Warning for racist character in part 1
1
Jabring had been around since the founding of Cooper Pedy. Perhaps it stretched out further than that, but as far as the current owner, Brendon Buchanan, was aware, that was all that he needed to know about its history. He was a grumpy fellow, frown creases on his forehead made stronger by the lack of hair. His once bright orange hair had given away to a shiny noggin after an accident out in the opal fields, where he also lost one nostril. As soon as he had gotten accepted into Jabring, only two days after he finished high school, he barricaded himself deep underground, only having seen the surface once in the past five years.
Brendon also knew who exactly he was expecting for customers. As soon as he peaked through the employee only door he scowled at the two abbos stumbling around his store. No doubt stealing, he grumbled, a tone of resignation in his thoughts, as if he couldn't think of any other reason why they were down here. He threw open the door, satisfied when the two women jumped when the handle landed solidly on the rock walls.
"Wha the blasting hell are you two doing down 'ere?" Brendon flicked his wand slightly, an unseen wall of protection establishing itself around the wands. The youngsta gripped her mother's arm tightly, no doubt scared that they were going to be caught –
And then his mind registered who exactly was the older women.
"You're Jenny, aint yae?" he summons a chair under himself, collapsing back into it. His mind was now carefully blank, racist thoughts now silent once he recognised the woman from his school. "Coupla years younga than mae?"
"Brendon," she blinked, eyebrows quirked up in shock before she steadied her face. "Nobody said I would see you here."
Aye, wasn't that a reaction, Brendon thought sourly. He wondered what his younger self was like – memories faded when you barricaded yourself deep underground – was he annoying? Did he seem to have potential? Was it likely anyone thought he would become the next seller of Jabring?
(It wasn't any of that – in fact, Jenny was simply remembering how bare-faced racist he was, and was cautious as to how he was today)
"Well it be that way som-times." He crossed his arms over his pot belly, squinting at the face he had never thought to see down here. "Well?"
Jenny sent him a quizzical look.
"Why you here?" he placed the exact same tone on the you as she had done, and then eyed the little brat that was still ghosting her step. Shouldn't she be taught the mystical black fella hocus pocus?
He voiced his thoughts. Jenny replied, voice stone calm despite the hostile aura he was projecting.
"The Sacred has disappeared, so we're sending her to Hogwarts. They require a wand, so we're here to get Eleonor one." Jenny pats her child on the back once, before landing her hand squarely on her shoulder to draw her back behind her legs.
Brendon eyed the little squirt, noticing the bags of books from the bookstore that was supposed be down the street from the entrance. One half of him guessed that they had stolen them, but the other half was more interested that they were going to send her to Hogwarts, the school his parents had gone to.
It took a few seconds, but inexplicably, his mind came to agree that this was a good thing. Eradicate the blackness from her. He nodded to himself. A good method.
"Alright then," He waved his own wand and a stack of boxes withdrew themselves from the stacks effortlessly. "Let's get you started, aye?" he grinned, and winked.
"Don't you dare give her any phony wands Brendon. She will get the wand that is suited for her." Jenny's voice pierced the air between them, her eyes unflinchingly holding his own.
He frowned.
His frown vanished. He flicked his wand and some of the wands in the pile was replaced by ones closer to himself.
"Well?" he demanded when neither of them moved. "I ain't gonna wait all dae."
The little brat inched forward, taking grasp of the closest wand to her. She turned her hand over, and a little pitiful glow sparks at the end of the wand. She drops it into the casing like it had grown too hot, bringing her hand back into her chest, staring at the wand fearfully.
"Jenny," she whispers. "That felt really weird. It yanked on my magic."
"Give it a go. Don't try to control your magic this time."
Her child gave her a look and reached out to take a different wand. This time when she waved it, a flurry of round lights sprouted from the tip, hanging in the air for just a few moments before fading. Despite what Brendon wanted, his mind raced with calculations. As biased he was, he knew his stuff.
"Try this wand." He mumbled, raising the box holding the wand with his own. Gingerly, she slipped it out. When she waved it, the bookshelves of wands behind the desk exploded, boxes flying everywhere. God damn it, he thought, mind too in the zone to begin with the hatful comments, not the paperbark tree, obviously.
It took several tries, and a lot of quick repair spells on behalf of both Jenny and Brendon, before he had to surrender one of his best wands to the black child. Gritting his teeth, he held it out to her and not a moment too soon. This time warm fireworks burst around her, following the tip of her wand. She laughed, spinning to watch the personal show her wand was holding. Brendon couldn't help but smile.
He dropped it, and walked over to the check out, pulling out the EFTPOS machine. Typically, cheaper wands cost $50, and more expensive ones topped around $150; but Jenny just had to get on his bad side.
"That'll be $200." He smirked, punching in the numbers with certainty. The girl paused, looking up to her mother, wand hand slowly lowering in disbelief. Jenny didn't even let her face twitch, simply holding out her card that she had prepared earlier. Should've raised it. Brendon grumbled, but nevertheless continued the transaction.
Jenny swept the child out quickly as soon as she had plucked the receipt from his hands. He leaned backwards into his chair, satisfied with the quick earnings of today. Scammed a bastard and had given an abbo child a chance to improve their lifestyle.
Proud of his actions, Brendon retreated into the depths of his cave.
2
There! Eleonor zeroed onto the familiar white blond hair tied up into a wiry ponytail. She stepped of the escalator, discreetly looking around. Eleonor stayed where she was, willing for the girl to turn around and spot her at the Gloria Jeans. Come on, come on…
Eleonor's leg bounced up and down, her thigh beating a dent into the chairs. She willed herself not to look away to the cup grasped in both hands, eyes slightly bulging as Stephanie took a few steps to allow people behind her through. If it wasn't for Hogwarts, Eleonor wouldn't have approached Stephanie; she was one of the white girls, the ones with the strict mothers who forced their children into some form of dancing. Her mum always wore a pinched face when Eleonor was around. It was never clear if that was her usual face or Eleonor had offended her.
Stephanie finally turned her head in Eleonor's direction, to which her hand shot up immediately, waving wildly. The skinny pale girl beams when her eyes land on Eleonor and flounces over, her ballet training no doubt coming through. Her effortless grace was hindered by the beginning of Dutch genes though; her arms were twice as long as they were skinny; Eleonor could easily grasp her wrist with her whole hand.
"Eleonor!" Stephanie beamed as she slid into the seat beside her. Eleonor wordlessly slid over her iced chocolate for her to try, and began talking.
"Jenny took me to Avenue and you'll never guess what I got?"
"A wand?" Stephanie hazardly guessed, sipping on the straw.
"Well, that too. But she got me a bubble dragon as a graduation gift!" Eleonor beamed, not fazed at all when Stephanie remained indifferent. To her credit, she gave a polite smile.
"Sounds amazing Eleonor." She paused, looking slightly guilty. "You know how I asked if I could go to Hogwarts? Mum said no."
Eleonor felt her stomach drop. She had been holding onto a wish that Stephanie's mum would allow her to go to Hogwarts together; during the few weeks Eleonor had been interacting with Stephanie they had bonded quickly over their mutual magical ability, happy to talk about it with someone who understood. Eleonor also had started to talking to Stephanie's friends, something that was a warm welcome. She was normally shoved aside to talk to the other Indigenous children – while no doubt each of them was a delight to talk to, they just weren't on friendship level.
And now Eleonor would be going to Hogwarts by herself.
"She said she would look into the French school. Beau-Beauxbatons, I think?" Stephanie mumbled the name under her breath again. "Mummy said she didn't like how… uncultured Hogwarts is." She winced, and Eleonor shrugged it off.
"You're forced to take ballet, so I wouldn't expect less."
"Don't tell mummy, but… I think I like hip hop better." Stephanie tugged on her ballerina bun, scanning the escalator for her mum. Eleonor blinked.
"That's… really cool. At least with your previous experience you'd be a bit ahead." Eleonor smiled, and Stephanie looked grateful. "Hey, seeing as I have a wand, do you want to come and practice with me?"
Stephanie looked curious but cautious. She drained the last of the drink, and set it aside for the bin.
"I'm technically not supposed to be here," she admitted, looking around the shopping centre. "What a bad influence you are Eleonor, making me sneak away from home. My parents aren't there but they'll lose their heads when they realise I'm not home." Eleonor shrugged; distance wasn't any worry for her, now that she had experience transporting herself across continents.
"When do your parents get home?"
"At 6." It was 4:47pm.
"Fantastic." She grinned, picking up the cup and throwing it in the bin. Eleonor stood, waving Stephanie over. "I'll get you home with time to spare."
"We don't have a Floo." Stephanie mutters.
Eleonor waves off her concerns, trying to focus on her excitement – she was about to show Stephanie the amazing teleporting ability that was only for Aboriginal cultures. But her mind kept returning to the new development: she was going to Hogwarts, alone. A dark skinned child in the seas of white British kids; ever since she had said she was going to Britain for schooling Eleonor was serenaded with stories about the pommies, both good and bad, from magical and not. There was so many that she didn't even know where to start identifying them, let alone disregarding them as false. Besides, Jenny said you don't realise how Australian something is until you leave the country, and she had also been told stories about culture shock.
The words bounced around her skull until she realised they had been walking outside the shopping centre for a while. She turned to a curious Stephanie, holding out her hand like she was asking her to a fancy British ball.
"Do you want to see something cool?"
3
Studying with Stephanie amounted to nothing but trying out spells that they had found in the textbooks Eleonor had purchased. It was fun, nevertheless, to flick through the pages, oohing and aahhing over the colourful and expressive hand-drawn pictures. Stephanie had given a spare match a silvery glean, and Eleonor already knew the Care for Magical Creatures off by heart – not by memorisation, but by previous knowledge.
"That's impressive," Stephanie admitted when she lowered the book in her hand, the illustration of a graphorn disappearing. "You knew everything."
"Your dancing is impressive," she replied, picking up the silvery match. "This is the coolest. All I can do is my traditional magic." Stephanie perked up at her words, staring up at the little balls of lights floating around them. Eleonor's room was a little dark with the curtains closed, so she called forth little fairy lights, five tiny bubbles that radiated light as they bounced around near the roof.
"Traditional magic is different from this though." Eleonor closed her hands together like she was holding an insect between her palms. "I just have to think about creating it, and it happens. It's different for everyone. Jenny makes her light so it doesn't look like it has a source." She opened her hands, a singular butterfly calmly flapping its wings. Go to Stephanie. The butterfly lifts off, fluttering around Stephanie's head until it burst into a small firework.
"It relies heavily on imagination."
"My parents wouldn't be able to do it then," Stephanie mutters and giggles. She looked at her watch and gasped. "It's already five forty-three!"
Eleonor's shoulders dropped. "Damn," she stood, closing the books with her feet. "Guess I'll take you back home."
Stephanie smiles, nevertheless, and takes one hand. Together they take a step and the world around them switches to Stephanie's room.
"I won't be able to do this tomorrow. Ballet practice is on Wednesday arvo."
"Alright then," Eleonor shrugged, giving her a wave. "See ya."
She took a step back and found herself back in her room; her fairy lights were still floating although now they had dimmed to her favourite flickering candle setting, settling right over the open books. Eleonor reaches down to pick up the charms book, the light attached to it following the pages.
The spells were some things Eleonor had been able to do since she was nine; hair colour change, floatation, tap dancing, and more. She called forth the Transfiguration book with her magic, the book silently floating off the floor to land in her palm. These spells, she found out as she flicked through them, weren't anything she had seen. But why would she want to turn a match into a needle, when she could at least summon it from the sewing room, never mind just creating it out of nothing?
She flicked the book over to the last pages, ignoring the references and index page. This part was the extension work, although the little paragraph assured the reader that the spells would be in future volumes. Again, there were some spells that were pretty random (turning a beetle into a button) but with her traditional magic, all these spells were useless for Eleonor.
So she decided to ask Jenny.
Jenny picked up the call after three rings, and answered it with a classic "yeah?"
"Jenny, I have a question 'bout British magic." She promptly asked, flicking through the pages of the transfiguration book, eyes not really seeing the words. "You free?"
"It's like six in the arvo. Of course, I'm free!"
Eleonor took a breath and explained her findings, reading from the textbook about all kinds of funky but kind of useless spells. Once she fell silent, Jenny simply hummed.
"Aw mate," Jenny's light laugh reached over the phone. "Gimme a sec, the answer's a little ambiguous." Eleonor set her phone on speaker mode, opening up the internet app and searching fairies. Stephanie calling her lights fairy lights had given her an idea, and there was no best time to experiment but now.
She was half way through manipulating the design of the fairy's wings – her base template Tinkerbell of course – when Jenny spoke up again.
"Aye sorry I had ta go speak to someone else. Anyway, what I think you're aiming at is why should you learn all these spells with a wand when you can already cast 'em, yeah?"
Eleonor gave a half-verbal affirmation.
"Well, Jean from across tha road – she got some pommie blood – said the first few years of schooling it for setting the foundation. As the years go by it gets more complex, and it definitely builds on what you've learnt before. Bit like maths, aye? Jean said to excel, ya need ta focus for the first three years. Of course don't believe that everything from there will be smooth sailing, ya still need to focus, but to really excel, tha first three years are very important."
Eleonor stopped messing around with the fairy, flicking through the textbook resting on her knees. She couldn't see where these lead, seeing as she only had the first book, but her imagination went wild with wonder.
"Thanks for tha," Eleonor absentmindedly said to the phone, tapping end call once she had said ta-ta, throwing her phone to the side, returning to the textbook. What could transfiguration be built on? After rats to teacups, what would be next? Peacocks to teapots? Owl to bird cage? A dragon into a house? She thought back to the charms book. Instead of just conjuring water, she could summon a waterfall?
In traditional magic, imagination was the limit. The more you learnt about science, the harder it was to justify yourself that you could summon fire unless special training was done. But with British magic, the justification was done with words and wand movement.
Combine traditional and British and you'd get… something bigger than anyone else had put together.
Eleonor found her eyes straying to the half formed fairy light. Its friends floated around it, twitching and spinning like something alive would do. She focused her brain power toward the lights and thought you are now fairies. Shape yourself and behave like one.
All of them, including the one she had tried to manually do, sprang into action. Tiny heads too small for detail sprouted from a small torso, toothpick thin limbs growing out of the white sundress. Wings, thinner than paper, appeared from the nothing, looking strikingly like dragonfly wings. Tiny veins of light pulsated as the chattering of fairies gathered themselves. The one looking over the transfiguration book reached down to seemingly touch the pages.
Eleonor had done this before; it's how she could create the low lit candle effect. She saw Jenny do it, making light appear from nowhere. She saw her parents do it, little halos of light that hung above their heads as they hunted.
It was only now she saw the potential of traditional magic. Perhaps it was the limits of British magic, the concrete words and wand movement, or Stephanie's wonder at the little balls of light.
If I want to combine Aboriginal magic and British magic I need to be on top of my game, she fiercely thought, mind racing with thoughts I need to keep my mind open to my imagination but still have complete control of British magic.
Eleonor watched as the fairies perched on her hands and arms; her sense of touch could register nothing, but her sight told her something else.
She needed to study.
4
The wand felt alien in her hands. The wood was too smooth to be wild but it didn't have the polish like normal wooden objects. It had no knots, bulbs, cracks, carvings, engravings or anything the other wands she tried out. In the end, it was just a straight, smooth stick, one end just a touch thinner.
The woman teaching her the basics of British magic was intrigued to learn that this was the first time Eleonor was seeing a wand.
"Other cultures have other mediums, of course." She nodded, adjusting her robes a little wider. "A little hot, isn't it?"
Actually, Eleonor thought, this is really nice.
"Ancient tribes in Africa sometimes use staffs imbedded with a large stone – a focus, of sorts – and quite a lot of Asian tribes still use wandless chants. Calling on the gods' power, as they used to say." The lady winked and laughed and right then and there Eleonor decided that this lady was quite rude. There was quite a lot of thought and history behind Japan's traditional magical arts that was too complex to be limited to 'praying to Shinto gods.'
Eleonor dropped her gaze to the books on the desk, freshly brought from Daigon Ally. There were several books, about six in total. The teacher had pulled one forward, claiming it was the book for Charms. Eleonor flipped the cover open, thumb sliding under the first few pages to skip the intro.
"…and I've been meaning to ask, what medium do Australians use?" Eleonor quickly glanced up to the teacher and resisted the urge to raise her hand to touch her ear.
"…um, typically we just use whatever heritage we identify as. I only know a few other magicals and they're Arabic, Norwegian, Taiwanese, and South African. They just use whatever their parents use." The witch pauses, nods and moves on without complaint – Eleonor is just relieved that she's doesn't question what Eleonor uses.
"British magicals use wands, and we call on the power inside us using select words that have been discovered and invented for thousands of years. Most of them are of Latin origin, although the British are known for stealing French, German and other European words!"
The woman takes up her own wand, left sitting on the table and points it to the charms book Eleonor was flicking through. "For example, wingardium leviosa." The book gently rises from the table, wobbling in its flight. Truthfully, Eleonor learned a spell like that when she was two, and by now she could control it far better than this witch could ever hope for.
The book falls back onto the table with a loud thump, landing in such a way that the papers crumpled. Yeah, Eleonor could've done so much better.
"Pick up your wand," the witch says, and Eleonor cautiously picks it up, awkwardly adjusting it in her hand as she waits for more instructions. The witch blinks before making a 'shoo' motion. "Go on, try the spell!"
"…You're not gonna teach me how to properly hold a wand? How to care for it? Are there any rules?"
"No?"
Glumly, Eleonor blankly stared at the book. She went over her memories, trying to remember the exact wand formation the witch had used. Carefully, she swished her wand.
"Wind-ga-di-yum levi-OHHHH-sarrrrrrrrrr."
Something reached through her wand arm, and yanked. A bright burst of colour exploded from the wand tip, hurtling towards the book. Oh whoops, Eleonor belatedly thought her spell didn't have any flashy colours!
The book rocketed, flinging itself up from the table and straight into the ceiling, the loud BANG being followed by the sounds of the roof caving in. Eleonor stared open-mouthed, heart in throat, as the hole in the ceiling flaked a few shards of paint.
The witch, on the other hand, looked like she was about to faint, eyes almost hilariously wide and body almost comatose.
Slowly, her body seemed to regain life. When she spoke, it seemed to lose its airy-fairy feel, voice now hard as steel.
"This… is going to be a lot harder than I thought." She glumly sighs. She waved her wand and the ceiling sprung back together, the last crack disappearing like a finger was smoothing over clay on the ceiling. That was… something new. Eleonor hadn't seen any spell like that, even when she went on a day trip to Freda and Alastair's just yesterday. While she could replicate something like this, it required a fundamental understanding of the item in repair. Eleonor was pretty sure the witch did not know how this building was constructed.
This was the little hint of what British magic could do. The thought of this spurred Eleonor into her lesson and deep into the afternoon, long after the witch had left. Nobody was home yet, as both Eleonor's parents were on a trip with Jenny; the house was silent until at least midnight. She occupied her time by reading through her books and trying out the spells the teacher had set. She was a good teacher, despite the rude comments about other societies.
Her phone lit up around nine o'clock in the evening, and the sight of the time spurred a little idea. It would only be, say, around midday in London right now, right? Incredibly, the tiny thought inside her brain blew up with every second. There was nothing stopping her. Only her magic.
Eleonor threw in some of the British magical currency Jenny had, about ten gold coins, into the little pocket of her backpack. In went her phone, her earphones, a water bottle, a few snacks (mostly lollies), and her keys. She would be back no later than 11pm, and half of the items in the backpack wouldn't be warranted, but having an almost empty bag felt weird against her back.
Her magic swirled around her, ready since she began to think about her journey. It would take quite a lot of magic to transport herself across the globe, but nevertheless she carefully crafted her magic until she was sure a portal to Diagon Ally was literally a step away.
She took a step, not breaking her stride; it took just a fractional longer to cross. Conversations cut into her ears, a sudden change from the silent house. Thickened accents were something that Eleonor seldom interacted with, much less in their native country. To hear English pronounced so differently than the way Eleonor always used to was something akin to culture shock; she opened her eyes to find herself in a side alleyway, just next to the pub her and Jenny had met Mr Dumbledore in.
As she strode towards the opening of the ally, the voices grew louder and louder; when she stepped out onto Diagon Ally, two loud Englishmen passed right by, accents thicker than a dragon's hide. Eleonor watched them go by, eyes wide.
"An' aye told 'im, fok off with ye fokin' pumpkyins, aye dun wan em!" the other man shook his head in disbelief, but before he could agree they had passed on. Eleonor took a deep breath as she took out two of the sandwiches in her bag – she had used so much magic she was starving – and joined the flow of the people around her.
The last time she was here the street was just as congested but also not as crazy. People still filled the tiny cobblestone street like it was as big as a shopping centre, but the windows of the shops weren't as filled with promotions and deals for the new school year. While there was still one of a kind and you won't believe your eyes posters painted onto the glass, the advertisements didn't shift every second to include more sale details.
Eleonor hadn't realised how far she had walked until she passed Olivander's wand. The sight of the wands on the ancient pillows brought her back to Jabring. The thought of that place brought up the memory of the owner and she felt a little sick. Before she knew it she was up the stairs, peaking at the little windows. The glass was so filthy Eleonor could barely make out the purple cushions, a thin strip across the top far darker than the surrounding fabric as if something protected that strip from the sun's rays.
She was still standing on the doorstep to Olivander's, the weak watery sunlight of the UK barely registering to her Australian senses. Eleonor began to shiver immediately; visiting in the summer gave her no indication of how cold Britain could be. The lightest gust in July reminded her of winter back home – of the coldest, darkest nights, when she woke up halfway through the night because she accidentally kicked off the bed covers.
Now? The air had a frigid touch, and standing slightly above the flow of people exposed her to the harsh wind. Exposed skin went numb; her bare legs quivered in her boots, and Eleonor was so frozen stiff that it took an effort to step down from the raised platform into the swarming mass of heated bodies. Even with strangers pressed against her skin Eleonor still felt the icy grip wrapping around her body, slowly seeping down to the depths of her soul…
Eleonor's magic roared into life, wrapping the strongest heating spell it could cast, overpowering the natural cold until she was sweating like she was in a desert. Quickly she latched onto her magic, snatching the reins of the spell until she had them grasped in her hand, hauling in the heat. Soon enough, she felt the unbearable heat melt away, the cold British gale turned into a cool summer breeze. Eleonor hurriedly stumbled over to the side of the Ally, resting a hand on the bone-chillingly cold bricks and quickly doubled over. Her head spun as all she could hear was the harsh pants falling out of her mouth.
Cursing, Eleonor rummaged around her bag to find her water bottle, tipping her head back so she could squirt water directly into her mouth. This was evidence that Eleonor was still a child; having no control over her magic and having it react so strongly was a sign of immatureness. She had a lot of self-control to attain before she could get her second piercing.
She dropped her head and immediately came into eye contact with a red-haired boy. His hair was in disarray and his face was awash with freckles; he wore bland clothes, a brown woollen vest over a crisp but worn button up.
"You alright?" he asked, and Eleonor waved him away, taking another swig of her water bottle.
"'m fine," she coughed, body still on alert from such high temperatures. Her forehead was awash with little beads of sweat. "Justa lost control of ma magic."
"Oh!" he stepped back, probably because of her thick accent. "You just suddenly went really hot. As in, heat."
"Yeah, I know. I forgot ta cast a heating spell."
"You cast a spell? Aren't you too young?"
"British rules don't apply ta me. I'm 'stralian." She took one last big breath, the last sign of the fiasco vanishing once she got control of her lungs. The boy took a look of 'oh.'
"Australian? How did you get here?"
"Magic." She shrugged. The boy made a face at her but quickly joined her steps as she took off, diving back into the stream of foot traffic.
"What are you here for?"
"What are you here for?"
"Shopping?"
"Wow! What a coincidence. Same!"
Eleonor paused upon seeing a store just for animals across the road. She shot the boy who was following her a look, contemplating whether or not to leave him there. Well – he could become a friend.
"Do you wanna go?" she motioned towards the shop, only now seeing the name of the shop engraved in a massive panel across its forefront: Magical Menagerie. "What kind of animals do you have here?"
"Uh, you'd better ask my brother -" the last of his sentence was cut off as soon as Eleonor cut across the flow of walkers. Thankfully the rush seemed to be lessening, the streets of magical London no longer so crowded. But lesser bodies meant lesser windbreakers; before Eleonor could walk through the wooden doors of the Menagerie she could feel the cold fingers of winter once more grazing the back of her neck. Just to be sure, she turned up the heat of her spell just a few notches.
The first landing was filled with commercial products for all sorts of pet requirements and luxuries. Eleonor was amused and intrigued by the type of art and design all of them shared, but she breezed by them. To her horror, she discovered animals forced into rows of cages – cats, toads, crabs, snails, and more – most of them too small for them.
The cats snarled as Eleonor backed away – she couldn't handle this. This was more of a situation for Jenny, a person who could stand up to defend poor creatures like these. With a little shame held in her heart, Eleonor retraced her steps to the first landing. The red-haired boy had just popped through the door; she snatched his arm and dragged him out the door.
"That place is horrifying." She snapped at him. "Why didn't you stop me?"
He opened his mouth to reply, but Eleonor continued on.
"Can't believe they let them live in such tiny cages! What monstrosity…"
Outside the street held groups of conversing wizards and witches; their tall pointy hats bobbed and twisted whenever someone talked; their long majestic robes airily draped along the ground, refusing to crumple at their feet. One half of Eleonor thought they looked ridiculous while the other half was curious about their fashion. She nudged the boy that was following her.
"Why do they wear those?" she gestured to the closest lot to them at his questioning look. "To be frank, they look a bit out of place." The boy stared long and hard at them, getting more confused with every second.
"The clothes! Ya know, the capes, the pointy hats, yeah?"
"Oh, robes." This time, he gave her a look. "They don't have them in Australia?"
"No." she scoffed. The long thick fabric would be too much for the heat. She voiced her thoughts.
"Well – it's the traditional clothes. Today with the influence of muggle-borns we're a little more used to clothes like what we're wearing. The wealthy and the older generation, on the other hand, don't like this, and always wear robes. So I guess it's a sign of money now." He shrugged, suddenly mollified, picking at his vest.
"They look weird," Eleonor said. "I prefer your Sunday church boy look than that." He shot Eleonor a smile. They started to walk again, passing shops steadily.
"What's your name?"
"Eleonor," she said, running a hand against a ghastly dirty glass window; she could make out books and quills and all sorts of quirky writing utensils that you would expect to see in an antique shop. Eleonor quickly sidestepped into the store, the door propped open with a stack of books. She immediately went straight for the empty books but was sidetracked by the range of quills.
As expected, the boy was there, by her side.
"I'm Percy Weasley." He held out his hand. Slightly confused, she took it, and immediately snatched back her hand to run them over the fancy feathers. "Are you shopping for school? What school do you go to?"
"Nah, I'd rather not spend -" she checked the price and quickly rounded it off to dollars "fifteen dollars! for a quill. Jesus Christ!" Eleonor dropped the quill back into a box with its brethren and wondered over to the wall filled with cylinders.
"What are these?"
"Parchments?" Percy answered, sounding a little unsure for someone who was born in this society. Eleonor picked up the scrolls, feeling the roughness and thickness from just a touch. She dropped them like fire, disgusted by its texture. It felt too leathery for her tastes.
The shop – Scribbulus – was the British Wizard version of Typo. The architecture was wonky but cute, wooden shelves overfilled but artistic, the lighting dark but perfect. This British aesthetic was something she had previously thought only to be seen in film and magazines – settings manufactured by interior designers, furniture carefully selected from overseas, quirky tabletop embellishments that were one-of-a-kind. It was strange… it never occurred to Eleonor that Australia and Britain could be so different.
Eleonor was just sliding a book back into the shelf when Percy stepped around from the next aisle over; he had a book in each hand and was babbling something fierce. Eleonor had explained her schooling impediment, and he was elastic to know she was coming to Hogwarts.
"You'll be in my brothers' grade then," he smiled, his lips pulling back to show his gums. Percy then rubbed the back of his neck, a display of self-embarrassment. "Don't tell them you're friends with me… they don't like me very much."
"Have you already gotten your school books?" Percy questions now, peering over a set of reading glasses. They were old and bulky, looking like they were the old 80s aviator glasses with shielding on the side of them. Percy looked a little ashamed when he pulled them out.
"Yes," Eleonor nodded, remembering her mum grumbling over the short-life span of their use. "Although I wish I coulda get it on ma laptop."
"A what?"
"Nevermind." If there was one thing Jenny had made clear through her ramblings of British witches and wizards was the lack of technology they used. She had also mentioned that if Eleonor wanted to take electronics with her to Hogwarts then an Arab needed to ward it.
Thinking of Jenny made her realise she had forgotten to watch the time. With a curse, she pulled out her phone and was shocked to see that it was almost her deadline of 11pm.
"I have ta go," she firmly said, turning to Percy. He sharply looked up from his book, startled by her abrupt words. "See ya at Hogswash Percy."
"Alright then," he said, and held out his hand again. "Nice to meet you Eleonor." He smiled, shaking Eleonor's hand with vigour. His lips peeled back to reveal a small tooth jutting out from the otherwise straight line of teeth.
Eleonor took to the streets, sliding down the first side street she could find. Without missing a step in her stride she called upon her magic and focused on visualising her room, fairy lights still dancing around the room. She blinked, and her knees slammed straight into her bed, she collapsed onto her bed, face and book edges coming together painfully.
She let out a groan and rolled off her bed onto the floor. Perhaps that wasn't a cool as she thought it would be.
Laughing at herself, Eleonor slipped her backpack off, no heavier than it was when she left, and heaved herself up, ready to welcome her parents home.