Chapter Three: For Want of a Horse
Diagon Alley was the thrill of a lifetime for Harry. The trip to the vaults beneath Gringott's was better than any roller coaster Harry had ever been on, and the piles of money were simply unbelievable. Harry was also enjoying all the attention from strange witches and wizards who kept noticing his scar. Although Hagrid had told him more about his parents and the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named than Aunt Petunia had in the preceding ten years, Harry still found it astonishing that so many adults would be so keen to shake his hand. He had decided that the modest smile with regal nod of the head was definitely the best response so far.
The shops were outstanding, the people and other beings unlike any he'd seen before. He had talked to a goblin. He actually had his own magic wand, now, and the shopkeeper had even told him it was a brother to Voldemort's wand. A twin wand to an Evil Dark Wizard's!
Only one experience had clouded his day so far, and it had actually occurred fairly early on. At their first stop after Gringott's, to buy Harry's school robes, Hagrid had left Harry alone while he nipped off to a pub. The boy being fitted for robes when Harry arrived tried to strike up a conversation, and was soon prattling on to Harry about riding on broomsticks (which sounded interesting) and something called Quidditch (which sounded like nonsense). For the most part, Harry just nodded and smiled, wondering when the boy would notice the scar on his forehead and start exclaiming about meeting the famous Harry Potter. But Harry's ears pricked up when the boy asked him which Hogwarts house he thought he'd be in.
"I heard we would be Sorted into houses when we first get to the school, and we have no say about which house we get Sorted into, " Harry answered. "Still, as my parents were both in Gryffindor, I expect that'll be the house for me as well. Although Ravenclaw doesn't sound too bad, either."
The pale boy's thin lips pursed in a moue of distaste, and for a moment Harry thought he resembled Aunt Petunia rather strongly. "My family are all in Slytherin," the blond said curtly.
"Ah."
"Ah? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. I'm sure it's a great house."
"Too bloody right it is." The boy sniffed in disdain, but was obviously unhappy with Harry's clear opinion of his future House. "Better than bloody Gryffindor."
"Isn't Slytherin the house that, erm, Voldemort was in, though?" Harry asked with a deliberately innocent expression on his face. He suppressed a grin when he saw the other boy blanch even whiter. Hagrid had told Harry people didn't like to hear Voldemort's name, and Harry was pleased with the shock value it seemed to carry.
"Yes, it was, and what's more –"
Madam Malkin bustled back in just then, interrupting the blond boy and sending him along his way. Harry managed to shake off the feeling of irritation the conversation left him with, but had several hours to recall it later that night, when he was home once more and trying to get to sleep after the excitement of the day. His new owl Hedwig, a birthday gift from Hagrid, perched on the windowsill, eyeing Harry’s other two pets with suspicion but happily sharing their freeze-dried baby mice. Although the letter from Hogwarts had specified that students could bring an owl, cat, or toad, Harry had heard other first-years in Diagon Alley discussing pet rats, a type of furball-shaped creature called a puffskein, and, in one case, something called a Crup. While the Crup was evidently right out according to the unfortunate student's parents, the rats and puffskeins seemed acceptable school pets, and Harry wondered if the rules would extend to allowing him to bring his new Carolina corn snake in addition to Hedwig.
Chucking and hissing a little to his new snake, whom he had yet to name, Harry struck up a conversation, albeit of the limited sort possible with small, tame snakes. Midnight found him asleep at last, the snake curled in the warm crook of his arm, and Hedwig perched comfortably on his headboard.