The days dragged on until August 15th which dawned bright and clear. Ash woke up at 6:30 am with the sun shining through her open window and a lark perched on the ledge, singing impatiently. When she approached it, it chirped indignantly and hopped to the currently empty birdfeeder outside her window. She refilled it only yesterday, but she took the feed box out of her closet and returned to the window. The lark hopped to a nearby branch so she could take the birdfeeder out of the tree and pour more seeds into it, which was exactly what Ash did. Fifteen other birds came out of the branches and hopped up and down like excited puppies (which is a hard thing for birds to imitate). As soon as she hung the feeder back in the tree, they all dove in, competing for the morning's meal.
Ash smiled and shook her head as she sat down at her desk, above which the Hogwarts letter was pinned to her bulletin board. It seemed too fantasy-like to be real, but the thrill she felt in her throat and her gut could not be denied. Then she could not help asking herself how this wizard would arrive at the house. It would be boring and a pity if he simply drove up in a normal car. She was really hoping he'd come by magic. She wanted to see it so she could really believe it. It would prove magic to her parents, as well. They thought it was blasphemy, not that they were religious at all.
She spent the next two hours doodling what she thought magic would look like and jumping off the bed to see if she could fly. The latter, unfortunately, didn't work. In the last hour she ate breakfast, and got dressed and ready to go. Mr. and Mrs. Morgan acted as though it was a perfectly normal summer day when her father would go to work selling lawnmowers and her mother would trim the garden. Everyone was in the living room reading the newspaper, dusting the shelves, or staring out the window expecting something when there was a loud—
CRACK.
It made her parents jump. Mrs. Morgan turned around and backed up against the bookcase she was dusting, clinging onto its sides. Her father almost tore apart his newspaper when he tried to stand up and do a back flip at the same time.
A tall, skinny, red-haired, balding man popped out of thin air in front of the fireplace. He held a small flowerpot and looked uncomfortable like he'd just squeezed through a tube, but nonetheless was gazing in awe at the Morgan family, with Ash's parents gazing back in terror.
The man's clothes were a bit shabby, but it was an improvement from the stiff cleanliness of her parents in her opinion. He looked around the room with fascination, especially marveling at all the simplest things, such as the ceiling fan and an electric lamp in the corner. Finally he announced with his hand out to shake her parents', "I'm Arthur Weasley from the Ministry of Magic."
Mr. Morgan stared at the hand as though it were contaminated, so Mr. Weasley lowered it and continued with no less excitement, "The school didn't have enough available staff, so Professor Dumbledore called on the ministry, and here I am! Not exactly my normal job, but this should be fun!"
"Where are we going, sir?" Ash asked eagerly.
"You must be Ashley—"
"Ash," she corrected.
He nodded, "Thank you, Ash. We're going to London."
"That's no short distance," her father argued.
"That's why we're traveling by floo powder. You're muggles, so you won't be able to come along, but you're daughter is safe with me. But that reminds me! She'll need a good deal of money...first year, you know, need the robes, a wand, lots of supplies and of course, books."
"And you expect me to trust you with a big wad of money?"
"Oh no, that's not necessary. Ash can hold on to it."
He wasn't satisfied with the reply but he continued to ask, "How much money?"
"Oh I don't know about muggle money, but if you get a good wand and nice robes, that'd be around fourteen galleons...ridiculous, really. Second-hand robes are fine, though a new wand is still the best choice, I'd say. So what's ten galleons in muggle money?"
"You pay in galleons? What are they made of?" Ash had to ask.
"They're gold. Galleons are wizard money. There's knuts and sickles, too – twenty-nine bronze knuts to a silver sickle, and seventeen sickles to a gold galleon. I don't know what any of that is in...what is it you have? I really do wish I could remember. I have so much to learn about muggles." He shook his head wistfully, but added on enthusiastically, "But that's the best part, isn't it? Learning about it all?"
"What are muggles?" asked Ash's mother.
"Non-magic people...like yourselves. It's fascinating how you get along without magic, really." He spoke in almost a whisper, as though it were a very exciting secret, "I've never quite figured out this eckeltriticy."
Mr. Morgan corrected, "Electricity." He would have added, "If you don't know that than you're hopeless and stupid in my book," but his tone said it all.
The wizard didn't notice it at all. "Oh, thankyouyesofcourse," Mr. Weasley continued cheerfully, talking fast with excitement ("giddy as a schoolboy," the saying goes).
"Assuming wands cost more than shoes," Mr. Morgan said with a shiver and what he doubted he would ever normally believe, "and you'll need all that other stuff...so here." He hesitantly pulled out and handed to Ash £60, pulling his hand back quickly as soon as she had hold of it. "That better last you a long time." His voice shook and Ash couldn't quite tell why.
Ash pushed it into a small purse she carried. Mr. Weasley then asked, "You have your supplies list?"
"It's in my room – I'll go get it." She practically galloped to her room, pulled the parchment off her bulletin board, and took the hallway back in leaps and bounds in record time.
"Good. So, I think we're ready." He showed her the flowerpot, and explained, "I suppose you've never traveled by floo powder, so I'll explain. You throw this dust," he held up the pot a little, "into the fire, step in, and announce where you're going. You go first so that I can be sure to come out wherever you do, and we say 'The Leaky Cauldron.'"
"The Leaky Cauldron," she repeated.
"Yes. Good. And remember to keep your elbows in, don't fidget or wiggle around, keep your eyes shut from the soot, and careful saying your destination clearly as possible! Don't cough or anything. That's most important. Ready?"
"I think so."
"Alright, here you go."
Mr. Weasley held out the pot while she lowered her hand into it, pulling out a small handful of glittery greenish powder. Mr. Weasley took out a wooden stick that Ash assumed was a wand once he pointed it at the fireplace and said, "Incendio!" and flames sprung out of nothing. She tossed the powder into the new flame, which turned green, then stepped into a feeling like a warm, breezy night by a campfire. She breathed in to speak and got a mouthful of ash, coughed, and yet still managed to say "the Leaky Cauldron" audibly. Then she was falling down a giant chute, spinning and the wind howling in her ears. She shut her eyes against the ashes that felt cold now whipping against her face, or maybe it was something outside the emerald fire. Suddenly the spinning stopped and she stumbled forward into a dark pub. Now that was magic. She was covered in soot, and Mr. Weasley got out of the fireplace after her looking like a chimney sweep. She thought better of bursting into "Chim Chim Cheree."
The dimly lighted pub had very few people, including the barman, and not one of them seemed remotely surprised, or even seemed to notice, that two people had just popped out of his fireplace. Mr. Weasley and Ash brushed the dust and soot off their shoulders and walked across the room to a door on the far side, which the man led her through to reveal a small courtyard surrounded by a brick wall and containing little but a trash bin and some weeds. Ash was noticing how completely unremarkable the tiny place looked as her escort started counting bricks on the opposite wall. He took out his wand from his robes – she only just noticed they were robes and might have looked strange to her parents – and tapped one of the bricks three times. The red rectangle wriggled and writhed, then more of them started turning, transforming it from a wall to an archway leading into a bright cobbled street piled with shops and filled with people. She stepped out onto the path that twisted out of sight without looking back to see the archway disappear again.
"Here we are," Mr. Weasley announced, "Diagon Alley."
Big cauldrons glittered outside the shop right across the street, and the next shop after that was displaying jars of beetle eyes and bat spleens. She was lucky Mr. Weasley was tall because otherwise she would have had a hard time following him in the crowd while also watching everything else. A group of kids outside a broomstick store were admiring something, but Ash never got a proper look. The people were just as interesting as the things they bought and sold. There were men and women of all shapes and sizes wearing robes of every color and style. They finally reached a towering, crooked, columned, white marble fortress of a building that was far taller than anything else in the entire alley. On the front of the building the words "Gringotts Bank" were carved.
Her escort explained, "That's Gringotts Bank, where we'll get your muggle money exchanged. Run by goblins—my oldest son just started working for Gringotts, you know." He was right, at least, about the goblins, because one of them was standing outside the bronze doors and bowed to them as they passed through. Then there was another set of doors, silver, which were engraved with the words:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
"You'd have to be seriously mad to try to rob Gringotts, see? Never know what you'd find down there. There's lots of Dragons and protective enchantments." Two more goblins on either side of the silver doors bowed them through, leading into a vast, domed, marble hall. Two rows of counters went down either side with goblins at each of them, and even more leading people through doors in the walls. Mr. Weasley found the nearest free goblin and approached the desk, saying, "Good morning. I'd like to exchange some muggle money and set up a safe, please."
The goblin seemed to have pointy everything: nose, ears, teeth, chin, even his hair was styled in two big pointy spikes like horns. Ash couldn't see his feet, but she knew they were probably long and skinny just like his hands. He answered, "That can be in order. You have the money, sir?"
Mr. Weasley looked at Ash, and the goblin leaned over the edge of the tall desk to see her as well. She took out the £60 her father had so reluctantly given her and handed it to the goblin. Mr. Weasley's eyes shone with excitement at the sight of the £10 notes, though she could see no explainable reason why. The goblin took out a piece of parchment and wrote down some figures, then reached into a drawer to take out some gold, silver, and bronze coins. He counted them out, then put a huge load of them into a leather drawstring purse that he handed to Mr. Weasley, who then handed it to Ash.
"Wait here," the goblin said as he got up to get something. He quickly disappeared behind the other goblins, but just as quickly came back with one of them in tow. He sat back at his desk, explaining, "Gripock will take you to your new safe."
Gripock had wispy brown hair and a shorter, though no less pointy nose than the other. He handed Ash a small golden key saying in a shrill voice, "Here is your key, vault one hundred and seventy-two. Follow me."
He walked toward one of the many doors that led off from the hall and both Mr. Weasley and Ash followed. He held the door open for them, and they walked into an unexpectedly narrow, stone passageway lit by burning torches. On Gripock's whistle, a cart came darting up the steep tracks that led down from their spot. All three climbed in and the cart took off again. They went hurtling down twisting trails and Ash felt the cold air's wonderful sting on her skin. Mr. Weasley appeared to be enjoying it, too, but in the way one enjoys something commonplace and familiar. She was disappointed to find that the cart stopped after only a short while, and they appeared not to be very deep in the vast caverns that could have stretched under all of London for all she knew.
Gripock unlocked the door of the empty vault which was big enough for her crawl into, but clearly not meant to hold a fortune. She dumped the money out of the leather bag and put about a quarter of it in her pockets. She looked at Mr. Weasley to make sure he agreed it was enough for all the supplies and he nodded back. Another quick cart ride later they stood in front of Gringotts Bank looking out at Diagon Alley bathing in summer's light. With supplies list and money in hand they started off.
Mr. Weasley asked tons of questions about muggles, electricity, bus stations, the underground, escapators, plugs...he went on and on. His curiosity could not even be distracted by Ash's own curiosity for the wizarding world, though she did manage to ask some questions, and her escort had a way of telling her all kinds of things as just side-notes. She found out his oldest son, Bill, had just graduated from Hogwarts (He was head boy last year!), Charlie was in his last year and had been Quidditch captain (whatever Quidditch was). Percy was in his third year, Fred and George, twins, were going to be first years like her, and Ron and Ginny were too young for Hogwarts.
They started out at a second-hand robe shop since both agreed that if anything could be bought for cheaper and still function just fine – not blow up on you for instance – it should be. Books, on the other hand, could have pages torn out and all kinds of horrible things done to them, so they went to a store called Flourish and Blotts for new ones. They spent a good time getting all the things on her list and she wanted to spend even longer in each of the fascinating stores, but Mr. Weasley insisted they not keep her parents waiting despite Ash's explanation of how they couldn't care less. Uncaring parents were a concept he couldn't grasp.
Finally it was time to get a wand. Her guide pointed the way to Ollivander's, a dusty old shop with peeling letters and one wand on a faded purple cushion on display. As they walked through the door a bell jangled somewhere in the depths of the mustiness. She felt as though she was forbidden to speak out loud, as though a secret was being kept in all those skinny boxes lining every wall all the way up to the ceiling. Mr. Weasley sat on a rickety wooden chair near the door just as a soft voice spoke, "Good afternoon." Ash turned to see who startled her; an old man with wide, misty, pale eyes shining through the dusty air stood by the front desk. He continued, "I thought I might meet someone new today." Ash found the comment strange but then Mr. Ollivander noticed Mr. Weasley and exclaimed, "Ah, Arthur! She isn't another one of yours." It was not a question, but one still couldn't help feeling it needed to be answered.
"No," Mr. Weasley replied, "Hogwarts didn't have enough staff for the new students from muggle families."
"Yes, well then—Ash Morgan." She wondered how he knew her name, but didn't have time to think about it long because the old man continued, "Which is your wand arm?"
"Left, I suppose."
He pulled out a long measuring tape with silver markings. "Hold out your wand arm. There we go." And he proceeded to measure her arm in different sections, her height, shoulder to floor and so on. Rather, the measuring tape was doing it for him while he explained, "Now every Ollivander wand has a core of either dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, or phoenix tail feather. No two wands are the same because no two creatures are quite the same, and you'll see you won't get such good results from another wand than your own." The tape was measuring the distance around her pinky finger when Mr. Ollivander finally told it, "That will do." He pulled a box from a shelf and opened it, holding out the wand to Ash. "Let's see, try this one. Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches, very whippy. Go ahead and give it a wave."
It felt odd in her hand and as she did what she was told he snatched it right back. "Hmm, let's try beech and dragon heartstring, nine inches, good and flexible."
She took that one, but it wasn't right either because he took it right back again. And again. The more wands she tried the more excited he seemed to be.
"Tricky customer, aren't you? I'll find a wand for you here, not to worry. Coincidence, perhaps—an odd combination, but try...this. Ash wood, dragon heartstring, eight inches. Balanced, tough, but bendy."
He delicately handed it to her, and she immediately felt a power surge through the wand, and without even waving it, an inch long spurt of flame came out, landed on the floor and turned into a vision of a dragon drinking from a lake beside a tree with mountains behind. It disappeared so quickly that she didn't think that anyone else saw it, but it was practically engraved in her eyes.
"Well, give it a wave," Mr. Ollivander said, and she knew that he'd seen nothing. When she did wave it, sparks of red, yellow, blue, and green all shot out of the tip, the lights dancing off the walls, breaking through cobwebs.
Mr. Weasley applauded and the wand-maker proclaimed, "Yes, very good. Bravo, indeed! Coincidence not, I say. Perhaps names really do have more in them than Shakespeare thought. Well it's ash for Ash." He put it back in its box and wrapped it. She paid him seven galleons, and he waved them out of the shop. She couldn't help but feel a shiver of relief to leave the musty air and feel a breeze again.
"Well, is there anything else you'll be wanting, Ash?" Mr. Weasley asked as they left Ollivander's shop.
"Well, I don't know. What else is there?"
"You could get an owl."
She thought about it, but decided she could get any bird to deliver her mail considering the way they'd come right up to her. "No, I think I'd like a cat."
"All right, then, let's look for a...well, look at that! Day of coincidences, I think. Right here's Magical Menagerie." Indeed, right across from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, only a few shops down past Gringotts, was Magical Menagerie.
They entered to discover it filled with cages to every inch of every wall. All of the occupants of each were making loud noises of some form or another, and it smelled like a barn. A witch wearing thick, black glasses was at the counter looking expectantly at them both. Ash approached her and said, "I'd like to get a cat."
The witch stepped out from behind the desk and guided them toward a section of cages all containing cats of different colors. Ash examined a huge ginger cat with a squashed-looking face, but it just sat and scowled. In a cage below was a cat with two heads, one purple, one blue, and stripes of those colors on the rest of its body. A black and white cat with one yellow and one green eye was in the next cage. Another cat that looked like a domesticated leopard paced back and forth and growled in its cage. Then she spotted a tiny gray and silver tabby the size of a kitten, though it was an adult cat nonetheless, meowed loudly at her and scanned her with big green eyes. When the witch opened its cage the cat promptly leaped to Ash's shoulder and sat down showing no signs of budging from that spot. Ash smiled and reached up to pat its head.
"Looks like he picked you. He hasn't a name yet," the witch said and went behind the counter again, looking glad that someone was actually buying something from her shop. "That's six galleons."
She left the shop with the cat still sitting on her left shoulder looking about, its gray and black tail swishing against Ash's neck and back. The afternoon sun was just above the peaks of Diagon Alley's stores as they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron. Suddenly a question dawned on her. What if she wasn't any good at magic? She didn't even know it existed until she got her letter.
When she brought this up to Mr. Weasley he reassured her, "Don't worry. Everyone starts at the beginning, and there's plenty of other muggle-borns. I know a few at the ministry that are the brightest people I know. You'll have a great time at Hogwarts." He took out the pot of floo powder again and said, "I'm not following you home, now, so here's your things." He handed her the other shopping bag; she held them both in one hand so she could still grab some floo powder. "Don't forget King's Cross Station, September 1st. Everything's on your ticket. Have a nice term. You'll probably meet my sons...oh, dear...keep an eye on Fred and George, will you?"
"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," he answered.
Ash smiled and with a handful of floo powder and her new cat in her arms, swirled back across England to a place she could never call home.
