After paying for the trunk, Harry stepped back into the lively flow of Diagon Alley.
He pulled out the school supply list, more for the excuse of keeping his head down and his face partially hidden than because he needed it — every item was already memorized.
Wand, telescope, cauldron, potion ingredients, quills and parchment, an owl… he thought.
Best to start at the far end of the Alley and work my way back.
He turned and headed deeper into the wizarding street.
The rest of the shopping went smoother than he expected.
Most shops already had ready-made kits for first-year students, making the process quick and efficient.
The only real delay came at Ollivanders.
He spent nearly half an hour in the dimly lit, somewhat eerie shop while the ancient wandmaker studied him with unsettling intensity.
Eventually, the perfect wand chose him: eleven inches of holly with a phoenix feather core.
The old man claimed it was the brother wand to Voldemort’s.
Harry found the idea deeply unsettling.
He was relieved to leave the shop behind.
Outside, he strapped on the wrist holster he had purchased, sliding the wand into place on his left forearm.
A few practice draws later, he felt more confident with the motion and continued on his way.
By the time he made it back to the Leaky Cauldron, he had acquired everything on the list.
Using his own wand for the first time, he tapped the correct bricks and watched with quiet satisfaction as the wall opened for him.
Tom greeted him as he entered.
“Your new trunk has already been delivered to your room, young sir. Dinner will be served starting at five o’clock. Just come down and tell me what you’d like — I’ll have it ready in no time.”
Harry thanked him and headed upstairs.
After the long, stressful day, he looked forward to an early dinner and finally sleeping in a real bed.
He unshrunk his remaining purchases, unpacked everything carefully, and organized it into the new trunk: school supplies in one expanded compartment, clothing and toiletries in the other.
He left out two books to read later.
Tom promptly brought him a menu.
Harry ordered a hearty meal and, after learning the wizarding world didn’t serve fizzy drinks, asked for a butterbeer instead.
While waiting, he opened the first book and began reading.
After enjoying what was quite possibly the best meal of his entire life, Harry lingered at the table, absorbed in his reading.
He filtered out the noise of the pub and immersed himself in Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived.
The book mixed just enough truth with wild fantasy to make the lies feel believable.
The more he read, the more his blood boiled.
Several times he had to set the book aside and use his meditative techniques to shove the rising fury back down.
When the anger became too much, he switched to the drier but informative An Introduction to the Wizarding World.
That book helped him make sense of many things he had seen and heard throughout the day.
It also gave him an idea for dealing with the first book.
While wizarding libel laws seemed far behind those in the muggle world, a skilled solicitor could still pursue those profiting from his name and image.
And Harry had a deep, personal hatred for anyone who tried to use him — the Dursleys included.
That battle, however, could wait for another day.
For now, the books provided excellent descriptions of his appearance, including the scar.
Tomorrow he would study Simple Cantrips for the Beauty Conscious and learn how to alter his looks.
As the common room began to empty, Harry waved goodbye to Tom and returned to his room.
He stored the books away and settled into the soft bed for his first real night’s sleep in years.
Before drifting off, he mentally reviewed his plans for the following day.
Harry woke at five-thirty the next morning — the same early hour the Dursleys had always demanded.
For a brief, disorienting moment he expected the cramped darkness of his cupboard.
Then reality settled in: he never had to go back there again.
He gathered his new toiletries and enjoyed a long, luxurious shower in the communal bathroom — another first.
Returning to his room, he dressed in comfortable civilian wizarding robes, still grinning.
Not even his usual headache could spoil his mood.
He hesitated only briefly before strapping the wand holster to his left forearm.
It would take time to make it part of his natural routine.
Downstairs, Tom was just beginning to prepare for the day.
“Good morning, Tom,” Harry said cheerfully.
“And a good morning to you, Mr. Smith,” the barman replied with a smile.
“The grill isn’t quite ready yet — breakfast from around seven. That alright?”
“Perfect, thanks. What’s on the menu?”
“Standard fare, young sir. Just tell me what you’d like.”
Harry thought for a moment.
“Scrambled eggs on toast with bacon and coffee, please.”
Tom nodded.
“I can have it sent up to your room when it’s ready, if you like.”
“That sounds excellent. Thank you, Tom.”
Back in his room, Harry immersed himself in Simple Cantrips for the Beauty Conscious.
He marked several promising spells: one to conceal his scar, another to change his eye color, and one to alter his hair color and length.
He was just finishing the charm to lengthen and darken his hair when a young witch knocked and delivered his breakfast.
Harry thanked her warmly and tipped her a galleon.
She stared at the gold coin in surprise.
Harry smiled to himself.
I have money now.
Might as well enjoy it.