"Due to the way I had to use your blood as the catalyst that bound the cores to the wood, the wand has become intimately tied to you and you alone. Your growth as a wizard will be reflected by your wand. Whatever magics you excel in, your wand will be able to accomplish with ease. If you were to become a master in every single branch of magic, then your wand will excel in every single branch of magic. On the other hand, if you excelled at nothing, your wand will excel at nothing."
Ollivander gave him a slight smile.
"However, I believe that the latter case will prove unfounded. I expect great things from you, Mr. Potter."
Harry smiled at the man who had given him what was quite possibly the best gift anyone ever had, the lost piece of himself that he had never known was missing.
"I'll be sure not to disappoint."
XoX
"BOY!" A shout from Harry's uncle interrupted the raven-haired youth's musings. "You'd better be down in five seconds or I'm leaving without you!"
Sighing, Harry made sure both wands were in place and that the holsters were secure, then grabbed his trunk and made his way out of the room.
He came downstairs to see Vernon Dursleys, his face the color of puce, glaring at him behind his bristly mustaches.
"About time you got down here," he grunted to Harry. "Well, get a move on. I don't have all day."
His uncle must be feeling awfully bold to talk to him like that. Normally, the man would just ignore Harry to the best of his ability. It probably had something to do with the fact that they would not be seeing each other for nine months.
Harry dismissed those thoughts. It's not like it truly mattered. He would be out of their hair and they would be out of his soon enough.
"Very well, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied as he moved to the car, his trunk rolling behind him.
The trip to King's Cross was long. About an hour all told. Harry sat in the back of the car so he wouldn't have to deal with his uncle glaring at him, reading a book on magical theory.
He normally would've taken amusement in how twitchy his walrus of an uncle got at seeing the book, but right now he just wasn't feeling it. In fact, he wasn't feeling much of anything. Something he attributed to his recent inner turmoil from his goodbye with Lisa.
When they arrived at the train station, Harry got out, grabbed his trunk, and watched as Vernon sped off without even so much as a good bye.
Yes, the man truly wanted nothing more than getting Harry out of his presence for good.
Turning, Harry made his way into the train station. The place was very packed, with hundreds of people jostling their way through the crowded walkways. Considering how many people used the trains to get to work, it was to be expected, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
Harry wove between the crowd, making his way towards the platforms of nine and ten. His destination was marked by a big plastic number over platform nine, and another big plastic number over platform ten. There was nothing in the middle, nothing that could be seen at least.
XXX
Passing through the barrier that led to platform nine and three-quarters was an experience in and of itself. It felt like his body was being hit with a very mild electric current, not enough to be painful or even uncomfortable, but enough that the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood on end. It was a most unusual experience.
While most people would never think twice about something like this—at least he assumed none of the witches and wizards who passed through here did—Harry couldn't help but wonder at the barrier. What was it? How was it made? Was it a gateway? Some kind of passage that warped the boundaries of time and space to instantaneously take one to their destination? Or was it something as simple as an illusion that had been placed over the platform to hide it from the non-magical population? Harry promised himself that he would eventually find out and replicate the feat someday.
The feeling of amazement and wonder at the magical barrier soon left him when something else caused him to look around in awe.
On the other side of the barrier, signified by a large plastic sign, was platform nine and three-quarters. Everywhere he looked witches and wizards milled about, filling nearly every nook and cranny of space available. Families were giving tearful goodbyes to sons and daughters, and many friends who looked to be returning students chatted with each other excitedly.
Animals of all kinds roamed the platform as well. Harry saw everything from owls hooting in their cages, to cats prowling around the legs of people, and even tiny mice darting to and fro—some to try and get away from the cats—underneath the legs of students and parents alike. And sitting behind it all was a massive scarlet and gold steam engine many of the students were boarding, and a few already had and were poking their heads out of the windows to speak with their parents.
After taking a moment to take the sight in, Harry lifted his trunk, which now had a feather-light charm to make carrying it easier, over his shoulder and started off towards the train. He wove in between several people, gracefully sidestepping a pair of students, first years from the looks of them, that had nearly run into him. It wasn't long before he boarded the train, and after searching through the isles for an unoccupied compartment found one that he quickly entered.
Setting the trunk down on the floor, Harry smiled as he pressed the catch on his wand holster. The wand shot out, and in a smooth, practiced motion, he caught it by the handle, his fingers already resting within the grooves. As soon as his fingers were clasped around it fully, the runes on the wand started to glow a silvery green. The glow was very dull however, nowhere near as bright as when he had first gotten it. In fact, most would probably play it off as a trick of the light.
Harry was thankful for this, as he didn't want people asking questions about his wand when they saw it.
Pointing his wand at the trunk, he watched, his smile growing brighter by the minute, as it began to lift itself into the air. Using his wand to guide the trunks movements, he carefully stowed it in the compartment above the seats. He then sat down and reached into his pocket, where he pulled out a small book the size of his palm. A small wave of his wand later, and the book on magical theory enlarged to its normal size and Harry began reading.
As his eyes wove their way across the pages, memorizing everything they saw, his mind began wondering about the school he was going to, and the small part of him that was nothing more than an eleven year old boy couldn't help but feel excited about the coming school year.
What would he learn when he got to Hogwarts? What would his classes be like? What were the teachers like? The other students? Would he make any friends?...
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