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Peering down at the crudely drawn map in my hands I furrowed my brows and pushed my glasses firmly up the bridge of my nose. There really wasn’t much to go on. A couple of lines indicating a street, with “Charing Cross” scribbled next to it. Some squares that I imagined were supposed to be buildings, along with a big ‘X’ and ‘Leaky Cauldron’ scrawled underneath to mark the place I was supposed to go to. It had taken me the better part of two hours just to find my way from the train station – not helped by the fact that I had been walking in the wrong direction at first – and my feet were starting to hurt. Additionally a light drizzle had set in some minutes ago and my clothes began to feel quite damp.I looked up and regarded the building in front of me sceptically. Compared to the stylish bookshop and the slick record store on both sides, the structure appeared quite old fashioned and in a state of obvious disrepair. The brick wall might have once been bright red, but had turned nearly black over time, with huge pieces of mortar missing and large cracks running through it. The roof was missing quite a few tiles, while the crooked chimney seemed to have been repeatedly hit by lightning. Small, stained windows with decrepit looking shutters made out of rotting wood were facing the street, too dirty to see what was going on inside. The heavy wooden door was adorned with once fanciful, but nowadays faded woodcarvings and an ornamental doorknob in the form of a boar’s head. A metal plate with ‘Leaky Cauldron’ written on it in gilded, washed-out letters, accompanied by the image of a peeing cauldron crudely drawn underneath, was nailed next to it. The whole building looked more like a shabby, dingy pub at the end of its lifespan than the entrance to a magical world. I was pretty sure my mother would have never allowed me to go anywhere near a place like this, never mind actual going in there.I nervously brushed back a strand of hair and adjusted the straps of my schoolbag while going through my options. Maybe I should just turn around and head home? I could ask mum to come here with me, if she ever got time off her job and her boyfriend. Of course, seeing as I had been trying to convince her to come here with me for the better part of a month now without success didn't bode well for further attempts. She’d probably just delay it until the day right before the start of the school year or something.
I shook my head. Clearly, this wasn’t an option right now. Plus, it would mean I’d come here for nothing, and I didn’t really feel like giving up just yet when I was so close (and had paid quite a bit of money for the train ticket to London). Besides, what was the worst that could happen anyway?Pushing aside thoughts of monsters, child-sacrificing cults and drunken, middle-aged patrons, I touched the small golden cross around my neck for comfort while praying that I wouldn’t regret this decision, took a deep breath, reached for the doorknob and-WHAM!I found myself sprawled on the ground, my glasses sitting lopsided and a growing bump on my forehead from the door suddenly being opened and slamming into me. A large, beefy man with a bushy moustache, carrying several heavy looking bags, stared down at me, his beady eyes narrowed.“Sorry ‘bout that”, he said gruffly and walked past me, accompanied by a thin, blonde-haired woman with a long face who shook her head at me disapprovingly, as if it was my fault I got hit by the door. The stocky, heavy-set boy that followed them – presumably their son - hesitated for a moment, wringing his hands uncertainly but then rushed past me as well. A small, dark-haired girl, wearing a worn sweeter that was far too wide for her and encumbered by half a dozen bags, shuffled behind them, head hung low. A scar, bright red against her pale face, stretched from her right temple to the bridge of her nose, barely concealed by ill-fitting round glasses.I watched them trudge down the street until they vanished around a corner. Clearly, London had its fair share of odd people. Straightening my glasses I gently nursed the bruise on my temple. There didn’t seem to be any blood, so I figured I’d be alright.
I picked myself up and checked my skirt for any tears, but except a smidgen of dirt on the hem there wasn't anything wrong with it. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn’t have to explain to my mother how I had managed to damage my clothes when I was supposed to be at home watching my sister.I took another deep breath and reached for the doorknob, this time ready to jump aside should there be another person waiting to slam the door into my face. Fortunately nothing happened and with some difficulties I managed to pull open the heavy door and slip inside.The first thing I noticed was the strong smell of tobacco. Dense translucent smoke drifted through the dim room and congregated at the wooden ceiling, obscuring what little sunlight managed to sneak in through the greasy windows. A handful of candles, far too few to light up the room, were mounted on a chandelier, their light flickering unsteady, creating dark shadows that seemed to dance at the stained walls. Several long tables were placed haphazardly throughout the room, with crudely build benches next to them. The people sitting there were dressed quite strange, with most of them wearing some kind of loosely fitting dull robe and pointed hat while talking to each other in low voices, occasionally taking a deep puff from their softly glowing pipes. Everyone was pretty engrossed in whatever they were discussing, as no one seemed to pay any attention to me. Which I didn’t mind at all. It was creepy enough already and the last thing I wanted was for these strange people to notice me. Looking down I realized that my clothes – a pink jumper, pink-patterned skirt and pink shoes – unfortunately weren’t quite suited for staying unnoticed, clashing heavily with the drab, eccentric attire the people in here seemed to prefer. So much for trying to be sneaky.
I could only make out some parts of the hushed conversations, none of which made much sense to me.“… the girl who lived, here! Unbelievable! I’d never- “
“… shook her hand! Did you see? She even smiled at- “
“… ya seen the Muggles? Didn’ look too happy, I tell ya.”I nervously peered around while adjusting my glasses again, hoping to find something that would tell me where to go next. A huge, lit up sign with ‘THIS WAY, FUTURE STUDENTS!’ written on it would be perfect, but right now I’d settle for something less obvious as well.“What yeh doin’ standin’ ‘round there, lass?”I nearly jumped out of my skin and let out a high-pitched shriek, nearly colliding with the door behind me. A heavy hand took hold of my shoulder, keeping me steady while I struggled for balance before letting go of me again.“There, there, lass, no need ter be scared”, a deep, raspy voice next to me said. It belonged to an old, portly man with a round face, his smile not quite hidden behind an oily grey beard that hung down from both side of his mouth, giving him the appearance of a wrinkly walrus. He wore a white, stained apron that stretched precarious over his large belly. “Sorry I startled yeh, wasn’ my intention.”I just blinked at him, my heart racing in my chest, not quite knowing what to say. He didn’t seem bothered by my silence though and just kept on talking after a few moments.“Here to buy yeh stuff for school, aren’t yeh? Don’ worry, come on in an’ we’ll get yeh all set up. No need ter be shy, no one’s goin’ ter eat yeh jus' yet.” He chuckled at his own joke. At least I hoped it was just a joke. “Anyways, name’s Tom an’ I’m the innkeeper here. What ‘bout yeh, lass? Firs’ year, I reckon, by the looks of yeh. What school yeh goin’ ter?”“H-Hogwarts, I think”, I muttered while nervously fidgeting with the hem of my skirt, wishing he’d just tell me where to go next. All these people here seemed quite dodgy, including the innkeeper despite his friendly demeanour, and the place itself didn’t make me feel any less insecure.“Ah, ‘tis a good school, lemme tell yeh, lass”, the innkeeper said and nodded excited, oblivious to my uneasiness. “Me, I went ter Hogwarts as well, back in the days. Ne’er regretted it a single day of me life. Best place if yeh want ter learn actual magic. May not be as glamorous as Liontail, but they sure teach yeh your magic o’er there without all tha' prancing roun’ an’ useless wand wavin’ like a trained crup. Plus, yeh’ll have Dumbledore there as well.”He looked at me expectantly, as if he wanted me to agree with him. As I had no idea what constituted a good magical school in the first place, I just stared back at him. And what exactly was a bumble door anyway?He cleared his throat loudly. “Anyways, guess yeh better get goin’ then, lass. Ye probably have lot’s o’things ter buy.” He looked around. “Where’re yeh parents? Yeh here alone?”I shrugged, my hands suddenly feeling clammy. What if bringing along a parent was required? How would I ever be able to buy all the things I needed for school today?He observed me for a moment, seemingly contemplating something, before he shrugged as well. “Sorry, didn’ mean ter prey. Should be easy enough fer yeh ter do on yeh own, I s’pose. Come along, I’ll walk yeh there. Entrance can be hard ter fin' if yeh don’ know where ter look.” He waved me to follow him and started making his way through the pub.I hesitated for a second. I probably should just turn around and leave. Why would the of entrance to a magical shopping mall – at least I assumed that’s where I was supposed to buy all those things necessary for visiting a magical school - be found in a dark, grubby-looking pub anyway? Of course, that would just take me back to square one, with no idea where to go or whom to contact instead. I realized that I probably should have asked for a telephone number for situations like that.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t see a lot of other options available to me right now, so I slowly started to follow him, dodging the occasional strangely dresses patron while trying not to breath in the stale, unpleasant smell of cheap beer and dry tobacco.
We went through a doorway in the back of the pub and down a lengthy corridor. Various doors seemed to lead to other parts of the pub, while old-fashioned grey-and-white photographs lined the walls. The innkeeper – Tom – pointed to some of them while walking.“Look, there’s me an’ some o’ me mates at Hogwarts, back when we were still young an’ handsome”, he said and pointed at one of the photos while laughing loudly, his gruff voice sounding like the bark of a particular hoarse dog. “An’ of course a lot slimmer than today.” He winked at me and patted his impressive belly.I studied the pictures for a few moments. They showed a couple of boys, maybe a few years older than me, wearing what might be school uniforms – if weird looking robes count as school uniforms, that is – and smiling at the camera. In the background I could make out parts of a castle, it’s massive walls and high towers being framed by the setting sun. I blinked. I had imagined a magical school to be … well, more like a normal school, I guess. It never even occurred to me that Hogwarts might, in fact, be an actual castle. I felt a sudden rush of excitement – not only would I attend a magical school and learn magic, but it would be at a place right out of some fairy tale. I couldn’t help but feel like the main character of one of the adventure stories I had seen on television. Did they have dragons? Because if magic was real, shouldn’t dragons be real as well? Would I be able to ride them? And what about-“Yeh comin’?” The voice of the innkeeper made me realize that right now wasn’t the time for daydreaming. I made a mental note of trying to find out more about dragons at some point later, cast one last glance at the picture and followed the stout man further down the hallway.At the end of the corridor we went up some stairs, past some more pictures that showed various other parts of the castle, around a corner and finally through a door that led outside. I found myself in a small, walled courtyard with nothing but an overflowing rubbish bin and a few weeds poking out from the ground.“Well, here we are”, Tom the innkeeper announced loudly. “The entrance ter Diagon Alley.”I frowned at him. This certainly looked nothing like a magical mall.“Oh, don’ look at me like that, lass”, he chuckled, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Jus’ wait a moment an’ yeh’ll see.” He drew a length of wood from one of the pockets of his apron. “Let’s see. Three up … two across”, he said and touched one of the stones above the rubbish bin with the stick. “There we go.”The stone he had touched began to wiggle, slowly moving aside, followed by the other bricks. A small hole appeared, growing larger and larger, while the stones formed an archway, big enough for even a tall person to walk through without a problem. Behind it I could make out a rather narrow cobblestone street, lined with houses at both sides.“Welcome,” the innkeeper announced, sounding quite pleased with himself, “Ter Diagon Alley.”I guess it wasn’t a magical mall after all.“Not somethin’ yeh’ve seen before, I’m sure”, the Innkeeper said. “Don’ worry, yeh’ll get used ter it in no time.” He gave me a clap on the shoulder. “Well, go on in, lass. If yeh need help, jus’ ask someone. Decent enough people ‘roun here, most of ‘em.”I nodded and started to walk through the archway, but suddenly remembered something and turned around. “Thank you”, I said, my voice barely audible over the sound of the busy street. No need to be impolite if you can help it, as my mother always said.The innkeeper winked at me. “No need ter thank me, ‘twas no trouble”, he said, the winkles around his eyes deepening. “Take care now, lass. When yeh’re done shopping, jus’ come back ‘ere ter go home.”I tried my best at a very shaky smile, took a deep breath and finally walked through the opening into the street.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I gaped at the scene in front of me, my mouth falling wide open in surprise, immediately struck by how utterly different everything around me was, like glancing into a strange, alien world or being in one of those weird dreams shortly before waking up.
Some houses appeared to be perfectly normal, not unlike the buildings you could find in medieval towns throughout Britain, while others looked … quite a bit less normal. I spotted several houses that skewed so heavily to the left or right that it was a wonder they didn’t come crashing down any second now, with their roofs nearly touching the ground. Other buildings looked similar to upside down marriage cakes, with the upper levels sprouting more than a few towers larger than the whole ground floor. Some houses appeared to be floating a few feet in the air with nothing but a staircase connecting them to the ground, slightly swaying back and forth in the summer breeze, while others sprouted several wiggling feet, now and then jumping up and down. Even more structures, each looking rather bizarre in their own way, were looming over each other, as if the architects responsible for it had realized to late that they were running out of space.
Various arches and bridges filled the space above the street, connecting the houses with each other and giving the street a maze-like appearance.
People – most of them wearing those strange robes and hats I had noticed before in the pub – filled the street, going about their business, seemingly not bothered in the slightest by the weird architecture around them.There were all kinds of different shops selling strange, exotic things. A store with ‘Mrs. Cawfields Castaway Cauldrons’ painted in bright red letters above the entrance had stacks of cauldrons in all kinds of forms and shapes on display, while the shop next to it (‘Weezies Wonderful Wholesome Weeds’) sold colourful, slightly withered shrubs in little plant pots that tap-danced. I gazed fascinated at frogs made out of chocolate that were jumping around on their own (I didn’t think I could actually bear to eat them though), watched spoons stir a kettle by themselves and stared in horror at a shop promising ‘the freshest bat livers in all of England’, complete with hundreds of tiny black wings fluttering around it. A shop further down the road was selling delicious smelling pastries that changed colour depending on the mood of the person eating them. One particular store even looked like a miniature castle, it’s walls and towers rising far above the surrounding structures. It’s entrance, formed like the muzzle of a giant wolf, with white teeth gleaming in the sun now that the rain had stopped, was moving on its own, occasionally sniffing and even snapping at passersby, who didn’t seem to mind. A sign reading ‘Monstrous Monstrosities’ didn’t inspire a lot of confidence and I made sure to give it a wide berth.I spent a few minutes staring engrossed at an old woman slowly eating a particular bright, lime green pastry that was emitting a faint purple smoke while listening to a teacup singing a silly song about a witch falling in love with a dragon and getting her buttocks set on fire for her trouble. A few minutes later I found myself giggling loudly at a food stall selling roasted ‘flatulence-free potatoes’, much to the chagrin of the owner who gave me a disapproving look and motioned for me to go away.
I knew I probably should start trying to figure out where to buy the things I needed for school, but there were just so many odd, weird and interesting things to see that I kept wandering down the street, oblivious to the people around me. While staring curiously at a shop painted completely in flashy pink with 'Madame Margots Macabre Manicure' written in huge, glittering letters above the entrance that promised among other things to turn ones nails into long, wiggling worms to ‘chase away unwanted suitors’, I rounded a corner and ran headfirst into someone.For the second time today I found myself on the ground, a dull ache starting to throb behind my brow and my glasses knocked clean off my face. I blindly felt around for them and gasped as my palms burned painfully, scraped and slightly bleeding. I stared at the red drops of blood, biting back the sudden bile that began to form in my throat, suddenly feeling dizzy. I swallowed, my saliva tasting like ash. I’ve never been good with seeing blood, especially not my own. I tore my eyes away from my bleeding hands and closed them for a few moments, concentrating on taking slow, deep breaths until the queasy feeling started to subside.“What the ...? Are you blind?! Can’t you see I’m walking here?”Looking up I was met by grey, blazing eyes. A boy with short, white-blond hair glared down at me, his pale, pointy face contorted angrily. I blinked and stared at him, unsure of what to do, which only seemed to enrage him even further.“Stop gaping at me, cow! At least apologize for running into me!” He curled his hands into fists while waving them around aimlessly. “The last thing I needed was a clumsy idiot like you! Man, what a shitty day!” He stomped his foot repeatedly at the cobblestone street. “Well, go ahead and apologize already, I don’t have all day.”I felt my breath speed up again, coming in short, flat gasps, while my stomach seemed to twist abruptly. I started to feel lightheaded, slightly swaying, my hands trembling.The boy furrowed his brow, his voice full of contempt. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you?! Are you deaf? Retarded? Apologize already!”I tried to speak, but my mouth felt dry like paper.“What?! Speak up, moron!” he sneered, leaning closer.I could feel cold sweat running down my back while I desperately fought back the urge to vomit. I didn’t think he’d appreciate me soiling his shoes. “… your nose is bleeding”, I finally managed to whisper, doing my best to avoid looking at him. By now the trickle of blood had become a steady stream, running down from his nose over his mouth and chin, dripping on his black robes and the white shirt underneath it. I guess my head must have hit him on the nose when we collided with each other. How he didn’t notice before I couldn’t say, but maybe he was just too angry to realize if the irritated look on his face was anything to go by.He stared at me, dumbfounded, the anger in his eyes turning to worry. He touched his nose and his hands came back smeared with blood. He stumbled back, fear and shock on his face.“I’m bleeding. I’m bleeding!” He shrieked, his voice shaking. “I’m going to die, I’m going to die! What do I do?! Someone, help me!”I gaped at him, taken aback by his sudden hysteria. The blood was still running down his face, dripping on the street and leaving large blotches of red on the grey stones. The boy was looking around anxiously, seemingly searching for someone. A few people in the crowd around us pointed at him and laughed, amused by his odd behaviour, while others just shook their heads indifferent and kept walking.“I need help, please! Father, where are you?” His voice became more high-pitched while he tried desperately to staunch the bleeding with his hands. “Call a healer! Please, help me! Get my- ““What’s going on here?” A man appeared from one of the stores, his firm voice cutting through the noise of the crowd. He was tall, with short blond hair and cold, grey eyes that swept over the people gathering around, silencing them with single look. His black robe was decorated with silver and green ornamental dragon-like creatures that seemed to curl around him. “Draco, what are you doing?”The boy rushed to him, relief etched into his face. “Father, I’m bleeding-”“I can see that”, the man said, his lips barely more than a thin line. “What I want to know is why in Merlin’s name you’re acting like a fool. Show some dignity and stop that unsightly whining.”The boy whimpered, the front of his clothes drenched in red by now. “But I’m- ““Draco”, his father interrupted him, frowning. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”The boy opened his mouth as if to protest, but a withering glare made him back down. “Yes father,” he whispered and tried in vain to wipe some of the gushing blood of his face.“Good.” His father nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Now, take a deep breath. Look at me and breath in, hold it for a moment – that’s it – and breath out. Slowly. Again. Breath in, hold it and breath out. Good, keep it up.”He drew a length of wood from one of the pockets of his robe and pointed it at the face of his son. “Now hold still.” He muttered a word and a light green spark appeared, illuminating the pale face of the boy for a moment before vanishing again. “That should deal with the bleeding for now”, he said. “We’ll let St. Mungo’s take care of the rest.”As far as I could see (not that I tried especially hard, still feeling quite sick) the nosebleed had slowed down to a trickle again while the boy looked a lot calmer, with most of the panic gone from his eyes.The man lowered the stick and regarded his son critically. “How did this happen? I told you to be careful.”Oh. I struggled to get to my feet, feeling quite shaky, my hands trembling and my head throbbing. For a second I feared I really would start vomiting, but I somehow managed to suppress it, swallowing the bile rising in my throat.“She attacked me!” I looked up to see the boy pointing a finger accusingly at me, his face distorted angrily. “I was just standing here when she hit me in the face for no reason!”I stared at him, lost for words. It was an accident, right? We just happen to ran into each other by accident. Why would he lie about it?His father slowly turned towards me, his face impassive, like a pale, blank mask. His hands lightly grasped the piece of wood and his steps were steady and deliberate as he crossed the distance between us. Only his eyes – those cold, grey eyes – showed any kind of emotion, filled with icy rage and something far darker behind it. I shivered, my breath caught in my throat and suddenly felt afraid.“So you did this”, he said, his voice levelled and conversational, in sharp contrast to the raw malice in his eyes. He looked down at me, studying me from head to toe, his gaze lingering with disdain on the small golden cross around my neck before finally meeting my eyes. “Tell me, girl, who told you to harm my son? What did they look like? How much did they pay you?”Speechless I gaped at him, my heart hammering in my chest, a cold, unpleasant feeling settling in my stomach.“Give me a name now or I will have no choice but to call the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and have them bring you in for questioning”, he said. “And trust me, they will get the truth out of you no matter what.”“I-I didn’t do a-anything”, I stammered, feeling cold sweat running down my back. “It was an accident, I- “His expression hardened.
“Then you came up with it by yourself? Did you think it would be fun to bully my son, playing some harmless trick on him, Muggle?” He drew closer, the wooden stick now pointed at my chest like a knife. “I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with that. Tell me the truth now or by Merlin I will- ““Hem hem.”A sharp, piercing sound interrupted him. He blinked, distracted and looked at me suspiciously, as if I had just turned into a croaking green frog, while I stared back helplessly.“Hem hem.”Realisation dawned on his face. He closed his eyes in exasperation for a second before forcing his lips into a smile and turning around.“Miss Umbridge.” He gave a curt nod to the person standing behind him.“Mister Malfoy”, the woman replied. She was rather squat and stocky, having to tilt her head to be able to look up to him. Short, curly brown hair streaked with grey framed a broad, flabby face with a wide, slack mouth and large, slightly bulging eyes. She was wearing a rose-coloured robe and a pink cardigan on top of it, making her look like a rather large, purplish toad.“To what do I owe the honour of your presence?” the man said, a slight edge in his voice as he lowered the stick in his hand.The woman took a few deliberate moments to straighten the pink bow in her hair, a sugary smile on her face, before finally addressing him. “Well, originally I wanted to talk to you in your function as School Governor about the prospective reaction of the Ministry to the rumours of the boy who lived being sighted here”, she said, her voice fluttery and surprisingly high-pitched. “Unfortunately I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with the young lady over there and as Deputy Minister of Education I feel it’s my obligation to step in.” She fiddled with some of the rings adorning her stubby fingers. “For a teensy moment it sounded as though you were threatening a child with imprisonment.” She gave a silvery laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “How silly of me. Of course you would never use the resources of the Ministry for such trivial matters.”“Of course not”, Mr. Malfoy said, his face unreadable.“Wonderful”, the woman said and clapped her hands together like an excited teenager. “Because from my perspective it looked as if both your son and the young lady weren’t paying any attention to where they were going when they by chance ran into each other. Imagine the potential outcry the Ministry would have to deal with if an important member of our society was to be found guilty of making unsubstantiated charges against a Muggle-born girl.”“That would be terrible indeed”, he agreed, his tone carefully guarded. “It would be a real shame if Muggle-born didn’t feel … welcomed … in our society.”The woman nodded, her eyes unblinking. “I don’t think I need to remind you that the Minister himself has spoken out about the need for more inclusivity. It would paint quite a confusing picture if one of his biggest supporters suddenly were to undermine these policies.”They stared at each other, the woman smiling brightly and looking like a particular toothy toad that just caught a tasty fly, while he looked back at her stone-faced.“By the way, I think you should do something about your son”, she eventually said with a slight hint of concern in her voice. “He doesn’t seem to be doing all that well.”I had to agree with her observation. The blood that had slowed down to a trickle beforehand was now streaming down the boy’s face again, dripping on his shirt, the robe and on the ground in large, red drops. The boy was swaying slightly by now, his eyes large and frightened as he desperately tried to stem the bleeding with his bare hands.Mr. Malfoy hesitated for a second, but finally nodded. “I would love to continue this conversation, but it seems circumstances are going to force us to postpone it to another day.” He gave her a curt bow, barely more than a dip of his head while ignoring me. “Please excuse us.”He took his son by the arm and began to hurriedly steer him down the street, whispering furiously.I followed them with my eyes until they vanished around a corner. Only then did I allow myself to release the breath I’d been holding. I could feel my body shacking, my heart still pounding in my chest, while the world around me seemed to spin, the edge of my vision flickering like an out-of-tune TV. Swaying slightly I grabbed the golden cross around my throat with both hands, holding it tightly and concentrating on slowly breathing in and out. I could still see the man’s icy eyes, filled with something far worse than mere disdain. I shivered, suddenly feeling very cold. Whoever this man was, I hoped I would never have to meet him again.“Hem hem.”Looking up I was met by blue, slightly bulging eyes. The woman studied me for a moment, still fidgeting with the rings on her hands, her broad face thoughtfully as she seemed to contemplate something.“What’s your name, girl?” She eventually asked, her voice still quite high-pitched, but having lost some of the excessive sweetness.I looked down at my feet, feeling uneasy under her unblinking stare. “Lisa”, I muttered, still clutching the small cross, hoping she’d just leave me alone so I could at last buy the things I needed.“Tut tut tut”, she said, accenting each ‘tut’ for emphasize with a wagging of her index finger like a disappointed schoolteacher. “If someone asks you a question it’s considered polite to reply in an audible voice and in a full sentence. So, let’s try that again and this time please look me in the eyes. What’s your name?”I hesitated for a second. “I’m Lisa. Lisa Turpin”, I finally said, fighting the urge to avoid her piercing gaze.For a second an emotion I couldn’t quite place seemed to flicker through her eyes, but it vanished just as fast as it had appeared. She stared at me silently, her face unreadable, as if looking for something.“Well, there you go, that wasn’t hard at all, was it?”, she said at last. “Where are you parents? They really should know better than to leave their child all alone.”I gulped. “My … my mother has to be at work, so I came here by myself …” I said, my voice becoming quieter and quieter. I wondered whether children were allowed to be here alone or if they needed to be with their parents. What should I do if she decided to send me home? Or worse, call my mother?“I see”, she said slowly. “And does your mother know you’re here on your own?”My heart seemed to skip a beat. “O-of course”, I lied, cold sweat running down my back while trying my best to sound casual. I really didn’t want to explain to my mother why I left my little sister alone at home to travel three hundred miles to London by myself.
She regarded me sceptically, a frown on her face, which made her look like a particular moody toad. I guess my best just wasn’t good enough.“So, what are you doing here all alone? Are you a first-year student?” She eventually asked, seemingly accepting the lie to my utmost relief after a few moments of contemplation. “Do you have your acceptance letter with you?”I nodded. She raised her eyebrows and gave me a pointed look.Oh, right. “… yes, I do?”, I said hesitantly.“Then please show me the letter.”I slid my schoolbag off my back, opened it and carefully took out a heavy envelope made out of yellowish parchment. Before I could do anything else the woman snatched it right out of my hands, taking a long moment to read the address before taking out the two letters and quickly scanning the content. I squinted, trying to see what she was reading and realized with a jolt that I wasn’t wearing my glasses. No wonder the world around me seemed kind of fuzzy. Looking around I saw them lying on the ground next to me, the frame bend out of shape and one of the glasses cracked. I picked them up and inspected them apprehensively. I guess someone must have stepped on them. Which wasn’t good. I had gotten these glasses just a couple of weeks ago, after my old ones got lost somewhere at school. And they sure hadn’t been cheap, seeing as my mother had been grumbling about it for the next few days. What should I tell her? Maybe I could convince her that my sister accidently sat on them …? Normally I might feel a little bad about blaming her, but since she had eaten my pudding last week I’d consider it divine retribution on my part."So you've been accepted into Hogwarts", the woman said, thoughtfully shifting through the letters. “Do you know anything about it?”“… it’s a castle?” I said and tried unsuccessfully to put my glasses on, which was made somewhat more difficult by the fact that the frame was bend in different directions. I tried to bend it back into shape, but unfortunately I only managed to knock the already cracked glass out of the frame. I stared at it accusingly, feeling quite unhappy and not looking forward to my mother lambasting me about it.“A castle. Nothing else?” She asked, sounding sceptically.I shook my head and poked at what remained of my glasses. Maybe I could pretend nothing was wrong with them …?“I’m sure the ministry official who explained everything to you and your parents would have told you more than just- … oh, give this to me!", she snapped and took my glasses from me. She drew a length of wood similar to the one used by the scary man earlier from one of the pockets of her cardigan and pointed it at my glasses. A blueish light surrounded them before being extinguished after a moment. “Here you go”, she said and pressed the glasses back into my hand. I winced as the frame touched the scrapes on my palms. Looking down I noticed that the glasses seemed to be fixed, with nothing indicating that they ever had been damaged at all. I turned them around in wonder, inspecting them carefully from all sides before slowly putting them back on. I realized I had just witnessed magic. Real magic. Wow!I regarded the piece of wood she was holding – a wand, I just realized – with great interest. So that’s how magic was done? I suddenly couldn’t wait to get my hands on a wand of my own.“Thank you”, I said to the woman, breathing a sigh of relief. Now I wouldn’t have to try and somehow find an excuse that was good enough for my mother.She studied me intensively, her eyes unblinking. I shifted uncomfortable. She didn’t seem like a bad person, but she was kind of scary. Maybe I should just grab my letters and start running?“Show me your hands”, she demanded at last.I blinked, surprised, but obeyed and held out my hands hesitantly.She raised her wand, muttered a word and a green light appeared. My hands felt cold for a moment, like being plunged into icily water, but the feeling subsided just as quickly as it had appeared.I looked down and gasped. The scraps and cuts, as well as the pain, were gone. I carefully touched my palms, not quite convinced, but my fingers only met unbroken skin. I rubbed my hands against each other to get rid of the small amount of left-over dried blood and suddenly felt a lot better.“Thank you!” I said, feeling elated. The queasy feeling in my stomach and the fear that had gripped me since I had run into the boy and his scary father finally abated and my body stopped shacking at last.The woman nodded and put her wand back into her pocket. “Now, with that out of the way, let’s take care of the more pressing issue.” She pointed at the letters in her hand. “You came all the way here on your own to buy school supplies?”I nodded, still inspecting my hands curiously. Magic sure seemed convenient.“I see.” She seemed to ponder something, fiddling with the thick rings on her stubby hands again. “Did you already buy anything? Full sentences please, if you would”, she added when she noticed my attempt to shake my head.I suppressed the urge to make a face at her. “Not yet.”She raised her eyebrows, clearly expecting more than two words.“… I’m not sure where to buy those things, so I was just walking around”, I muttered hesitantly.The woman nodded and finally gave me back the envelope with the two letters. “Take care not to lose your acceptance letter, it’s quite important”, she said. I carefully put them back into my schoolbag."My name is Dolores Umbridge”, she continued, puffing up her chest importantly, making her look even more like a big toad. “I'm Deputy Minister for Education of the Ministry of Magic.”There was a Ministry of Magic? I nodded, unsure of what she expected me to say.After a few seconds she continued. “Since you probably don’t have any money, it would be best to go to- “"I do", I interrupted her. It had taken the heroic sacrifice of my piggy bank, but I had more money on me than ever before. “I have 87 pounds and 53 pence.”The woman’s lips puckered into an amused smile. “Muggle currency isn’t worth anything around here”, she said, sounding quite smug. “You will need real money if you want to buy something.”“What’s a muddle?" I asked, confused by the unfamiliar word.“Muggle, with two ‘Gs’ in the middle”, she corrected me. “It’s our word for non-magical people.”“Oh”, I said, feeling dejected. How was I supposed to know that one needed some kind of special currency to buy anything at all? Deflated my shoulders slumped. Without money I obviously couldn’t buy the school supplies that I needed. What should I do now …?“Well, as I was saying before I got interrupted so rudely”, Umbridge continued. “It would be best to go to Gringotts first and get some money for you there.”I looked up, suddenly hopeful again. “What’s Gringotts?”“A bank”, she replied, drumming her fingers on her plumb forearm impatiently. “Didn’t anyone explain that to you?”I shook my head. The woman who came by at the start of summer to give me the acceptance letter and talk to me and my mother about magic didn’t spend a lot of time actual explaining things beyond telling us were to go and handing us a quickly drawn map on a slip of paper. I guess she might have been in a hurry, seeing as she kept checking her watch.“Well, never mind, we’ll deal with this later. For now we shall get you to Gringotts and pick up your money”, she said and motioned me to follow her. “Come along, I don’t have all day.”“Uh, I-I can do it by myself”, I said, having to hurry to catch up to her. For a stocky woman she was surprisingly fast.” If you just tell me where to go, I can- “"Nonsense", she said curtly, trudging ahead. “In my function as Deputy Minister for Education I couldn’t in good faith leave a prospective young student from a muggle background on her own. Imagine if something were to happen to you. The ministry would never hear the end of it!” She pushed her way through a group of older women that were talking animated in the middle of the street, ignoring their indignant protests. “Besides, you will need an adult to accompany you to Gringotts, otherwise those bloodsucking Giggers won’t hand over a single Knut.”Before I could wonder what Giggers and Knuts were she kept hurrying along, past shops that sold enchanted brooms, self-warming bed sheets, dancing melons and many more things that I didn’t have time to look at as I struggled to keep up. At one point I nearly got lost while squeezing past a group of people and getting entangled in some weird plant with vines that I could swear were trying to strangle me.After a few minutes we arrived at a large square dominated by a huge building, it’s front covered in marble, gleaming snow white in the midday sun. A number of wide steps led up to a bronze gate, richly decorated with intricate pattern and markings. ‘Gringotts’ was written in big, blocky letters above the gate, with a smaller inscription underneath reading ‘Since 1474’. The building looked less like a bank and more like a fortress, with towers, crenelations and arrow slits dotting the sides of the structure.
Without hesitation Umbridge climbed the stairs, with me following along reluctantly. Reaching the top of the stairs I looked around curiously. A short figure, about a head smaller than me, stood next to the gate. He was glad in heavy iron armour, a helmet covering most of his head and holding an axe nearly twice his size in his hands. His arms seemed too long for his small statue and I noticed long, pointy ears showing beneath the helmet. I jumped and nearly fell down the stairs, barely catching the railing and holding on for dear life.“Uh, Mrs. Umbridge-“ I began, my voice trembling slightly. Whatever that thing was, it didn’t look human.“It’s Miss Umbridge”, she said and turned around. She looked at me incredulous. “And what exactly are you doing there?”“… what is this?” I asked and pointed at the creature.Umbridge frowned. “A goblin. They run Gringotts.” She snorted, a short, rather unpleasant high-pitched sound. “Better watch your pockets, they got sticky fingers. Money-grubbing tightwads, the whole lot of them.” She motioned for me to follow her and entered the building.I cast a last look at the creature who hadn’t reacted at all and hurried after her. Inside was a second gate, silver this time, with blood red words engraved upon it.
“Would you mind reading it out aloud?” Umbridge asked me, a scornful expression on her face. “They won’t let us enter otherwise.”I blinked, but nodded and started to recite the engraving slowly.“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.”The door slowly started to open and a pair of goblins wearing oversized, colourful robes bowed us inside. Without the armour I could finally get a good look at them. They were bald, with long ears, dark eyes, a sharp nose, bushy eyebrows and pointy teeth. Their arms and fingers were too long for their short bodies, giving them an uncanny resemblance to monkeys. I noticed they had claw-like yellow fingernails that looked quite dangerous. I gulped and made sure to stick close to Umbridge. Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t have to go here all by myself.We arrived in a large marble hall. Dozens of goblins sat on high stools behind long counters, writing down numbers in large ledgers, counting fist-sized gold coins, weighting precious stones on brass scales and measuring jewellery with tapes longer than their own height. Several doors seemed to lead to other parts of the building, with a continuous stream of goblins carrying gold and other valuables between them. Several guards, armed with a wide variety of weapons including swords and crossbows, were guarding the doors, their eyes vigilant as they watched us making our way to one of the counters. I looked around, feeling overwhelmed by the strange creatures everywhere, the piles of gold and the abundance of wealth on display. I nearly collided with a couple of goblins carrying a crate filled with gems and barely managed to dodge another goblin struggling with a heavy load of silver bars.By the time we arrived at the counter I had gotten more than a few annoyed looks. Seeing as I had been the one getting in their way I couldn’t really blame them.“Good day”, Umbridge said bluntly to one of the goblins at the counter. “I’m Deputy Minister for Education Dolores Umbridge.”The goblin bowed slightly. “How can I help you?” He asked politely, seemingly not bothered by her brusque tone. Unlike the goblins at the door he was wearing an old-fashioned suit, with a large bow tie at his neck and a huge black top hat on his bald head.“We want to access funds under the Ministry Act of 1923, Number 517, Article 289, Section three for the Betterment of Destitute Muggle-born. Furthermore we require the transfer of a vault for the benefit of a prospective student with regards to her magical education.”The goblin inclined his head. “I assume you have written proof for your request?”“Of course.” She nodded at me. “Give him your acceptance letter.”I rummaged through my school bag and handed the letter to the goblin. He carefully scanned the content, then held the letter up against a lamp before using his long nose to sniff it. “We have to make sure it’s an authentic letter and not a forgery”, he explained upon seeing my bewildered face. Seemingly satisfied he set the letter down on the counter. “Very well, everything seems to be in order. We will grant a total of twelve Galleons to-“ He checked the letter briefly again. “… to Miss Turpin for the benefit of her education.”He leafed through a pile of forms, grabbed two of them and set them in front of me. “Please fill out these forms. The first one-“, he said and pointed at one of them covered in dense, tiny letters. “… is for the grand of twelve Galleons and only needs to be signed. The other one-“, he indicated the second form. “… is for the transfer of a vault in your name to facilitate the distribution of money. Please fill out every column to your best ability and sign it as well.” He pushed a feather and a bottle filled with dark liquid towards me. I blinked. What was I supposed to do with it? I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, not knowing what else to do and stared blankly at the goblin, who looked back expectantly. A few moments passed, with neither me nor the goblin reacting at all, until he seemed to figure out the problem.“Please forgive my tactlessness. I forgot the use of quill and ink isn’t widespread in muggle society”, he said and bowed his head. “With your permission I would be more than happy to help you fill out the form to prevent undue spots of ink.”I looked at Miss Umbridge, who nodded. So they still used quills here? Wasn’t that something people did like a thousand years ago during the Middle Ages?“Well then, let’s see”, the goblin said, opened the bottle and plunged the tip of the quill into the black ink. “First Name … Lisa … family name … Turpin. With a ‘p’ in the middle, was it?” The quill scratched softly over the thick parchment. “Date of birth …?““… 5th of April, 1980”, I muttered.“Wonderful … sex, female, I assume?” He raised his bushy eyebrows questioning. I nodded, bemused and he continued. “Hair colour … black … eye colour … brown, I would guess. Skin colour … brownish. Special features …” He studied me briefly. “… glasses. Favourite food?”“… ice cream?” I offered, taken slightly aback by the change of question.He seemed to notice my confusion. “We prefer to note down as many information as possible to successfully establish the identity of our clients”, he said and smiled, his pointy teeth visible. “Anyway, we still have a few questions to go through, so please bear with me.”A quarter of an hour later he eventually reached the last question (“What’s your favourite animal?”) and put the quill down. “Now just sign here and here-“ he said and pointed with one of his long fingernails at the bottom of the papers. “… and we’re done.” He handed me the quill carefully. “Make sure not to grip the quill too hard and to hold it at an angle, otherwise the ink will spill out.”I somehow managed to scribble my signature at the indicated lines with only a few drops of ink falling on the papers, although I imagined no one would be able to decipher it. Writing with a quill certainly was a lot harder than it looked.The goblin nodded satisfied. “And with that we’re finished here.” He handed me a small, golden key and my acceptance letter. “This is the key to your vault. Make sure not to lose it, otherwise you won’t be able to access your funds.” He waved a waiting goblin over. “Your money should be deposited in your vault by now, so please follow my colleague to retrieve it. Should you ever need help with anything, don’t hesitate to contact us.” He extended his hand to me and I shook it carefully, consciously of his sharp nails. His skin felt leathery, like the surface of an old, worn-down slipper.“Thank you for your time”, I said and offered him a shy smile. Even though he still looked quite uncanny and a little creepy, he had been nothing but nice to me. He bowed slightly and went back to counting rubies the size of coals.Another goblin approached us. “Please follow me, I’ll lead you to your vault.”“I’ll be waiting here”, Miss Umbridge said hastily. I couldn’t help but notice her face seemed to be several shades paler than before. “I’d rather not deal with their way of transportation right now.”Before I could wonder what she meant by this the goblin turned around and strode towards one of the doors leading out of the hall. I had no choice but to follow him, scrambling to keep up with his brisk path. Past the door was a narrow passage, lit with flaming torches, sloped steeply downwards. I looked around curiously. I had expected more marble and gold, but as far as I could tell it consisted entirely of bare, roughly cut stone. Railway tracks were cut into the floor, running through the passage until they seemed to vanished into a dark junction.The goblin whistled and a small cart came hurtling towards us, screeching as it stopped mere inches in front of him. He motioned for me to get in and climbed in a seat attached to the front of the cart. “Keep your head down”, the goblin instructed me and whistled again. The cart jerked forward and I barely managed to hold on as the cart sped up. We raced through various tunnels, past huge caverns and caves, over an underground lake illuminated by bright lights in all kinds of colours and through a glittering fog that made my skin tingle. The ride itself couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes at most, but it felt like an eternity to me while I was clinging precariously to the minecart for dear life, being thrown back and forth at every bend and curve.
At last the cart started to slow down and we came to a stop. I adjusted my glasses that had nearly slid of my nose during a particular sharp turn and looked around. To the side were various small doors made out of heavy iron, each with a number on it. Instead of torches the passage was lit up by various crystals shimmering brightly.“Your key please”, the goblin said. I felt around for the small, golden key and was relived I didn’t lose it during the ride. The goblin took the key and opened one of the doors with the number ‘13793’ on it. Green smoke came billowing out, drifting around us before dissolving. Looking inside I saw a narrow vault, barely large enough for a grown person to enter. A dozen gold coins were sprawled on the floor, gleaming in the light of the crystals.I picked up one of the coins. It was around fist-sized, with the face of a strict looking man holding a staff on the one side, while the other side showed a leaf surrounded by stars. An inscription reading ‘Ministry of Magic’ was visible around the edges.
I quickly collected the rest of the money and put it into my schoolbag, suddenly feeling a lot richer. I didn’t know how much these coins were worth in pounds, but they surely looked quite expensive. The goblin locked the vault again and handed me back the key before motioning for me to board the cart again. I sighed. This definitely wasn’t my favourite way of traveling. No wonder Umbridge had decided not to come along.A nerve-racking ride later I was back in the marble hall. I thanked the goblin who nodded and disappeared without another word. Looking around I noticed that the stocky, pink figure of Miss Umbridge was missing. Where did she go? Maybe she got kidnapped and eaten by the goblins? I thought about for a second, but finally just shrugged and decided it wasn’t all that important, seeing as I couldn’t do anything about it anyway.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I made my way to the silver doors (dodging more goblins on the way out) and left the building. Outside I took a deep breath. The goblins had been friendly enough, but they still made me feel uneasy with their long arms and fingers, their sharp teeth and dark, nearly black eyes. And I really could do without any more rides through dark caverns.At the bottom of the stairs leading back to the street I noticed the distinctive form of Miss Umbridge, unmistakably in her pink robes. I guess she didn’t get abducted by the goblins after all. Around her was a crowd of people, some holding notebooks and quills in their hands, while others wielded old-fashioned cameras that produced colourful smoke, occasionally taking photos of Umbridge. Drawing nearer I could make out her high-pitched voice.“… due to the incompetence of the current Minister for Education, Mister Dart Dirtwood. As much as I abhor talking badly about a treasured colleague I feel I can’t keep quiet about that any longer. His policies, or dare I say the lack of it combined with his weak leadership has resulted among other things in abysmal conditions for prospective Muggle-born students, who are left to navigate the maze that is wizarding society on their own.” She drew herself to her full high (which wasn’t saying much) and fixated the assembled reporter with a deep frown. “As the Deputy Minister for Education I feel it’s my duty to speak up about the immense ineptitude and corruption that plague this institution due to Mr. Dirtwood’s gross neglect and prevents it from even archiving the most basic level of competence.”She noticed me standing at the side and motioned for me to come closer. I hesitantly obeyed, clutching the strap of my schoolbag. She grabbed my arm and pulled me even closer, putting a pudgy arm around my shoulder. “Just today I myself witnessed the inexplicable inadequacy of the system put in place by Mister Dirtwood when I met this young lady, who was close to tears because she had gotten lost and nearly died as a result”, she continued, her voice accusingly. I tried to wiggle away, uneasy with all the sudden attention, but she kept holding on to me. “I call on the Prime Minister himself to step in and use his power to get the Ministry of Education back on track. Furthermore I expect Mister Dirtwood to draw the consequences of his appalling lack of competence and resign his portfolio immediately, for the good of the political institution he claims to represent.”A reporter raised her hand. I noticed her quill was writing furiously by itself, floating in the air next to her. “I hope you don't mind me asking. Do you have any information about the rumours that the girl who lived was spotted here today?”, she asked.
Umbridge stiffened, seemingly not happy with the change of topic. “Unfortunately I’m not in a position to release any information regarding the girl who lived at the current moment. There will be an official announcement and a press conference in the coming days.”She waved off further questions. “I would suggest directing further inquiries to the office of the Minister himself. Now please excuse me, I have to make sure this young lady will have everything she needs for the start of her magical education.”
She dragged me away but let go the moment we were out of sight of the reporters.“That went rather well. I can’t wait to see the face of old Dirtwood once the Daily Prophet starts publishing an article about him”, she said gleeful while clapping her hands together. “Let’s hope Fudge gives him a good trashing as well.”
She seemed to notice my sceptical glance and coughed awkwardly (“hem hem”), her face losing the gloating expression and replacing it with a benevolent smile. “Anyway, we should buy the things you need for school now. I seem to recall you’ll need school robes, so let’s start with that.”“Uh, you probably have a lot of other things to do”, I muttered, brushing back a strand of hair that had gotten lose while riding the minecart. “I can just buy them by myself-““Nonsense”, she said and firmly shock her head, the pink bow on her head wobbling precariously. “Imagine one of the reporters sniffing about after I just enounced I’d take care of it. I’d be out of my job by the end of the week.”She motioned for me to follow and set of, purposefully walking down an alley. Not having much of a choice I hurried after her.“I wasn’t crying”, I muttered while trying my best to keep up. “And I certainly didn’t nearly die.”“I said close to tears”, Umbridge corrected me while scanning the stores to either side of the street, seemingly looking for something specific. “And I stand by my statement.”I made a face, but decided to be quiet and focused instead on not getting lost as we hurried along the cobblestone street. A few minutes later we stopped in front of a store with a sign reading ‘Madam Malkin’s Robes For All Occasions’. The display window was filled with all kinds of fabric, ranging from simple black robes to clothes enchanted to change their colour every few second and even elaborate ones that were richly decorated with all kinds of embroidery moving on their own.“This should do nicely”, Umbridge said and entered the store. Inside we were greeted by an older woman dressed all in mauve.“Welcome”, she said, smiling brightly. “How can I help you?”“We require a full set of school robes for her”, Umbridge replied and waved her hand in my direction.“I assume you’re a first year then?” the woman asked me and smiled warmly when I nodded. “That’s wonderful. I still remember when I was your age and just started school, I was so nervous I accidently set my mother’s prized overcoat on fire. She never let me live it down, telling me on her very deathbed how much she loved this coat, can you imagine? The nerve of that woman! Even mentioned it in her will and deducted the cost of the coat from my inheritance, the old bat. Anyway, what school will you be going to?”“… Hogwarts”, I said, slightly stumped by her rapid way of talking.“Function over appearance then. Personally I’m not a fan of the Hogwarts robes. Too modest and uninspiring If you ask me, with no sense of importance. Liontail robes, on the other hand, are easily the prettiest, if unfortunately not the most comfortable to wear. Of course, that might just me talking as someone who loves creating elaborate robes, so don’t put too much thought into it.“ She caught the confusion on my face. “Every school uses different school robes. Hogwarts prefers a more simplified style, while Liontail robes are quite fancy and Dragontooth is somewhere in between."I blinked. I guess it made sense there was more than just a single magical school.She ushered me into the back of the store, pointing out various robes draped over manikins. Hogwarts robes seemed to be mostly black, while the others were intriguingly decorated with glittering embroidery and markings in different colours and forms. She stood me on a footstool and slipped a long robe over my head and began to pin it to the right size, all the while talking about different topics, most of which went straight over my head. Umbridge, for her part, waited near the entrance, seemingly lost in thoughts and ignoring every attempt by the store owner to engage her in conversation.“That’s you done, my dear”, the store owner finally said and I hopped down from the footstool, glad not having to hold still anymore. “Give me a few moments and I’ll be right back.”She disappeared through a door to the side. I spend a few minutes looking around, studying the heaps of different robes being displayed on racks and shelfs, giggling softly at some of the more outlandish creations and being fascinated by the adornments moving in enchanting patterns.The woman soon returned and laid out several robes and bundles of clothes on the counter. “There we go, three school robes, a hat, a winter cloak and a pair of gloves”, she said and indicated each item with a wave of her hand. The robes were black, with only a colourful crest depicting a lion, a snake, a badger and a bird visible on the upper left side, looking somewhat similar to bathrobes without the fluffiness. The hat was black as well, with a wide brim and a golden star attached to the pointy top. The cloak – in all black of course – had silver fastenings at the sides and was made out of a thicker material than the robes.“Why don’t you try it on? See how it looks on you?” she suggested. Putting on the robe was easy enough and soon I found myself being dragged in front of a mirror. The robe fell from my neck to my feet, covering my clothes underneath, really no different than a bathrobe. Wearing it felt somewhat weird, as if getting ready for a costume party. I placed the hat on my head and giggled involuntarily. I really looked like I was about to visit a witch-themed Halloween party, only missing a broom and a black cat. With some help of the store owner I even managed to fasten the cloak around my shoulders, something that was actual much harder than it looked.The woman nodded satisfied. “Don’t you look good in it? You should be all set for Hogwarts now. Wish they’d allow for more fancy robes, but I guess all black isn’t too bad either. Should you tear your robes – oh, don’t look at me like that, I know it’s bound to happen – just send them back to me via owl and I’ll see to it.”I nodded, not even bothering to ask what owls had to do with it. Maybe that was their word for the post office?She folded the remaining clothes into a neat pile. “That’ll be seven Sickles and 14 Knuts, dear.”I rummaged through my schoolbag for the money. I had no idea what ‘Sickles’ and ‘Knuts’ were supposed to be, but the twelve gold coins I got should hopefully be enough to cover it.“Just one of them will do, dear”, the store owner said, smiling kindly. I handed her one of the fist-sized gold coins and got nine silver coins and a handful of small copper coins back. I stared at the coins in wonder. I guess I had even more money available than I thought.I placed the clothes into my bag and left the store, feeling quite good about myself. Walking around while wearing a robe and the pointy hat felt pretty weird at first, but I suspected I would get used to it quickly. It certainly helped that most people I could see were wearing something similar.
I cast a curious glance at the silver and copper coins still in my hands. They were a lot smaller than the gold coins, looking more like regular coins. The silver coins featured the head of a sharp-nosed woman on both sides, while the cooper coins displayed stars and planets.“The gold coins are called Galleons”, Umbridge explained, having noticed my curiosity. “The silver ones are Sickles and the copper ones are Knuts. 17 Sickles to a Galleon and 29 Knuts to a Sickle. Easy enough to remember.”We made our way through the crowd, stopping at various stores to buy other things. We bought a bottle of ink and several quills at a floating shop that specialized in writing supplies, as well as several length of parchment, followed by a cauldron the size of my head, a potion starter set filled with all kinds of exotic ingredients for brewing potions, a set of brass scales and finally a telescope. I steadfastly refused to buy protective gloves made out of dragon hide (the poor dragons!) that the list of recommended school supplies specified and instead bought gloves composed of drake scales the store owner swore were collected without hurting the animals.By the time we reached the bookstore the sun had gathered strength, prompting me to get rid of the heavy cloak again and putting it into my schoolbag with the rest of the clothes. The building itself was formed like a giant tome, with the entrance artfully incorporated into the design. ‘Flourish and Blotts’ was written in curved lines above the door. Inside there were shelves upon shelves filled with books. Even the floor was covered in piles of books precariously stacked high on top of each other, occasionally toppling over and burying unfortunate customers standing next to them under a number of heavy books. Stressed assistants were running around, waving their wands to free hapless patrons and restacking the books into even more unbalanced piles. I took one look at a woman being hit on the head by several large volumes and decided to stay clear of anything even remotely unstable looking.“I think I’ll stay here”, Umbridge said and eyed a particular slanting stack of books suspiciously. “Why don’t you take a look around and see if you can find your schoolbooks? Make sure to be careful, it would lead to a teensy bit of trouble for me if a Muggle-born student in my care were to be found crushed by some random books.”I guess it was alright if I were to be crushed by some very specific books then. I slowly made my way through the labyrinth of shelves and books, carefully checking every bend and turn while dodging the occasion books tumbling down to the floor. The store itself was filled with all kinds of magical and non-magical books, from spell books promising to teach magic to cure boils and ailments ‘of the most devious nature inflicting the nether region’ to history books dealing with things like ‘The Rebellion of Koggok the Mad in 1376’ and ‘Merpeople and the Desert: Failures of the Resettle Act of 1764’. Some books contained cooking and potion recipes or guides on how to grow the perfect garden, while others were filled with instructions on how to use certain spells. I even stumbled upon a book giving advice on various curses and enchantments to deal with ‘foes, enemies and mothers-in-law.’
I eventually found an inconspicuous part of the store that was set aside for schoolbooks, divided into schools and years. I looked at the list attached to the acceptance letter and the books specified:‘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
‘Wizard Society: An Introduction’ by Flansy ThornwistEvery school seemed to use different books, so it took a while for me to find the ones that I would need. I gathered the books, the cauldron awkwardly dangling from my arm and made my way to the checkout, hoping I wouldn’t get lost or buried somewhere along the way. Carrying all nine books at once turned out to be a bad idea, as the books were quite heavy and my arms started to tremble under their weight. Eventually, while dodging a pile of books waiting for an inattentive victim, I lost my balance and dropped the books on the floor. I huffed. Hopefully none of the books got damaged. As I bend down to pick them up a figure appeared from around a corner.“What do we have here? What a fortunate situation indeed.”I froze. Looking up I was met by grey, cold eyes. He strode closer, his pale face unreadable, his eyes never leaving mine. My breath caught in my throat and I felt shills running down my spine. I wanted to turn around and run as fast as I could but found myself unable to move even a muscle. Closer and closer he came, his steps slow and deliberate. At last he stood in front of me, staring down at me with his icily gaze, his mouth a thin line as he flexed his fingers – and bend down to pick up one of the books that I had dropped.“Next time I would suggest not to carry everything at once”, Mr. Malfoy said, his voice soft and conversational. “Books are to be treasured, not to be dropped.”I jerked backwards as he reached for the other books, but he just ignored me and continued to pick up the books. “More importantly I wanted to apologize for my unseemly attitude before”, he said, his tone carefully tempered. “After talking to my son it became clear to me that the situation was indeed an unfortunate accident. I couldn’t bear to behave in such a way towards a young girl that just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time through no fault of her own, so I hope you can bring yourself to forgive me.”“… it’s okay”, I muttered, eying him warily. Seeing a grown-up man on his knees – kind of – apologizing wasn’t something that happened to me a lot. Or at all. “I don’t mind …”“No, that won’t do”, he said and shook his head slowly. “I believe in always paying my deeds. I seem to recall that Muggle-born only have access to a limited amount of money, so please allow me to pay for your books. It’s the least I can do after my undignified demeanour earlier.” He gathered the books and without waiting for an answer made his way to the checkout, leaving me to awkwardly trail behind him. I wasn’t quite sure what to think of that. He had been so angry before, so insistent on blaming me. I was certain I would see his cold, icily eyes staring down at me in my nightmares again, filled with disdain and something darker I couldn’t quite grasp. And yet he sounded apologetic, with none of the earlier antipathy showing. Maybe he really did feel bad about it …Reaching the checkout I spotted Umbridge waiting impatiently, who looked up alarmed at the sight of Mr. Malfoy before trudging over, a slight frown on her wide face.“Mister Malfoy, what a pleasure to meet you again”, she said, her eyes slowly trailing from him to me. “Was there another problem involving this young lady?”“Not at all”, he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I was just apologizing to this … young lady for my unsightly behaviour earlier. It seems I jumped to erroneous conclusions after seeing my son in distress, for which I want to make amends.” He placed the books on the counter and handed the store manager some coins. “It’s the least I can do, even though I certainly don’t believe that it will make up for the emotional pain I may have caused.”Umbridge studied him silently for a few seconds. “That is very considerate of you”, she said at last, her voice sweet and sugary, a thin smile replacing the frown on her face. “I’ll be sure to mention it when talking to the Minister tomorrow.”He gave a curt nod. “I would appreciate that. The Minister knows I am always acting in his best interest.” He pushed the books over to me. “There you go. I hope this will suffice to at least partly make up for my unacceptable behaviour.”“… thank you”, I said softly, nervously fidgeting with the sleeves of my new robe while trying to avoid his cold eyes. His gaze briefly swept over the robe and the large hat on my head and for a second an unpleasant sneer flickered over his face, but it was gone so fast I wasn’t sure whether I’d imagined it.“My pleasure”, he replied. “With that settled, would you be so kind as to tell me your name.”I glanced at Umbridge, whose eyes had narrowed slightly but otherwise hadn’t changed her expression. “I’m Lisa. Lisa Turpin.”He nodded. “My name is Lucius Malfoy, I’m one of the Governors overseeing the running of the magical schools here in Britain.” He bowed slightly, barely more than a dip of his head. “Unfortunately I’ve got some urgent business to attend. It was nice meeting you, Miss Turpin. I hope we will meet again under different circumstances.” He turned to Umbridge. “And a good day to you, Deputy Minister for Education.”He turned around and strode towards the exit, soon vanishing in the crowd outside the store.“Well, that went better than expected”, Umbridge said after a few moments while fiddling with the rings on her fingers. “Did Mister Malfoy do anything? Did he use magic or wave his wand around?”I shook my head. “I dropped my books and he picked them up for me”, I said quietly. Compared to before he had been nothing but nice, even though his cold eyes and emotionless face still frightened me.“I see.” She seemed to ponder something, her bulging eyes vacant, but finally just shook her head. “Anyway, what else do you need to buy?” she asked. I checked the list, carefully going through each item.“A wand”, I said, not quite able to supress the excitement in my voice. The other things I had to buy were interesting, but as far as I could tell from today, a wand was what one needed to do real magic.We got a bag from the store manager to put the books into and left the shop. Umbridge hurried down several streets, occasionally waiting for me to catch up while tapping her foot impatiently. By now I was carrying my schoolbag on the back filled with clothes, writing material, a potion kit, scales and a telescope that was poking out at the top while holding a cauldron in my left hand and a bag filled with heavy books in the other hand. Breathing heavily under the afternoon summer sun I tried my best to catch up, but had to take longer and longer breaks, my shoulders aching and my arms feeling like they might fall off any second now.We finally turned into a small, rather narrow alley and stopped before a non-descript, shabby store. Unlike the other shops this one wouldn’t have looked out of place in a normal part of London. Peeling gold letters over the door read ‘Ollivander: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC’, while a single wand lay on a faded purple cushion behind the dusty display window.Umbridge sighed. “Let’s hope this won’t take long.” A bell chimed somewhere in the store as we entered. I looked around curiously but couldn’t make out much in the half-dark that shrouded most of the interior. A few glowing crystals, akin to the ones I saw at Gringotts, served as the only light source. The shop was pretty small, with a counter and several shelves behind it, filled with thousands of narrow white boxes piled up neatly right up to the ceiling. The smell of dust and old parchment filled the air, tickling my nose, like being in an old library that hadn’t been used in some time.I couldn’t make out anyone attending the store. Umbridge cleared her throat (‘hem hem’) several times, each time a little louder, to no avail. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake”, she muttered irritated, her plumb hands on her hips. “There’re at least a hundred other things I need to take care of, but instead I’m stuck here waiting for- ““Welcome.” A thin, dry voice suddenly rang out from the back of the store. I jumped, startled, while Umbridge let out a surprised squeak, not unlike a particular squat mouse. An old, frail man appeared out of the gloom of the shop, his wide, unblinking eyes gleaming like two pale moons. “My apology, I wasn’t expecting any more customers for today. Garrick Ollivander, at your service.” He bowed deeply. “How may I help you?”Umbridge pushed up her chest importantly. “I’m Dolores Umbridge, Deputy Minister of- ““Indeed you are”, he interrupted softy and examined her with a kind of professional interest. “Dragon bone, eight inches long, quite rigid and made out of birch. A nice wand for charm work, although with a mind of its own if not tempered by the wielder.” His gaze swept over to me and I couldn’t help but shiver as his silvery eyes met mine. “And here we have the reason for your visit, I presume. Tell me, child, what’s your name?”“… Lisa Turpin”, I said uneasy, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights.He nodded, seemingly satisfied and pulled a long tape measure with red markings out of one of his pockets. “Let’s see. Which is your wand arm?”I blinked. “What’s a wand arm?”“That’s an interesting question”, he replied, a thoughtful look on his face. “For most witches and wizards the dominant arm would be considered their wand arm. However, there are quite a few cases where the nominal weaker arm will frequently produce more powerful magic when using a wand. Unfortunately I haven’t found an explanation for this discrepancy yet.” He stared at me, his piercing bright eyes wide, as if he expected me to have an answer for this problem.“I-I’m right-handed”, I said, not sure what else to say.“Then we shall go with that. Please hold out your arm.” He measured me first from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, carefully noting down the numbers on a sheet of parchment. “Every wand is unique and will behave differently depending on the wielder. Some wands are known to violently reject witches and wizards they’re not comfortable with, while others may simply decide not to work at all. That’s why it’s important to match the wand as closely as possible to their wielder”, he explained while measuring the distance from my shoulder to the floor and from my knee to the armpit. “Each wand has a powerful magical core that should resonate with its wielder. I mostly use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and dragon bones in my wands for their consistent temper, but sometimes more exotic cores like thestral hair or troll whiskers produce surprisingly energetic wands.” He now was measuring the size of my nose and the span between my nostrils while I tried my best not to make a face. “No wands are the same, just as no two creatures are quite the same, each being as unique as the person wielding them. Some witches and wizards may prefer rather temperamental wands, while others favour more balanced and steady ones. Well, I say favour when it’s really the wand that chooses the witch, if I may say so.” He finished measuring my earlobes, took a look at the notes he had taken and started to take boxed from the shelves, piling them up on the counter.“Now then, Miss Turpin, let’s try this one”, he said and handed me a lightly coloured wand. “Holly and unicorn hair. Ten inches and quite flexible. Just give it a wave.”I gave it a slight swing and one of the shelves went up in flames. I jumped back and dropped the wand, my heart racing while Mr. Ollivander extinguished the fire with a quick twirl of his own wand.“Well, clearly that’s not a good match at all”, he said cheerfully and handed me a different wand. “No need to fret, we’ll get there. Snakewood and phoenix feather, twelve inches. Go on, give it a try.”I observed the wand suspiciously, but gave it a meek wave as well. Nothing happened and Mr. Ollivander snatched the wand back and handed me another one. “Willow and dragon bone. Eight inches, rather rigid.”This time the display window shattered into a thousand pieces. “It’s perfectly all right, nothing to worry about”, he said brightly and fixed the window with another twirl of his wand. “A lot of wands react rather … temperamental … when wielded by a person they’re not comfortable with. Hazel and unicorn hair, fifteen inches, quite whippy.”I swung it and one of the crystals exploded.“Not this one either”, he said and handed me another wand. “Dogwood and phoenix feather, eleven and a half inches.”I gave it a wave and watched as a spindly chair got blown across the room. “Not to worry, not to worry”, he said. “Blackthorn and dragon bone, thirteen inches. Go on, don’t be afraid and give it a good wave.”Half an hour later I was still trying out different wands, waving and swinging them around while Mr. Ollivander was busy repairing the damage I (or rather the wands) caused. Umbridge, for her part, had sat down on the spindly chair and seemed to be asleep, snoring softly.“Laurel and wampus hair, seventeen inches.” I flicked the wand and watched the counter going up in flames, burning with a pretty purple hue.Mr. Ollivander snatched the wand out of my hand. “No, this one won’t do at all. Poplar and troll whisker, seven inches. Quite bendy.”I twirled the wand in an imitation of Mr. Ollivander and was relieved when several shelves collapsed to the floor. I wasn’t quite sure what a troll might look like, but I really didn’t want a wand with one of their whiskers in it.“Maybe the more exotic wands aren’t what is needed here”, he said cheerfully. The more of his store went up in flames the more enthusiastic Mr. Ollivander had become. “Redwood and unicorn hair, fourteen inches. Go on, give it a good- “
The display window exploded (again), with shards of glass flying all around us and lodging themselves into the wall on the other side.“I guess we can rule out redwood to be a good match for you”, Mr. Ollivander said sanguine and fixed the window with yet another wave of his wand. “Don’t worry, we’ll get there eventually.” He handed me another wand. “Elm, dragon bone, twelve and a half inches, quite rigid.”I took the wand and nearly dropped it as I felt a sudden rush of warmth running through my fingers. I swung the wand upwards and a stream of purple sparks shot from the tip, illuminating the store in a sudden explosion of light. I watched in awe as the sparks danced through the dusty air, whirling around like little shooting stars. The wand was carefully crafted out of light brown wood, with darker streaks running down its length. Small, intricate symbols were carved into the wood, gleaming faintly in the dull light of the crystals.Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands excitedly. “Incredible, isn’t it? Magic as true and unbridled as it comes.” He inspected the wand without touching it, his nose mere inches away. “Elm is a picky wood, preferring wielders with a certain dignity and grace. Treat it well and it will produce the most elegant and complex spells and charms with the least errors and accidents.” I wasn’t quite sure about being graceful, but still nodded dutifully. “Dragon bone can be quite temperamental and will need a calm mind and a firm hand to guide its rebellious character, but allows for amazing feats of magic”, he continued to explain. “It’s a wand capable of great things if one can gain its loyalty and has the means to exercise its restless spirit.” He looked up, his expression suddenly serious. “Be warned though, it’s a terribly proud and uncompromising wand that will break rather than bend. Treat it kindly and it will serve you well, but treat it poorly and it will turn against you at the first opportune moment, most likely with dire consequences. It’s not a wand for the weak-minded, fickle or foolish”, he ended ominous, holding my gaze for a long moment. I gulped, my mouth dry as paper. All of a sudden the wand felt a lot heavier.Mr. Ollivander smiled reassuring. “Don’t worry, I have no doubt that you will be up for the task”, he said and indicated for me to put the wand back into the narrow box. “After all, the wand chooses the witch, Miss Turpin.”With an abrupt snort Umbridge woke up when a purple spark landed on her nose. She was looking around through bleary eyes and stifled a yawn. “Finally, thank Merlin”, she said and rose up while smoothing her crumpled robe. “I thought she’d never stop burning down the furniture.”“Some things just can’t and shouldn’t be hurried”, Mr. Ollivander answered mildly, a serene smile on his face. “Anyway, that’ll be seven Galleons.”I carefully counted the gold coins and handed them to him before taking the box with my wand and placing it gently into my schoolbag next to the telescope, like a slumbering monster that might awaken any second now.“Sorry for damaging your shop”, I said quietly while looking at the charred spots on the counter.“No need to worry, no need to worry”, he said kindly and bowed us out of the store. “Nothing that some magic and elbow grease can’t fix, I assure you.”By now the sun was hidden behind grey clouds and a light drizzle had set in again. I didn’t mind at all, as the brim of my hat was wide enough to protect me from most of the rain drops. Umbridge, of course, was wearing neither a hat nor did she carry an umbrella and had a pretty sullen look on her face. I guess she wasn’t particular fond of rain. “That certainly took a while”, she said, eying the grey clouds with disdain. “What else do you need?”Awkwardly balancing the cauldron in the one hand and the bag full of books in the other hand I somehow managed to pull out the list of school supplies. Umbridge snatched it out of my hands and skimmed through its content. “You have your robes, your hat, a cloak and mittens”, she said, ticking of each point. “You have all of your books and you should have a potion set, a cauldron and protective gloves. Furthermore you have a wand now, as well as a telescope and brass scales.” Going by my aching shoulders we also bought several dozen pounds of stones. “And since you’re just a first year you’re not allowed to own a broom or a pet yet.” Why exactly brooms were forbidden for first years I couldn’t even imagine. Maybe they didn’t want us to clean our rooms by ourselves? “I guess you’re all set.” She folded the list carefully and handed it back to me. “Do you remember how to get back to the Muggles by yourself?”I shook my head. I had given up on trying to memorise the layout of the streets and narrow alleys a while ago.She sighed. “Of course. Well, come on then. Where did you enter Diagon Alley from?”It took me a moment to remember the name of the pub. “The ‘Leaky Cauldron’, I think.”“Why in Merlin’s name would you go there?” Umbridge asked incredulous. “There are quite a few better ways to get here than through some shady pub. I don’t think you’re even allowed to be in there by yourself.”“The lady that came to my house told me to go there”, I muttered. “She even drew me a map.”“Show me”, Umbridge said and held out her hand. With some difficulty I managed to extract the crudely drawn map from my crammed schoolbag and handed it to her. She looked at it for a moment, her lips pressed together into a thin line, brows furrowed and an unreadable expression on her face before putting it in one of the pockets of her robe. “You don’t happen to remember the name of the woman?”I shook my head. I had been far to overwhelmed with everything to bother with something as trivial as a name.“Well, she should have directed you to one of the entrances more receptive to visits from the outside, instead of a dingy little pub full of up-to-no-good low-lifes”, she said, not looking pleased at all. “This won’t shine a good light on the Ministry if people were to find out, so let’s not mention it and let me deal with it, alright?” I nodded and she smiled satisfied, clapping her hands together. “Anyway, that shall be of no concern to you for now. Let’s get you back outside.”A few minutes later we came across a part of the street that I recognised (the food stand selling Flatulence-free potatoes) and arrived at the gate to the Leaky Cauldron shortly after. Umbridge tapped the wall with her wand and the stones started to move aside, opening the path to the backyard of the shabby pub.“Do you want me to accompany you all the way to the Muggle street?” Umbridge asked and eyed the backyard with contempt.I shook my head. Tom the innkeeper was nice and compared to Mr. Malfoy and his cold eyes the pub seemed harmless. At least I was pretty sure it wouldn’t appear in my nightmares.“Wonderful. Make sure to take off your robe and hat before you reach the street, otherwise the Muggles might start asking questions”, she said matter of fact. “Will there be any problems on your way home that I should be aware of?”I shook my head again. All I had to do was make my way to the train station (while hopefully not getting lost this time) and take the train home. If everything worked out I should be home in about five hours, give or take. Hopefully my sister was still stuck to the TV watching cartoons.“Thank you for your help, Miss Umbridge”, I said and smiled shyly at her. “I’m sorry for taking up your time when you have so much to do.”For a moment an expression that I couldn’t quite place materialised on her face, but it vanished just as fast as it had appeared and was replaced by her usual frown. “No need to thank me”, she said brusque. “It’s part as my job as Deputy Minister for Education after all. A prospective student – especially a Muggle-born - getting lost in Diagon Alley would project a negative image of the Ministry."She motioned for me to go through the gate. “You should better get going or your mother might start to worry.”I nodded and walked through the gate. Reaching the door that led into the pub I cast a last glance back. I could make out Umbridge’s face for a few moments, staring at me unblinkingly, the scowl replaced by a thoughtful expression as the stones of the gate wiggled slowly back into place. I gave her a shy wave of my hand and finally entered the pub. Feeling quite exhausted by all the things I had witnessed today (and the weight of the stuff I was carrying) I took a deep breath, adjusted my glasses and made my way through the gloomy pub, with the smell of stale beer and dry tobacco surrounding me.