CONNER I
Conner liked to take inventory of himself when he was nervous. As the blurs of cloaks and capes streamed across his vision, he patted himself down, just to make sure he knew what he had on him. He had his wallet, containing 100 Galleons, the strange currency used by the wizards in Britain. Along with the coins, it contained a small amount of normal American dollars, which were useless not only in Britain, but in Diagon Alley, where he now found himself. Lost.
The only other thing he had on him was the hastily crumpled collection of documents he had shoved into his pockets. The papers that went into exquisite detail as to his joining in on the MAGES program, his registration as a wizard, and his student application form for Hogwarts.
He looked up from his coat pockets at the mass multitude of Witches and Wizards around him. Everything was so chaotic and disorderly, he could barely get his bearings in the twisting alley. The people around him were too lost in their own conversations or their fascinations with wizarding goods on sale to notice how nervous and hurried he was. Oddly enough, the bits of bleached hair on his head were the least strange thing anyone in the crowd could gawk at.
Phillis had specifically told them. "To make sure no one gets lost, we're dividing into groups. Conner, you'll be with Michael and Seth." Where were they now? Conner had no idea. He also had no idea where any of the other groups were going, except for Jonah, Jack, and Calvin. He specifically heard them mentioning that they wanted to check out Quidditch supplies before the group met up at Flourish and Blotts for book buying.
However, finding exactly where they had gone to do this was more than Conner knew. What did a Quidditch shop even look like? At this thought, Conner's face hastily met the floor as he tripped, sending his entire body crashing down onto the stone road. People scurried around him, as not a single person made any moves to help him up or even ask if he was okay. So far, Wizardkind wasn't making any good first impressions.
As Conner rose, collecting himself, he did a once over, turning about, spying the object he had tripped over: a book. He bent over to pick it up, examining it. It was an enormous tome, about a foot wide in page length, a completely blank leather cover, with what seemed like hundreds of strings and cords laced over the edges, preventing it from being opened. Whatever it was, it looked magical.
He looked around him, holding the book visibly, silently asking if anyone nearby had dropped it. No one made any moves to grab it. Conner sighed and spirited it away into his arms. Luckily he hadn't dropped anything, and if he ever found Phillis, he would ask her about the book.
With that, he made off down the street again, not sure how anyone managed to navigate it. It was going to be a long year.
After what seemed like hours, but was most likely only five minutes, a hand grasped his shoulder, making him nearly jump out of his skin. He turned, and was met with the familiar face of Phillis Stabelle. She was incredibly gaunt, and nearly as tall as Michael was, her bone thin fingers released him as she saw his face, and sighed with relief. Her face always seemed rather strange to Conner, due to the stark contrast between the silver blonde of her hair and the deep tan of her skin.
"Conner! We've been looking all over for you!" She cried, as a worried Seth appeared behind the billowing folds of her minty green cloak. She embraced him in an awkward motherly hug, as Seth stood nearby, perfectly content to not be involved. Phillis was a hugger. She pulled away, after an uncomfortable amount of seconds, and grasped Conner's and Seth's hands, and began to lead them both through the streets.
"You had me worried sick! What did I tell you to do if you got lost?" She asked him.
"You didn't tell us to do anything if we got lost." Conner replied, confused.
"I didn't have to! Everyone knows you could just-" She cut herself off, "Er, I guess every Wizard knows…um...Well, whatever, it doesn't matter. I forced Michael to stay behind and hold our spots in line. They said on the letter that this would be the recommended day to shop for supplies! You wouldn't believe the lines! Out the door and into the next shop, I swear!"
When they arrived at the rather quaint bookstore, Flourish and Blotts, Conner could see what she had meant. Dozens of cloaked and robed figures stood waiting for a chance to get inside the book store, a few in the back frozen with looks of apprehension, not sure if it was better to come back or get in while they had the chance.
As they squeezed into the doorway, rubbing past several people who gave them angry comments about the existence of the line and the proper social etiquettes which forbade cutting, they easily found the 6'3'' beacon that was Michael, his broccoli-shaped curls sticking out like a lighthouse over the tops of the many pointed caps and hoods.
"Oh! There you are!" Michael said, turning around to face them, "Apparently, not everyone is here for school books, there's a sale on Gilderoy Lockhart books, they're sixty percent off!" Michael explained to Phillis.
She nodded. "However, I don't understand while he's still so popular. He stopped writing seven years ago." Even inside the enormous shop, which went up and up, at least four stories stacked with bookshelves brushing against the ceilings and floors, people filled the first story, heading to check out. Books were piled in stacks, bursting from the shelves, and decorated the tables that lay about every five feet. All about wizards...
"Um...Phillis, could you get my books for me? I wanna take a look around." Conner asked. Phillis looked nervous at this.
"Conner, you JUST wandered off, I'm not sure I can-" However, she was interrupted by Michael.
"Phillis, there's only so many places he could go. As long as we make sure he doesn't leave the store it shouldn't be hard to find him again." Phillis looked between Michael and Conner, trying to make a decision, until finally shrugging in acceptance.
"Alright, but don't go far, you hear me?" Conner nodded, and immediately wandered off to the first staircase. The first thing on display were an array of books by the esteemed Gilderoy Lockhart. Voyage with Vampires, Gadding with Ghouls, Wandering with Werewolves, and a most predominant Magical Me placed upon a pedestal wherever it could be. Who am I? His latest book, was practically nowhere to be found.
As he passed these, and started towards the third story, he started coming across stranger books. He let his fingers run across the bindings, wondering which book he wanted to start with. Then he pulled it away. He already had a book to read. He produced the enormous tome from his jacket, marvelling why Phillis didn't ask him about something that must have been so obvious to see.
"Now how the heck do I get this open?" He asked out loud, as he looked over the numerous cords. He began pulling at them, digging his fingers in, trying to pry them open. Nothing budged. He sat down crossed legged, and set the book in front of him. He was going to have to put some back into it. Moments passed as he dug grooves into the skin of his fingers, trying to rip the straps off, but to no avail.
Suddenly, he was interrupted as a black cloak came into his field of vision. He looked up, and saw a tall figure completely garbed from head to toe in a black cape, the hood pulled so low, Conner couldn't see his face, despite being below him. The figure was standing there, staring at him.
"Um...can I help-" but before Conner could finish, the figure grabbed Conner by the bulk of his hair, and threw him against one the shelves. A multitude of thick and heavy books slammed onto his head after the shelf did, definitely giving him bruises, and most certainly knocking off his hat.
Angry and injured, Conner began to stand up as the cloaked figure tucked the book inside the folds of his robes. Conner was about to yell at him, when he produced a wand from the folds of his robes, and flicked across his face. Corresponding with the motion the wand had made, a great force slammed into Conner, knocking him to the ground again. As he lay there, several more invisible blows slammed into his back, beating him battered and bloody.
He was hastily yanked to his feet, and through swollen and bloody eyelids, saw the tip of the figure's wand, as the man whispered, "Obliviate." And the hooded shape was the last thing Conner saw before his vision became one dark void.