Harry listened carefully as McGonagall explained the Galleons, Sickles and Knuts, obediently taking the pouch she handed him. He carefully filled it, ensuring he didn't knock over or disturb any of the larger piles of coins. He looked around, hopeful, but McGonagall had been right. This vault held only money.

"Professor? Are you sure this will be enough?" He bit his lip. "I want to buy a lot of books."

"You can write down your vault number and name in most of the shops we'll be visiting, Mister Potter. Though I'm not going to encourage thoughtless waste of your money, you will be able to spend as needed." Harry nodded, carefully attaching the pouch to his belt loop.

"Is that all?" Griphook asked. McGonagall gave a curt nod. Griphook indulged Harry on the way back up, making the cart go as fast as possible until Harry was whooping and laughing. McGonagall rolled her eyes at him, but he could tell she found it endearing.

"You'll be murder on a broom, Potter." She said, shaking her head in plain amusement. "Your father played Quidditch, you know."

Harry recalled Quidditch from Figg's memory. It had seemed difficult and complicated. "What's that?"

"It's a ballgame played on brooms. I'm sure your yearmates will be delighted to explain it to you at Hogwarts." Harry nodded slowly. She was trying to set him up to bond with the other kids, he guessed. He could understand that, even if it wasn't really appreciated.

Once they were out in the street, Harry looked to McGonagall for instruction. Of course, she would know all this far better than he could. He didn't even know where to begin on his list. "Rattle it off for me then, Potter. An old woman can't be sure of all the books kept." Harry gave a little laugh as she smiled.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"First-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protected gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags
Set Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 wand (you will collect this last)
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass phials or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales

Students may also bring

an owl OR a cat OR a toad

Parents are reminded that first-years are not allowed their own broomsticks."

McGonagall nodded her understanding, frowning for a moment in concentration. "Well, how about we start with your trunk? That's certainly the best place to begin. And then we can set about worrying what to put in it afterwards." Harry looked momentarily thoughtful himself, thinking of the trunk in Hagrid's mindscape with its sliding shelves containing so many books.

"Professor?" He asked as she began to lead him down the road.

"Yes, Mister Potter?"

"Can you get trunks that are enchanted? For instance, to hold more? Or to be shrinkable? Or to be really light so that they're easy to carry no matter what's inside? Or, um, to be protected against thieves? Or-or-" Harry was forgetting himself and getting excited, running rapid possibilities through his mind.

"Mister Potter." McGonagall interrupted, grinning widely. "You can get a trunk to do ALL those things and more. However, given that you were raised among Muggles, I suppose you can see why a trunk full to the brim being easily carried by an eleven-year-old might be suspicious?" Harry's cheeks flushed.

"Yes, Ma'am, of course."

"That's called a Featherlight Charm, by the way. No, Mister Potter, those are just impractical. Especially when you can get an automatic shrinking Charm for half the price." Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

"Aren't you meant to be a Gryffindor, Ma'am?" She laughed outright.

"Please, Mister Potter, do not fall into the trap of assuming Slytherins cannot be brave and that Gryffindors are less than cunning. That assumption will not serve you well." Though she kept her joking tone, there seemed to be something serious behind it. Regret, maybe. Harry felt himself feel sympathy. He'd read about the War. Maybe that was it.

Harry bought a trunk. He'd almost managed to wrangle the trunk master – an excitable fellow who, presumably, had never met anyone so interested in his work before – into an hour long conversation about rune choice and how certain Charms would fit together and certain ones wouldn't, but McGonagall cut them short at twenty minutes.

His trunk had a special compartment for books, a shrinking Charm that could be activated with the tap of a wand, would open only for Harry, and was bigger on the inside to be able to hold all his equipment. Most of that, Harry discovered, was standard for a Wizarding trunk. Harry wanted to buy books, but McGonagall insisted they leave that until later in the day.

They bought clothes. Harry did not like that.

He had never much enjoyed shopping for clothes, and had never quite got the hang of dressing fashionably. But no, he was the Boy Who Lived. People would expect him to be up to date with these things, and with celebrities, wouldn't they? And whilst they wouldn't expect him to be up to date with politics, that was certainly important too. He quietly ordered subscriptions to a magazine called Witch Weekly, a paper called The Daily Prophet and another paper called The Owl Express. After all, he'd learned from Muggle papers – different papers would publish stories VERY differently depending on their agenda.

Harry did not want to miss a thing.

He bought normal clothes – apparently Muggle clothing was growing more and more common in the Wizarding world. At a lot of poking to McGonagall, she admitted that many purists and traditionalists didn't like the new tendency. Harry took that mental note in mind.

The Potions equipment store was absolutely fascinating to Harry. He was eager to look at all the ingredients, and was very careful in handling the beginner's kit he bought. He managed a fifteen minute conversation about what made ingredients magical with a very amused shop worker before McGonagall managed to tear him away.

Books were even worse. Harry was far too busy to talk to any shop workers this time. He ended up stopping himself at seventy four. McGonagall couldn't bring herself to tell him he couldn't possibly buy so many when she saw how very excited he was. She only stopped him when he moved to pick up any books she knew were stocked in the Hogwarts library.

After that, it was only some astronomy equipment and a cauldron to buy. That is, until Harry took a few steps towards Eeylop's Owl Emporium, absolutely enchanted with a beautiful owl that was settled in the window. He'd fallen in love with the sweet little bird, it seemed.

He named her Hedwig in his mind almost immediately, though he didn't verbalize this to McGonagall. Instead, he allowed to lead her down the street, lightly cooing owl and trunk in tow, and into Ollivander's Wand Shop.