cunt reacted, I'd say Harry's letter was already sent, though he didn't get it. I still need to write Dumbledore and let him know you've gotten yours, so I'll make sure he's privy to what's going on with Harry, too. Dumbledore's a brilliant man, so I have no doubt he'll figure out a way to get Harry his letter. Muggles like the Dursleys cannot keep him from where he truly belongs." 

Cheyenne nodded as Arabella hobbled over to the writing desk in the corner, where she produced a piece of parchment, an inkwell, and a beautiful eagle feather pen from the drawer and took a seat. 

"Do you want me to post your letter, nan?" She asked as she got up to join Arabella at the desk; the older woman shook her head without looking up from the parchment, "No, dear, just open the window for me, would you?" 

"The window...?" Cheyenne frowned, but did as she was asked, "How does opening a window help -" She shrieked as a large, feathered creature fluttered past her into the house, scrambling backward with a hand over her heart. When she scanned the room, Cheyenne was surprised to find a large barn owl seated on the back of her grandmother's chair, blinking at her with big black eyes, "N-nana..." 

"It's all right, Chey." Arabella reassured, still without looking up, "This is how magical folks' post works. We use owls to send letters and packages." 

Cheyenne blinked slowly, but was, somehow, not as surprised as she thought she would be as she carefully approached the desk once more; when she offered the owl her hand, it nibbled lightly on her fingers and she smiled lightly, watching in amazement when it hopped onto her arm, "Wow...I never thought an owl could be trained so well..." 

"Training them as long as we have, we've perfected the technique." Sealing her letter in an envelope, Arabella scrawled a quick address on the back and offered it to the owl, who clamped the letter in its' beak, "Get him to the window, quickly now." 

The owl took flight as soon as Cheyenne reached the sill and she watched as it disappeared behind the few wisps of cloud that obscured the bright cyan sky, "Do you really think Dumbledore will be able to solve this, nan?" 

"Oh yes, I'm quite sure." A pressure on her shoulder pulled Cheyenne's attention from the sky and she turned to meet her grandmother's reassuring brown eyes, "Trust me, my girl, Dumbledore's a brilliant wizard, he'll be sure to figure something out with Harry. He didn't become Headmaster of Hogwarts for nothing, you know!" 

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Cheyenne's lips as she nodded, "All right, nan, I trust you." 

"Good girl." Arabella squeezed Cheyenne's shoulder before she limped back toward the kitchen, "Let's not fret on this now, there isn't much else we can do. I think a pot of tea, some sweets, and cartoons are just what you need after that nasty ordeal." 

Cheyenne couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her as she watched Arabella disappear into the kitchen, a genuine smile on her lips while she pulled the window closed, "Thank you, nana...you always know how to cheer me up." 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The week that followed Cheyenne's incident outside the Dursleys' house dragged; after her 'discussion' with Mr. Dursley, she did everything she could to avoid Number 4 when she knew he was home. And even then, she tried her best not to get close enough that Mrs. Dursley would notice her, either; Cheyenne had no doubt Mr. Dursley had told him wife about what had happened and had her full support when it came to banning the young woman from their house. Even though she'd never been able to enter the Dursleys home in the first place, Cheyenne was sure the couple would do anything to keep her from talking to Harry, including keeping her out and him in so they had virtually no way of interacting. And despite her grandmother's reassurances, Cheyenne had her moments of doubt, where she often wondered if she'd ever be able to see her best friend again. The Dursleys were so hellbent on keeping them apart now, so she had to wonder if they'd ever let the pair be together again. Was this it for the two of them...? 

"Dear, I really wish you wouldn't fret so." Arabella said Monday afternoon as she set a tray of tea on the coffee table and glanced worriedly toward the front window. Cheyenne sat on the warm, sunlit sill, hugging her knees to her chest, her head leaning against the window frame as she stared blankly at the road. She hadn't moved from that spot since the previous morning, after she'd nearly been run over by the Dursleys during their frantic escape from Privet Drive. In place of her reflection, the image of Harry's scared, albeit agitated, eyes shrinking into the distance kept playing in a loop in the glass. No one had seen either hide nor hair of Harry or the Dursleys since...and none of them knew where they had gone, either, though Arabella suspected that was on purpose. She had no doubt they were trying to escape the numerous letters Hogwarts had been sending Harry, "It's only a matter of time before Dumbledore steps in...he's sure to get things sorted out." 

Cheyenne tightened her arms around her legs, pressing them close to her chest, trying to sooth the ache in her heart, "It's Harry's birthday tomorrow..." She murmured, feeling the tears burning at the back of her eyes, "This'll be the first time we won't be celebrating together since we were five..." Her vision blurred, the tears hot on her skin as they raced down her cheeks, "Nan, what if I never see him again? I can't leave him with those people..." 

"Chey..." Arabella limped over to the window to slide an arm around her granddaughter's shoulders; Cheyenne leaned into her comforting embrace as Arabella ran a hand through her hair, "You'll see Harry again, I promise...Dumbledore is one of the best wizards of his time and I know he'll make sure Harry gets his letter. You won't have to go to Hogwarts without him." 

Would this man be able to save her best friend, like Arabella said? Cheyenne still didn't know...she hadn't known anything about magic until a week ago and even now, she knew very little of this world in which she belonged. She guessed she just had to trust her grandmother... 

That night was spent in a restless slumber; a massive storm blew in around dusk, hammering rain against the windows and roof, fueling nightmares of Harry and the Dursleys in a horrible accident or being stranded in the middle of nowhere, cold and soaked through with rain. Needless to say, Cheyenne was not in the best of moods when Arabella woke her up the following morning, not until she heard the good news, at least. 

"Just got a letter from Dumbledore." Arabella said, tossing clothes onto the end of Cheyenne's bed while the young woman rubbed the sleep from her eyes, "They finally got Harry his letter and he's being escorted to London today to get his school supplies. I've already arranged for you to meet Harry and the school gamekeeper, Hagrid, at the Leaky Cauldron so you can get yours', too." 

"What?" Cheyenne was immediately awake, her wide eyes pulling the corners of Arabella's lips up in a smile, "You heard me, young lady." Arabella chuckled as Cheyenne practically threw herself at her, hugging her tight. "I knew that would make you happy. But let's not dawdle, I'm sure Harry and Hagrid are on their way to London as we speak. You get dressed and I'll make you something to eat on the way. Hop to it." 

Tossing the blankets aside, Cheyenne hurried to change into the skinny jeans and white tank top Arabella had picked out for her, only pausing long enough to make her bed before she yanked on her red and white trainers, grabbed her house keys and wallet, and headed downstairs, jumping the last couple of steps at the bottom. 

Arabella was waiting for her in the kitchen, zipping her old schoolbag closed as she walked through the door. 

"Here, I've packed you a quick breakfast, and a few snacks, just in case." She told Cheyenne as she handed the bag over; Cheyenne smiled, grateful, and shrugged it on, "You'll need these, too." Arabella held out two more items; one of them was a folded piece of paper and the other, a small, golden key, "These are directions to the Leaky Cauldron." Arabella handed Cheyenne the paper, then held up the key. "And this is for your bank vault. Don't lose it." Cheyenne furrowed her brows as she took the key, "Since when -?" 

"Your parents left you some money when they died. And since I do well for myself, I've had no use for it." Arabella smiled softly at the shocked expression still on her granddaughter's face, "What? Did you think your parents wouldn't've left you something?" 

"I-I thought maybe it would've been something small, not this." Cheyenne admitted sheepishly as she added the vault key to her ring before tucking them and the directions into a pocket of her jeans. Arabella chuckled, "You would have needed some way to get your supplies, wouldn't you?" Cheyenne smiled quietly and nodded in agreement, "Well, you should have everything now, so you'd best hurry. You don't want to keep the boys waiting." 

Cheyenne nodded once more, then paused before she hugged Arabella tightly, "Thank you for everything, nana." 

Arabella smiled softly and hugged Cheyenne in return, "Anytime, my girl, anytime." She rubbed Cheyenne's back once before pulling away, "Now go on, go out and have fun. I'll see you when you get back." 

Kissing her grandmother's cheek gently, Cheyenne jogged out of the kitchen and left through the front door. The train station was a little over a kilometer from the house, so she made sure to get onto the next train to London, which was just boarding as she arrived. Ignoring the disgruntled grumbles and the glares of the adults as she pushed her way through the crowds, Cheyenne couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips at the thought of being reunited with her best friend, of the things they were bound to see today. What kind of shops would wizards have? Would they have regular shops, like for uniforms or bookstores? And how would they find these shops, where were they hidden? 

These questions whirled in Cheyenne's head throughout the duration of her ride, following her off the train and into the subway she took into the heart of London, though they would soon be pushed to the back of her mind once she entered the hustle and bustle of the city so she could focus on finding her way. 

Arabella's directions would lead the young woman through a dizzying maze of streets, each lined on either side with seemingly ordinary shops. There was a book store displaying the newest romance novel, it's front windows plastered with advertisements and sales the shop was having for completely ordinary books; a music store with a display composed of posters of the hottest bands; a hamburger shop competing with a couple of small cafes advertising a variety of teas and scones; an old cinema with the newest blockbuster displayed out front in golden glass frames. Not one she passed looked like it sold a spell book or a magic wand. Cheyenne paused on a corner to check the piece of paper in her hand again, furrowing her brows when she lifted her gaze to the street signs. 

"I'm on the right street..." She murmured to herself, scanning the shops on either side of her, "So it should be -" 

"Chey!" The familiar voice cut off her thought and Cheyenne whipped around to find the source, her eyes scanning the crowds. Her heart leapt in her chest when she spotted her best friend's mop of untidy black as he pushed his way toward her. 

"Harry!" She shrieked with happiness, tears pricking at the backs of her eyes as she launched herself across the street to tackle him into a hug. He stumbled back a couple of feet, though his arms came up to wrap tight around her as she buried her face in his shoulder, "I missed you." 

"I missed you, too, Chey," She could feel his smile against her shoulder as he gently squeezed her waist and the two broke apart so she could get a good look at him. Harry looked like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in the week they'd been apart, not to mention he seemed in desperate need of a shower; his hair was even messier than usual, and his clothes were rumpled, covered with a mixture of dirt and soot. 

"What in the world happened to you, Harry?" She frowned, taking out a handkerchief to clean his face; he held still as best he could, smiling sheepishly. 

"Uncle Vernon took us out of Little Whinging to try and stop letters from getting to me. We were staying in this dinky little shack out on the ocean when someone finally found us." Realization dawned on Harry's face that he'd run off without telling his guide and he turned to find him. Cheyenne turned to look with him, eyes widening when they fell on the giant that had come up behind Harry while they'd been talking; she actually had to tilt her head back a bit in order to see the man's face, or, at least, what could be seen of his face, which was mostly obscured by a mane of long, shaggy hair and a wild, tangled beard. The only thing she could see of this giant's face were his eyes, which looked like a pair of shiny black beetles winking out at them from among the tangles of hair. 

"There yeh are, Cheyenne, I was startin' ta wonder." The beard twitched and she could swear he was smiling at her. 

"You must be Hagrid, right?" Cheyenne smiled shyly, remembering the name of the man her grandmother had told her about. Hagrid chuckled softly and nodded as Harry shot Cheyenne a quizzical look, which she answered with a sheepish smile of her own, feeling her heart grow heavy again at the thought of having to lie, especially to him, "I got a letter this morning from a man named Dumbledore. He told me I'd be able to meet you and the school gamekeeper, Hagrid, here in London and he'd bring us to get our school supplies." 

"I'm guessin' ya were tryin' ta find the Leaky Cauldron, ey?" Hagrid smiled warmly down at the two and she nodded, "Well you were close, but if yeh've never been there before, it'll be hard to spot. C'mon, I'll show you the way." 

Harry took Cheyenne's hand and pulled her along after Hagrid, who was large enough that he parted the crowd easily, leaving the pair with nothing to do but follow closely behind him. He didn't stop until they'd almost reached the end of the street, where he indicated to a tiny, grubby-looking pub that neither Harry nor Cheyenne would've been able to notice on their own. The crowd around them barely even spared the building a glance, their eyes landing on either the big bookshop on one side or the record store on the other, as though the pub wasn't even there. A voice in the back of Cheyenne's mind pointed out that maybe the three of them were the only ones who could see it. 

"Here we are, the Leaky Cauldron." Hagrid beamed at his two charges, "It's a famous place." 

"Doesn't look all that famous to me..." Harry muttered to Cheyenne as Hagrid steered the two of them inside; the interior of the building seemed to match its' exterior well, from what the two of them could tell. And yet, despite it's dark, shabby appearance, the pub still housed a decent crowd; in one corner sat a couple of old women throwing back tiny glasses of sherry, one with a long, smoking pipe clamped between her teeth; a short man in a top hat sat at the bar, chatting pleasantly with the old, bald bartender. The low murmur of conversation almost immediately ceased as soon as the trio walked into the room as the patrons turned to greet Hagrid, most likely a regular around here, from what Cheyenne could guess, something which was confirmed when the bartender reached back for a glass, calling out, "The usual, Hagrid?" 

"Can't today, Tom, I'm on official Hogwarts business." Hagrid replied cheerfully, clapping one of his great hands on Harry's shoulder; Cheyenne hurriedly caught her best friend as his knees buckled, stopping him from dropping to the dirty floor, "Gotta take young Potter and Power here to get their school supplies." 

The bartender, Tom, froze at Hagrid's words and turned around to lean over the bar, peering closely at Harry and Cheyenne with wide eyes, "My word..." He croaked, bracing his hands on the table, as though to keep himself from fainting as he scanned their faces, "Is this...could it be..." 

The Leaky Cauldron had gone completely silent now, as everyone watched the exchange. Cheyenne shrank into herself a little, uncomfortable at being the center of attention. 

"Bless my soul." Tom's voice was barely a whisper now, "Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power...it's an honor. " 

Before either pre-teen could utter a word, Tom had rounded the bar to clasp Harry's hand between his, his eyes brimming with tears. 

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, Miss Power, welcome back." 

Neither Harry nor Cheyenne knew quite what to say as they exchanged an uneasy, perplexed look. There was a beat in which the rest of the pub continued to stare, processing what was happening; the woman in the corner with the pipe continued to puff on it without realizing that it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming, like a proud parent. 

Then, all at once, the pub filled with the sound of chair legs scraping across the wooden floor as the crowd converged on the pair, suddenly eager to shake their hands. 

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, Miss Power, can't believe I'm meeting the two of you at last." One of the women beamed as she vigorously shook Cheyenne's hand. 

"So proud, you two, I'm just so proud." One of the men rambled. 

"Oh, I've always wanted to shake both your hands – ah, I'm all a flutter!" Another woman gushed. 

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, Miss Power, I can't tell either of you enough. Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle." 

"Hey, I've seen you before!' Harry stared at Dedalus Diggle as he swept into a low bow, causing his top hat to fall to the floor, "Chey, this is the man I told you about, the one who bowed to me once in a shop." 

"He remembers me!" Diggle cried, peering around with a blinding smile, "Did you all hear? Mr. Potter remembers me!' 

Cheyenne almost laughed, although her attention was pulled back to the crowd as she and Harry shook hands again and again – Doris Crockford couldn't seem to get enough. 

A pale young man stepped up to them, fidgeting nervously and shifting his weight from foot to foot, as though he had to go to the bathroom. He seemed to have a nervous twitch in one of his eyes. 

"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid grinned brightly at the man, "Harry, Cheyenne, this is Professor Quirrell, he'll be one of your teachers at Hogwarts." 

"P-P-Potter." Professor Quirrell stammered, first grasping Harry, then Cheyenne's, hands, "P-P-Power, c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you b-both." 

Cheyenne smiled warmly at him in hopes of making him feel more comfortable, "What subject do you teach at the school, Professor Quirrell?" 

Professor Quirrell paled further, as though the thought of his own subject terrified him, "D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts." he murmured, glancing away from Cheyenne's inquisitive stare as he let out a faint laugh, "N-not that either of you really n-need it, eh?" Harry and Cheyenne smiled quietly in amusement as he straightened, "S-So, you'll both be g-getting your equipment, I suppose? I-I've got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself..." He trailed off, eyes widening in horror. 

None of the other patrons in the Leaky Cauldron would let Professor Quirrell keep either Harry or Cheyenne to himself for long, however. It took almost ten minutes before the pair could manage to get away, as Hagrid called out over the babble. 

"Well, we must be gettin' on – lots ter buy. Come on, you two." 

Doris Crockford managed to shake Harry's hand one last time before he and Cheyenne were steered through the bar and out a back door leading into a small, walled off courtyard. Its only occupants consisted of a metal trash can and a few weeds that had pushed their way through the cracks in the cobblestone. 

Hagrid grinned down at the two of them as the door swung shut behind them. 

"I told yeh, didn't I, Harry? I told yeh the twoa yeh were famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh both - 'course, he's usually tremblin'." 

"Is he usually that nervous?" Harry asked with a frown, his eyebrows knitting when Hagrid nodded. 

"Oh yeah, poor bloke. He's a brilliant wizard, real book smart, but things changed when he decided ter take a year off ter get some firsthand experience...People say he met vampires in the Black Forest and had a nasty bit o'trouble with a hag – hasn't been the same since. He's scared of his students, not ter mention his own subject -" Hagrid shook his head sadly as he rummaged in his jacket, which looked to be made up of nothing but pockets, "Now, where did I put my umbrella...?" 

Cheyenne's head reeled with the mental images of what Professor Quirrell must have experienced on his journeys. Could he really have seen vampires? A hag, in person? Hagrid, meanwhile, was busying himself with counting the bricks in the wall above the trash can. 

"Three up...two across..." He murmured to himself before he nodded and swept his arm out, carefully moving Harry and Cheyenne back out of the way, "Right, stand back, yeh two." 

Using the end of his umbrella, he tapped the wall three times. 

The final brick he tapped began to quiver and wriggle in place, creating a small hole in the wall that slowly started to get bigger. In the blink of an eye, the trio were facing an archway large enough for Hagrid to step through, which let out onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. 

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Hagrid smiled down at Harry and Cheyenne as they stared out at the street stretched out before them, their eyes wide when they stepped through the archway. The pair threw a quick glance over their shoulders in time to watch as it transformed back into a solid wall behind them. 

Out in front of one of the nearby shops, the sun shone brightly off some cauldrons that were stacked neatly under a hanging sign that read: Cauldrons – All Sizes – Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-stirring – Collapsible. 

"You'll both be needing one of those," Hagrid said as he led Harry and Cheyenne past the shop, "But we gotta go get yer money first." 

Cheyenne suddenly wished she had the ability to turn her head like an owl so she could look at everything at once as they walked up the street. Each shop they passed was more fascinating than the last, drawing patrons inside with colorful posters and amazing exterior displays while the shoppers were all dressed in robes of various colors. A plump woman standing outside an Apothecary scowled at one of the full wooden barrels, "Seventeen Sickles for a single ounce of dragon liver, they've gone barking mad..." 

A chorus of soft hoots drew their attention to a dark shop set a little further back, dubbed Eeylops Owl Emporium by the sign hung over the door, which also boasted a short list of the owls they sold. A little further along, a group of boys Harry and Cheyenne's age had their noses pressed against a window that housed a display of broomsticks. 

"Look," Cheyenne and Harry heard one of them say excitedly, tapping the glass with a finger, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand – fastest broom yet -" 

Further along, they passed a robe shop, a shop selling telescopes and various strange, silver instruments neither Harry nor Cheyenne had ever seen before; several shops had their front windows stacked with barrels of rat spleens and eels' eyes, while the one bookshop's windows were full of tottering piles of spell books. One supply shop had a display comprised of various quills, rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon, etc... 

Harry and Cheyenne were so busy trying to look at everything they almost ran into Hagrid when he came to a sudden halt, "Gringotts." Was all he said when they'd stepped around him to see the hold up; both pre-teens had to crane their necks back to see the massive building properly as it towered over the other shops, the sun glimmering off its' brilliant white bricks making them think of fresh, undisturbed snow. Standing guard at the tall, burnished bronze doors, dressed in robes of scarlet and gold, was - 

"Yeah, that's a goblin." Hagrid murmured quickly to Harry and Cheyenne as he led the way up the white stone steps. The goblin stood a good head shorter than Harry and had a swarthy, sharp face, complete with a pointed beard and slender hands and feet. He bowed to the trio as they walked through the doorway. On the other side was a second set of doors, this time made of silver, engraved with these words: 

Enter, stranger, but take heed 

Of what awaits the sin of greed, 

For those who take, but do not earn, 

Must pay most dearly in their turn. 

So, if you seek beneath our floors 

A treasure that was never yours, 

Thief, you have been warned, beware 

Of finding more than treasure there. 

"Like I told yeh, Harry," Hagrid nudged him lightly, "Yeh'd be mad ter try an' robe this place." 

The goblins that flanked the silver doors bowed them through into a vast marble hall. There were about a hundred more goblins inside, seated on high stools behind three long counters, where they scribbled on large ledgers, weight coins in brass scales, and examined precious stones through special eyeglasses. The walls on either side were lined with a variety of doors that led off the hall, doors through which more goblins moved in and out, showing patrons throughout the building. Hagrid led the way to the counter. 

"Morning." He greeted a free goblin, who peered at him from over his glasses, "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Cheyenne Power's safes." 

"You have their keys, sir?" 

"I've got Mr. Potter's here somewhere." Hagrid said as he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a large handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's ledger, which made him wrinkle his nose. Cheyenne reached into her jeans pocket to pull her key out while Harry watched a goblin to their right weigh a pile of rubies the size of glowing coals. The goblin before them leaned over the counter to take Cheyenne's key after she'd unhooked it from the others. 

"Got it." Hagrid said, drawing their attention again as he held out a tiny golden key. The goblin took that from him as well and examined them both before giving a single nod. 

"That seems to be in order." 

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore." Hagrid said, glancing around before he leaned in, handing the letter over, "It concerns the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen." 

The goblin took the letter and read it over carefully before returning it with another nod. 

"Very well, I will have someone take you down to the vaults. Griphook!" 

Another goblin appeared and took the keys from his companion while Hagrid crammed all the dog biscuits back into his pockets. Once they were set, he, Harry, and Cheyenne followed Griphook around behind the counter. 

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked, peering up at Hagrid, who shook his head. 

"Can't tell either o' yeh that," He gave them a small smile, "Very secret Hogwarts business that Dumbledore's trusted me with. More'n my job's worth, ter tell yeh that much." 

Harry and Cheyenne exchanged a look as Griphook opened one of the many doors leading off the hall, holding it for the trio to go through first. Instead of another marble room, the door led into a narrow stone passage with a steep downward slope, lit only by a set of flaming torches along the walls. Once inside, they paused by a set of railway tracks that lined the floor while Griphook whistled; the tracks rattled and shook as a small cart hurtled around the corner toward them. Harry and Cheyenne climbed in with the goblin before turning to help Hagrid in and the cart took off along the passage. 

The cart hurtled through a confusing maze of twisting passages at such a pace it was nearly impossible to keep track. Although, judging by the fact that Griphook wasn't steering, it was likely their vehicle had been enchanted to know its' own way around. 

Cheyenne blinked back tears at the cold air whipping past them, ignoring the sting in her cheeks in favor of watching their progress deeper underground as best she could. A burst of bright orange and yellow at the end of one passage they passed made her jump and she jerked around with Harry for a better look – they were too late, however, as they continued their plunge, whizzing past an underground lake surrounded by huge stalactites and stalagmites. 

"I could never figure it out." Harry called to Hagrid and Cheyenne over the loud rattling of the cart, "What's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?" 

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," Hagrid groaned, "An' don' be askin' me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick." 

Harry and Cheyenne glanced worriedly at the giant, who looked rather green around the gills; when the cart stopped at last alongside a small door built into the stones, Hagrid clambered out to lean against the wall and wait for his knees to stop trembling. Harry stepped out after him and offered Cheyenne a hand. 

"In answer to your question, Harry, stalagmites grow from the floor and stalactites from the ceiling." Cheyenne told him as they followed Griphook to the vault. Harry cocked his head, intrigued, before the duo turned their attention to Griphook as he unlocked the door, which emitted a quiet hiss and a bellow of green smoke as it swung open. Waving a hang to clear the air, Cheyenne's eyes widened when they could finally see beyond the smoke; tucked into the underground vault were hundreds of stacks of coins, either made of gold, silver, or bronze. 

"All yours', Harry." Hagrid beamed, coming up beside them. Harry blinked, snapping back into focus as he looked up at their guide, then at Cheyenne, who smiled encouragingly, knowing how he must be feeling now. Unlike her, Harry had never had any money of his own, as the Dursleys utterly refused to even give him so much as pocket change for lunch. She had no doubt he was still trying to wrap his brain around the idea that he had a small fortune all for himself buried deep under London. And, if she was completely honest, after everything he'd had to endure living with his awful relatives, she thought her best friend more than deserved it. 

Hagrid gave Harry a small bag, which he and Cheyenne helped Harry fill with a couple piles of coins. 

"The gold ones are Galleons." Hagrid explained as Griphook closed the vault again, "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. This should las yeh a couple o' terms, Harry, and we'll be sure to keep the rest safe." He turned to Griphook again, "To Miss Power's vault now, please, and do yeh think we could go a little more slowly?" 

"One speed only." Griphook informed him with a tone of finality as they all climbed back into the cart. 

Cheyenne's vault was not too far from Harry's; after only about a minute, they arrived at another small door. Just as before, the vault issued out a soft hiss as it was unlocked, followed by a plum of green smoke. Her fortune was just about the same size, comprised of thousands of gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts. 

"Well, at least we know we'll both be covered for a while." Cheyenne exchanged a smile with Harry as he helped her pile some of the coins into a bag of her own, "I don't even know if I could've gotten anything in exchange for my allowance." 

"Even if you could, I dunno how much you would've gotten." Harry admitted sheepishly as they climbed back into the cart and took off once more. Cheyenne nodded in understanding while the cart carried them deeper still, seeming to gather speed as they went. The temperature steadily dipped the deeper they got, with each tight corner they rounded, until neither Harry nor Cheyenne could feel their faces. At one point, the ground dropped away from the tracks as they drove over an underground ravine; Harry leaned over the edge of the cart to peer into the darkness, searching for the bottom, but Hagrid gave a low groan and quickly pulled him back by the scruff of the neck. 

When they arrived at their final destination, vault seven hundred and thirteen had a door that was very different from the ones that guarded either Harry or Cheyenne's; this door was larger, made of thick steel and decorated with beautiful, intricate designs. But the most peculiar thing about it was the fact that it had no keyhole. 

"Stand back," Griphook announced promptly, holding an arm out to emphasize his point while he stroked the door with the index finger of his other hand. The change was instantaneous, like the door went from a solid to a liquid and melted away before their eyes. 

"If anyone except for a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through this door and trapped inside." Griphook explained. 

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Cheyenne peered down at Griphook with her head cocked; the grin the goblin gave in reply sent an uncomfortable shiver down her and Harry's spines, making the hair stand up on the back of Cheyenne's neck. 

"About once every ten years." He hummed smugly, which made Cheyenne sigh to herself, knowing she wouldn't have liked his answer. But then, if this was such a high security vault, neither she nor Harry had any doubt that whatever it was guarding had to be extraordinary. 

Half expecting jewels or some kind of incredible treasure, the pair peered inside eagerly, their breath catching in their throats. They both exhaled in disappointment, however, when their gaze fell on the seemingly empty vault. But wait, why was it...oh... 

As Hagrid stepped around them, Harry and Cheyenne took notice of the grubby little package sitting in the middle of the floor. Whatever it was could've fit in the palm of their hands and it was wrapped in dirty brown paper. Leaning down, Hagrid scooped the package up and tucked it into one of the many pockets of his coat without comment; Cheyenne frowned to herself, wondering what could be so important about such a tiny little thing as she glanced at Harry, who could only shrug, as a way of telling her to just let it be. 

"All right, let's get back inta this infernal cart..." Hagrid grumbled as Griphook closed the vault behind them, "And don't either o' yeh talk to me on the way back...best if I kept me mouth shut." 

Not long after, the trio stepped back out onto the cobblestone street outside Gringotts, blinking in the summer sunshine. Cheyenne glanced at Harry again as her vision adjusted, smiling quietly in amusement as he shifted his weight restlessly from one foot to the other, obviously eager to go shopping now that he had some money to spend. What he had now was more money than she knew he'd ever had before, probably even more than Dudley had ever had in his life, and she knew he looked forward to using it. 

"Best ter get yer uniforms first," Hagrid said, nodding to the nearest robe shop, dubbed Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Erm, listen, Harry, Cheyenne, would the twoa yeh mind if I slipped off fer a little pick-me-up at the Leaky Cauldron? I really hate them Gringotts carts." 

Seeing as he was still looking rather pale from the ride, Harry and Cheyenne encouraged Hagrid to go settle his stomach, reassuring him they could handle themselves as he headed off. As soon as the giant was out of sight, Cheyenne grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him into the shop. 

A bell chimed above the door as they stepped inside, drawing the attention of the squat witch behind the counter; she turned to the pair with a beaming smile and bustled toward them, dressed in mauve colored robes. 

"Hogwarts, dears?" She asked before either of them could open their mouths, "Got the lot here for you – another young man is being fitted about now, in fact." 

The witch, who Harry and Cheyenne guessed was the shop owner, Madam Malkin, led them to the back, where a boy their age was stood atop a footstool, being fitted in a long, black robe. The boy was thin, with a pale, pointed face, bright blond hair, and steely grey eyes. Madam Malkin pulled a second stool up alongside the boy and had Cheyenne step up onto it before she slipped a long robe over her head and began pinning it to her size while Harry took a seat in a chair nearby. 

"Hello," The boy looked between Harry and Cheyenne, "You two going to Hogwarts, too?" 

"Yes," Harry nodded. 

"My father's next door buying my books while mother's gone up the street to look at wands." the boy explained, needing little encouragement to continue; he sounded bored, like he would rather be anywhere but here, and his voice had a bit of a drawl to it, "After that, I think I'll drag them off to look at the racing brooms." He sniffed, like something had occurred to him that he wasn't happy with, "I still don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll see if I can smuggle it in somehow." 

Cheyenne eyed the boy out of the corner of her eye before exchanging a look with Harry, who grimaced quietly to himself, his thoughts obviously along the same lines as hers'. If this boy had been at their school, neither of them would have had any doubt he would have gotten along swimmingly with Dudley. 

"Have either of you got your own brooms?" the boy continued. 

"No, we don't." Cheyenne replied shortly, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. Unfortunately for her, it was not to be. 

"Do you play Quidditch at all?" 

"No." Harry replied this time, exchanging a somewhat confused look with Cheyenne, who hadn't the faintest idea of what Quidditch could possibly be. 

"I do -" The boy smirked, smug, "Father says it'd be a crime if I wasn't picked to play for my house, and I have to say, I quite agree. Do either of you know what house you'll be in yet?" 

"No..." Harry and Cheyenne replied together, suddenly feeling very inadequate. 

"Well, no one really knows that until they actually get there, do they?" The boy straightened, lifting his chin proudly, "I know I'll be in Slytherin, though, all my family has been – but just imagine being in Hufflepuff. I think I'd just leave if I had to be in that house, wouldn't you?" 

"You're done, dear." Madam Malkin said, saving Harry and Cheyenne from having to answer. Harry stood to take his turn, gently handing Cheyenne down from the stool. 

"Are you two a thing?" the boy asked, having been watching. Heat rushed into Cheyenne's cheeks, burning her ears as Harry stepped up onto the stool, hiding his own blush behind the robe Madam Malkin slipped over his head. 

"We're just friends." Cheyenne said, taking Harry's seat against the wall. The boy hummed, obviously unconvinced, but something at the front of the shop caught his attention, interrupting his train of thought. 

"I say, look at that man!" He nodded toward the front window; Cheyenne and Harry turned to follow his gaze, spotting Hagrid standing just outside. He smiled when he caught their eyes and indicated to the three large ice creams in his hand, showing he couldn't come in. 

"That's Hagrid." Harry said promptly as he notched his chin, proud to know something the boy did not. "He works at Hogwarts." 

"Oh," Their future classmate didn't seem all too impressed, "I think I've heard of him, He's some sort of servant there, isn't he?" 

"No, he's the school gamekeeper." Cheyenne corrected, irritated at the way he spoke about their friend, like Hagrid was inferior to them. 

"Yes, exactly. I've heard he's savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds. I hear whenever he tries to do magic when he's drunk, he ends up setting his bed on fire." 

"Well, I think he's brilliant." Harry replied coldly. 

"We both do." Cheyenne added; the boy quirked a brow. 

"Do you?" His lips twisted up into a sneer, "Why is he here with you, anyway? Where are your parents?" 

"Dead..." Harry and Cheyenne chorused; Cheyenne glanced away uneasily, not wanting to discuss the matter with a stranger. 

"Oh, sorry." His words sounded more dismissive than apologetic. "But they were all our kind, weren't they?" 

"If you're asking if they were witches and wizards, yes, they were." Harry glanced at Cheyenne with a frown, knowing she didn't like talking about this. 

"You know, I really don't think they should let the other sort into the school, do you?' They just aren't the same, they haven't been brought up properly, they don't know our ways. I bet some of them had never even heard of Hogwarts before they got their letter. We should keep magic in old wizarding families. What're you surnames?" 

Madam Malkin once more rescued the pair, "That's it, you're done, sweetie." She told Harry, who immediately hopped down from the footstool. 

"Well, I'll see you both at Hogwarts, I suppose." The boy drawled as Harry grabbed Cheyenne's hand and pulled her toward the counter so they could pay for their robes and get out of there. 

Hagrid noticed the pair seemed rather down as they strolled away from the robe shop, cocking his head as Harry picked at his chocolate and raspberry ice cream. Cheyenne glanced at Harry quietly, but reassured Hagrid they were fine as they went into the next shop to buy parchment and quills. Cheyenne was more than a little surprised to find out how many different types of ink there were and decided to pick up a well of ink that changed color as you wrote alongside her plain black one. 

"Hey Hagrid." Harry peered up at the giant as they walked out of that shop, "What's Quidditch?" 

"Blimey, I keep forgettin' how little the twoa yeh know about our world – don't even know about Quidditch!" 

"Please, Hagrid, we feel bad enough as is..." Cheyenne murmured with a frown as Harry told him about the pale boy they'd met back in Madam Malkin's. 

" - he said people from Muggle families shouldn't be allowed at Hogwarts -" 

"Neither o' yeh are from Muggle families, though. That boy woulda changed his tone if he knew who yeh were – he's grown up knowin' both yer names if his parents are wizardin' folks. You both saw how everyone reacted back in the Leaky Cauldron. And anyway, what does he know about that, somea the best witches and wizards I've ever known were the ones that came from a long line o' Muggles – just look at yer mum, Harry! Look what she had fer a sister!" 

"So...what is Quidditch?" 

"It's our sport, wizard sport. Think of it like...soccer in the Muggle world – everyone in our world follows Quidditch – it's played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls – kinda hard ter explain the rules..." 

"He mentioned something about Slytherin and Hufflepuff..." Cheyenne said. 

"Those're twoa the school houses. There's four in all: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but -" 

"We'll probably end up in Hufflepuff, then..." Harry exchanged a frown with Cheyenne. 

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin." Hagrid told them grimly, "There isn't a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't sorted into Slytherin. You-Know-Who was a Slytherin, you know." 

Cheyenne frowned and glanced at Harry, confused about who You-Know-Who could be while Harry furrowed his brows, "Vol - oh, sorry – You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?" 

Cheyenne looked back at Hagrid, guessing by how Harry had stopped himself from saying the name that this was the man Arabella had told her about before. 

"Years an' years ago." Hagrid confirmed with a nod. 

Cheyenne was in absolute heaven when they walked into Flourish and Blotts, the one bookshop in Diagon Alley, to get her and Harry's books. The shop was close to bursting with literature, with shelves stacked clear to the ceiling with books of various sizes, from large, leather-bound books the size of paving stones, to silken covered books as small as postage stamps. There were books full of strange, but fascinating symbols, and even some with blank pages. The shop had so many interesting books she was sure someone like Dudley, who she knew was not much of a reader, would have gone bonkers trying to get his hands on just one of them. Hagrid did have to put his foot down, though, when Harry found a book tilted Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian. 

"I was trying to find a good curse to use on Dudley." Harry pouted as Hagrid dragged him out of the shop with Cheyenne hot on his heels. 

"Not sayin' that's not a good idea, but neither o' yeh are allowed ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," Hagrid told him firmly as he led the way up the alley, "An' anyway, neither o' yeh are experienced enough to work any of them curses yet. Yeh'll need ter study hard before yeh get ter that level." 

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy himself a solid gold cauldron, either, since both he and Cheyenne needed pewter for school, but the two of them did get a brand-new set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope each. After that, they visited the Apothecary, a fascinating shop in of itself, full of containers of different ingredients, from barrels of slimy entrails and organs to jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders that lined the walls, and bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the owner for a couple of bundles of basic potion ingredients, Harry and Cheyenne examined the silver unicorn horns and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes on sale. The unicorn horns were the more expensive at twenty-one Galleons each, while the beetle eyes were being sold for five Knuts a scoop. 

As they stepped out of the Apothecary, Hagrid asked to see one of their lists. 

"Hm, just yer wands left ter get – ah, right, before I forget, we still need to get yer birthday present." Hagrid nudged Harry, who flushed red. 

"Neither of you really have to -" 

"We want to." Cheyenne cut in, giving her best friend a gentle smile, "Harry, you deserve a nice gift, especially after having to deal with those foul relatives of yours'." She looked back up at Hagrid, "Aren't we allowed to bring an animal to Hogwarts with us? What should we get?" 

"Tell yeh what, if yeh get Harry his animal, I'll get yeh yours', Cheyenne." Hagrid held up a hand to stop her when she started to protest, "It's only fair. Neither o' yeh would like toads, they went outta fashion years ago and yeh'll both be laughed at – I don't like cats, they make me sneeze. We'll get yeh owls. All the kids want 'em, they're dead useful, can deliver yer mail an' everything." 

Eeylops Owl Emporium was a large, dimly lit shop full of strange, but beautiful creatures peering out at them from every dark corner with flickering, jewel-like eyes. It didn't take either Harry or Cheyenne long to pick out what owls they wanted, and they left the shop twenty minutes later, each now carrying a large cage; in the one Harry carried was a beautiful snowy owl, while Cheyenne had a handsome tawny, both of them fast asleep with their heads tucked under their wings. Cheyenne had to reassure Harry a few times that it had been no trouble before he finally stopped thanking her so much. 

"Just got Ollivanders left now." Hagrid said, leading the way to the final shop, "Only place ter get a wand, Ollivanders, and yeh'd both better believe you'll have the best ones." 

Harry and Cheyenne exchanged an excited smile at the thought of finally getting their wands, one of the things they'd both been looking forward to the most the entire trip. 

Their final stop was at a narrow, shabby building, dubbed Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. by the peeling gold letters printed just above the door. Through the dust that coated the front window, there was a rather plain display, as compared to the other shops, of a single wand laid out on a faded purple cushion. 

The distant tinkle of a bell was the only thing that greeted the trio as they stepped inside, a somewhat unsettling sound that floated up from the depths of the otherwise quiet shop. The front room itself was tiny, with the only furniture comprised of a single, spindly chair set up in the corner, where Hagrid seated himself to wait. Cheyenne set her stuff down and examined the thousands of narrow boxes that lined the walls, stacked into neat piles that extended toward the ceiling. A strange energy filled the air, like a surge of electricity that prickled at the back of her neck, the dusty silence seeming to almost whisper of a secret kind of magic neither she nor Harry were yet old enough to understand. 

"Good afternoon." A soft voice said from behind them, making Harry and Cheyenne jump while a loud crunching sound came from the corner. The pair whirled around to find the source of the voice as Hagrid hurriedly got up from the spindly chair. 

Standing before them was an old man with wide, silver eyes that cut through the gloom like moonlight through the night. 

"E-er, hello..." Harry greeted, uneasy. 

"Ah yes." The man moved closer to the pre-teens, a mysterious smile playing at the corners of his lips as he looked from one to the other, "Yes, yes, I thought I'd be seeing the two of you soon. Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power." Harry and Cheyenne looked at one another, then back at the man, "You have your mother's eyes, Harry, and Cheyenne's as beautiful as hers'. It seems only yesterday they were both in here themselves, buying their first wands. Lily's was a swishy willow, ten-and-a-quarter-inches, good for Charms. Michelle, however, seemed to do well with a ten-inch wand made of dark walnut. Hers was strong, sturdy, best used for Transfiguration." 

Mr. Ollivander inched closer, and Cheyenne shuffled behind Harry, uncomfortable. While intriguing, his eyes were rather creepy when he didn't blink like he should. 

"Your fathers' wand choices were quite intriguing as well. James favored a pliable, eleven-inch mahogany. It could match Michelle's in power and stamina when it came to Transfiguration work. Marcus's was more flexible; ten-and-a-half-inch dogwood, best used for potion making. They both seemed quite attached to their wands – but then, it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, you know." 

Mr. Ollivander was now so close he almost loomed over both Harry and Cheyenne, who could see themselves reflected in each of his misty eyes. 

"And this is where..." 

Lifting one hand, Mr. Ollivander pressed one long, white finger to the lightning scar on Harry's forehead. 

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that caused this." He murmured regretfully, glancing at the pattern on Cheyenne's cheek, "Both of them. Thirteen-and-a-half inches it was, yew...it was a very powerful wand put into the wrong hands...if only I'd know what that wand was going out into the world to do..." 

Shaking his head as he took a step back, Mr. Ollivander finally spotted Hagrid. 

"Rubeus Hagrid, how nice it is to see you again. You had a bendy, sixteen-inch wand, right?" 

"Yes, sir." Hagrid smiled quietly. 

"Ah, that one was a good wand...but then, I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled, didn't they?" Mr. Ollivander quirked a brow, his tone becoming a bit sterner. 

"Erm, yes...yes they did..." Hagrid glanced away sadly, shuffling his feet, "but I've still got the pieces." He added brightly. 

"You don't use them, though, do you?" Mr. Ollivander responded sharply. 

"No, sir." Hagrid confirmed quickly. Cheyenne furrowed her brows when she noticed his grip tighten on the pink umbrella he was holding, and she glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye. He smiled faintly in return and pressed a finger to his lips, a silent promise to tell her later. 

"Hm mm." Mr. Ollivander gave Hagrid a long, stern look before turning back to Harry and Cheyenne, "Well then, enough of that, let's see what we can find for the two of you." Digging into his pocket, he produced a long tape measure with silver markings. "Which are your wand arms?" 

"We're both right-handed." Cheyenne told him. Mr. Ollivander nodded and motioned her forward before he had her hold out her arm so he could measure her, starting from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and around her head. 

"Every Ollivander wand that's been made contains the core of one powerful magical substance." Mr. Ollivander explained as he moved onto measuring Harry now, "My family has always used unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings. No two Ollivander wands are quite the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are the same. And, of course, if either of you were ever to use another witch or wizard's wand, neither of you would get quite as good a result out of it." 

"Uh, Chey...a little help?" Harry nudged Cheyenne, who looked away from where Mr. Ollivander flitted around the shelves gathering boxes. She had to do a double take when she noticed the tape measure, which was now measuring between Harry's nostrils, was doing it of its' own accord. 

"That will do." Mr. Ollivander said; the tape measure immediately stopped and crumpled to the floor in a heap, "Right then, Miss Power, let's start with you." He handed Cheyenne a wand with a smile, "Eleven-inch oak with a phoenix feather center. Just give it a little wave." 

Cheyenne exchanged an uncertain look with Harry, who gave her a small, encouraging smile, before she raised the wand, only for Mr. Ollivander to snatch it back almost at once. 

"No, try this one. Seven-and-a-half inches, pine, with dragon heartstring. Nice and sturdy. Go on." 

Cheyenne had barely moved before this, too, was snatched from her hand. 

"Hm, not quite that one either," Mr. Ollivander checked the different boxes in his hands before he took a new wand out and offered it to her, "This one is a beech and unicorn hair wand, ten-and-a-quarter inches. Flexible, just like your father's." 

A strange kind of energy filled Cheyenne as soon as her fingers touched the wood, an empowering energy that made her sure she could take on anything. Gripping the wand tightly in her hand, she gave it the simplest flick of her wrist; an orb of light emitted from the wand tip and shot across the room, hitting the discarded tape measure and sending it sailing out of sight into the depths of the shop. Mr. Ollivander watched with interest as Hagrid gave a low, impressed whistle. 

"Hm," The shop owner hummed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips with interest. Cheyenne handed the wand back for him to put back into its' box and set it aside before he turned his attention to Harry. She stepped back to give them room now, just as curious about the type of wand her best friend was destined for as he and the adults were. She had no doubt his search would be far more interesting than hers' had been, and she would be very much correct. 

Unlike the three it took for Cheyenne to find her wand, it took almost a couple dozen tries to find Harry's perfect match; Mr. Ollivander seemed to give him almost every combination of wand he had before he would snatch it back abruptly and add it to the pile accumulating on the spindly chair. Although, instead of a growing frustration as more and more wands were proven incompatible, Mr. Ollivander seemed to grow more excited for the challenge as he bustled about pulling more boxes from the shelves. 

"Quite the tricky customer, aren't you?" Mr. Ollivander beamed, ecstatic, "Not to worry, though, we will find you the perfect match here somewhere..." He trailed off, suddenly thoughtful, "Hmm, I do wonder...yes, perhaps it might work, even if it is a bit of an unusual combination..." He shuffled out of sight into the back of the shop and returned a moment later with another wand, which he offered to Harry, "Try this one, Mr. Potter. It's a holly and phoenix feather wand, eleven inches. Nice and supple." 

Harry glanced at Cheyenne, a bit apprehensive, but she gave him an encouraging smile, just as he had her, prompting him to turn back to the shopkeeper and take the wand. Warmth spread up his hand from his fingertips, causing the hair on his forearm and the back of his neck to stand on end again. Raising the wand above his head, he brought it swishing down through the thick, dusty air; the wand tip threw out a long stream of red and gold sparks, reminding Cheyenne of the sparklers she and Harry used to play with as little kids, her eyes wide as she watched spots of light dance along the walls. Hagrid gave a loud, celebratory whoop and clapped while Mr. Ollivander beamed, "Oh, bravo! Oh yes, that was marvelous. My, how curious, though...how very curious..." 

Harry and Cheyenne looked at one another as Mr. Ollivander took the wand back to return it to its' box and wrap both up for the pair, still muttering 'curious' under his breath. 

"Excuse me, sir?" Cheyenne cleared her throat nervously, "Sorry to interrupt your train of thought...but what's curious about this?" 

Mr. Ollivander gazed at Cheyenne and then Harry for a long moment, mentally contemplating his next words before he spoke. 

"I remember every wand I have ever sold, Mr. Potter, Miss Power. Every single wand. And it just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in Mr. Potter's wand, gave another feather – just one other. I find it very curious indeed that he should be destined for this wand when its' brother...gave you both those scars." 

A hand flew to Cheyenne's mouth, her eyes widening in surprise as Harry swallowed thickly. Mr. Ollivander nodded slowly. 

"Yes...thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. It is very curious indeed how these things happen. Never forget that the wand chooses the witch or wizard that wields it...I think we shall be expecting great things from you, Mr. Potter...He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things himself...terrible, yes, but great." 

Cheyenne looked worriedly at her best friend and put a reassuring hand on his arm as he shivered, staring uneasily at Mr. Ollivander. She frowned, knowing how uncomfortable he must be. It was a relief when they were able to leave, after they each paid Mr. Ollivander seven gold Galleons for their wands. 

The sun hung low in the sky as Harry and Cheyenne followed Hagrid through Diagon Alley and back through the wall into the Leaky Cauldron, which was empty by the time they returned. Harry was quiet as they stepped out onto the Muggle street, so deep in thought he barely registered the stares they got from passersby and the other Underground passengers on the Subway. Cheyenne decided it was best to leave him be, knowing when her best friend was quiet like this it was best to leave him to sort it out. They got off at Paddington station and went above ground again, arriving just outside the train station. Hagrid tapped Harry on the shoulder. 

"Got time ter get a bite ter eat before yer train leaves." He told them, nodding to the burger place just inside. He bought Harry and Cheyenne each a plain burger and they sat down at a small table together to eat. Harry watched the people walk past them, still off in his own little world. Cheyenne ate slowly, watching him out of the corner of her eye, knowing he must be feeling a bit overwhelmed. Her own gaze swept around the station, finding her mind wandering. After their day in Diagon Alley everything seemed...different somehow. The everyday lives of those around them, the world they'd once known seemed rather dull, unexciting. Maybe it was just the idea that there was another world they would soon be a part of, a world full of new possibilities and things to explore. The idea that magic actually existed just made the normal world extraordinarily boring all of the sudden. 

"You two all right?" Hagrid's voice broke through their thoughts, drawing Harry and Cheyenne's attention back to him once more. Cheyenne glanced up, then at Harry, who was watching his hands, frowning to himself. 

"Everyone thinks I'm special." He said, finally glancing up, "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron Chey and I met...Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander...they were excited to meet Chey, too, but...what Mr. Ollivander said...I don't know anything about magic, so how could they expect great things from me? I'm famous...we both are," He indicated to himself and Cheyenne, who put a hand on his arm gently, "And yet neither of us can even remember what we're famous for. Neither of us know what happened the night Vol – sorry, I mean...the night we lost our parents..." 

Hagrid gave Harry an empathic look, eyes gentle and eyebrows arched, his mouth turned up into a kind smile as he leaned across the table. 

"Don't you worry none, Harry. You and Cheyenne'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginnin' at Hogwarts, so you'll both be just fine. Just be yerselves." He pats Harry on the head, "I know it's hard, since yeh've both been singled out, that always makes things more difficult. But I know yeh'll both have a great time at Hogwarts – I know I did – and I still do, 'smatter of fact." 

Harry looked up at the giant quietly, then at Cheyenne, who smiled reassuringly as she nudged him with her shoulder, "Hey, we've gotten through everything else, haven't we? This time won't be any different. We can do this," She took his hand, "Together." 

Harry smiled and nodded in agreement. When they were finished with their food, Hagrid helped the pair onto the train that would take them back to Little Whinging. Before they were due to depart, however, he handed them an envelope. 

"Yer tickets fer Hogwarts." He explained when they looked at him with raised eyebrows, "Yer ter catch the train at King's Cross station in London on the first o' September. All the information is on your tickets. Harry, if yeh have any problems with those Dursleys, yeh can send me a letter with yer or Cheyenne's owl, they'll know where to find me...I'll see yeh both soon." 

Cheyenne gave Hagrid a quick hug before she and Harry jumped onto the train as it started to pull out of the station. The pair rushed back to their seats, wanting to wave to Hagrid until they couldn't see him anymore, but by the time they'd reached the window, he'd already disappeared.