Prompt- Treat
The pumpkin pasty is a bit underwhelming. Not that it isn't good, I've just never had a taste for pumpkin or pastries. Cinnamon buns and cake are the only two exceptions.
"How're you liking the pasty, mum?" I ask Martha, looking up at the blonde woman. The woman hums to herself, before swallowing.
"I'm a bit fond. I do wonder if I'd be able to bring some of these sweets to my students," Martha says with that ever kind smile of hers, the words themselves thoughtful.
"I see no reason why not, Mrs. Howard. Though I would advise against informing anyone of where you purchased them," McGonagall says just a little ahead of us while we step through Diagon's morning crowd. The air is filled with smells, bright colors shoot about in magical flares or just on the robes some people are wearing, and the buildings look properly old. Really, if I were in the business of worrying, which I am, I would comment on how unstable some of these buildings look. They should not be slanted.
"Very good, Professor! Though I do hope I don't confuse some of these coins for eachother. Such a quaint conversion system, Tommy will be quite interested."
Said banker was keeping out of this experience, still wraping his head around the magic thing. Martha said the same thing happens when he finds out about any surprises and that there's no need to worry, though. I trust it, considering she's said he fainted when he was told she was pregnant.
I try not to think about how I'm not their kid.
My hand goes to my wrist.
We get me fitted and I end up with several pairs of the hogwart's uniform, I mildly wonder how the potion ingredients don't all mold in that dank shop, Martha gets me any book I so much as look interested in, and-
Ollivander's is old. So old that when I step in, I can practically feel it in the air. Almost timeless. The bell at the door jingles lightly while I eye up the almost endless rows of boxes, the dust mites in the air, and the old dark wood that most of the store is made from.
Quiet shuffling sounds, and a old man with watery, sharp, silver eyes comes into view behind the counter.
"Fir and dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches, stiff," Ollivander says with a small, odd smile to McGonagall. "I'm glad to see you again, Minerva."
Weirdly enough, McGonagall smiles back. "And you as well, Gerrick. I'm afraid this isn't a social visit though."
"Are they ever? Never mind it my dear," The elderly man hums, before focusing his gaze on me. "Curious," Is all that he says before waving his wand. All sorts of measuring devices fly around me while Martha makes a small surprised sound, stepping more to the side.
"How do you like your tea?" He asks, nonsensically.
"Sweet," I reply, grinning just a smidge.
Ollivander's smile only widens a little before he shuffles away, murmuring about cores. One tape lightly settles itself around my right wrist, and another settles around the same hand's middle finger.
McGonagall and Martha talk about their students off to the side. Martha describing how she'd once witnessed a paint fight, and McGonagall about bewitched essays that spit ink everywhere.
God bless teachers man. God bless.
Ollivander comes shuffling back into view again with four boxes, before setting them down on his cluttered counter. Lifting one's lid he pulls out a yellowish brown colored wand with a curved handle.
"Give it a flick, if you will," The man says, handing it to me as the measuring instruments fly off into a corner.
It feels...
Like a stick of wood.
I flick it aiming away from anyone and a row of boxes falls to the floor. Before I can apologize the wand is out of my hand and Ollivander is muttering about it all being wrong. He waves a hand towards the boxes and they clean up themselves. Then without missing a beat he's gently setting the wand down and pulling out another. This one is darker in color and without any engravings or personalization. Just a straight lump of wood.
This one decides to aim opposite where I point and a firework goes off above our heads.
"Not dragon heartstring then, nor pheonix feather. Unicorn hair perhaps..?" Ollivander mutters, and another wand is in my hand before I can blink.
This one I feel... something. It's seemingly indifferent to me though, only sending out a few sputterings of white mist.
I test two more wands before he pins down what wood would probably be best, and three more before he can dissern the flexibility.
"Cherry, unicorn hair core, ten inches, very flexible," Ollivander says before the wand is gently placed in my hand.
Something warm trails from my hand and all throughout my body from the curved and engraved thing. It emminates warmth and glows lightly in... affection? Can a wand be affectionate?
Then again, I'm in what I thought was a book series, so I don't presume to understand much at all about the universe or reality.
"Wonderful. It is rare to see a cherry wood wand bond so easily," Ollivander remarks, eyeing the wand with that same odd smile.
I suppose the man is alright, a bit creepy, but I've met weirder.
Martha happily pays for the wand, and then attempts to convince me to buy a cat.
The shop's bell jingles on our way out.
-linebreak-
I end up getting an owl for the sake of convenience, even if I think the cats in that pet shop are as cute as Martha says.
The sleepy thing is a barn owl who let me affectionately dub him Snuggles. Considering that he's making a habit of sleeping in my bed, that isn't a surprise. That also probably isn't sanitary.
He doesn't bring me dead stuff though, so score.
"Now my darling, remember we are but an owl away. Your mother and I have no doubt that you'll do well in your classes, but it would be nice to get updates," Thomas says beside me as I push my trolley along.
"I promise," I tell him without looking, anxiously tapping my fingers on the handle. It's still thirty till the train leaves and we haven't passed through the barrier, but I'm nervous.
One, mind readers. I'm not very excited for mind readers near enough to see that in very much not eleven, or Martha and Thomas's kid.
Even if I almost wish I was. My childhood would've been so much easier if they'd been the ones raising me, but I'm still a grown ass adult who's replaced their kid.
Fuck whatever being put me here, man. I'm not even British.
"Don't worry, Darling," Martha says at my other side. She lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder as we stop in front of the brick pillar between platform nine and ten. "I'm sure you'll do wonderful. You've been looking through your books since we got them."
Which I have, and the things are facinating. It's all new, raw, real. Real magic.
"Thanks, mum," I say before we charge headfirst into the pillar.
-linebreak-
Hogwarts castle makes my hands shake at the sight of it. I nervously dip a hand into my pocket of sweets and down a chocolate frog.
"This is exciting," I mutter to myself with wide eyes, looking up at the ancient stone school.
"That's one way of thinking about it," A boy behind me says under his breath. I agree, I very much agree.
It takes a little, but we eventually land at a dock and hurry out. I ignore it when I spot bright ginger, and wild brown at the edges of my sight. I try not to jump when Hagrid knocks on the large doors in front of us, and I silently hold my breath and count to ten before we get pushed out into the great hall.
Unlike the memes, the candle wax from all of those candles disappears before it can hit anyone. The ceiling really looks like the sky from outside, like there's no roof.
Almost all of the hall is looking at us, and I'm pretty sure it's because of a scrawny bespectacled boy towards the center of us. Not out of honest curiosity towards us munchkins.
I won't talk about the not so good singing skills of the hat. A definite A for effort though.
"When I call your name, please walk up to the stool and place the Sorting Hat upon your head," McGonagall says in front of us.
"Abbot, Hannah?"
And like that, one by one the eleven year olds walk up, set the hat on their head, and get hurried off to their table with clapping.
I personally am trying to not freak out, fingering my black robes with my eyes closed as I take deep, calm, breaths. It's not scary, I just don't like lots of eyes on me. Though I suppose the same is true for most people.
"Howard, Alana."
Oh. That's my name. Joy.
Walking out of the crowd of kids I keep my eyes on the worn hat and my back straight. It feels like five minutes when it's probably only one, but I end up sitting regardless and suddenly my vision is covered by the large hat.
'So many thoughts- oh my,' He says in my mind, and I bite my cheek.
'Hey there. You're not going to say anything, right? It's not like I intended for- this,' I mentally gesture to myself, if that's possible. He hums to himself, presumably flipping through my mind.
'I won't. Though I must say, this Rowling woman seems to have done my job for me. You already know, don't you?' The hat says, and I try not to nod in response.
'Yeah. Though I'm not sure if I'd be able to answer all those riddles.'
He chuckles lightly. 'The Raven takes whatever makes sense, don't worry. I wish you luck, Miss. Howard. It'll be-'
"Ravenclaw!" He shouts, and suddenly he's lifted from my head, making me blink at the bright hall.
There's clapping, and it's loudest from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I hop off the stool and hurry towards the table of eagles.
Once I'm settled next to the boy who's probably Terry Boot, I let out a deep sigh and wonder just how stressful this other world business will be.
