This story is dedicated to Shivani and Nimby, who have inspired this to be written. I would like to thank my beta and imouto, Yami no Kaiba. I would like to thank JKR for giving me such an awesome world to play in.
Disclaimer: I am making no money from this, the world, setting, and basis for this story are all thanks to JKR and I really wish she would give us book 7 and end our misery.
Mistaken Identity
Sitting in my living room one night, I was rather absorbed in ignoring my homework by means of watching the telly. The sounds of cars driving by below my window sometimes over-powered the words from the box before me, however I didn't mind. One doesn't need to hear the words to follow a cooking show.
It was in the middle of one of those silly commercials – the kind you can't tell what they're selling even by the time it's over – that it happened. A strange tap-tapping on the kitchen window.
Had we still lived in our old home, I would have said it was a tree. However, I distinctly remember my mum's satisfied tone when she told me that our new flat in the city didn't have trees near any of the windows; that was a feature she had picked so I couldn't leave the building without setting off the alarms she had installed.
Being the curious girl I am - and attempting to fight off the utter boredom of being stuck inside- I left the telly running, ignored the return of the program, and got up to tip-toe towards the kitchen. Peering around the empty doorframe I made out a small, oddly shaped object on our windowsill.
Satisfied that it wasn't some creepy robber attempting to break into our new flat, I approached the window slowly, my feet as quiet as possible over the carpeting that had yet to get ripped up. About half way to the window, it finally clicked that I was looking at an owl.
Now, an owl isn't something one normally sees in London, but I was rather used to them since our closest neighbors in our old home had several owls. I adored watching them flying about at all hours of the day and night. I had always wondered about the fact that they tended to have scraps of paper either in their beaks or clutched in their talons or even seemingly tied to their legs, but I never asked.
As I got closer to the window, I realized that this owl - who was still lightly tapping at the window with its beak- had a rather thick looking envelope clutched in one talon. Another step and I saw lime green calligraphy on the front. Three more steps and my eyes focused on my name - Ms. K. Flamee- and address neatly penned on the front of the envelope.
Giving into temptation - not something I recommend on a daily basis- I opened the window, took the letter from the poor bird, and watched it fly away into the night, apparently done with his job.
Absently sliding into a seat at the table, I flipped the letter over and came across my first experience with a wax seal. Being rather intrigued, I examined the wax impression of a shield split into fourths with odd little animals - a snake, some sort of feline, a bird of some kind and squat bobcat?- before I attempted to peel it open without breaking it.
Of course, like most things I touch that are delicate, it shattered rather spectacularly. Pieces of horrible red and glittery gold wax everywhere. With a shrug, I opened the letter and upended it on the table, watching several thick sheets of expensive looking paper fall out. Gingerly, I picked up the one that ended up falling out last and unfolded it, revealing an odd list of items underneath a header sporting that odd shield again and the words "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" in spiraling cursive.
"A cauldron?" I read under my breath, scanning down the sheet. "Black robes? A wand? A POINTED HAT?" my voice rose dramatically.
Dropping that sheet, I grabbed another page topped with that stupid letterhead.
"Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Ms. Flamee,
We are pleased to inform you that we have a place for you at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all books and equipment needed as well as a set of directions on how to enter the various places in the Wizarding World that you will need access to.
School begins 1 September. Please post a reply by owl from Diagon Alley no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress"
To say I was stunned is a little vague. However, I did manage to pick up the third sheet and unfold it over the table. It nearly covered the entire thing. One section was labeled 'Diagon Alley' and gave directions on how to find it - apparently I would need to find the Leaky Cauldron first. There was even a little moving picture of a hand tapping out a sequence of bricks with a stick, then the bricks rearranging to form a doorway. Another drawing of a building that looked decidedly unsafe but had people going in and out of it with a note below as to how to exchange 'muggle' money for wizard money. Whatever 'muggle' meant.
Another chunk of the huge sheet of paper was taken up with a map of the London train station and more moving drawings of people walking into a particular column between platforms 9 and 10. Beneath that was a detailed description of ways to approach the column without alerting 'muggles.'
The final space was taken up with various rotating drawings of the items on the first sheet of paper. Each item clearly labeled as to what it was and which class - if any- it was for.
I spent several hours pouring over these odd sheets of paper before falling asleep at the table. My mother woke me up several hours later. There was a TALK, in which I begged to be allowed to go since my own classes were so very boring to me and she argued that since I couldn't even get decent grades at my regular school, why should I be allowed to go to a special school?
In the end, I won, and since we both had that Saturday off, we decided to go shopping then.
---
On Saturday, the sun was shining as she set off to find this Leaky Cauldron place. As luck would have it, it turned out our cabby was a squib - apparently someone who can't do magic from a magical family... my what tacky words these people have- and so took us directly there. It took a moment for my poor mother and I to spot the little place between the other buildings - our cabby had to nearly hand-walk us into the building before we saw it- but finally we found it. After paying our fair, we entered the little pub and made our way into the back courtyard specified on my gigantic sheet of paper.
After a re-arrangement of the map, I followed instructions, before stepping back to stare as a hole appeared, then grew larger until it reached a doorway shape and size.
Cautiously stepping through the doorway, mum and I made our way down the street, stopping to peer into windows on our trek towards the bank. A notation near the little map of Diagon Alley had suggested an amount of money suitable for exchange that would purchase all the items on the list, as well as leave some left over for a pet. Mum, being insanely unable to manage money, had taken nearly twice that amount out of our profit from having sold the old house.
Once we reached the bank, there were some absolutely hideous creatures that bowed us through a pair of huge silver doors with some stupid poem engraved on it. I didn't really pay attention. Once inside, we saw typical 'bank' sorts of things, though the workers were more of those hideous creatures and the floor plan was just... incredibly huge.
Apparently, we'd made it in during a calm point of the day and quickly ended up before one of the 'tellers' to exchange money. Obviously, the witch-world had never heard of paper money since we got back a bag filled with gold, silver, and bronze. It was rather heavy actually. I hoped I'd learn a spell to make it lighter, swiftly.
So from there, we explored the Alley. I got fitted for black robes - rather stylish, I thought - a pair of 'dragon hide' gloves - they rather reminded me of a cross between leather and snakeskin- and a beautiful cloak - that seemed like it came straight out of a historical romance novel.
After handing over several of those silly coins - at least the woman at the clothing shop was kind enough to explain some of the witch world's currency to us- we headed to the bookshop. Luckily enough, the bookshop had a display that was clearly labeled "Hogwarts First Year Selection" so that I did not have to try and figure out the order in which the books in this odd place were arranged. So the bookshop was a swift in-and-out business and I walked out perhaps fifteen minutes later with my required eight books stacked in my arms.
After a swift exchange with my mum, we found a store specializing in what appeared to be luggage and purchased an average sized trunk with wheels to place my purchases in. Very much glad for the extra money my mum insisted on, we paid the clerk the outrageous-seeming price, then headed on to find my telescope, my cauldron, my phials and my scales. Such odd items.
Finally, only the wand was left.
After a few quick questions, my mother and I found ourselves before a shabby looking shop with a sign that read "Ollivander's - Maker of Fine Wands Since 382 BC" hanging above the door. In the window, upon a faded purple cushion, lay a stick.
Not overly optimistic, we slid into the narrow shop, met with a dusty counter and row upon row of what looked like narrow squat boxes. Almost like a safe-deposit vault, only with unlocked wooden boxes instead of locked metal boxes.
A rather odd man who first seemed like a holder for his eerie, moon-like eyes slid out from behind a stack of wooden boxes.
"Ah... and who might you be?" he queried, eyes squinting towards us.
Taking the proverbial bull by the horns, I stepped forward slightly. "My name is Krystal Flamme, and I've been told I can get a wand here?"
"Ah, one of the Flamme family. Perhaps a squib branch?" the last muttered under his breath as a length of rope rose into the air. "Which is your wand arm, then?"
With a frown, I shrugged. "Do you mean the hand I write with? I'm left-handed," I added before he could answer, trying to be helpful. I had just remembered that I needed to send an owl off with my reply to the school and wanted to be away from this creepy man.
With a nod of his head, the rope started measuring my body, starting with my left hand. Mr. Ollivander started poking at his stacks as my mother settled into a rickety old chair in one corner to wait.
Before he could even pull one of the narrow boxes from the stacks around him, he glanced over his shoulder at me, then hurried off around a different stack of boxes as the stupid rope started to measure things I didn't even let my doctor measure if I could help it.
A glance at my mother brought a helpless shrug from her as I sighed heavily and waited.
Shifting from foot to foot, I didn't pay much attention to the 'swoosh' sound from the back of the store, but when it repeated several times, I turned that way with a frown.
Mr. Ollivander came around the corner, speaking lowly to a man in a silvery colored robe and holding one of the sticks I would guess are wands. I only caught the last part of what he was saying, "- must have gotten the letter by accident somehow! Don't know how Muggles got this far!"
The new man turned to look directly at me with the most piercing green-gold eyes I'd ever seen. The next thing I know, he's pointing the wand at me, and speaking in a firm voice, "Obliviate!"
A jet of nearly pure white light shot out of that stick, a faint haze of grass green surrounding it as it sped at me in slow motion. I tried to turn and run away, but it must have hit me anyway. I'm surrounded in that green-tinged white light and then... I woke up in bed.
Mum said I had the worst fever for a few days. All I know is this: I had the most vivid dream ever. And whenever we're down Charing Cross Road, I swear I can almost make out the little pub squashed between the huge bookstore and the record shop.
But Mum doesn't see it and she doesn't remember it... so it must have been a dream.
HPHPHP
An Omake type of thing inspired by my beta: Yami no Kaiba
After getting away from those creepy things at the bank, my mother and I managed to get separated - stupid clumps of wizards. After searching fruitlessly for several minutes, I found myself between oddly-leaning stores, staring in confusion at a black calico cat.
After a blink - or two - the cat stopped licking his tail long enough to peer at me with narrowed golden eyes.
"You shouldn't be here," the cat said. "No, you should not be here at all. Go home before it's too late."
"What the hell?" my voice shook as I asked. Creepy goblin-things that spoke English were one thing, but a CAT that spoke English?
The calico ignored me, going on to start cleaning his hind leg. Nothing I did or said got a reaction from him and when I heard my mother's voice calling me, I gave up and left the tiny alley.