Chapter Two: Diagon Alley

"Cassie, over here!"

Cassie spun around and around, trying to find her aunt in the mass of people crowded in the bookstore. They'd gotten separated as soon as they entered the store, and she wasn't even going to try to find her schoolbooks until she found her aunt. Cassie couldn't see over the tall pointy hats on nearly every head, but finally, she caught sight of Aunt Henrie's brown coat amidst the greens and blues of the wizards' robes.

They hadn't been able to get into London until right before the start of her Hogwarts term— it was August 30th— and they'd come by themselves, leaving Uncle William to deal with the three children. The wizarding shopping district, called Diagonally, or Diagon Alley, or something equally strange sounding, was full of people, milling around, sons and daughters begging loudly for things like the "Nimbus 3000" or "Wizard Wheezes," whatever those were.

Cassie thought it was wonderful. Aunt Henrie seemed less sure about that.

Apparently the spell on the letter had worn off— though Professor Malkin claimed it wasn't actually bewitched, just written very well (though Cassie had her doubts)— and Aunt Henrie was looking like she wanted to run away from the oddly dressed, oddly friendly mob. But she stuck it out bravely, pale faced and muttering under her breath that wizarding genes better not run in the family, because she would never set Billy loose in a magical mall. Cassie laughed loudly at that, and caught the attention of one of the shop clerks, an old woman with steely gray hair and a crooked nose.

"Why, dear, can I help you? You and your mother look a little lost."

Her voice was certainly nicer than her face, and Cassie smiled. It was Aunt Henrie who replied. "My niece is starting at, um, Hogwarts, and we're looking for her school books."

"Oh, yes, of course! A Muggle-born, then, dear?" she said and Cassie nodded. "We can set you right up for your first year!"

"Here's the booklist…" Aunt Henri offered, but the old woman dismissed the parchment with a wave of her hand.

She weaved her way through the crowd, not really watching where she was going, and talking at them over her shoulder as they struggled to keep up. "Nonsense! There's only been one change from last year's list, and quite a good one might I add." She stopped in front of a shelf and bent down. "Worfric Weasley's book has been standard reading for decades; it's about time Hogwarts adopted it!"

Cassie brightened as the old lady passed her a copy of Goblins, Goons, and Werewolves. The cover was as wonderful as she'd imagined, with a silvery gray wolf howling at a full moon. The old lady noticed her smile. "Oh, you like history?"

Cassie nodded, too embarrassed to explain that she had just liked the picture and the title. The clerk grabbed another book off the shelf and pushed it into Cassie's hands, atop the werewolf book. "You'll have to have this then."

The cover had no werewolves howling, or even a full moon— it was plain brown, the words "Hogwarts, a History," embossed across the front. It was easily three times as thick as the Weasley book and Cassie had to fight not to grimace.

"It's the 164th edition, updated only seventeen years ago. It includes the Second War with… Well, with You-Know-Who." Cassie did not know who, but she nodded anyway. Beside her, Aunt Henrie was doing the same. "It's a mite pricey, but it's a must for any Muggle-born who wants to learn about the wizarding world."

Cassie looked at Aunt Henrie, hoping she'd say no, but she was nodding again. "We'll take it."

The woman looked pleased with herself. "Alright then! Now let's find those spell books, shall we?"

The ice cream on Diagon Alley was beyond awesome. There was no other word to describe it. Cassie was sure that it was bewitched. Nothing natural could taste that good.

"What else is on the list, Aunt Henrie?" Cassie asked as she was finishing up her sundae.

"Well…" Aunt Henrie said, and cleared her throat. "Well, your wand."

"My wand?" Cassie asked. "Wicked."

Ollivander's was strangely shaped building, with an impossibly old founding date. Cassie stared up at it in awe as she walked in. Perhaps, after this, she really would like history. Inside, an old man, tall and skinny, was sorting through boxes, straightening up his messy store. It looked like a cyclone had hit.

"Mr. Ollivander?"

The old man smiled. "Castor Ollivander-Westly. My uncle was the old Mr. Ollivander. They just call me Westly."

"Oh. I'm Henrietta Berquist, and this is Cassie." Aunt Henrie smiled tightly. "We're here for a wand?" Since entering Diagon Alley, almost everything Aunt Henrie had said sounded like it ended in a question mark.

"Yes, yes, of course." Westly smiled. "I suspect the wand's for you, young lady."

Cassie nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm starting at Hogwarts."

"A fine school. I went there myself." He winked. "You look studious to me… Perhaps Ravenclaw? That was my House."

Cassie did like to read, but she had no idea what the House thing was about. Professor Malkin had said something similar. Perhaps she'd have to read Hogwarts, a History after all.

Westly was moving around her, scrutinizing her from every angle, while a tape measure was dancing along her arms and legs. Aunt Henrie was clutching the front of her jacket, and had stepped away from Cassie. "So let's see…" Westly narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps this. Give it a little wave." He turned, took a box from the wall. He removed the lid, and offered what was inside to her.

It was a wand. A real wand, like Professor Malkin's, curved and carved and oddly beautiful. Cassie nearly gasped with excitement. Her shaking hand reached out, pulled the wand from its cotton nest, and waved it gently. Nothing happened. Panic stabbed at her. Perhaps they'd been wrong. Perhaps she wasn't a witch after all. Perhaps it had all been some sort of cruel, insane joke.

She blinked and realized that Westly was holding out another box. She quickly replaced the wand she was holding, and waved the new one, a little harder. Again, nothing happened and she looked helplessly at Aunt Henrie.

Westly smiled sympathetically as he put the two boxes away. "It's alright, dear. The wand chooses the witch. There will be one for you." He studied her for a moment, faded eyes falling from her bobbed black hair to her steepled fingers on the counter. "Let me see…"

He turned around, walked away, scanning the shelves as he went. Finally, he pulled a box from the wall. "Try this, my dear."

The wand inside was so pale a wood that it was almost white, and tapered to a thin, blunt tip. She reached for it slowly and pulled it from its cushioned bed. The wood felt right in her hand, felt warm, and she knew before she even waved it that it was hers. The colors that sprang from it were no surprise.

Westly smiled warmly. "Ah, I tell you, Cassie, that was quicker than most. Quite pale for holly… It will suit you well, I believe. Excellent for charms work." He moved toward the filing cabinet at the end of the counter. "My predecessor remembered every wand he ever sold. I, alas, am not so gifted. I file forms instead. Cassie Berquist, is it?"

"Oh, no… She's my aunt. It's Cassie Black."

Westly's eyes narrowed and he had a look on his face, for just one instant, that was anything but kindly. Then it faded. "From a Muggle family, are you?"

She nodded, and he smiled again. "You must be enjoying Diagon Alley, then! Tell me, dear, have you eaten at Fortescue's?"

They stayed in London that night, and Aunt Henrie subtle tried to talk Cassie out of going to Hogwarts at least three times. But, after paging through her school books and the Daily Prophet they had purchased— it had moving pictures! — Cassie could not imagine turning her back on such an adventure. So as the morning broke, she turned off the mobile she had gotten for her birthday, handed it to Aunt Henrie, and put a new set of wizarding robes into her carry-on pack. She would change on the train.

At the train station, in front of the pillar that marked the entrance to platform 9 3/4, Aunt Henrie clutched at Cassie.

"You know you're my little girl even if I'm not your mother. Be careful, alright, Cassie?"

Cassie forced herself to smile through the building excitement and fear inside her. "I will, Aunt Henrie. I promise. I love you."

Henrie pulled away, smiled. "Love you too."

Cassie turned toward the wall and gripped the handle of the cart she had in front of her. Professor Malkin had told her all about the gateway to the platform. The instructions were clear: walk into the wall. They were a mite harder to carry out. Cassie took a deep breath, and with one last look at her aunt, she moved forward, pushing the cart directly into the wall.