Morning came quietly to No. 4 Privet Drive.
Harry awoke not to shouting or stomping, but to an unfamiliar stillness. For once, he wasn't in the cupboard under the stairs. Instead, he lay on Dudley's bed, the room unnaturally spacious compared to what he was used to. Dudley himself had been banished to sleep with his parents because he was scared, while the giant visitor occupied the sofa downstairs—his massive form making the furniture look laughably small.
Harry slipped out of bed and padded downstairs. As he reached the living room, he noticed a brown owl hopping impatiently atop Hagrid's coat, tugging at one of the pockets with its beak.
"That must be for you," Harry said softly. The owl turned its head sharply toward him, amber eyes blinking. Harry nudged Hagrid's shoulder. "Hagrid, there's an owl here."
Hagrid stirred, blinking sleep from his eyes. "Eh? Oh—right. Post." He fumbled in his coat and muttered, "Should be paid, that."
Knowing how it worked, Harry quickly reached into the coat, pulled out a few coins, and counted them—five Knuts. He held them out. The owl snatched the coins, dropped a folded letter onto Hagrid's chest, and took off through the open window without another sound.
Hagrid yawned and opened the letter, scanning it quickly. "Right on time," he muttered. Harry then pulled out the parchment listing his school supplies—the books, robes, wand, and other necessities. "Hagrid," he asked, "where do we buy all of this?"
Hagrid's face split into a grin. "Oh, I know just the place. But we'll have ter go ter London."
Without waking the Dursleys or offering any explanations, Harry grabbed his worn jacket, and moments later, the two of them were on their way. They traveled by suburban train, Harry watching the countryside give way to brick buildings and crowded streets as excitement steadily built in his chest.
London felt overwhelming—loud, busy, and alive. Hagrid led Harry through twisting streets until they stopped in front of a narrow, shabby-looking pub wedged between a bookshop and a record store. Its sign was faded and cracked.
"The Leaky Cauldron," Hagrid said casually. Harry looked at the entrance, heart pounding.
The moment Harry stepped across the threshold of the Leaky Cauldron, a familiar, soundless chime echoed inside his mind.
[Successfully signed in at Leaky Cauldron]
[Reward obtained: Kamar-Taj Sling Ring (Marvel) — stored in inventory]
Harry's breath caught for the briefest moment his first Sign in reward and also he got to know about his system having an inventory.
Just days ago, the system had informed him that it's full functionality would unlock on his birthday. He kept his expression neutral, though inwardly his excitement surged. The Sling Ring—an artifact capable of opening portals across the world, precise, instantaneous, and free from the violent compression of Apparition. Compared to wizarding travel, this was nothing short of divine convenience.
He resisted the urge to immediately test the ring. Acting rashly was how people with advantages lost them.
Harry followed Hagrid deeper into the pub. Everything unfolded much as he remembered. Wizards glanced up from their drinks, whispers followed him through the room, and behind the stuttering greetings stood a nervous man with a turban wrapped tightly around his head. Professor Quirrell.
Harry met the man's eyes briefly and felt it—the faint, sickly ripple of another presence lurking beneath the surface.
Voldemort… still clinging to life. He said nothing. He met the owner of the pub named Tom and then met many wizards who came to say hi to the Boy Who Lived.
Moments later after Hagrid calm down the crowd he led Harry into the small courtyard behind the pub and carefully explained how to access Diagon Alley. One tap, two taps—brickwork shifting like living stone.
As the final brick folded away and the wizarding street burst into view, a second chime sounded within Harry's mind.
[Successfully signed in at Diagon Alley]
[Reward obtained: Compass of True Desire (Pirates of the Caribbean) — stored in inventory]
Harry nearly stopped walking. The Compass of True Desire. An artifact that pointed not north, but toward what the holder desired most the compass of Captain Jack Sparrow. This system doesn't give small gifts.
Hagrid stepped aside, grinning proudly as Diagon Alley revealed itself in all its chaotic wonder—shops packed tightly together, cauldrons stacked high, owls calling from cages, robes fluttering.
As the initial wonder of Diagon Alley settled, Harry glanced up at Hagrid. "Hagrid," he asked casually, "where do we get the money to buy all of this?"
Hagrid chuckled. "Gringotts Wizardin' Bank. Only bank fer wizards. Run by goblins—an' they don't like anyone messin' about."
They soon stood before a towering white building that rose over the surrounding shops like a fortress. Sunlight gleamed off its polished marble façade. Engraved beside the massive bronze doors were lines of warning—stern, unmistakable, and unsettling.
Harry read them silently.
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed.
For those who take, but do not earn, Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware Of finding more than treasure there".
As he crossed the threshold, another silent chime rang in his mind.
[Successfully signed in at Gringotts Wizarding Bank]
[Reward obtained: Greed — Sin Weapon (Berserk of Gluttony), stored in inventory]
Harry's heartbeat skipped. Greed...The infamous black weapon—capable of shifting into seven distinct forms, each representing the consuming sin of desire and acquisition. A blade that devoured power itself. Dangerous. Insatiable.
He suppressed the instinctive urge to inspect it but he knew that this was not the place. Hagrid lumbered toward the counter, producing a small golden key. "Vault fer Harry Potter," he said.
The goblin examined the key with sharp, glittering eyes before nodding. "Follow me." As they waited, Hagrid added casually, "Oh—and Professor Dumbledore asked me ter pick up somethin' else. From another vault."
Harry's gaze sharpened. Vault 713. The Philosopher's Stone. He said nothing.
The cart ride through Gringotts was just as dizzying, Harry was still spinning from the ride, plunging drops, screaming rails, and sharp turns that twisted the stomach. When the vault finally opened, torchlight spilled over mountain of gold Galleons, piles of silver Sickles, and stacks of bronze Knuts. For a brief moment, Harry simply stared stunned because this much wealth was for the first time he had seen as in his previous life he was just a normal worker with meager payment and seeing this much money at once harry was stunned.
Then his eyes flicked to the shelves lining the vault—books, old parchments, and heirlooms. His interest stirred… but he restrained himself. Later.
He grabbed an official Gringotts pouch, already enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm. There was no risk in using it. Without hesitation, Harry transferred a substantial portion of the vault's contents inside. Not just for first year. But for all seven years course books he needed this much money.
Even with Voldemort's memories integrated, Harry knew they were incomplete—only fragments of what the Dark Lord deemed important. Knowledge was still power, and books remained irreplaceable.
Once finished, the vault closed behind them. They exited Gringotts, sunlight spilling over Diagon Alley once more. The noise and life of the street felt different now—less overwhelming, more… like a board full of pieces waiting to be moved thought Harry.
Hagrid halted in front of a shop window displaying mannequins dressed in elegant wizarding robes.
"Madam Malkin's Robes fer All Occasions," he said. "We'll start here." Hagrid shifted uncomfortably, one large hand pressing against his side.
"Er—Harry," he said, clearing his throat, "that cart ride did me in a bit. Think I'll head back ter the Leaky Cauldron an' sit meself down fer a while. Yeh go on ahead, yeah? I'll be right outside."
Harry nodded. "Alright. I'll be quick."
Hagrid lumbered away down the street, leaving Harry standing before Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Taking a steady breath, Harry pushed open the door and stepped inside.
A soft chime echoed in his mind.
[Successfully signed in at Madam Malkin's Robes Shop]
[Reward obtained: Skill — Auto-Equip]
[Status updated: Skill added automatically]
Harry blinked. A skill-type reward… That alone made it special. He understood its function just by reading the name it means that whatever equipment or cloths or items he have cancelled instantly be wore by him instead of doing manual wear then his attention shifted as a pleasant voice rang out from behind the counter.
"Hogwarts, dear?"
Madam Malkin was already eyeing him with open admiration, her gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary. "Such striking features," she murmured approvingly. She then guided him toward the back of the store.
There, another boy stood on a footstool, pale-blond hair slicked neatly into place, chin raised in unmistakable arrogance. A witch pinned his robes while he talked.
Harry needed only one glance. Draco Malfoy."Stand on the stool, please."
Harry complied, answering politely as she took his measurements. The exchange unfolded much as he remembered—robes, uniforms, and casual chatter filling the shop with quiet warmth.
The boy noticed him almost immediately. "That's a new one," Draco said, looking Harry up and down. "First year?"
Harry nodded, deliberately adopting an air of curiosity and ignorance. "Yes. Is Hogwarts any good?"
Draco scoffed and launched into the familiar speech—pureblood families, knowing the right sort of people, and avoiding the "wrong kind." Harry listened attentively, asking questions that subtly encouraged Draco's vanity while revealing nothing of himself.
By the time the conversation ended, Draco wore a smug grin, fully convinced he'd enlightened an uninformed half blood wizard. Hook, line, and sinker.
Moments later, Harry stepped back out into Diagon Alley. Hagrid was waiting just outside, holding two melting ice creams. "Thought yeh might want one," he said cheerfully, handing one over.
"Thanks," Harry replied, accepting it.
They walked together down the bustling street, eating in companionable silence as the sounds of Diagon Alley washed over them.
"Next stop," Hagrid said, pointing ahead, "Flourish an' Blotts. Yeh'll need a lotta books." Harry's eyes gleamed faintly. Exactly what I was hoping for.
The bell above the door chimed softly as Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts. Shelves towered high on every side, packed tightly with books that whispered, shimmered, or snapped their pages shut on their own. The smell of old parchment and fresh ink filled the air.
Another soundless chime echoed within Harry's mind.
[Successfully signed in at Flourish and Blotts Bookstore]
[Reward obtained: Serpent Breathing Manual (Demon Slayer) — stored in inventory]
Harry nearly sighed. Of course it's serpent-themed.
With a Jade Serpent bloodline already awakened, the system seemed determined to lean fully into the motif. Elegant, lethal, and efficient—he could already imagine how such techniques might adapt to magic-enhanced physical combat.
Fine, he conceded inwardly. At least it's compatible.
Outwardly, Harry showed nothing. He moved briskly through the aisles, selecting the required first-year textbooks—The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1), Magical Theory, A History of Magic, and the rest—stacking them neatly in his arms.
As his gaze drifted toward the higher shelves, his interest sharpened. Advanced spell theory, ancient runes, alchemy, dark rituals… knowledge he could devour in hours.
"I'll take these too," Harry said, gesturing toward several upper-level volumes.
Hagrid shook his head immediately. "Nah, Harry. No need fer that yet. Yeh'll get 'em when the time comes."
"I can read them now," Harry argued calmly. "It would save time later."
Hagrid crossed his arms. "Rules are rules. First year's enough."
They went back and forth briefly, but in the end, Hagrid's stubbornness won out. Harry relented, setting the extra books back in their places.
Annoying, he thought, but temporary.
After paying, they stepped back into the sunlit chaos of Diagon Alley, "Next stop," Hagrid said, pointing down the street, "the Apothecary. Potions ingredients."
The Apothecary was thick with unfamiliar scents—sharp, sweet, acrid, and earthy all at once. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, jars of powdered claws and crushed leaves lined the shelves, and rows of bottled liquids shimmered faintly under enchanted lights.
As Harry stepped inside, a familiar chime echoed softly in his mind.
[Successfully signed in at Apothecary]
[Reward obtained: Felix Felicis (3-vials) — stored in inventory]
Harry's eyes widened just a fraction. Liquid Luck… One of the most dangerous potions in the wizarding world—not because of its effects, but because of how carefully it had to be used. He resolved immediately to save it for a truly decisive moment even though he have 3 vials he have to make sure to use them well.
Together, he and Hagrid purchased the required potion ingredients—dried asphodel, moonstone, standard vials, and other necessities. Once finished, Hagrid glanced at Harry with a thoughtful expression.
"Well," he said gruffly, "there's one more thing. Can't be goin' ter Hogwarts without it."
They stopped in front of Eeylops Owl Emporium, its windows crowded with cages of owls of every shape, size, and color. Inside, hoots and fluttering wings filled the air.
"It's yer birthday," Hagrid said awkwardly. "Thought yeh might like one." Harry smiled—genuinely this time.
Inside the shop, he felt no system response at first and harry was stunned because this should have been an sign in location but there was no notification from the system. He walked slowly between the rows of cages, listening, observing. Then his gaze settled on a single owl perched quietly apart from the others—a snow-white owl, calm, intelligent eyes watching him closely.
Hedwig. "She's the one," Harry said without hesitation.
Hagrid nodded, pleased, and paid for the owl along with a cage and owl treats. The moment the purchase was complete, the chime finally sounded.
[Successfully signed in at Eeylops Owl Emporium]
[Reward obtained: Frostwing Owl Bloodline — stored in inventory]
Harry's breath caught. For the owl…That meant Hedwig could grow beyond an ordinary magical creature—stronger, smarter, perhaps even capable of abilities unheard of among common owls. He gently reached out, and the owl tilted her head, accepting him without fear.
After leaving the shop, Harry's eyes continued to scan Diagon Alley with keen interest. One storefront in particular caught his attention. Magical Menagerie.
"Hagrid," Harry asked casually, "can we just take a look in there?" Hagrid shrugged. "Don't see why not."
The moment Harry crossed the threshold, another chime rang.
[Successfully signed in at Magical Menagerie]
[Reward obtained: Skill — Beastwhisper]
Harry felt something subtle shift within him—a new awareness, a gentle resonance that allowed him to sense emotions and intent from magical creatures. Calm curiosity replaced instinctive uncertainty.
Another skill… They spent some time wandering among puffskeins, kneazles, and enchanted reptiles before stepping back out into the street. As Harry got towards Hedwig he could faintly sense the emotions of he owl which really surprised him even though he knew that the Beastwhisper skill was in use.
Hagrid checked the list one final time. "That's everything… except one." Harry already knew which. They turned toward a narrow, dusty shop with a faded sign above the door:
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
The moment Harry stepped into Ollivanders, the narrow shop seemed to exhale.
Dust hung thick in the air, shelves stretching impossibly high, stacked with narrow wand boxes that whispered of centuries past. As the door closed behind him, a final chime echoed in his mind.
[Successfully signed in at Ollivanders Wand Shop]
[Reward obtained: Spellweaver Ring — stored in inventory]
Before he could dwell on the reward, a voice spoke from the shadows.
"Ah… yes. I wondered when I'd be seeing you, Mr. Potter."
Mr. Ollivander emerged, pale eyes gleaming with unsettling intensity. He studied Harry as though measuring not just his body, but his destiny. The conversation unfolded much as Harry remembered front he books—about his parents, about phoenix feathers and yew wood, about the wand that had once scarred him.
One wand after another failed. Until finally—
"Holly," Ollivander whispered, reverent. "Eleven inches. Phoenix feather core." The wand flared with golden sparks, warmth flooding Harry's hand in perfect harmony.
"Curious… very curious indeed," Ollivander murmured, eyes sharp. "The wand chooses the wizard, remember that." Harry nodded, fingers tightening slightly around the familiar wood.
Soon after, he and Hagrid exited the shop, the weight of fate resting lightly in Harry's grasp.
The journey back to Privet Drive passed quietly. When Harry stepped inside, the Dursleys froze—hesitation flickering across their faces. Harry's gaze alone was enough to silence whatever protests might have followed.
He bid Hagrid farewell at the door.
"I'll be back for yeh on September first," Hagrid said warmly. "King's Cross. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."
Harry nodded. "I'll be ready."
Once Hagrid had gone, Harry gathered his school things and walked upstairs to Dudley's room. He closed the door behind him, set his purchases carefully in the corner, and drew Hedwig's cage closer to his bed. Only then did he exhale.
"System," Harry said softly. "Withdraw today's sign-in rewards." Light surged.
A binding glow filled the room, and nine objects materialized in the air before him, floating silently. Harry's emerald eyes reflected the glow as a slow smile formed.