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Encouraged, Petunia decided to explore more. She tried on various robes and cloaks, each with its unique charm. Harry, meanwhile, was measured for his school robes. Madam Malkin expertly maneuvered around him with her measuring tape, noting down sizes and making occasional friendly remarks.
Harry suggested Petunia try some everyday magical clothing. "They're quite practical, Aunty. Some can adjust to your temperature, making them perfect for any weather."
Petunia, intrigued, tried on a set of robes that changed color based on the light. She laughed, a rare sound, as the fabric shifted from a deep emerald to a light seafoam green. "This is remarkable," she said, her eyes sparkling with a childlike wonder.
As they continued trying on different outfits, Nigel's voice popped in Harry's head. "I dare say, Master Harry, your aunt seems to be quite taken with the magical fashion. A stark contrast to her usual skepticism, wouldn't you agree?"
Harry chuckled silently at Nigel's observation, appreciating the irony.
Madam Malkin then turned to Harry, "And for you, dear? Standard?"
Harry shook his head. He had read enough to know that appearances mattered, especially in a world as nuanced as the magical one. "I want them to be special, Madam," he said politely.
Madam Malkin's eyes twinkled with interest. "Ah, looking for something a bit more unique? We can certainly do that."
Harry explained his requirements. "I'd like the fabric to be lightweight but durable. Something that can resist stains and damage. Oh, and if it could adjust to temperatures, that would be excellent."
Madam Malkin nodded, jotting down notes. "We have a wonderful material for that. Self-cleaning charms are quite standard, but I'll add a protective enchantment as well. It's handy for those unexpected magical mishaps."
Petunia listened, her eyes wide with amazement at the sheer possibility of magical clothing.
"And," Harry added, "could they resize themselves as I grow? I'd like them to last all through my years at Hogwarts."
"That's very practical," Madam Malkin commended, smiling. "We'll use an adjustable charm. They'll grow with you and always fit perfectly."
When Madam Malkin announced the price, Petunia's eyes widened in shock. "Harry, isn't that a bit much?"
Harry chuckled, "It's alright, Aunty. The uniforms can change size to fit, so I'll be able to use them for all seven years at Hogwarts. It's a worthwhile investment."
Petunia still seemed unsure, but she nodded, trusting Harry's judgment.
Their next stop was the Magical Menagerie. As they entered, a cacophony of sounds greeted them — squawks, hisses, and an occasional roar. Harry was immediately drawn to a corner where a group of magical creatures huddled together.
"Look at these, Aunty," Harry said, pointing at a small, furry creature with large eyes. "Nifflers. They're attracted to shiny things."
Petunia leaned in, her expression softening. "They're quite cute, aren't they?"
Suddenly, Nigel's voice echoed in Harry's mind. "Appreciate cutness, Master Harry, but remember, appearances can be deceiving, especially in the magical world."
Harry suppressed a smile at Nigel's timely reminder and turned his attention to the other creatures. Harry's attention was drawn to the various creatures, each more fascinating than the last. Petunia, though initially hesitant, found herself charmed by the menagerie's inhabitants.
An idea struck Harry. "Aunty, would you like a pet?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Petunia was taken aback, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Like... magical?"
Harry chuckled, "Aunty, most of these are regular animals. The only magic in them is that they are smarter."
Petunia's gaze swept the store. Indeed, aside from a slightly odd-looking snake, the owls and cats seemed much like their non-magical counterparts. Then, her eyes landed on an orange cat, lounging with a disdainful air. As she approached, the cat, named Crookshanks, raised its gaze to meet hers.
The shopkeeper, noticing Petunia's interest, approached. "That's Crookshanks. Been here a long time, but no one seems to want him," she said with a hint of sadness in her voice.
Petunia's heart softened at the sight of the neglected creature. "Is it... um, too magical?" she inquired cautiously.
The shopkeeper seemed surprised by the question but quickly smiled. "You're in the Muggle world, aren't you? Don't worry. Crookshanks is half Kneazle but not magical in any other sense. He's very smart and independent, can learn things on his own, and has an ability to detect untrustworthy people. He'd be a great help in your daily life."
Petunia's eyes lit up with interest as she stroked the cat's soft fur. She looked at Harry, seeking reassurance. "Should I?"
Harry nodded encouragingly. "You should, Aunty."
Petunia smiled, deciding to adopt Crookshanks, who seemed to have already taken a liking to her. As they prepared to leave the shop, Harry's gaze fell upon the owls. It was time for him to choose a companion of his own. But there was a shop just for that.
They next visited Eeylops Owl Emporium, a shop filled with the soft hooting of owls. Harry was immediately drawn to a beautiful snow owl with pristine white feathers and piercing amber eyes. The owl turned its head to regard Harry with a curious gaze.
"This one's a beauty," remarked Nigel in Harry's mind, "A fine choice for a Hogwarts student, I must say."
Harry smiled inwardly at Nigel's comment, knowing the AI's penchant for understatement. He approached the snow owl, extending a hand. The owl hopped onto his arm, a sign of acceptance.
"I'll call you Hedwig," Harry decided, feeling an immediate bond with the majestic bird.
With Crookshanks and Hedwig now part of their family, Harry and Petunia moved on to Scribbulus Writing Instruments. The shop was a paradise for anyone who loved the written word, its shelves filled with parchment, quills, and bottles of ink in every color imaginable.
Harry selected high-quality parchment and an assortment of quills. Petunia, curious about the magical writing instruments, picked up a self-inking quill, marveling at its convenience.
"Imagine how much easier this would make your bookkeeping," Harry suggested with a grin.
Petunia laughed, admitting that some aspects of the magical world were indeed quite appealing.
Their final stop was Ollivanders, the renowned wand shop. As they entered, the musty smell of wood and magic filled the air.
Ollivanders Wand Shop, renowned for its unmatched collection of wands, was an essential stop for any young wizard embarking on their magical education. As Harry and Petunia entered, the bell above the door chimed, echoing in the quiet, narrow shop lined with countless wand boxes. They initially saw no one, the shop seemingly empty, until a voice suddenly echoed from behind them.
"Welcome!" Mr. Ollivander appeared as if from nowhere, startling both Harry and Petunia. His sharp gaze locked onto Harry, recognition flashing in his eyes. Then, turning to Petunia, he said, "I recognize you but cannot match you with any wand. How interesting."
Petunia nodded, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "Hello, Mr. Ollivander. I'm Petunia Evans. I came here years ago with my sister Lily for her wand."
Mr. Ollivander's eyes sparkled with recollection. "Ah, yes, that does bring back memories," he said, his gaze lingering on Petunia for a moment before turning to Harry. "Now, Mr. Potter, let us find your destined wand."
Harry, with a curious tilt of his head, asked, "How will we do that?"
Mr. Ollivander smiled enigmatically. "The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand."
Ollivander then pulled out a measuring tape and asked Harry, "Your main hand?" Harry extended his right hand. The measuring tape, seemingly alive, began to measure his hand, arm, fingertip to shoulder, and fingertip to fingertip.
"Now, let's find the perfect wand for you," said Mr. Ollivander, turning to his vast collection. He handed Harry a wand, introducing it with a flourish. "Try this one. Ash wood, 12 inches, dragon heartstring core. Good for spells of great strength."
Harry took the wand, giving it a wave a vase on a nearby shelf shattered. Mr. Ollivander promptly took it back, muttering to himself before selecting another.
"This one is birch, 10 and a half inches, unicorn hair core. Excellent for charm work." Harry tried it, but upon waving, a gust of wind swept through the shop, scattering papers everywhere.
Several more wands followed, each introduced by Mr. Ollivander with details of its make, length, and core. Some wands were unresponsive, while others produced minor magical mishaps, none feeling quite right in Harry's hand. He could see Nigel's smirk in his mind's eye, the AI's voice tinged with amusement at the situation. "Quite the picky wand, or perhaps, picky wizard, Master Harry."
After several unsuccessful attempts, Mr. Ollivander paused, his expression contemplative. "Can it really be?" he whispered to himself before disappearing into the back of the shop. He returned with a wand that seemed to hum with energy. "11 inches long, made of holly, and possesses a phoenix feather core."
Harry's eyes widened as he felt a warm sensation upon grasping the wand. He gave it a wave, and bright red and gold sparks shot out of it, illuminating the shop. Petunia clapped her hands, delighted at the display.
"Curious... very curious," murmured Ollivander, peering closely at Harry. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It's curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar."
Harry felt a chill run down his spine at those words, his mind racing with questions. Nigel, sensing Harry's unease, added, "A twist of fate, Master Harry. The wand chooses the wizard, and it seems this one has chosen you for a reason."
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