~ CHAPTER TWO: DIAGON ALLEY ~
The Malfoys stepped out of the brick fireplace and into the Leaky Cauldron, a dingy pub that made Draco's nose crinkle in disgust. He knew his father didn't care for the joint, but it was an unfortunate stop between the Manor and Diagon Alley. In particular, his father complained about the impure-blooded wizards that occupied the tables and how much he disliked the old bartender, Tom. Tom reminded Draco of a toothless walnut.
As they strode past the bar towards the lot behind the pub, the bartender tipped his head respectfully in their direction. "Good morning, Mr Malfoy, sir."
Lucius nodded stiffly in return, not deigning to make a reply.
Outside the Leaky Cauldron, the Malfoys found themselves in a small, walled courtyard filled with overgrown weeds and an overflowing rubbish bin. Lucius tapped a brick to the right of the bin with his walking stick. The brick wriggled before a small hole appeared, growing until it became an archway that the Malfoys stepped through into Diagon Alley. The archway quickly became a wall again as they headed down the busy street.
Although Draco had been to Diagon Alley plenty of times before, it never got old. The cobbled street wound this way and that until it turned out of sight, lined with shops of all sizes, shapes, and colours. Draco's favourite was Quality Quidditch Supplies. He loved walking through the shop and examining the newest models of broomsticks. Today was no exception. When they reached the shop, Draco strode up to the window and gazed eagerly at the brand-new Nimbus Two Thousands on display.
"Look, Father," he exclaimed. "They're the fastest racing brooms ever made! Can we at least go inside to look at them? Pllleeeeasse?"
Lucius let out a deep sigh. "We can look at them when we're done shopping for everything else, yes."
Taking his father's answer as a temporary win, Draco took his Hogwarts letter out of his pocket and unfolded the list of school supplies. Lucius took the list from his son and shooed him away from the display window.
"Go to Madam Malkin's and buy your school robes. I'm going to get your books, and your mother is going to scout for wands."
Draco sighed. "Yes, Father."
After one last longing look at the brooms, Draco walked down the street and into the robe shop. It was dim except for the sunlight streaming through the front windows. Robe displays of every colour were set up across the shop. Draco reached over to touch an emerald-green robe. It was incredibly silky between his fingers and made him wish momentarily that Hogwarts students were allowed to wear robes in colours other than black.
As he moved onto another display that held robes of royal gold, purple, and silver, a squat witch dressed in mauve robes approached him. Draco recognised her as Madam Malkin.
"School, dear?" she asked cheerfully.
"Hogwarts," he said curtly.
"Alright then, come on over here and Madam Tesdall will get you fitted."
Draco followed her to the back of the shop and mounted a stool in front of another witch, whom he assumed was Madam Tesdall. The witch pulled a black robe over his head and began to fit it to the right length.
Draco was bored by the whole business until he saw Madam Malkin ushering another boy towards the stool next to him. Draco gathered his first impressions of the newcomer out of the corner of his eye. The boy was about his age, small, dark, and skinny, with a thin face and overly large clothes. The boy's hair was a mess of jet-black curls, which he unsuccessfully tried to flatten as Madam Malkin helped him onto the stool. He also wore round glasses covered in tape, which Draco noticed with slight contempt — why hadn't the boy's parents just fixed with them magic? Nonetheless, Draco knew it was never too early to start making potential allies, so he extended the first greeting he could think of:
« Hello. Hogwarts, too? »
« Yes, » the boy said as Madam Malkin began pinning long black robes on him.
« My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands, » Draco said, hoping to start a conversation and impress him at the same time. « Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. » When he didn't respond, Draco pressed on, « Have you got your own broom? »
« No, » the boy said.
« Play Quidditch at all? »
« No. »
A sense of superiority washed over Draco. He suppressed a smirk. He had already known he would be the best flyer out of all the first years, but he hadn't suspected that he would meet anyone who didn't play Quidditch besides Mudbloods, and they didn't count.
« I do — Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet? »
« No, » the boy said again.
« Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, » Draco conceded, « but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — » Then, struck by an amusing thought, he added, « Imagine being in Hufflepuff! I think I'd leave, wouldn't you? »
However, Draco missed the boy's response, as he was suddenly distracted by movement outside the shop window. A huge man was standing on the other side of the glass, grinning at the boys and motioning to two large ice-creams in his hands. Draco had never seen anything like him in his life. He was at least twice the size of a normal wizard, with a bushy beard and wild hair that made it almost impossible to see his face.
« I say, look at that man! » Draco said, nodding towards the front window.
« That's Hagrid, » the boy said. « He works at Hogwarts. »
« Oh, I've heard of him, » Draco said. « He's a sort of servant, isn't he? »
« He's the gamekeeper. »
Draco glanced over at him, pleased to hear that the boy had some knowledge of Hogwarts, even if he didn't seem particularly interested in Quidditch. For the first time, Draco noticed the way the sunlight illuminated his green eyes. Kind of like the emeralds in one of Father's Dark artefacts, he found himself thinking.
« Yes, exactly, » Draco said, trying not to sound too eager. « I heard he's a sort of savage — lives in a hut on the school grounds, and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed. »
« I think he's brilliant, » said the boy.
« Do you? » Draco couldn't keep the sneer out of his voice. « Why is he with you? Where are your parents? »
« They're dead. »
In all honesty, Draco couldn't have cared less.
« Oh, sorry, » he said, not sorry at all. « But they were our kind, weren't they? »
« They were a witch and a wizard, if that's what you mean. »
Draco was satisfied with his response.
« I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? » he said, a smirk gracing his pale face. « They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, can you imagine? I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. » Suddenly, it dawned on him that he didn't know if this boy's family was part of the Sacred Twenty-eight. « Hey, what's your surname, anyway? »
But then Madam Malkin patted the boy on the back and said, « That's you done, my dear, » and the boy hopped down from the stool with his new robes. Draco was slightly disappointed in the turn of events, though he was unwilling to show it. He hadn't wanted the conversation to end so soon. Hopefully, he had at least made a respectable first impression and a potential ally for when school started.
« Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose, » Draco drawled.
The boy nodded. Draco watched him meet the giant outside of the shop and walk down the street until they were out of sight.
A few minutes later, Madam Tesdall announced that Draco was finished and handed him a large stack of new work robes, plus a heavier winter robe, neatly folded and stacked on top of each other.
« There you go, my dear, » she said cheerfully.
Draco dug into his robes pocket and handed the witch the required tender before he left the shop. His father was waiting outside of Flourish and Blotts and holding a satchel stuffed with books. Draco's mood lifted. He loved new books with their crisp spines and untouched pages. He couldn't wait to get home and read them cover to cover — not that he would admit it aloud. He would deny it vehemently if anyone found out that he enjoyed reading everything he could put his hands on, including textbooks and assigned readings.
Draco added his robes to the satchel and accompanied his father to Twilfitt and Tattings to get his dragon-hide work gloves and black pointed hat. Next, they headed down the busy street to meet up with his mother, who had gone to look at wands.
The shop did not look like Draco expected, given the general hype over the superior quality of Ollivander wands. It was a nondescript building with the words Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC in peeling gold letters over the door. The tiny window revealed a single wand on a faded purple cushion. Altogether, the shop was rather small and shabby. Draco wrinkled his nose and glanced at his father, but Lucius's face was unreadable as he strode up to the door. Draco followed him inside as a bell tinkled from somewhere within the shop.
The inside was tiny as well. His mother Narcissa was sitting in a small chair in the middle of the room waiting for them. Thousands of small rectangular boxes adorned the walls, stacked in neat piles. There was a thin layer of dust upon everything. Draco couldn't help but feel a bit confused that his parents had decided to buy him a wand from this shop. The Malfoys normally frequented places that were cleaner, larger, and altogether more upper-class.
"Good morning, Mr Malfoy, Mrs Malfoy."
The soft voice came as a surprise to Draco, whose heart jumped momentarily in his chest, but his parents were unfazed. An old man, his wide, pale eyes fixed upon them, had materialised a few feet away.
"Hello, Ollivander." Lucius gave him a curt nod.
"Ah, yes, Lucius. It has been a long time since I last saw you, has it not?" It must have been a rhetorical question, as Mr Ollivander continued speaking. "Eighteen inches, elm, dragon heartstring. An excellent duelling wand, although unyielding. Quite the unusual length, I might add. One of the longest I've ever sold. And of course, the lovely Narcissa."
Mr Ollivander moved towards Narcissa, taking her hand in his and giving it a kiss. His grey eyes were fixed upon her face. Draco wished he wouldn't, because it made him uncomfortable. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a muscle working in his father's jaw.
Mr Ollivander let go of Narcissa's hand but kept his eyes on her.
"Your current wand is twelve and a quarter inches, ebony, and rather stiff, no? Well-suited for combative magic and Transfiguration. I remember it as if it were yesterday."
Mr Ollivander fixed his strange, misty eyes on Draco next, who fought the urge to fidget or look away.
"Ah, Mr Draco Malfoy. How great to finally meet you, my boy. You look just like your father. Let's see if we can fix you up with a wand, shall we? Which is your wand arm?"
Draco held out his right arm, bewildered that this old man was the famous wandmaker everyone spoke of so highly. Mr Ollivander pulled out a tape measure. Then, letting go of it in mid-air, he turned and strolled down the stacks of wands. As he pulled boxes from the shelves, the tape measure took Draco's measurements of its own accord: shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, knee to armpit, between his nostrils, around his head...
"Alright, thank you," Mr Ollivander said, "that will do." The tape measure shook before dropping to the floor with a small thump.
Mr Ollivander swept towards Draco with a pile of boxes in his arms.
"How about we try these, hmm?" He whipped a wand out of the first box and held it out to him. "Acacia and dragon heartstring, twelve inches, stiff. Unusual wand wood, but it might work well for you."
Draco took it from him and went to wave it, but Mr Ollivander snatched it back almost at once, holding out a new wand of a similar colour. "How about walnut and phoenix feather, that's a unique combination. Nine inches and supple. Go on, try it out."
Draco tried this one as well, but nothing happened. Mr Ollivander continued to take away unresponsive wands and hand him new ones, talking the entire time. Draco wished he wouldn't talk so much. It was making him more anxious as the used wands piled up in the corner.
"Hmm...try this one, chestnut with dragon heartstring, ten and a quarter inches and stiff. No, no, no...maybe this one? It's blackthorn and dragon heartstring, eleven inches exactly, slightly bendy. Ah, no, okay, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. No? I wonder if this elm one over here would suffice..."
"What's taking so long?" Lucius interrupted as Draco waved a willow wand in the air, feeling foolish. "Why hasn't he found a responsive wand yet?"
Mr Ollivander snatched the wand away from Draco and replaced it with one of red oak that wielded the same lack of response.
"Wandlore is a complex and mysterious branch of magic, Lucius," he replied lightly. "And you must remember, the wand chooses the wizard. It just takes a few tries."
"A few?" Lucius drew himself up to full height, and suddenly Mr Ollivander looked nervous. "Surely you would agree with me that it has been more than a few tries. I would hate to take my business elsewhere, but you know I will if necessary."
"Of – of course, Lucius, I would never fault you for that," Mr Ollivander stammered.
The old man looked shaken. Draco was shaken, too. He was confused on why it was taking him so long, since as a pure-blood and a Malfoy, he had figured finding his perfect wand would be easy. And why had his parents had brought him to Ollivanders? Surely there had to be other wandmakers in England besides this creepy old man?
Scooping up a few boxes at random, Mr Ollivander composed himself.
"However, I don't believe that shall be necessary," he said evenly, directing his words at Draco's father. "I have never met a customer for which I could not find the perfect match. I'm sure it is here, we will just have to try something else."
After a few moments of thought, Mr Ollivander picked up a box and pulled out a brown wand with a slightly darker handle. "Yes, yes, perhaps this one...I have an inkling that you will like this one, Mr Malfoy. Hawthorn and unicorn hair. Ten inches precisely. Reasonably springy. Won't you have a go?"
The instant that Draco took the wand, he knew something about it was different. Warmth spread through his fingers, and as if by instinct, he gave it a wave. Green, silver, and red sparks lit up the dim shop. Narcissa let out a gasp of happiness and clapped, while Lucius straightened up with pride.
Mr Ollivander smiled in relief. "See? Bravo! How wonderful! I knew you would find it!"
He took the wand from Draco and, placing it back in its box, wrapped it in crinkly brown paper. "There you go, Mr Malfoy," he said, handing it to Draco with a flourish. "May it serve you well."
Lucius stiffly handed Mr Ollivander seven gold Galleons and the wandmaker bowed them from the shop.
"He was rather...odd," Draco said to his mother as they hurried after Lucius, who seemed happy to put as much distance between himself and Mr Ollivander as possible. "Why is he so famous?"
"The Ollivander family is well-known for making the best wands in Europe," Narcissa replied. "He only uses three cores and a small collection of woods, which make his wands stand out from the rest. Despite his...quirks, shall we say...his shop is the only place worth buying a wand." She ruffled his hair lovingly. "Only the best for my little dragon."
Draco smiled and held his wand closer to his chest, basking in his mother's love. He was going to miss his mother dearly when he left for Hogwarts.
The Malfoys' next stop was the Apothecary to buy basic potion ingredients for Draco. The shop smelled horrible, but there was a variety of things to look at while his parents dealt with the boring ingredients. Draco spent his time examining the fangs and claws hanging from the ceiling, as well as the mysterious things floating in pickling liquid in barrels on the floor. He recognised some of the ingredients from watching his parents make potions throughout the years.
Next, they stopped by Scribbulus Writing Implements to buy parchment, ink, and quills. They bought a shiny pewter cauldron at Potage's Cauldron Shop and the rest of his equipment — brass scales, crystal phials, and a collapsible telescope — at Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. Lastly, the Malfoys headed to look for an owl for Draco.
Eeylops Owl Emporium was a small brick building with cages showcasing different species of owls. The inside was much darker, full of fluttering wings, large blinking eyes, and soft hooting. After inspecting a large snowy owl and a small fluffy screech owl, Draco decided upon a huge eagle owl with round orange eyes. Its feathers were mottled with browns and greys, while its long ears were tufted with feathers. He couldn't keep the grin off his face as he walked out of the shop with his new companion. Now all that was left to do was convince his father to buy him a new broomstick. He was confident he would be able to get what he wanted.
After all, when did Draco's parents ever say no to him?