Chapter TWO: Prized Possession


There were rows of shabby but handsome looking shops. Some looked as if they were on the verge of tipping over. Heaps of whimsy gadgets were piled in front of the third store to his left, next to an Apothecary.

A sudden shrieking noise grabbed Tom's attention to a store with many caged cats, owls, and tanked frogs. It was boarded up with a fancy sign that read Eeylops Owl Emporium and Magical Menagerie. Next to it was Quality Quidditch Supplies. An image of very itchy flaking scabs popped up in Tom's head as he read the word 'Quidditch'. In front of it was a handsome silver broomstick propped up on a pedestal with a sign that read:

Prized broom artisan, Leonard Jewkes, presents the Silver Arrow. Greatly surpasses that of Elias Grimstone's pitiful in comparison, Oakshaft 79, and Gladys Boothby's snail-speed Moontrimmer. A family broomstick that will last generations to come!

Momentarily transfixed, he was unaware of the traffic he was holding up.

"Little boy, what are you gawking at?" said a fat man with caterpillar brows, "Out of the way!"

Tom didn't understand what was all the fuss, the fat man could have easily walked around him, and he did. Tom watched the fat man with great discontent as he wobbled through the busy road, clutching at least 6 shopping bags on both hands. He breathed in, in effort to keep himself from calling out an insult.

Tom stepped away from the traffic of people to the front of Potage's Cauldron Shop to consult his list. It was a double folded brochure thrice categorized. The first category had a symbol of a lion, a snake, an eagle, and a badger surrounding the letter H and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

- - Uniform - -

First-Year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protected gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags

Tom looked up from the parchment and surveyed the stores until he found what he needed. Speedily, Tom went through an obstacle of chattering people towards a store with headless mannequins adorned with stylish robes. A quick look at a price tag of a plain black robe made him rummage his sackful of coins and further analyze the fat gold currency. To Tom's discovery that they were all Galleons, made him realize he did not have enough money for the robes considering all the other things he needed to buy.

A very thin lady with bulging eyes took note of this and tapped Tom on his shoulders. "You might want to try the Second Hand Robes," she advised sweetly. She turned Tom around by his shoulders, slightly hunching to his height, and pointed at something near a grandiose building. "You just have to turn right when you reach Gringotts, and you'll spot the Second Hand Robes next to Whizz Hard Books - - - don't get your books there, - - - s'matter a fact, why don't you start with your books over there. Much closer," She spun him around and pointed to another book shop across the populated street.

"S'matter a fact," she said once again, "Why don't you start with your cauldron, so you can have something to carry your books in? Potage's Cauldrons is just four stores down west, Pumpkin."

Tom hoped no one heard the woman regard him as Pumpkin. "Thank you," said Tom.

"No problem, sweetums. Good day to you!" she said, spinning her green witch hat Tom was familiar with in muggle story books, and headed for north.

Tom cringed, trying not to show his displeasure. Sweetums?

Pursuing the woman's directions, he brought himself to Potage's Cauldron Shop. A tiny bell tinkled at his arrival.

The pyramids of disheveled cauldrons of all sorts made for a rather claustrophobic atmosphere. However, there was still a certain charm to it and Tom couldn't exactly make out what it was.

The plump store owner was already consulting a customer on the counter. A girl, about the same age as Tom himself was purchasing three Brass Cauldrons. A woman who Tom guessed was the girls mother- - - although they shared no resemblance except for the habit of wearing their curly hair in a pony tail,- - - was standing alongside her.

Her heavy lidded eyes contributed to her defeated demeanor.

"It's only your first year. Why in the world would you need three cauldrons?" asked the store owner.

"I break things easily," the girl responded as she was counting galleons on the counter.

"Well surely if you could afford three Brass Cauldrons you can purchase an owl to send you another if it breaks?" suggested the store owner.

"Bird droppings," the girl shuddered at the thought.

"Thank you, Madam Potage," the mother said as she lifted two of the Brass Cauldrons. "Come, sweetie. Let's go get your potion kit."

As the girl struggled to carry even one cauldron, she turned around and gasped at the sight of Tom.

"Hey, you're that muggle boy aren't you?" she exclaimed, louder than Tom wished it to be.

The mother nudged her daughter with her knee. "Don't be rude. Obviously he's not a muggle if he's here." she whispered to her.

"Oh, sorry," she said insincerely and sounding rather insulted she continued, "You never told me you were a wizard! All those times I was in the park with you orphans, and I thought I was the only one in my neighborhood."

"I never knew until a man named Dumbledore told me." Tom explained, feeling a bit disconcerted, not at all familiar with the girls face.

"You've met that loon?" she asked. "How is he like? My Great Aunt Nessie adores him. I promised to get her his autograph this year, in exchange for nothing! Can you believe that?"

"Why would anyone want that bats autograph?"

"Becau- - - AGHH!" she yelped. Her mother kicked her on the back of her leg instead of giving a friendly nudge.

"Let's go! You're holding this poor boy up and I have a job I need to get to." the mother commanded urgently.

"Okay, mother!" she groaned, looking somewhat embarrassed, they left without another word.

"First year?" said Madam Potage once they were finally alone. Tom nodded.

Madam Potage took note of his sackful of Galleons and being familiar with this situation, she took a faded looking Pewter Cauldron and handed it to him over the counter. Dumbledore did mention having to get some of his things second hand.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't that little girl say you were a... errr," she was trying not to sound rude, "That err, you were an orphan? By any chance?"

"Yes ma'am," said Tom, looking a tad disappointed at his peeling cauldron.

Taking pity of him, and secretly, a charm from his handsome face, Madam Potage said, "Why don't you take that free of charge? My gift to you, so you can have some money left to buy something for yourself."

Her green rounded eyes looked at him with great sympathy. Her bleeding heart vexed Tom, but he got a free cauldron so he couldn't complain.

"Thank you," he added simply and to make much of his time he left the store and traveled to the next one.

Tom noticed that the Wizarding World had a certain style to it, something he concluded from observing each store. Stacks of curious objects were inclined at certain angles that made it seem as if it were about to fall.

So upon entering Flourish and Blotts, it didn't surprise him to see a plethora of books placed in the same fashion.

The books had an appeal to them much like a crackling fire offered on rainy days. With stains inflicted by its previous owners and its binding worn and raggedy, some of the best compliments a book could ever receive.

Another pattern he also found amongst the shops was that the store owners took a fancy for entitling their store by their names. So as Tom rung the bell on the counter, he wondered if the young pudgy faced mans name was Flourish or Blotts.

Flourish or Blotts was taking out brand new books from a wooden crate. "Just a minute!" he called out.

Once he was finished placing books on a top row shelf he rushed towards Tom.

"Blotts, how may I help you?" Blotts asked.

"I need to purchase my books for Hogwarts." Tom explained.

Blotts bent down below the counter, picking up a stack of books and placing them with a loud thud on its surface.

"All done and ready. Leave your money on the counter." said Blotts who then quickly busied himself to dusting rows of books. Tom examined the books and found that none of them were on his list.

"Err, excuse me?" interrupted Tom.

"What is it, son?"

"These aren't the correct books." Tom made clear.

"Oh I'm sorry. Which editions did I give you?"

"Third."

"Ahh, so is this your second year? Honest mistake."

"Umm, no sir. This is my first year."

Blotts looked perplexed. "Honest mistake." he repeated. "Quite tall for a first year. I guess it's just my imagination, they get shorter and shorter every year."

Tom placed his sack of gold on the table and began counting them. "How much do I need?" he wondered.

"Second Hand?" Blotts asked, placing anew set of books on the counter, as worn as the one before. "It would run you about six Galleons and 29 Knuts. Or six Galleons and a Sickle. Whichever you please."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Seventeen Silver Sickles in a Galleon, twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle. Muggleborn, are you?" Blotts placed the tatty second handed book set on the table. Tom placed them inside his cauldron.

This was the second time Tom heard the phrase Muggleborn, and he still didn't know what it meant. He was about to ask but the moment he looked up, the store manager had vanished from sight. He placed seven Galleons on the counter without having the patience to wait for his change, he left.

Tom carried on with the rest of the necessities, purchasing glass phials, a telescope, and a set of brass scales, and second hand clothing. He didn't bother to linger or make small talk with anyone. He was impatient to consult the last item on his list. Saving the best for last, he stood in front of Ollivanders. Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

"Morning," a man said faintly as he walked in. The man wasn't within eyes sight but Tom predicted by his voice that Ollivander (as the store name suggested) was very old.

Sure enough, a thin ancient looking man emerged from behind the shelves of similar rectangular boxes. The light streaming from the poor assisted windows illuminated the dancing dust. The silence and the smell of rotting wood made for a very eerie aura.

"Morning." Tom said, withholding his excitement.

Ollivander swished a magic stick of his own. Tom didn't know what was his purpose of this, but as a tape measure flung itself to Tom and began measuring him with no support, he understood.

While the tape was measuring his wingspan and the distance between the tip of his ears to his nose, Ollivander disappeared behind tall rows of shelves.

Once the tape was finished, it flung itself back on top of an old stool. Ollivander returned balancing seven boxes to his chest and placed them on the counter.

"Why don't you try this wand, Beech wood, eleven inches, unicorn tail hair, and quite brittle."

Tom eagerly reached for the wand and gave it a wave but there was no effect whatsoever.

"Mhmm, I didn't think so." Ollivander said, handing Tom another one. Ollivander shuffled the boxes and picked another at random. He opened the box to reveal a stylish dark black wand that looked as if it were polished too much for its own good.

"Should you be fit with an Ebony wand?" Ollivander wondered out loud. Tom had a special talent all on his own for levitating objects even without a wand. He wondered what it would be like using a proper magical instrument.

Using the ebony wand, he screwed up his face in concentration, willing to impress as he made a rock that was used a paper weight float in thin air. Ollivander began to clap his hands together until Tom lost control of the rock and threw itself into a window to his right, shattering the glass.

"Sorry." apologized Tom.

"Not to worry, that is easily remedied." he assured. "Why don't you try another one?"

Tom's stomach did a somersault every time he tried a new wand. Ebony with unicorn tail hair wasn't quite the match for him. Neither was a Laurel and Larch wood.

There was one last wand from the pile Ollivander had chosen.

"If this isn't the one, then we may spend another half hour here" said Ollivander. "Thirteen and a half inches, yew, phoenix core, very strong."

Tom wouldn't have mind to spend another half hour here but his curfew was short and time was fleeting.

Ollivander carefully placed the handsome wand on the palm of Tom's hands.

At the very moment, Tom felt an electric spark in his fingertips. The tip of the wand lit up. Ollivander smiled brightly at this revelation and clapped three times.

"Try Orchideous!" he suggested.

"Orchideous!" Tom exclaimed confidently, and a bouquet of flowers were conjured from thin air. It gave him an accomplished feeling. He was very impressed with himself.

Ollivander who had caught the flowers, tuck them snugly inside Tom's already packed cauldron.

Tom left Diagon Alley that day with a new prized possession that he paid seven Galleons for.

In secrecy, Tom snuck his items to his room. He didn't want to be pestered with questions of what kind of school would need some sort of pot for soup making. Upon his return, he also gave the bouquet of flowers to Mrs. Cole who acted very flustered at this gesture.

"You know what?" she said, smiling widely while sniffing the bouquets sweet fragrance. "I think I'll take it back when I told you I couldn't wait to see you go."

"You said that?"

"Oh..."