Neat.

Cauldrons are next on the list!

Less interesting but still Aesthetic.

And there's a solid gold cauldron that she can easily afford and which cuts potion preparation time in half compared to the pewter that's on her school list, perhaps she'd like that.

...Tempting.

So affordable! So tacky! So good for potions!

...Yeah, too tacky--too makes her a target. Fame is good but flaunting fame and wealth too much is a really good way to get hated. Pass.

Pewter it is! Then they can get a collapsible brass telescope and a set of scales for weighing potions ingredients, and after that they can go to the Apothecary, which smells of bad eggs and rotten cabbages. It is otherwise fascinating, though: barrels of slimy stuff stand on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders line the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hang from the ceiling. Hagrid asks the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Dorea.

Huh. Not really her style, but still interesting.

Once outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checks Dorea's list again.

"Just yer wand left—oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

"...You got me cake and ice cream and started knitting me a sweater," she observes.

"Those weren't presents," he says. "Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at—an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

"That does sound useful," she agrees.

So they go to the Eeylops Owl Emporium. It's dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes staring at them for a myriad cages and perched around the store.

Oooh. She looks around at all the different owls.

There are so many owls! Big and small, brown and black and white and silver, emerald or deep blue or burgundy or brown eyes, all looking, somehow, much smarter than regular owls.

And that's saying something, considering owls' symbolism.

And Hagrid finds Dorea a beautiful snowy owl with golden eyes.

She's so pretty!!!

She is! No name yet though.

Yeah Dorea'll have to think about that.

"Just Ollivanders left now—only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

"Okay."

The last shop is narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382b.c. A single wand lays on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rings somewhere in the depths of the shop as they step inside. It's a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sits on to wait.

Whoah, that's old.