The Witch and the Viper
BOOK I – "The Witch"
Chapter 1 - Diagon Alley
The boy could barely believe his eyes as he peered into the secret entrance of what appeared to him to be an entirely new world. He had almost convinced himself that he had imagined the whole thing, and that the strange man who came to visit him was just in his mind. After all, everyone else thought he belonged in an asylum, and maybe they were right. As he slowly walked through the entrance, he pulled the neatly folded piece of paper, (which he had convinced himself was someone playing a joke,) out of his trouser pocket and read the list of items to himself.
There were typical categories for a boy going off to boarding school; different types of uniforms, books, and lots of specific supplies. He read the list, top to bottom, four times before thinking of where in this strange place he'll be able to find them. The place was packed with people; shoppers, families... presumably wizards and witches, the whole lot of them. Everyone was bustling about, obviously knowing exactly where to go.
"An owl, or a cat, or a toad," he said aloud. Why on earth would I want any of those things? He stepped into a store with window displays full of mannequins, all moving on their own, dressed in the same sort of strange clothing the people in town were wearing. There were outlandish woman mannequins dressed in light blue and purple flowing silks with long heavy robes over them, topped off with long pointed hats draped with gold tassels. The men's fashions seemed more modest, with tailored striped suits and capelets, with shoes wearing buttoned spats walking around on their own. The smaller mannequins were waving wands, wearing long black robes trimmed in gold, with a patch on the chest featuring the same emblem that was atop his supply list.
As he entered and took in his surroundings, he realized he had no interest in exploring, and walked straight to the counter.
"Excuse me, madam, but could you please direct me toward a few things on this list here?"
"Oh, dearie," replied the old woman. "You must be a new first year student, are you? Well, now, are you here all alone, then? Ah, you must be a muggle-born, son, let me help you out, now."
"Muggle? I beg your pardon, madam, but-"
"Oh, you know, dearie, the non-magic-using folk, the muggles! Well don't you fret, now over here is the-"
"I'll have you know, madam, my father was inDEED a wizard, now if you could just please show me the items I require I'll be on my way." The old woman was flustered, and put her wrinkled and bejeweled hands up in surrender.
"Now, now, dearie, I mean no harm! No harm, here is our basic robes, you look about a size 5, I wager, no harm at all, now, your hats are all in the back, you know there, along by the self-cleaning cloaks and that's where you'll find your winter cloak, now. You'll have to find your gloves at Potage's, up the way now, you go on and just pick out your sizes, I've got the name tags here, then."
"Thank you, madam," said the boy as he nodded and walked over to the back wall. He stared up at the hats, rows of them that had to be twenty across, and as he looked up the ceiling seemed to vanish, and the hats went on almost forever!
"Oh, how will I ever pick one out!" said a girls' small voice to his left. "I just have no idea, all these below are just so large, but I think they get smaller as they get higher, I just can't reach any." He turned to look at the girl, about his height with crystal blue eyes and hair so blond it was practically white. She was, without a doubt, different from any of the girls he was used to back home, but was certainly nothing like the crowds of people he'd encountered in Diagon Alley. Her hair was in big rolling curls on the top and sides of her rosy-cheeked pale face, and her clothing was nice, for muggle clothes, I suppose. "I'm sorry, but I've been raised in a muggle family, could you maybe help me figure this hat business out?"
He crooked a little half smile at her and replied "Sorry, I'm at just as much a loss. I know I can't afford these, but my hat size is seven and a quarter, and-" as he said that a threadbare and faded hat about thirty rows up lifted up off it's hook, and slowly drifted down. As he grabbed it, he finished his smile. "I guess you just tell them what you need!" He walked off, leaving the smiling girl behind.
His shopping finished, the boy left Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and continued his search for supplies. After picking up his books from Flourish and Blott's, and a broken chest from the Junk Shop to carry everything in, he found himself faced with a crowd of families. They must have just gotten off the train, he thought, as he backed against a wall. As he looked on, children and their parents bustled by, listing all the things they were going to do in town, and whether they should have lunch at the Three Broomsticks or just a snack at Florian's, and exclamations of "My, how you've grown this year!" and "I can't believe you can't use the same book your brother has" and "Are you sure you'd rather have a cat than and owl?" he ducked into the nearest door, just to be away from it all.
Oh, lovely, the last place I'd like to be, he thought has the door shut behind him and he realized he was in a filthy bird store. He sneered as the stink of droppings and dead mice enveloped him. The bell on the door alerted the birds, who all turned to look. The feeling of dozens of round eyes, golden and silver, all staring unblinking, made him uneasy. The shopkeeper came out from around the corner, wiping down a small cage with a dirty rag, and waved.
"Hello, there! Can I h-"
"NOTHING, THANKS" the boy barked has he backed out of the door, upsetting all of the owls into a fluttering and screeching symphony of clattering cages and boxes, bags of seeds falling off shelves and feathers and dust kicked up into the air, leaving the shopkeeper to calm all of the animals. Terrible, I can't imagine who would want such a filthy creature.
Let's see, now... Looks like I'm almost finished here. Lovely lot, a bunch of patched robes and broken trinkets, I wonder if I can repair these things with magic. I still need a wand, I can't believe wizards actually use wands. After eleven years of not knowing his true magical heritage, and being able to do things he couldn't explain and others couldn't understand, there were some parts of the wizarding world that were a bit of a let down. You'd think they'd have figured out how not to by now, it's nearly the 1940's after all!
He slowed to a stop, as he realized he had taken a wrong turn. It was dark, but unnaturally so, as it was still early. The crowds had dissipated, thankfully, and there were but a few darkly hooded and cloaked figures out and about. Some were walking purposefully to some mysterious destination, but others, strange, in a place like this, were just loitering about, standing in corners, or up against lampposts lit with flames that cast no light. He felt their eyes following him as he continued down this path.
"Wot's a lad like you doin down 'ere, eh?" and "no place for lads 'ere, no place 'ere" were a few of the comments he'd pretended to ignore as he saw an interesting shop ahead. He headed inside and found the most wonderful assortment of medieval looking devices, things he had only seen in books or heard of in schools. This place is absolutely wonderous, I've never seen anything like it! There were dusty trinkets behind glass, large cumbersome items that looked like... are these... caskets? Along one wall was a stack of wooden boxes, hand carved with vast scenes depicting creatures in battle. Hanging above them was a row of shrunken heads, hung from their hair by string, and … is that one... snoring? There was a large and rather exquisite wardrobe, open just a crack, and curiosity got the better of him.
He reached out to the door, and grasping the large brass handle, pulled it open a crack to peer inside. There were many shelves and drawers, piled high with something, are these large stones, or rocks? and as the light creeped in, Bones! Hundreds of human bones! One drawer contained skulls, mostly whole, and another... why, these bones have all been... burnt? But why? I wonder wha-
"Now then, what does a boy like yourself need with something like that, I wonder" as faint as a whisper from behind made him nearly jump out of his skin.
"I'm sorry, sir" as he stepped away from the wardrobe. "Really, I'm just browsing, but-"
"This is no place for browsing, lad, this is a place of business, and if you haven't any business then off with ya!"
"Well, then if you'll tell me what kind of business you're in, I could-"
"No you couldn't, off you go! Go on!" and with a snap of his fingers the man in the shop had closed the wardrobe and pointed a bony withered finger at the exit. The boy, always having hated being told what to do, stood fast and eyed the back of the shop.
"I'd like to purchase one of your books." Pulling his trunk behind him, he brushed right past the man, toward the counter. Behind the counter was a small bookshelf filled with books, scrolls, and dusty volumes of unmarked wonders. He had no idea what to ask for, and some of the titles weren't even in a language he could recognize, so he brought up the first thing that came to mind, a thought he had not ten minutes prior. "Do you have anything on using magic without tools? Without a wand?"
The man shifted toward the boy, and took a few steps. "You look a bit young for something that advanced. Very few wizards even in their twilight years can accomplish such a thing." He walked over to behind the counter and leaned forward at the boy. "And besides, by the looks of you, you haven't got the Galleons to spare on such foolishness. You really should be off, now."
"Would you really begrudge a simple book to a boy eager to learn?" he said with a sly smile and smooth voice. "Anyway, I've been doing magic for years before I even knew wands existed, how rare a feat could this be? Come now, I've come all this way, and I've a few Galleons to spare."
"Years, you say." The man, not believing a word of it, smiled and turned. "Well I do have this one, but it's got a bad history with me. It has been bought and sold back to me countless times, by fools who thought they could master the technique. I tell you what, now." The man hunched over to pull a leather-bound volume from the bottom shelf. "You take this here book, and you bring it back to me. Oh, now how about around the holidays, then? That should be enough time to prove to you that some things are better left alone. You give me one Galleon now, and you'll get it back when you return the book, how's it please you?"
"It does, it is a pleasure doing business with you, Mister..."
"Burke, Caractacus Burke." Mr. Burke shook the boy's hand and took his Galleon.
With his new prize tucked neatly into his trunk, the boy made his way back to the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. I still need a blasted wand, I suppose, even if I am right about them. He turned a corner, and walked past a huge building in the center of the road, a crooked marble affair, with pillars rising nearly to the sky. Instead of the usual crowds of the day, he was now being pushed around rudely by very short people. What on earth are these funny little men? These are not men at all, I think. They had long pointed noses protruding from round faces with peculiar hairstyles, even for this place, and held briefcases and pushed carts using hands with fingers as long and pointed as their noses. Gringott's, what a terrible sounding name. I wonder if one day I'll have business there as well.
After passing many other shops he had little interest in, he was finally at Ollivander's Wand Shop, and apparently with good timing. As he opened the door, a crowd of children were leaving, their parent's gossiping about the types of wands that were chosen or did they say the children were chosen? He entered the empty shop and looked around. These buildings are so strange, they look normal out there, but on the inside they seem to have no boundaries! This building must be thirty stories high! As far as the eye could see, there were stacks and piles of tiny boxes, all long and narrow. None of them matched, as some were brown, some white, some wooden, and some paper or cardboard. There was a glass countertop, with some more luxurious wares locked away, like boxes carved of ivory or bone, gold hinged boxes with velvet resting pillows. How many types could there possibly be?
"Hello there, hello, so sorry, just tidying up after the rush there! My name is Ollivander, are you by yourself today?" said an old man, with white bushy hair, thinning on top, and little spectacles folded away into his vest pocket. As he strode out from behind a tall rack of boxes, he waved his wand to the left and the boxes on the far wall straightened up. He pointed the wand to the right, and with a flick reorganized the whole wall opposite.
"I am, and I need to pick out a wand, have you any secondhand?"
"Well, you must be on your way to Hogwarts for your first year, then, I hate to tell you, but we do have secondhand wands, however you don't pick out the wand!"
"How does this work, then, do I just give you a price?"
"Oh no, no, here you go... just have a little go with this one here and let's see what we've got going on with you." The old man pulled out a plain, basic wand, smooth and light brown colored wood. "Try this out."
The boy took the wand in his right hand, and pointed it at a box on the counter. He raised an eyebrow. What am I even supposed to do? He flicked the wand and the box hovered for a few moments and flipped to the floor.
"Well now, not too bad for your first time using magic!"
"Sir, I do things like that all the time, how was that different?"
The man put both hands on the counter, and squinting a little, held out a hand for the trial wand back. "All the time, eh, all the time. Well now if you're already moving objects, let's see here, let's see..." and he disappeared into the labyrinth of boxes again, still muttering. He reappeared with a few different boxes. "Now, some of these are not secondhand, but we'll have to give these a go, we will."
The first wand was black, with ivory at the handle. When he flicked it at a few boxes, nothing happened. The old man took it back, and put it and a few others aside. "Definitely not unicorn, let's see here, how about... what is this, dragon..." and he passed over a short mahogany wand, with carvings along the side. With this one, he managed to put out all of the shop's candles, just another parlour trick I used to do to scare people. "I think you may need something a little more... unique, perhaps? Give me a moment, just a moment," and he disappeared again, this time in silence. He returned with a black box, and set it on the counter. As the boy raised his hand to open the lid, the box slid across the counter toward him, all on it's own. He looked up at the old man, startled. "This must be the one, now open it up. Try it, go on, give it a go."
He opened the box, and held his right hand out to pick up the wand. He paused a moment, impressed with this wand's beauty, and the wand snapped into his open hand, all on it's own! This … this actually feels right, somehow. If this is how it was meant to be... after all the things I've taught myself to do, just imagine... how great a wizard I'm going to become! "Mr. Ollivander, this is perfect."
"I believe we have ourselves a new wand, then!" Ollivander eyed the boy steadily and suspiciously. "But tell me. Every wand has a history. This is a special wand, the core is Phoenix feather, and it did have one owner previously. For my own records... could you tell me your name?"
"Yes, sir, my name is Tom." He held out his hand. "Tom Riddle."