Rise of the Alchemists: Chapter 1 – Diagon Alley
Writing belongs to NovaMagma deviantart and PinkTwirlz at FanFiction
Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Not me. I'm not cool enough.
The world is a strange place. A place that holds many secrets. Magic is one such secret.
You see, unbeknownst to most "normal" people of the world is existence of witches and wizards in their midst. These spell-casters, who call themselves part of the Wizarding World, are able to manipulate their life energies, and channel them through instruments (wands) to bend the world around them using incantations (such as spells.)
As was to be expected, the people of the Wizarding World found themselves superior to Muggles (non magic folk) in almost every way. It was a widely accepted wizarding law, upheld and enforced by the Ministry of Magic, that no witch or wizard shall ever reveal themselves to a Muggle, except in very extreme circumstances.
The Wizarding World, like every established civilization, had a government, an economy, education systems, and most unfortunately of all: wars.
Usually such wars occurred when a very skillful wizard, usually with unpleasant upbringings, became power hungry and decided domination sounded like a good idea. In the best cases, all out war could be avoided, and threats were stomped out. In others, the conflict could stretch on for decades at a time.
Perhaps the most famous Wizarding War of all time was the war started by the Dark Lord Voldemort, a villain so dreadful, most wizards won't even dare speak his name. The Dark Lord, who feared death and sought immortality, cast his reign for eleven long years before finally coming to his demise at the hand of a small child by the name of Harry Potter. Voldemort eventually did rise to power again after over a decade, only to be stomped down again by Potter and his friends, thus ending the darkest of all wizarding times.
Harry Potter was seventeen when he defeated Voldemort permanently, having earned various titles throughout his life such as "the Boy Who Lived" or "the Chosen One." He, as well as his two friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, found themselves yearning for quiet lives after the end of their ordeal, and quiet lives they had. Harry married Ron's sister, Ginny, and had three children: James, after his father, Albus Severus, after two headmasters of his school, and Lily, after his mother. Hermione and Ron had two children as well: Rose and Hugo.
And this is where our story begins. With the tale of Albus Severus Potter.
Albus was a relatively normal young boy. He grew up the shadows of his family. His parents fought in the Second Wizarding War; his father alone defeated Voldemort with his bare hands. His aunt was widely accepted as the most intelligent witch of her generation, and his namesakes were widely renowned for their impact on wizarding society. Even his brother, James, had made a reputation for himself at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, rivaling that of even the Marauders or the Weasley Twins.
Despite this, he grew up relatively normally. Like most wizarding children, he went to a pre-term schooling program for wizards under the age of eleven, where he learned basic math, writing, and history. When he received his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, no one was surprised. He was, after all, an extremely talented boy.
As was to be expected from the son of Harry Potter.
"Hey! Heyy! Wait up!" Albus called out in desperation. "Don't leave me behind here!"
"Well, walk faster then!" James taunted in return.
Albus sent the best scowl he could to his older brother while navigating through the crowds of Diagon Alley. He managed to catch up to his family, though nearly dropping his new supplies in the process.
"Al? Al where are you?" His mother called out absentmindedly as she rummaged through her purse. "Do you have your list?"
"Of course, Mum." Al had kept his list in pristine condition ever since receiving it. It contained everything he needed to know about all the school supplies he would need for the upcoming year at Hogwarts. Ginny reached out for the list, and Al reluctantly gave it to her.
"Well, we already have all your robes and clothing ready. I suppose our next stop will be Flourish and Blotts. Harry...Harry? Harry what are you–oh there you are, Harry get over here. Take Al and James to Flourish and Blotts will you? I promised Lily she could stop by Florian Fortescue's...oh for god's sake, James, leave that alone! Ugh, I can't hear myself think with all these people..."
While his mother was talking, Albus carefully took back his supply list from her hands. He straightened the corners with great care, and then took off after his father and brother as they made their way to the bookstore.
"Why do I keep getting left behind!" Albus exclaimed as he ran up next to his father. Harry chuckled and ruffled Al's hair.
"Don't worry, we won't forget about you." He said, smiling inwardly at Al's neatly kept list. "This is your first time to Diagon Alley isn't it?" Albus nodded. "Well, no wonder it's so overwhelming. It was for me too."
Diagon Alley was the main source of magical supplies in all of Britain. It had every shop you could possibly think of, from Apothecaries to Menageries, and even sporting goods stores. People crowded the cobbled streets, knocking up against each others' shoulders, venders set up booths at street corners, and various house animals tended to get tangled in your feet if you weren't careful.
"I hate how crowded it is." James complained. "There isn't any space to do anything."
"You should see it when it's completely empty." Harry remarked. "It's much worse." Albus shuddered. That did sound worse.
The three of them managed to make it to Flourish and Blotts without any lasting damage. The shop was about as chaotic as the streets. There were flying books, screaming books, books that changed size and color. Every type of book you could possibly think of. James, without a thought to his supplies, ran off to look for books of jinxes and death omens, leaving his family behind in the dust.
"And there goes your brother." sighed Harry. "Well, we can get his books for him. What's on your list, Al?"
Al didn't need to look at the list (as he could recite it by heart) but he looked at it anyway. "All the standard first year stuff. Magical Theory, Standard Book of Spells Grade 1, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, things like that."
"Well I think they have the books organized for Hogwarts students..." Harry and Albus wandered off into the depths of the store to collect Al's supplies.
After a good deal of searching, distraction, and James managing to almost make Albus wet himself with an old copy of the Monster Book of Monsters, they collected everything they needed and headed off.
"Well, what's next on the list?" Harry asked as they left the store.
"I would look at my list," Albus began, his eyes red with anger. "If James hadn't gotten in EATEN."
"I told you, that was an accident!" James exclaimed. "That monster book was really intense, that's all!" Albus turned away and refused to look at his brother.
"All we have left to get is Al's cauldron and wand anyway." James shrugged. "We got all the rest with mom."
Harry looked at Albus for confirmation, and he nodded, grudgingly.
"Al, haven't you been saving your money up to get something?" Harry asked his son in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Where did you want to go? We can go anywhere in Diagon Alley."
A small ray of light seemed to shine in Al's eyes. "Well..." He started. "I was thinking...could we...maybe...go to Eeylops Owl Emporium?" Harry blinked in surprise.
"Really? You want an owl?"
"I have enough money." Al added quickly. "It doesn't have to be a really nice owl or anything, but I thought, instead of having to use the school owls, I could, maybe, get one as a pet. Y'know...if that's okay with you."
"As long as you are the one who takes care of it, it's fine by me." Harry said. "I'm surprised though, I would have thought you'd have wanted to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies." He laughed. "But if it's an owl you want, an owl you'll get I suppose."
James stared at his father in dismay. "What? Albus get's an OWL? How come I don't get an owl!"
"Because Albus is paying for it. Besides, I get the feeling you wouldn't be a very responsible pet owner." Harry explained. "We'll stop by the emporium after Ollivander's, all right, Al?"
Albus nodded, excitedly. As soon as the three reached Potages Cauldron Shop, James took his leave to go hang out at the Weasley Wizard Wheezes location with his uncle, who ran it. Albus, who was now carrying a very large, pewter cauldron, walked alongside his father as they made their way to Ollivander's.
Albus gazed in awe at the shop in front of him. There was an old, faded sign that read "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC." The shop itself was old and run down. It was hard to believe this was the home of the best wands in all of Britain.
Harry opened the door, and gestured for his son to go in. Albus did, and tried to look around, but his cauldron obstructed most of his view.
"Do we have a customer?" A voice from the back called out.
The wandmaker that had sold Harry Potter his wand, Garrick Ollivander, passed away a short time after the end of the Second Wizarding War. This left his only son, Gareth, in his place to take over the wandmaking business. The voice that called out from the back of the shop was none other than Gareth Ollivander himself. Gareth, though not as talented as his father, showed great potential in the field of wandlore, and was well sought after for the wands he made using his father's technique.
"Hello." Harry called out. "We're here to get a wand."
"Well of course you're here to get a wand, why else would you be here?" Gareth laughed, as he made his way to the front counter. He was a young man, in his late twenties or early thirties, and sported curly, black hair. He looked nothing like the descriptions of his father, Albus noticed. "You need a replacement Mr. Potter? Or have another first year for me?"
"The latter. This is my son, Albus." Harry explained. Albus set his cauldron down on the floor and nervously shook the wandmaker's hand, muttering his pleasantries.
"Pleasure to meet you. First year at Hogwarts? Mind if I take some measurements?" Without giving the nervous Albus a chance to answer, Gareth pulled out his measuring tape, and as the tape took the measurements on its own, he furiously jotted down notes on a Muggle notebook.
"Which is your wand arm?" Gareth asked. Albus raised his left hand, and Gareth nodded, jotting down more notes.
"Why do you..." Albus tried to ask, looking at the lined notebook. Gareth smiled knowingly.
"Most people who come in here ask that question." He said, closing the book and setting it down on the desk. "While Muggles don't have the same powers we do, they do have some things right. I prefer pencils and paper to parchment and quills. They are more organized, in my opinion. It does make some of the more old-fashioned purebloods mad, though." He took the measuring tape away, and disappeared into the back shop. A few minutes later, he emerged with three small boxes. He set them down on his desk, and picked his notebook back up.
"Now, Albus, was it?" Gareth asked. "I'm going to give you a scenario. You are traveling down a deserted road, alone. You reach a crossroad in your path. There are three directions you could take. Do you follow the path left to the beach, the middle path through the forest, or the right path to an old castle?" He looked at Albus expectantly.
Albus froze. There was a question? He wasn't prepared for a question. What should his answer be? This answer, this moment, could determine the wand he had for the rest of his life. What if he chose wrong? What if he ended up with a terrible wand that made him horrible at spells? What if he failed school? What if–
"You all right, Al?" Harry broke into Albus' thoughts, waking him up from his nervous trance.
"Yeah...I...uh...what were the choices again?" Albus stuttered. Gareth smiled, and repeated the options. Albus stood there for a full ten seconds. Harry was utterly confused, but Gareth had a look of triumph on his face, as if Albus had already answered.
"The castle." Albus finally whispered. Gareth nodded, picked up one of the three boxes he brought in with him, and took it back to the shop. When he emerged, Albus was getting more nervous by the second. Gareth opened one of the boxes, and handed Albus a wand.
"Willow and unicorn hair. Ten and a third inches. Reasonably firm." He explained. "Swish it around a bit." Albus did so, but nothing happened. Gareth took the wand back, and placed it in the box.
"All right, this one then." He said, handing Albus the wand from the other box. "Eleven and a half inches, willow and phoenix feather." This one did not receive much result either.
Gareth spent the next quarter hour bringing wands back and forth through the shop and giving them to Albus to try. Most of them were either willow or hawthorn, sizes and cores of all types. Eventually, Gareth found one that he looked satisfied with, and brought it back to try.
"This one might do it. Here, hawthorn, nine and a quarter inches, unicorn hair." Albus took the wand, and immediately sparks began to shoot out of the tip, and a warmth spread all through Al's body. Gareth gave a relieved smile, and jotted down more notes in his notebook.
"You're very lucky, young Mr. Potter." Gareth said. Albus looked at the wandmaker in confusion. Gareth explained, "That wand was made by my father, bless his soul. There aren't very many of his wands left."
"How are they different from yours?" Albus asked.
"They were made by more practiced hands, is all." Gareth said. "That will be fourteen galleons please, thank you for your business."
Harry paid Gareth, and then they went on their way.
"Here we are. Eeylops Owl Emporium!" Harry announced. Albus had stars in his eyes as he looked around at all the owls. There were tawny owls, barn owls, brown owls, screech owls, all of them handsome and perfectly groomed. The shop itself was dark in appearance, and the floor was littered with droppings, food, and various pieces of garbage. Each way you turn there were hoots and calls, ruffling of feathers, and the squeaking of frightened mice. Albus was too excited to care about the mess.
"What type of owl would you like?" Harry asked. Albus didn't respond, instead he started inspecting the owls one by one, petting all the animals that were allowed to be petted.
After a great deal of browsing, Albus finally found an owl that suited him. It was a tawny owl, but by some strange defect, sported all black feathers instead of the usual brown ones. When they emerged from the store with Albus's new owl in tow, and twelve galleons the poorer, he looked immensely pleased with his selection.
"What are you going to name him?" Harry asked as Albus admired his new companion.
"I'm not sure." Albus admitted.
"Harry!" Ginny called out, running towards her husband from across the alley. "Where have you been?" Her arms were full of bags, and James and Lily were behind her.
"Albus is hard to shop for." Harry joked.
"All right then." She laughed. "Come on then, it's time we headed home. We need to get packed for tomorrow."
"What?" James cut in. "The train leaves tomorrow?"
"Of course it leaves tomorrow, where have you been?" Albus scolded, glaring at his brother. "I would show you the date on my LIST, but–"
"That's enough you two." Ginny broke their argument. "Let's get going."
The Potters made their home at a small little house in a complex on Grimmauld place. The house itself was not seen to the Muggles that lived around it. They had simply accepted the amusing mistake that placed apartment eleven next to apartment thirteen.
The Potters lived at number twelve.
Number twelve Grimmauld place belonged to the noble and ancient Black family, a nearly all Slytherin family that was very proud of its lineage. When the last heir to the Black family passed all his belongings to Harry upon his death, Harry took it upon himself to renovate the dingy old house after the war, and make it suitable for living in. The halls that were once dark and dank were now just as normal as any other house you might see (with one exception: Harry had removed one of the walls which he said held a "nasty painting that wouldn't come off," leaving one very spacious room in the middle of the home.)
That night was a hectic one at number twelve.
First, James stole Albus's owl and tried to turn it into a toad, which earned him both a screaming mother and a letter from the Ministry of Magic. Second, Lily, who was nine years old and still struggling to control her magic, ended up floating around the ceiling, and everyone spent an hour trying to get her down (while she screamed the whole time.) And third, Albus accidentally set off James's store of dungbombs, and the rest of the night they all had to walk around with bubble-head charms cast upon themselves in order to rescue their nasal cavities from untimely destruction.
By the time they were all packed and asleep, it was well past midnight, and they were all exhausted. Still, Albus couldn't bring himself to go to sleep. When he finally did settle down, his trunk had been packed and repacked nearly a dozen times, his clothes precisely organized by article and color, his owl's cage was perfectly shined and polished, and his books were all stacked in alphebatical order according to title (which he had also organized by last name, and then changed back to title again.)
He didn't sleep well that night.