Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Be ye warned. Paraphrases here! And direct quotes, too! Movie and book intermingled. It's going to be like this for a while, 'till I can get to a point where something happens to separate the two stories more drastically. I have a plan, I promise!

What, blinding him wasn't enough for you?

Shut it, you! You know very well that I have many things in store for our poor Harry. (evil cackling sound)

Evil woman!

I know. >:D Enjoy!

Harry stepped outside, listening for the person he was supposed to be going with to get his school supplies, this Mr. Hagrid. He heard breathing just off to the side of the porch, so he said, "Mr. Hagrid?"

The man turned around, sounding like a minor earthquake. He must be huge! A great, cheerful voice called out, "Blimey! I didn't see you standin' there, Harry! Crikey, but you look like yer dad. An' it's just Hagrid, lad. That's what everyone calls me. 'Course, the last time I saw you, you was a baby. Cute as a button, scar or no scar!" The voice was coming from eight feet up!

Harry smirked. "Not like I'd know it. You knew my parents?"

Hagrid smiled. "O' course! I was already the gamekeeper by the time yer folks were in school at Hogwarts! Mind they didn't see me much. But I was always there t' greet everyone off the train and t' say farewell as they got back on it." He put a huge hand on Harry's shoulder. It was so large that it nearly covered the entire shoulder. Harry grinned. "So, shall we be off?"

"The Headmaster said something about Diagon Alley."

"'O course! That's the only place to get all those school supplies."

Thinking about buying things brought Harry up short. "Um- Hagrid? How am I going to buy my supplies? I haven't got any money."

"You've got money, Harry. It's been in your vault in Gringott's this whole time. That's the wizard bank."

"But wouldn't the vault have been seized once my parents and I were declared dead? That's what they do in other banks any way."

"Nah. The Gringott's vaults are magiked so that they can't be seized until the vault knows yer dead. But the funny thing is, even if the goblins who run the place know that someone isn't dead they won't say a blessed thing to anyone about it. Misers, they are. But the trade off's in security. Bloke'd have to be mad ter try an' rob it. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringott's is the safest place in the world fer summat ye want kept safe - 'cept Hogwarts, o' course. An' I gotta get summat outta one o' the vaults fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." He paused, then said, "Well, shall we be going, then?"

Harry moved over to the left side of the big man and grasped the coat he was wearing. It seemed to be made of some kind of leather. He put his cane out in front so he wouldn't run into anything, then said, "Lead the way."

Hagrid led them down the street to the underground, talking the whole way about everything from the wizarding equivalent of football, called Quidditch to the exact reason someone would have to be mad to rob Gringott's. When he spoke of the dragons that guarded the high security vaults, he became wistful. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon!"

Harry quirked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. When they reached the station, Harry helped Hagrid count out the money to pay for the tickets, and then they got on the train. They sat in their seats, and Hagrid pulled what sounded like a newspaper out of his pocket. Harry figured he was reading, so he sat back in the seat, just absorbing the sounds around him and trying to sort out the thoughts in his head.

From what Dumbledore and Hagrid had said, there was an entirely separate world for wizards that Muggles, or non-magic folk, never knew of. They were kept ignorant of magic out of fear. Harry could see the point, having been quite a student of history when he could get his hands on Braille texts. Incidents like the Spanish Inquisition only supported the isolationist sentiments. Muggles were afraid of what they didn't understand, and they tended to want to destroy what they feared. But now he was to be a part of this world. And these wizards would all know his name. They would know who he was on sight because of the scar on his nose. He didn't know if he liked the idea of having that kind of attention.

And he had so much to learn! He was afraid that he wouldn't be worth anything in classes because he hadn't even the slightest bit of experience.

Hagrid interrupted his thoughts. "Ministry o' Magic's messin' things up as usual."

"There's a Ministry of Magic?"

"'Course. They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every mornin' askin' fer advice."

"But what does the Ministry of Magic do?"

"Well their main job is ter keep the wizarding world a secret. Like I already told ye, it wouldn't be no good if they knew there was still witches and wizards runnin' up and down the country. Why, everybody'd be lookin' fer magical solutions to their problems!" They were silent for a while, then Hagrid said, "Still got yer letter, Harry?"

"The first one?"

"Yeah. There's a list of everything you'll need."

"Oh, yeah. I had Jack, the gardener, read it to me back at the orphanage. I made a copy of it with my Braille writer so I could read it." He took it out of his pocket. "Can we buy all this in Diagon Alley?"

"'Course!"

They reached the stop Hagrid wanted and got the both of them off the train. They left the station, Hagrid having a bit of trouble at one point, getting stuck in the ticket barrier, complaining the whole time. He said, "I don't know how Muggles manage, I really don't," as they climbed the broken down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops. Harry wondered where in London Diagon Alley was. How could such a place exist and people not know about it?

They walked quickly along the busy street, Harry keeping his ears open for trouble. One didn't grow up in the kind of place that Mung Street was and not learn to be careful. Finally they stopped. "Here we are! The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous pub for wizards. Muggles can't even see it."

Once inside, Harry took in the odors of food, liquor and smoke, both from pipes and from the fireplace. A voice rose from somewhere off to the left. "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom. I'm on official Hogwarts business. Just takin' this lad to buy his school supplies."

Suddenly, you could have heard a pin drop. Harry felt eyes on him from every direction. Tom whispered, "Is that--is that Harry Potter?"

"Sure is."

Several people were moving forward, Harry guessed to gawk. Someone grabbed his hand to shake it. "A great honor to meet you, Mr. Potter!" Chairs were scraping all over the pub, and more and more people were shoving forward to touch him. He was overloading and he started to panic. He knew there were things starting to come off of the tables, but no one had noticed yet. More people grabbed his hands, and he was being jostled from every side. He grew more and more panicked, until finally he froze and things started flying around people's heads.

Hagrid shouted, "Harry! Everyone back off! Harry, calm down. Yer all right, lad."

Harry struggled for control, slowing everything down and taking deep breaths. Finally he was calm enough that he had complete control over the objects in the air and slowly set each one on a flat surface, not necessarily the one it had come from, but where it wasn't going to fall off and make a mess. When the last salt shaker was no longer floating, he sagged. Tom was ready with a chair, and Harry sat down, trying to catch his breath. Tom's voice was shaky. "You can do quite a bit, can't you, lad. And without a wand, as well!"

"Sorry. It was just too many people at once. I couldn't sort it all out and I panicked."

Tom smiled. "That's quite all right. We shouldn't have mobbed you like that. It's just, we're very pleasantly surprised to see you, Mr. Potter. And you didn't break anything, which most children who've yet to go to Hogwarts would have in your situation. I'll bet you're going to do splendidly!"

Someone else was there as well, someone with a very quavery voice. "He's r-r-right, you know. You should do v-v-very well."

Hagrid said, "Oh, hello there, Professor Quirrell. I didn't see you there. Harry, this is Professor Quirrell. He'll be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-D-Deffense Against the D-Dark Arts." He said it as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-Not that you'd need it, eh, P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. Harry didn't know why, but he got as funny feeling about the man. He dismissed it as holdover from his earlier panic.

Hagrid decided it was time and past it to get Harry out of the pub. "Well, come on, Harry. We've got lot's ter buy."

Tom shook Harry's hand one more time, and then they left the pub through a rear door. Hagrid smiled. "Sorry 'bout that, Harry. Most people reckon you've saved their lives by destroyin' You-Know-Who, and yer very famous. Don' worry. It shouldn't be nearly as bad in the Alley. A few people might notice, but everyone'll be runnin' around shoppin' so it'll be less likely." Hagrid did something that required counting and tapping to the wall in front of him, and then there was the gritty hollow sound of brick shifting and a sudden warm breeze blew in from somewhere. Harry moved his cane forward. The wall was gone! "Welcome to Diagon Alley!"

As they walked along the cobblestone street, Harry was surrounded by new smells and sounds. It made him really wish he had his sight. He imagined the street was probably a riot of color. The only color he knew was green, and that was only on nights when his oldest nightmare came out of the dark at him.

They passed the mouthwatering scents of food vendors, the clanging racket from the inside of what Hagrid identified as a cauldron shop, the excited clamor of children hanging around a display of the Nimbus 2000 Quidditch broom, and the combined stench and noise of a pet shop. There was so much more as the walked down the street, but Harry didn't have the chances of a snowstorm in summer to identify all of them.

Finally they reached their first destination, Gringott's Bank. They walked through one set of doors and then another, stepping onto a marble floor. The sound in the hall bounced around, so he figured it was a very large place. He could hear whisper-quiet voices and softly tapping shoes, along with other, less identifiable sounds, dull thuds that Hagrid told him was the tellers using some kind of stamp. Throughout was the gentle tinkling of coins.

Hagrid found himself a goblin and said, "Mornin'. We need to take some money out of Mr. Harry Potter's vault."

"Do you have his key?"

Hagrid started rummaging through his pockets. "Got it here somewhere." Harry swore he heard some kind of squeaking in Hagrid's pockets, and listening more closely, he thought it was a couple of mice. He shook his head. The man seemed to have a thing for animals, no matter the size or type. Finally he found the key he was looking for. "There it is."

He passed it to the goblin. After a short time, the creature said, "This seems to be in order."

"Professor Dumbledore also told me to give you this." There was the slight sound of paper against Hagrid's coat. "It's about You-Know-What in vault 713."

Harry heard the goblin open the paper and the slight rustling while he read it. Then he said, "Very well. I'll have someone take you to both vaults. Griphook!"

Soon they were in a cart that was moving at break-neck speeds. Harry felt a bit queasy at the speed and the twisty turns, though Hagrid thought he might actually be sick. Suddenly the thing stopped. "Vault six-hundred and forty seven."

Griphook unlocked the door while Hagrid caught his breath. Harry carefully entered the vault, running his hands over what seemed to be an awful lot of money. There were coins in piles taller than he was! "Griphook, can you explain the money to me, and identify the different coins so I can tell which is which by feel?"

"Sorry sir, no. Goblins may not touch a human's money. It prevents the appearance of impropriety."

"I'll do that, Harry." Hagrid snagged three coins and then put one into Harry's hand. "This one's a Galleon. It's made of gold, and it's the biggest of the coins."

Harry weighed the thing in his hand and ran his thumb over the surface. There was a large cross-shaped relief in the center of one side and a face on the other. He said, "All right," and handed the coin back to Hagrid.

The big man handed him another coin. This one was smaller. It had the same two designs on it's sides, but it also had ridges along the edge. "This one's a Sickle. It's silver and the middle-sized one."

Then they switched coins again. The last one was much smaller than the other two. It also had the same two designs on it and the ridges along the edge. "And this one's a Knut. It's bronze and the smallest coin. The rate is twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle and seventeen Sickles to a Galleon."

"And how does that convert to pounds?"

Griphook answered that one. "The current exchange rate is about five and a half pounds to a Galleon. That rate shifts fairly often, but by very small increments."

"Thank you." Harry shook his head. All those years in an orphanage without a penny to his name, and he'd had all this locked away under the streets of London the whole time.

They filled a bag that Hagrid said was likely to last him a couple of terms and then left the vault for the cart. They soon stopped at another vault. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen."

Harry waited while Hagrid took whatever was in the vault and left. The big man said, "Best not to mention this to anyone, Harry. It's Hogwarts business, very secret."

Harry nodded. "Of course."

One more cart ride, and they were standing outside in the warm sunlight. Hagrid dropped Harry off at Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "I'm goin' ter slip over to the Leaky Cauldron for a pick-me-up. Those carts are awful! You'll be all right here fer a bit?"

Harry grinned. "I'm fine. You go on." Then Harry went inside the shop.

The tailory was small and carpeted, so sound didn't bounce around it very well, but it wasn't muffled either. A friendly feminine voice came from the side. "Hogwarts, dear? Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted just now, in fact. Now, you come this way and I'll get you started. Easy, dear, there's a step." The witch led Harry to the back room where she had him stand on a stool, then threw a robe over his head and started pinning it up to fit him.

The other boy in the shop said, "Hello. Hogwarts too?"

"Yes."

"My father's next door buying my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands." He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I can't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." The boy paused. "Don't suppose you'll be allowed on a broom, will you? If you can't see, it'd be hard to fly."

Harry smirked. "You're probably right. They put me on a broom and I'll promptly fly into a wall. It sounds like fun, though, flying."

"Oh, it is! Father says it'll be a crime if I'm not picked to be on the house Quidditch team, and I must say I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

"Well no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all my family have been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff! I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"I wouldn't know. I wasn't raised around wizards, so I don't know much at all."

"But your parents, they were our kind, weren't they?"

Smelling bigotry in the air like last week's garbage, Harry smirked and spoke with the same coolness he used on the bullies at Mung Street. "Well, if you can't tell for yourself, that ought to tell you something, shouldn't it. What would it matter? The school accepts those it wants to come, and no one else has any say in the matter."

Harry could just feel the sneer in the other boy's voice. "I notice you didn't answer. You're probably a mudblood, just like half the kids at that school."

Harry would have popped off, but Madame Malkin shouted. "That's enough! I'll have no use of obscenities in my shop." She pulled the finished robe over the top of the boy's head. "You're done, Mr. Malfoy. And next time you're in here, I'll thank you to remember that I run a polite establishment, no matter what political viewpoint you hold. Am I clear?"

Malfoy snorted disdainfully. "Crystal." He strode toward the front door. "See you at Hogwarts. Too bad you won't see me."

Later, after the pinning was done, Hagrid came back with icecreams and they sat on one of the benches that were spaced evenly along the road. Harry quietly asked, "What kind of insult is it when someone calls you a mudblood?" Harry had a fair idea, but it seemed the best way to begin the conversation.

"Blimey, Harry! Where'd you hear that?"

"A boy in the shop. Madame Malkin called him Mr. Malfoy and told him off for using obscenities."

"Well, it's not true of you, even the way he meant it. The polite term's Muggleborn. Yer ma would have fit the description. There's a lot from the older wizarding families that've got it in their heads that pure wizard blood makes ye better than someone who's Muggleborn. But that's a load of codswallop. A lot of the best wizards in an age have been Muggleborn or half-bloods, an' that includes you. So don' take it to heart, lad."

Harry nodded. "I won't. I just wondered. So what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four of 'em. You'll get sorted into one of them on the first night there. Don't worry about that. Ye'll get put wherever's best fer ye."

They next went to the book store, Flourish and Bott's. Harry had to go up to the front and ask for help because all of his books would need to be in Braille. The proprietor was very helpful, and he had almost all of the books Harry needed for school in Braille, all but the potions book. He was forced to buy the English version and wait until he got to school. He'd ask Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration teacher, to translate the book with a spell. There were also several other books there that Harry decided to buy that weren't on the curriculum, like Famous Curses and the Men Who Used Them by Dorien Morbus, A Muggle's Guide to Wizarding Britain by Mark O'Reilly and How Does Your Garden Grow: A practical guide to the magical home garden by Sharon Rose. Harry was so at home in a garden, he just knew that Herbology was going to be his best subject.

They bought his cauldron, scales and telescope in one store, along with a set of brass measuring spoons that were marked in Braille, and his potions ingredients and phials in the Apothecary. He knew for a fact that he would have to get everything labeled in Braille. He got the feeling that Potions was a lot like chemistry in basic principle, and if things were done wrong, explosions and worse might occur.

Outside the Apothecary, they checked Harry's list again. "Just yer wand left- an' I still haven' got ye a bir'day present."

Harry felt himself flush. "You don't have to--."

"I know I don' have to. Tell ye what, I'll get an owl fer ye. They're useful as well as lovely, soft an' friendly." So they went into the pet shop, Eeylops Owl Emporium, and twenty minutes later had come out with a snowy owl in a cage. She was very soft, and she had hooted once, then gone to sleep.

"Thank you, Hagrid. She'll have to stay with you until I get back to school, though. There's really no way that Todders could allow me to have a pet there. She could come to quite a bit of harm there if someone were to get jealous. I wouldn't want anything to happen to her."

"All right, Harry. Now we've just got ter get to Olivander's. Only place for wands, really. Ye've got ter have the best when it comes to yer wand."

A magic wand. Harry was really looking forward to this. He hoped that it would help to stabilize his magic.

Ollivanders was dusty and quiet. It felt something like a library to him. It also felt like magic, prickling against his senses as nothing else he'd yet encountered had done. It wasn't wild, but it was very ambient, like the heat from an oven would saturate a kitchen.

"Good afternoon." The voice was soft. Harry had heard quiet footsteps, but obviously Hagrid hadn't, as he jumped, startled. "My, my! I didn't think I'd ever see you in here, Mr. Potter. I thought you were dead, as I'm sure the rest of the wizarding world did."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

Ollivander shook his head. "I remember when your parents were in here buying their first wands." The man turned quickly, the air parting before him as he strode toward the back of the shop and started bringing out wands for Harry to try out. The old man talked about his parents wands and what they would have been good at because of them while he was pulling wands off the shelves.

Half an hour later, they still hadn't found a wand to fit him. Then Ollivander seemed to get an idea. "I wonder." He rummaged around on his shelves some more, pulling out one more wand box. "Try this one, Mr. Potter. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

This time Harry felt something. He felt warmth in his fingertips, which then suffused his body. The feeling he got when he was accidentally doing magic ran through him, but this time it swirled around his hand, pooled in his palm and went into the wand. It slowed, adjusted and then poured back into him. Suddenly Harry felt much calmer. That something within him that was magic was suddenly under the control of the magical element within the wand.

Ollivander's voice was awed. "Well, that was different, wasn't it? Red and silver sparks. A very interesting combination! And how very curious!"

"What's curious?"

"I remember every wand I ever sold, Mr. Potter. The phoenix whose feather is in your wand gave another feather. Just one other. It is very curious, therefore, that this wand should choose you when its brother was the wand that blinded you." Harry felt his eyes widen. "Yes, very curious indeed. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. It's not always clear why. But I think it is clear that we may expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great."

A chill ran up Harry's spine. Harry paid for his wand, seven Galleons, and left the shop with Hagrid, the weird feeling not leaving him for some time.

They stopped for dinner at a hamburger joint before Hagrid took Harry back to the orphanage. He ate in silence, going over the day in his mind. "Somethin' wrong, Harry? Yer awfully quiet."

"Nothing really. Everyone has these expectations of me. I'm famous for something I can't even remember, and I know next to nothing about magic or the wizarding world. It's not that I actually care what most people think of me, but I hate it when people stare. I've gotten that all my life because of my blindness and my scar, and now they'll have an entirely new reason."

There was a smile in Hagrid's voice. "Don't worry about that. People are people and they'll always stare at somethin' that catches their interest, but somethin' else'll come along fer 'em ter stare at eventually. And you'll learn fast enough. Muggleborns learn it fast enough all the time. You'll see. So to speak."

Harry chuckled and finished his hamburger.

That night, Harry lay awake in his bed late into the night, reading his herbology text. He couldn't wait 'till he started school! There was so much to learn, and he had always thirsted for knowledge. He knew the basics of reading, writing and math, but because Todders wouldn't spend the extra money on books in Braille that only he would be able to read, he had been reliant on other people reading for him, and he hadn't been able to research on his own. He hoped to be able to learn a spell that would translate English to Braille and allow him to learn at whatever speed he wished. And maybe he would be able to make a few friends, as well. Not that he'd ever really been lonely at the orphanage, but he'd had to be careful with his feelings. He couldn't develop a strong friendship with someone when they might be adopted out the next day. He knew in his heart that he wouldn't be able to handle that kind of loss, so he didn't put himself in the position. Now he'd be in a boarding school, and he'd be around the same group of people for a total of seven years. He wouldn't have to loose the friends he made!

Yes, school was going to be great! Hogwarts, I hope you're ready for me.

And there we have Chapter 3. Again, this will be very copycat until I can get to a certain point in the story, but don't worry. It'll be in the fifth chapter. There will still be a lot of similarities, but they won't be as bad as this. And as he progresses through life, things will change drastically. The things which are outside Harry's control will be the same as the series, but everything else will change. Review please!