Howday!
I have written some more! Argh, it's so scary publishing this shiz incase it's a total cluster mess, but hey ho. I 'ope you like it and read on my friends.
Lots of Love,
Emmy. x
Spring grew into summer faster than Hermione could fathom, as did her growing friendship with a certain greasy-haired stalker of hers. She and Lily, much to Petunia's dismay, had spent practically every waking moment with their new friend since their birthday.
When they had taken the boy home to meet their parents, he had acted even shier than when he had first met them. To add to the already stressful situation, their mother had called her eldest daughter for lunch. Petunia, who'd assumed that Hermione and Lily were still at the park, had burst into the kitchen, taken one look at who sat around the wooden furniture, and stormed into the hall. An incensed cry of "I'm going to Marjorie's!" was heard, before the door slammed.
Severus had stuttered worriedly, babbling about how he would leave and never return, but Hermione's mother had silenced him with a single, meaningful glance. She promptly loaded his plate with potatoes and began to chat to him about books. After that, the atmosphere in the room lightened and conversation flowed like the river they had first met at, fast and smooth.
Mrs Evans had fully embraced the strange boy as part of her family, going so far as to allow the girls to let him stay in the guest bedroom when his mother was away on business. She nurtured his caring and social attributes with the help of Lily and Hermione, who introduced him to sweets, games and friendship.
Together, the two had begged their mother for a new set of clothes for Severus; he still wore that giant blazer that they learned had belonged to his father, and the awful brown trousers he never seemed to wash. To prove their point, they had gone so far as to stain the shirt when they were baking together, then when he arrived the next day, point out the large blemish that had remained. After that incident, Mrs Evans had taken the girls out to the local charity shop, where they picked out some plain, block-coloured t-shirts and a nice pair of black jeans. She'd quietly slipped them into the bag he was carrying, with a note saying that they were now his and to look after them well.
They met every weekend, chatting idly under their leafy oak about anything and nothing, slowly becoming acquainted with each other. Every other Saturday, the twin's dad would take them all up to Derby Stadium, where they supported their local team by screaming and shouting.
The first time they took Severus, he had been appalled by the 'rowdy yobs' that he saw, yelling their opinions about the ref's decisions, but he grew to love the bedlam of the stands and the roar of the crowd, even joining in. Through this, his relationship with Chris got even stronger.
The topic of magic and Hogwarts would often come up in conversation and all three were eagerly anticipating the arrival of their day trip to Diagon Alley. The girls would eagerly demand to hear everything he knew about Hogwarts and magic, and in return he would ask to see what magic they could do. He'd explained to them that his mother had called it 'accidental' magic, and she'd said that it wasn't to be trusted because it was very temperamental.
On weekdays, Lily and Hermione would attend their local primary school and while the girls learnt literacy and arithmetic, Severus was being home schooled by his mother. This was, perhaps the only amount of time they spent away from each other in the days leading up to the school holidays. Severus would take his lessons with his mother - which always ended at 12pm on the dot - then make his way over to the Evans' home, where he would aid Holly Evans in whatever endeavour she had taken up that day; by the time the girls finished their schooling, he was almost as good a baker as she.
London was teeming with people, like an infestation no one could eradicate. They materialized everywhere with the unique ambition to congest the streets and hinder pedestrians. However nothing, it seemed, could stop Eileen Snape from reaching her destination.
Hermione had met Eileen Snape a few times since she'd befriended Severus, and the woman - she had fondly come to know as 'Twiggy' - had definitely made a lasting impression.
From what she had seen, she was a dispassionate, stringent and pragmatic woman, her pallid features displaying none of the emotion it was assumed she felt. However in moments where she became completely void of feeling, her face completely barren, Hermione entertainingly theorized her to be a vacuous extraterrestrial being, detached from the puny feelings and surroundings of earthlings. She'd had a lot of fun imagining the planet she had actually come from, and realising that this glacial attitude was quite repellant. Hermione had bemusedly observed that it incited a rather large increase in the amount of pedestrians walking the opposite direction.
Her forehead was capacious and corrugated, most undoubtedly due to the amount of disapproving grimaces she made, but her narrow, socketed eyes made her seem somber and ailing and the dull mud-like brown that seemed never to sparkle matched. A sharp square chin that sunk down her swanlike neck stunted her seemingly ever-growing and tremendously oblong face. Unkempt eyebrows had been left to grow, loosely arching around her short eyelashes. Her thin coral lips sat comfortably in a frown, making Hermione wonder whether they would crack if stretched even an inch, and she had a nose of roman origin, straight and practical. Unlike her son, who had long, wiry locks of oily black; Twiggy had tedious brown hair so straight it looked like it'd been cut out of wood and painted and hung around her neck like a choker.
She was remarkably thin, so much so that she seemed she would break when the wind blew too harshly, yet her skeletal form still towered over Hermione, reedy and unnerving. She seemed only to ever wear black, and not very remarkable styles at that. In Hermione's honest opinion, she was eerily similar to an illustration of the Hansel and Gretel witch she had seen in a fable book she had received from her mother when she was young.
Today, the day when Hermione was finally going to enter the Wizarding world officially, she was clad in a modest raven dress that fell to her mid-calf, the only exciting features being the three silver buttons sown in a line starting at the high neckline. Her descendant, Severus, seemed to be dressed to impress – well, compared to his usual low standard of clothing – with his black jeans and a smart white shirt.
Whilst the two tall, dark and brooding residents of Spinner's End blended naturally with the blur of business suits and dingy dark alleyways that Twiggy lead them through, Mrs. Evans and her two youngest daughters were a rainbow of cheerful summer shades that stood out like bloomed flowers in a field of weeds in the squalid back-streets of the city.
Hermione had peered up the high walls of the buildings, searching for the tops; to no avail. The architecture in London was more advanced, more diverse and certainly more elevated. Coming from the northern countryside, she knew nothing of the culture and community in the capital, but from what she could see, it most definitely wasn't friendlier.
'I doubt these people even know their neighbours!' she thought, her mind conjuring a picture of her homey street.
She had known Mrs Jennings her entire life: she had babysat Hermione, visited their home and naturally, greeted her every time she left the house. She could not imagine a world where the meddlesome woman across the road would not exist, but this was London, a place where everyone was much too busy to care about the goings-on of others.
Talking of hectic, Twiggy had managed to increase their pace again, so much so Hermione wondered if they could race the cars. It seemed that their fearless leader knew where they were headed, but she couldn't help but worry. The streets were getting darker and narrower, making her think worriedly that perhaps the Snape matriarch was planning to murder them and dump the bodies. She seemed the type.
Finally, she brought the small party to an abrupt halt. Hermione looked up to the dingy, decrepit building, which stooped low as if he would fall at any moment. It's raven paint was flaking wildly, revealing dark oak underneath and the anticipation and ardor that had been building in her heart plummeted, leaving only disappointment and worry.
'Is it all like this?' she frowned, looking at the shabby bookshop and a slightly brighter, yet still beggarly, record store. She couldn't even see the door of the building, and it seemed that it didn't have a clean window to look through. If anything, it looked abandoned, and she could see why; health and safety wouldn't touch this.
'Not with a ten foot barge pole...' she tutted, looking over to a scowling Lily, who was obviously less than impressed.
"Is this it?" she whinged, adopting a grouchy stance of folded arms. The two twins were known for their sweet smiles and kind words, but quick to take offence, and renowned for their ability to go spare when provoked.
"No, you've got to go through here to get to it." Twiggy grated irritatedly.
"How are we supposed to know, this place is manky!" Hermione added in support of her sister, ignoring the outraged look her mother gave her for her language.
"Well, if you just shut your trap, we could get inside!" she snapped, walking swiftly away from her and muttering under her breath. Severus sent a pleading look over to her, silently apologising for his mother's behaviour, then moved to follow her. Her mother sent her a sharp glance, telling her to behave, then followed after the two. She and Lily pulled up the rear, an amused sparkle in their identical eyes.
The black door to the shop was a scummy, run-down Narnia, holding another world inside. Right then, looking at the rotting handle, she wondered whether or not it was worth it: to go to this magical place, to leave her parents, to become someone else, something else; to lose Petunia.
"Get a wriggle on, Mione, I want to see this blooming great alley!" Lily said, pushing her forward. Dropping all thoughts of her elder sister like a hot baking tray, she turned a stiff wooden handle, pushing hesitantly on the creaky door and stepping inside.
It looked like a viking's dwelling, with a large brass ring holding torches that lit the room. One long wooden bench took up most of the room, with a few rounded tables dotted around in the empty spaces. Every surface had a stool underneath, making room for as many customers as they could fit. Fifty or so paintings plastered the badly-painted white walls, and Hermione could see two shelters in the brick. A young man wearing a brown waistcoat leaned on the bar, looking out at his patrons. There were a few people in the pub, all with long, swirling robes, but Hermione couldn't see her mum. Glancing quickly across the room, she conceded that Twiggy had left them for dead, and jabbed her sister hard in the ribs.
"They're gone."
"What?"
"They've left without us!" she whispered, gesturing to the room.
"They can't have, they'll be here somewhere. Go ask that man," she urged, nudging her sister gently toward the bar. The gentleman seemed to notice her sudden movement and looked up from his gorm to the nervous girl. Hermione turned to glare at her sister, but she was conveniently looking the other way. Gathering her courage, she walked toward the man, looking up at the bartender who was a lot taller than her young petite frame.
"Can I 'elp you, lass?"
"Yes, I was wondering if you've seen a strict-looking woman, a young boy and another woman? My name's Hermione, by the way," she added, offering her hand across the bar.
"Tom," he said, grasping the outstretched hand and shaking quickly, "they just went through to the courtyard, lass, you'll find them through that door there."
He pointed toward a dark door with a colourful stain-glass panel. She nodded her thanks, and grabbed Lily, waving to the nice man as she ran off passed people sipping beers and chewing their grub. She wrenched the door open just in time to catch Severus' mother tapping the wall, but all hopes of pretending they were there all along were spoilt when Lily pulled the door closed with a loud bang, knocking Twiggy's concentration. She swore under her breath, making all three Evans' look toward her in contempt, but she didn't notice as she begun her pattern again. Severus, having also remained oblivious to the disapproving glances sent his mother's way, stood to the side, staring excitedly as he remembered the explanation his mum had given as to how exactly one arrived at Diagon Alley.
They waited patiently as Twiggy tapped her wand, not bothering to explain what she was doing, until she stopped dramatically.
"Before you enter, you must remember that this is a very busy place and therefore you must stay with me at all times. If, at any point, you manage to lose sight of us, find a woman with a child and ask her to direct you to Ollivanders' wand shop, am I clear?" she lectured in her normal crisp tone.
'Ollivanders,' Hermione tried to memorise, forgetting almost instantly about who she should ask.
With a painfully correct flick of her wrist, Mrs Snape's wand hit the stone of the dull wall and the bricks begun to separate. All three children stared at the moving slabs in shock and awe, casting their minds back to moments when they had done magic like that. Mrs Evans looked as if she might faint, her chin hitting the floor as she gawped on, utterly gobsmacked.
"Come along then, we've got lots to do if we're ever going to get these lot off to Hogwarts!" Twiggy exclaimed, straightening her back in determination and striding into the street. Severus, again, was the first to gather his senses, grabbing the hand of Lily, who in turn poked her sister in the head before being dragged down the road. Hermione snatched her mother's hand and made her way through the wall, pulling along her mum, who seemed in bits after witnessing what felt like the parting of the red sea.
Signs swung wildly from each doorway they passed, advertising things Hermione's had never even heard of, and she wished she had all the time in the world to read them. There were shops selling robes, stalls trading jewellery, a store shifting teabags, shelves stacked high with ingredient-filled jars, windows full of dusty tombs that teetered on the edge of collapse, rolls of that strange paper, quills and strangely enough, a sweet shop.
She barely had time to glance at each display, her head spinning frantically, trying to absorb it all as Twiggy lead them through the crowds. She could see what felt like millions of children, all running excitedly toward their parents, showing them all sorts of things, from newt's eyes to cats and toads. She wondered about their stories, whether or not they were heading Hogwarts-way this year, or if they were coming with a sibling; if they were muggle-borns, or if they'd grown up surrounded by magic. Suddenly, she was ripped from her stupor as her mum squeezed her hand. She looked up to her, and then to what was apparently right in front of her as her mother indicated toward it.
There, towering above the fast-paced shoppers and neighbouring shops that filled the streets, was an imposing, light ivory building, with stone pillars and a great panelled door. The entrance itself was placed at the corner of the building, making it seem ten times as colossal. Engraved in the stone overhanging was the name of the shop: "Gringotts Wizarding Bank".
'Not a shop, then,' she mused, eyeing the sign.
Hermione's gaze was blurred as her mother tugged her gently into the grecian structure. They slipped through the doorway and into a marble-stoned hall that housed nothing but a staircase.
She gracefully ascended the stairs and they lead up to a set of burnished bronze doors. The doors were flanked by a stout, pallid creature in a uniform of scarlet and gold; he stood, unmoving, staring out at group. He nodded imperceptibly at Twiggy, then turned to open one half of the entrance and she ushered us inside.
Through these doors, also flanked with goblins, was a vast marble hall. Pillars adorned with gold lead the eyes along the passage, and two grandiose, glittering chandeliers were hung weightily from the the marbled ceiling. Long wooden counters stretched along its length, with doors leading off to another, darker passageway. At each bench, another of the repugnant critters sat, counting golden coins or writing with feathers. There was around a fifty of them, all together, but she couldn't tell, because there were people everywhere.
Twiggy, who - as far as Hermione could tell - hadn't stopped moving all morning, was off like a shot, speeding toward the nearest pointy-eared server. When they reached him, she found his nose to be almost conical in shape, and he had scraggly bits of wire for hair.
"I wish to make a withdrawal from the vault of Prince, and that woman there would like to exchange muggle money for wizarding currency. You shall also arrange a vault each for the two red-haired girls." Twiggy announced, looking down haughtily at the thing.
"And do you have the key?" he drawled, leaning over his desk to look at Severus, who was frowning at the ghastly beast.
"Of course."
"Very well: you follow me. The muggle-borns will need to see Ragnok," he droned, hopping down from his tall stool to meet them on the floor.
"Wait here," he ordered, waddling off and slamming a door three times his size.
"What are they?" she questioned, looking over to where it had just left.
"They're goblins. Incredibly smart, but not the nicest creatures."
That, it seemed, was enough for the others, so Hermione held in her inquisitiveness. They waited what felt like a minute before the same goblin came out with another who looked almost the same, but his tapered nose bent at the end.
"Follow me." the original being directed harshly, and tramped away, Twiggy and Severus following.
"What will you do first?"
"Um, we'll set up the accounts?"
"Follow me."
He turned, and clambered up to the stool that the other goblin had been sat on.
"Name"
"Lily, Lily Evans"
He paused, peered over to Hermione and her sister, then scribbled with his feather.
"Age"
"She's eleven"
"She already has an account, vault 567, it has been set up by Albus Dumbledore. If you wish to see your vault, this is your key." he sneered, passing a large bronze key over the counter.
"Okay, thank you. And the other vault is for Hermione Evans."
"She has one also: vault 373."
"Okay then, can we exchange some money?"
"How much?" he drawled.
"£2 000"
"That is 404 galleons, 8 sickles and 6 knuts. Is this sufficient?"
"Yes, thank you. If you could please split this amount evenly between the two vaults."
"This will require entering the vaults."
"Then can we please enter the vaults."
"Follow me," he stated, descending the stool and meeting them on the ground. They walked in silence to the high archway at the end of the hall. The feeling of grandeur she had perceived the room before to have was abandoned quickly, as Hermione entered a cave-like tunnel. In front of her, balanced precariously on thin steel tracks, was a strange contraption, not unlike the sleigh her father had made for January, when it had snowed.
Ragnok lit a torch from another that hung in the entrance.
"Get in" the goblin ordered, stepping into the shallow cart, placing his lit stick into a holder and sitting down. Her mother made for a seat on the row behind the goblin, and Lily took up the rest of the space on the bench. Sighing at their lack of courage, she plonked herself to the serious-looking creature and turned to face him.
"Vault 567" he said, looking forward into the damp, badly-lit cavern, and with that, the mine cart was off.
Hermione thanked god that the small being had lit his lantern, because as soon as they left the entrance, a darkness descended.
Finally, they ground to a halt in front of a large black door. it was plain and simple, with a large brass keyhole. The goblin stood from his seat and clambered out of the cart, heading straight to the door. Again, the ladies followed his lead, coming to stand on a stone ledge. He swung the door open and stepped inside, letting them enter as well.
"This is the vault of Lily May Evans. It contains 300 galleons, 10 sickles, 1 knut and a sealed envelope, all added by Albus Dumbledore. After the transactions you have made today, it will contain 502 galleons, 14 sickles, 4 knuts, and a sealed envelope," the goblin announced, gesturing to the stacks of shiny coins of three separate colours. At the bottom of a large pile of golden coins, lay said envelope, begging to be opened.
"Wow," Lily gasped, looking out at the sea of metal.
"I was told to inform you that you must read the letter inside your vault and then make a withdrawal. Whilst you do this, I shall take the other girl to her vault." he stated, turning sharply and heading back to his cart. Hermione waved uncertainly to her mother and sister, who was clutching the envelope tight, then followed the creature out of the room.
The two slid into the machine and he relit the lamp.
"Vault 373"
They were off; she sat, waiting anxiously as the cart trundled along, barely able to see her own hands. The journey felt like a lifetime as the travelled deeper into the cavern.
'Why's mine so far away from Lils?' she thought, her brow furrowing.
The screech of breaks brought her attention back to the little goblin, who was, again, clambering out onto the rock ledge. Hermione followed, staring out at the intricate door. It was covered in elaborate iron swirls, and the keyhole was silver. He clicked the lock with her large iron key and pushed forward, opening the door. The two stepped through and met the same image as was in Lily's vault, only it seemed it had increased.
"This is the vault of Hermione June Evans. It contains 400 galleons, 12 sickles, 1 knut and a sealed envelope, all added by Albus Dumbledore. After the transactions you have made today, it will contain 602 galleons, 16 sickles, 4 knuts, and a sealed envelope" he stated, looking over to a confused and awe-struck girl.
"Why does my vault have more money?" she asked.
"The vault of Hermione June Evans was created in 1962, when she was 2 years of age. At that time, muggle-borns were given a larger sum of money from Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry to sustain them. The vault of Lily May Evans was created in 1970, when she was ten years of age. The amount given to muggle-borns had lowered by then."
"Oh"
"I will stay until you have read your letter and taken what you wish from your vault. We will then return to your mother and sister"
"Okay," she muttered, heading toward the plain paper, which looked so out of place in the glittering gold.
Hermione Evans,
Vault 373,
Gringotts Wizarding Bank,
North Side
Diagon Alley
London
Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry
(Order of Merlin - First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)
Dear Miss Hermione Evans,
I am pleased to know you have decided to join us at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry; I am sure you will be a pleasure to teach.
I have enclosed in this vault, an amount sufficient to your learning at Hogwarts, however you may wish to transfer some of your own muggle money. As I assume you will be collecting your supplies, I recommend you withdraw from your account a sum of 40 galleons, which will most definitely last the year. You should also bring money with you when you attend Hogwarts; it may be needed.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"May I withdraw 40 galleons, 4 sickles, please?"
"I shall arrange for that to be done."
"Thank you," Hermione nodded to the goblin, who was gathering coins in a brown drawstring bag.
After meeting Lily in at her vault, they beamed at each other and jingled their drawstring bags simultaneously. Hermione decided not to tell Lily about the extra money, thinking it wasn't a big deal.
They hopped onto the moving cart and wriggled about as it slowly ascended the tracks back to the entrance. They quickly found Severus and Twiggy, who tutted as they chattered excitedly about seeing their vaults.
So caught up in their conversation, they didn't realise that they had entered another shop. Looking away from the still-talking Severus and Lily, Hermione searched the room for a sign of some sort to tell her where they were.
The place looked just like the local clothes shop, only the shelves were stacked high with black, dull robes, and the displays were moving. In the centre of the room were two round platforms, painted white and two pairs of feet stood, still as statues, on each. Hermione could see what looked like a tape measure scaling the leg of a young boy - she didn't bother to look at his face -, though it was moving by itself.
Twiggy was talking stiffly with a brown-haired lady a tad shorter. She pointed roughly at the group of three, who were all staring around the room. Hermione noticed her finger and stared defiantly at an aggravated Twiggy who was making her way back toward them.
"Alright, she can do the girls in a minute. Severus and I will go and collect your stationary; do not leave this shop." she ordered to Hermione's mother, grabbing her son by the elbow and dragging him out of the shop.
"Mum, what's that lady doing?" Lily asked, pointing to the brown-haired witch who was now manually measuring the young boy on the pedestal.
"She's measuring him for clothes, dear. I think that's what she'll do for you next," her mum told her, patting her daughter's shoulder in reassurance.
"Your's heading to Hogwarts too, then?"
All three red-heads spun around to face the voice. There stood a tall man, clad in a well-tailored, raven-black robe, not unlike those that surrounded them. He had midnight hair to match is clothes and pale skin the contrasted. His skin wasn't pallid, like Severus', she noticed as she looked into the grey eyes, which was quite a feat as he stood very high, his sharp features holding a sense of regality reminiscent of royalty.
"Yes, they're quite excited. Do you have a child?" her mother replied, glancing down at the pretty faces of her daughters.
"No, but my nephew's entering into his first year this time, so we've come with his friend's family to pick up his equipment,"
"Oh, that's very kind of you. My name's Holly, Holly Evans, and these are my daughters," she smiled, gesturing to the twins.
"Hello, sir. I'm Lily," her sister beamed. Hermione could see her mind racing with thoughts of his nephew and wether they would meet him at Hogwarts.
"Hermione, sir," she added, nodding politely in his direction and playing with the hem of her dress.
"What beautiful names, I'm Alphard Black," he introduced, looking down at the two, "I'm guessing you haven't worn robes before?"
"No sir,"
"Well, Madam Malkin has very capable hands. I'm sure you'll be fine. Looks like he's done," he stated, and waved at her mother before heading in the direction of the door with the boy who'd just been on the podium.
"Well girls, if all wizards are as nice as him, you should do well in the wizarding world."
After that, it hadn't taken too long to buy their robes. Twiggy then arrived back with her son and a bag full of pens and paper, though she had called them quills and parchment, for some bizarre reason.
As they left, she remembered that her friend hadn't been measured, so Hermione asked why they weren't buying robes for Severus, but his mother immediately dismissed the idea, saying:
"He has perfectly good robes at home!"
To avoid the awkward silence that had followed, Mrs Evans suggested that they head off to wherever they were to go next. As always, Twiggy marched off, chuntering about something or other under her breath. Hermione had learned to just ignore her when she begun a new rant, because getting involved almost always lead to trouble - for her anyways.
They'd sprinted in and out of a dark shop filled with cauldrons, Twiggy ignoring the calls of street sellers as they passed. They'd picked up a cauldron and brass scales for each new student, then they headed toward a shop called Flourish and Blotts.
When they entered, all Hermione could see were books. Shelves were stacked to the ceiling with millions of tombes as large as paving stones bound in leather, whereas other books were the size of postage stamps in covers of silk. Some spines were full of peculiar symbols and a few books had nothing on their covers at all.
They followed an ever-determined Mrs Snape passed the volumes and straight to the desk.
"I want three sets of the required books for Hogwarts students," she demanded, staring at the yawning shopkeeper who was slumped in a comfy-looking armchair.
"One moment, ma'am," he nodded, standing up and walking through a door behind his desk.
Hermione turned around to look at the bookshop, which was brimming with people. It reminded her of the library at home, but it was a lot larger in size. She stepped closer to the aisles of novels, running her hand softly over a collection of golden lettered fictions; the leather casing felt silken to the touch.
She weaved through the people, reading any title she could see; her attention was captured by the shelves, and wouldn't let go. She was so enraptured, she barely noticed that she'd reached the end of the aisle till she was flattened, a scarlet book in her hand, by a sandy-haired boy who'd hurtled around the corner. He was laying on-top of her, dazed and confused, his brain unable to catch up with his actions, and she was in the same state.
"Oy, I don't think this is the place for a quickie," a boy's voice invaded Hermione's bewilderment, and apparently the boy's, because he immediately jumped up, his face as ruby red as the book she still clutched. She pushed up on her hands until she was sat up, then rubbed the sore patch on her arm.
'That's going to bruise' she grumbled, standing up to face the boys. They looked around Lily's height, meaning Hermione barely reached their eyes.
The blonde one who'd fallen onto her had long, shaggy hair, and small, amber eyes. His nose was narrow and rounded, his lips concave and the colour of salmon. He had soft, peachy features that highlighted his blushing cheekbones.
The boy standing next to him was slightly taller, and a lot more regal. He held his classically sharp features high, a stubbed nose raised above the two others. He had charcoal black locks that fell into his grey eyes in waves. This thin, raspberry-pink lips were curled into an amused smirk, and he had his arms folded as he looked between the two children involved in the accident.
"You love birds done yet?" he chuckled, making the other boy blush even harder and Hermione frown. He had the voice of a child, yet he said things she didn't dare to think of, and all in that southern accent.
Hermione knew that non-magic southerners thought anyone from further up than Milton Keynes was either a yobbo or a pillock, but she wondered whether wizards thought like that. She decided to speak with her accent anyway; she was proud of her heritage.
"We aren't love birds, thanks,"
"Hey, I'm not judging, but hanky panky in public-"
"We weren't doing anything!"
"Alright, don't have a cow," he laughed, completely ignoring the crimson boy stood next to him.
Hermione felt a wave of compassion rush through her; he was obviously embarrassed by the situation, and it seemed they'd caught the attention of quite a few customers.
"I'm sorry, I should of been looking where I stood," she began, offering her hand to the slightly less reddened boy who shook it hesitantly.
"It- It was my fault, really. I just ran past," he replied, only to be interrupted by another voice.
"Remus! Remus dear, where are you?" the anxious, high-pitched tones of an elder woman's voice called, searching for someone she needed to find.
"Here mum," the boy - Remus - said, turning around to face his mother.
'Can't stand around like a gooseberry all day' she thought, sending one last fleeting look at the two confusing boys and grabbing the interesting red book titled 'Achievements in Charming'. She headed around the worried woman who was squeezing her son, much to the amusement of the black-haired annoyance.
She retraced her steps along the leaning piles of books to the opening of the aisle, where she was promptly smothered again.
"Where have you been?" a muffled yet relieved voice filtered into Hermione's ears. She snuggled into the warm body that gave off the sweet incense of freshly baked biscuits and home.
"I went to look at the books," she mumbled, barely reaching her mother's shoulder as she reached on her tip-toes. The warmth she had felt was lost almost instantly, though, as her mum pulled back, still grasping onto her daughter's shoulders tightly as if she would disappear if she let go.
"You must never run off like that, do you understand me?" she scolded, smoothing Hermione's hair, which had mussed from the anxious hug.
"I only went for a minute, mum!" Hermione placated, looking up at her mum and grasping her tightly in a hug, nestling into her baby-blue chiffon summer dress.
Lily and Hermione had always been told they were pretty babies, but they knew their mother was a classic beauty; they only hoped they would grow to be half as beautiful - which, if comments were anything to go by, was highly probable. Whilst Hermione was petite and dainty, Lily was taller and more agile; they had both gotten their mother's beautiful English colouring, though the bright ginger hair differed in texture.
Petunia, however, had inherited her father's dull brown hair and dark brown eyes; athletic, curve-less, lanky figure; and sharp, severe features. She was complemented on her stick-thin figure, but never her curves, and people automatically assumed she was a runner which seemed to annoy her immensely.
"I don't care Hermione June Evans! Mrs Snape has been waiting for you and your sister is going spare!"
"Mum-"
"No, little madam, you are coming straight with me. We are going to wherever Eileen wants and when we get home, you are going straight to your room!" she lectured, grabbing onto Hermione's hand and dragging her out of the doors.
The crowds on the interesting street were massive, full of students and parents scrambling to buy their Hogwarts stuff. Even in the thick London smog of the overcast day and the anarchy of unorganised parents, the group managed to stay close to one another, especially with Mrs Evans' tight grip on both her daughter's hands. Lily's head was still swivelling to and fro, but Holly had her eyes set firmly on the clasped hands of her daughter; it seemed Hermione had sparked the protective instinct in her mother, as had this unfamiliar, dangerous place where she couldn't protect her 'baby'.
'I'm not a baby,' Hermione grumbled as she stomped along the cracked pavement, her free hand clenched tightly in aggravation.
After the boy had riled her in the bookshop, it seemed her irrational, hot-tempered, and moody side had come out again, meaning everything seemed annoying or pointless. Her and Lily had woken that morning to a barrage of acidic, abusive and downright absurd insults from Petunia in the morning before they'd left and learning that they couldn't bring their daddy because the eldest daughter had also canceled her shopping trip she was in no mood to be messed with; as they travelled, the excitement of joining this new and interesting world cheered them up, then Hermione had come crashing down again. The day had been the emotional equivalent of a mountain range, but it wasn't over yet; they were yet to receive their wands.
Eileen held her arm up and motioned for the group to move over to the left, stopping in front of a lilliputian shop. Peeling gold letters over the door read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
The shop's display window presented a solitary wand, laying on a faded purple cushion behind the dusty glass, looking neglected. Hermione turned her gaze from the lacklustre offerings of the window to the open door, where Twiggy was entering, when the hanging brass bell chimed.
The shop was tiny, empty except for a single, spindly chair in the corner. Thousands of narrow boxes containing what Hermione assumed were wands, had been stacked right up to the ceiling, making the shop look even more cramped. Hermione ran her hand along a heap of wands that lay on a desk, then scrunched her face as she found her hand was stained with grime; it seemed the whole place had a thin layer of dust about it.
Twiggy walked straight to the shining bell which sat on a dark wooden desk. They waited a few seconds, until a wrinkled man appeared from behind another heap of smiled politely to her mother and Twiggy, then looked over to the three children before him.
"Hello little ones, what has you perusing my little shop this dreary afternoon?" he greeted.
"We're here for wands, Garrick, but do make it snappy; I do not have all day," Eileen ordered, crossing her arms and looking up at the taller man. She reminded Hermione of Petunia's petulance.
"Miss Prince, you know that the wand chooses the wizard, therefore I cannot determine how long your visit will be."
"It's Mrs Snape now, and try, for the love of god!"
"I shall, Eileen, I shall. Now who wishes to go first?"
All three kids looked toward each other, and Hermione could see the pleading look in Severus' eyes, whereas Lily looked excited and hopeful.
"I'm easy," she said to the other two, leaving the decision to them.
"I really want to go first," Severus told her shamelessly, making Hermione cringe with embarrassment for her friend who wasn't well versed in social etiquette. Her sister took her time deliberating, but the strong friendship the two had built with the Severus won out in the end.
"Well... okay," Lily conceded, backing away to stand next to Hermione and grasping her hand tightly. She couldn't understand why her twin was so effected by this; it wasn't like she wouldn't get one.
"What is your name, my boy?" Mr. Ollivander asked him, summoning a measuring tape from thin air, much like the one in the robe shop.
"Severus Snape," he said eagerly, shoving his arm boyishly at the tape measure.
"Well, my name is Mr Ollivander, and I will be finding you the perfect wand today," he nodded, as if he had decided something and went to work, commanding the measuring tape to find his outstretched arm and other random parts. Once he had scribbled each detail, he retracted his tape measure and turned on his heel, heading back into the mess Hermione assumed was behind his desk.
Severus seemed to bounce on his toes in anticipation, and Hermione and her sister were squeezing their hands silently sharing their excitement.
"Severus, stop that!" Twiggy snapped, just as Mr Ollivander returned, struggling with about 20 boxes identical to the others that filled the walls.
"Now," he said, gently opening a box and plucking a long thin stick, made from beautifully carved wood, "This is a ebony and kelpie mane wand, 11 1/3 inch."
He passed the wand over to Sev, who grasped it tightly.
"Give it a swish lad! This one's quite unpredictable," he urged, looking interested at him.
Severus slowly raised his hand, and hesitantly flicked his hand, as you would do a pen. For a moment, nothing happened and his eyes seemed to sink, when a terrible crack sounded and the desk split in two.
"Oh, oh dear," Mr Ollivander frowned, snatching the wand away and fixing his desk with his own.
"Try this then, boy" he urged, taking a light wand that a silky emerald bed of velvet and passing it to him, "It's a bit less brittle."
Looking apprehensively, he swished the new wand and this time an instant flash of bright green exploded from the end of the wand, filling the dark room with colour. Hermione's mum cried out in surprise, and Lily clapped enthusiastically, happy her friend had found his match.
"Ah, Birch and Unicorn Hair, 13 inches. Not the strongest of wands, but delightfully springy!" he beamed, clamping the box shut and handing it to the amazed boy, "Particularly good combination for a Slytherin, my lad. It'll be 5 galleons, Eileen."
She handed over the money and grasped Severus' shoulder, pulling him toward Hermione's mum.
"Can I go next Mione?" Lily whispered, letting go of her hand and turning to face her twin, a glimmer of pleading shining in her jade orbs.
"'Course!" she replied, her excitement growing at the thought of owning her own wand.
'If I have a wand, I'm definitely magical...' she thought, biting her lip in yearning as she watched the magical tape measure travel along her twin's lean body.
"Hm, very good, very good," the elderly shopkeeper muttered, heading into the cavern of boxes. Lily, like Severus before, looked like Christmas had come early as she waited impatiently, tapping her finger's on the man's desk. Hermione's mum, unlike Twiggy, grinned at her daughter's excitement, then turned back to Severus, who was chatting incessantly to her about his new wand - most probably because his mother had turned away.
"Give this a whirl, my dear," Mr Ollivander said, passing over a fat, ugly stick that didn't appeal to Hermione at all. She watched closely as her sister clasped her long, thin fingers around the short, stubby wand, which looked ever so out of place in the hands of such a pretty little girl.
"Walnut and Unicorn Hair, 6 inches. A particularly lackadaisical wand, perhaps a bad choice, but we'll soon find out," he laughed, happy to be finding a new generation of witches and wizards the instruments which would lead them to greatness.
The horrible wand had not been successful, and the girl struggled through four wands, until finally, Lily wrapped her fingers around a 12 1/4 inch willow and unicorn hair, causing beautiful silver sparks to erupt from the tip. Holly cried out in happiness for her daughter, and Severus clapped enthusiastically as well, visibly relieved his friend was, in fact, a witch. Hermione caught the look of pure joy on her sister's face as she swished her wand again, conjuring another burst of colour, this time ruby red.
"Ah, a wonderfully loving wand. Undoubtedly swishy, my dear, you have an obvious affinity for charms work."
"Thank you, sir!"
"No problem, it was my pleasure. Now, who would you be?" he questioned, turning his head to Hermione who had all of a sudden become very nervous.
"Hermione, sir," she muttered, stepping slowly toward the desk.
"Well, dear. I just need to measure a few bits, and then we'll get you sorted out with your very own wand!" he smiled down at the shy girl who usually wasn't so shy.
"Thank you, sir."
"If you could give me the arm you write with, please dear."
She held her left arm up and the man begun his measuring. Fingertip to elbow and then on to her shoulder, Hermione squirmed at the strange feeling of the tape tracing her every contour: from her chin to toes, ear to ear, and nose to knees. A moment later he was walking off to the many shelves piled with boxes upon boxes. What felt like centuries later, he returned with a small selection of dusty boxes which Hermione had watched him retrieve from the lowest and highest shelves she could see.
He handed a her a long, spindly wand from a royal blue box. She felt the strange wood in her hands, heavy and uncomfortable; it had an aura of coldness and unfeeling, but still felt intelligent, as if it were waiting for a scholar or scientist to swish and flick it.
"Maple and Dragon Heartstring, 16 inches. Quite whippy, definitely a fast learner, but callous and riotous if you're not it's true master. Give it a try," he said, watching warily for any signs of danger.
Hermione stared at the 'whippy' wand, wondering whether this would be her's forever. It looked twiggy and ill-tempered, like Petunia whenever she saw the twins. It seemed to call to her, begging her to learn and discover, to never falter in the face of pathetic emotions or wait for petty idiots to catch up with her intellect. Hermione wasn't sure what to do with the feeling, but the conflict it was stirring in her heart and mind lead her to just jolt her quivering wrist, consequences be damned.
For a moment, nothing changed. The wand had stopped calling to Hermione, so she assumed it was not for her, and was glad nothing bad had happened.
'I guess I'm less destructive that Severus' she sighed, letting the hand that clenched the wand down gracefully. But unfortunately, this was not the case. A dull crack was heard and the group turned to face the noise. In the middle of the shop's display window was a fracture around the size of the wand Hermione was holding. The rupture grew, spreading out on the glass like a spider's web, each intricate fissure leading to another. It expanded, creaking and cracking as the situation worsened. With cold fear, Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before the whole display shattered - either out onto the street, or into the shop.
The unimaginably loud warning came seconds too late to the patrons walking the street outside as both windows detonated, sending millions of tiny, lethal shards towards each witch, wizard and child who were too shocked to do anything.
Hermione stood, the poisonous weapon still clutched in her trembling hand as she watched in horror at the scene. Parents hurriedly checking their children for damage, elderly wizards staring at her in shock and confusion, wands flicking around as people all shouted the same words. The sight was hidden once again, though, as Twiggy conjured another thick blurred glass for the window frames.
The wand was snatched by Mr Ollivander, who was uttering words she could not hear and she stood dumbfounded, trying to grasp the situation.
"Dear, don't worry. That happen's at least once a decade," the shopkeeper placated, patting her on the shoulder, having safely tucked away the destructive wand, "Now, this one is a lot less violent. Yes, Rosewood and Unicorn Hair, 9 inches. Perfect for the pure of heart and beautiful, very floral. You could master any household spell with this girl," he nodded, handing it over to a reluctant Hermione, who was still throughly shaken from the earlier incident.
She weighed this one again in her hand, but this time it felt different, feeble and weak-minded, like anyone could just snatch it off her. It had no fight, no passion. She swished it gently in accordance with it's personal style, but failed to conjure more than a dish cloth. Again, the wand was taken from her by a muttering Ollivander, who seemed to get more excited the longer it took to find her wand.
Again and again, Ollivander snatched a wand away only to replace it with another, but after nine attempts, a wand still hadn't chosen her. They had gotten through the stack of boxes he had first compiled for her, when she sighed frustratedly.
"Don't fret dear, the perfect match will be somewhere in here," he reassured, though he didn't seem to convinced himself.
"Maybe it's a mistake and I'm not really magical," said Hermione, a devastated gleam in her eyes. Hermione saw Lily and Severus frown at this remark, and her mother look at her sympathetically, but that did nothing to improve her mood.
"No no, you are most certainly magical, my dear, you see the problem is you have several different types of power in your magic, and they have waged war in your heart. We need to find you a wand that will accommodate the peculiarity of your magic and help it grow," Mr. Ollivander said, emerging from behind a shelf, "Vine and Phoenix Feather, 10 1/3 inch," he added, holding out the wand for Hermione to take.
Her stomach was doing flip-flops as she wrapped her fingers daintily around the stunning wand and lifted it. She knew, almost immediately, that this wand had chosen her; the warmth spread from her fingertips to her shoulder then right through her body. Instinctively, she raised it until the tip was in her eyesight, then brought it swishing down, expelling the refreshing and homely feelings that the wood had provoked. Vibrant gold and red sparks shot from the tip, illuminating the dim, dusty shop for a few moments, and Hermione squealed at the feeling of finding a wand which accepted her magic.
"Congratulations, Miss Evans, I hope your wand serves you well," Mr Ollivander grinned, passing the box over to her mother, "Do be careful with it though; it should bring you great things if you use it wisely. Very powerful, is that wand, makes learning almost facile, but it tends to take on a mind of it's own if ever is so desires, so watch out for that. The girls' wands will be 14 galleons all together then, thank you."
Mrs Evans handed over the money, thanked the elderly man and ushered her girls out of the shop to follow Eileen.
"Do you like my wand, I think it's really pretty, and it's tall like me!" Lily gushed, passing the wood over to Hermione. It was straight, just like her sister's hair, and had a feeling of protectiveness surrounding it.
"It's great Lils,"
"Yeah, well I heard Mrs Snape talking and we're going to that magical mangery place that sells pets!"
"Wow, like magical pets?"
"Yeah, Sev said there's owls, snakes, rats, toads and all sorts!"
"Groovy, I wonder whether mum'll let is get one?"
"I don't know, she might not want us to, you know, cause of Tuney..." Lily trailed off, letting the conversation hang as they stepped into the last shop of the day.
The place was cramped, noisy and fetid, every inch of space filled by a cage. Hermione spun on the spot, her senses invaded by the putrid mix of animal food, droppings and dirty cages. It seemed to sell all kinds of animals, and each label boasted a strange and unique quality for every pet: poisonous orange snails, the giant, jewel-encrusted tortoise, sleek, black rats immune to infection, owl, ravens, cats of every colour, shape and size, a Puffskein - whatever that was, a transforming rabbit and many more. Immediately repelled by the scurrying creatures that scraped at their prison, Hermione turned her back to the wall of rodents and reptiles; she always had been a mammal sort of girl.
"Look over there, Mione," said Lily, pointing towards the counter of the dim shop, "you've always wanted a kitten."
The twins and Severus made there way over to the corner of the room, where a bespectacled witch was showing a man and a child the new kittens. Hermione could hear mewing from where she stood, so she walked up to the metal bars.
"Have you met anyone who'll be in our year yet?" Severus asked as they walked towards the giant, box-like cage full of babies. The top was open, leaving space for the other customers to peer down into the box, and Hermione saw there were only two left. The cage cast shadows over them, and they were hard to see.
"No, just that nice man from the robe shop," Lily replied, stroking the soft white fur of an owl through the bars of it's cage.
"I did. There was this boy called Remus and another annoying boy, but he didn't say his name. They looked around our age."
"Really? I can't wait to go to Hogwarts!" Severus sighed, "I really want to be in Slytherin, that's where the wand maker said I should be. You'll come with me, won't you?"
"We'll try, Sev, but I though you said that houses were a very personal thing?"
"Yeah, but I bet you could ask to be sorted with me."
"We'll try." Lily stated, ending the awkward discussion.
Hermione startled when a loud yelp was heard. She turned her attention back to the kitten box where one of the cats from below was hissing and jumping, and the man who has seemingly tried to grab the kitten was clutching his wrist in pain. Three bloody scratches that had been trailed down the back of his hand were bleeding lightly, and Hermione knew that he must've aggravated the poor creature.
"Bloody menace!" he roared, grabbing his son's hand and storming out of the shop.
Hermione, who could see the poor kitten's distress, leant into the cage and grabbed it, stroking the soft fur of the little baby which fit snuggly in her arms. It was an orange, fluffy tuft of fur, no more than three months old. His face looked squashed, like he had run headlong into a brick wall, and he had a bottlebrush tail, bandy little legs, and amber-y yellow eyes. His squashed face endeared Hermione to him even more, and she walked gently - so as not to disturb him - over to the black-haired woman behind the counter, whose glasses had fallen to the tip of her nose.
"How much is this little man?" she asked, cooing at the affectionate kitten as he begun to purr in her arms.
"Miss, I wouldn't advice buying him, he's been here two months now and he's attacked everyone he's met. No one wants him..."
"Well, I do. Does he have a name?"
"We've started to call him Crookshanks."
"And how much is he?"
"To get rid of him? 10 Sickles."
"I'll take him."
Lily showed Hermione the owl she had decided to buy, and called her mother over to see them both. Having seen the flat-faced kitten in her daughter's hands, Holly proclaimed it was perfect for her and quickly paid for the kitten, along with her twin's owl and cages for both creatures.
"I think we're going to be just fine at Hogwarts," Hermione told her pet, kissing him soundly and placing him in his carrier before making her way back down the cobbled street of Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron, where Twiggy tapped the bricks again, walked them straight through the dingy pub and out onto the dank and shadowy streets of London.
'One more week,' Hermione thought as they made their way back to the train station, hands now laden with equipment for the new school year.
Her new life as a witch had officially begun, but all she could do till then was dream, dream of magic.
Okay Puddings,
I hope you liked it! Review please in the little box which says review and hopefully return when the next instalment (The train ride and maybe a tad more) arrives.
To my Guest reviewer: In little old England, there is a strange division called the north/south divide. In the north, people are perhaps considered more working class, and down south everyone is apparently posh and rude. I live in the Midlands - the middle of the country - so I have a tidbit of both. I don't know about America, but posh people in England tend to draw out their words a bit more and mould them together, whereas northerners are more bitty. Hope that explains it... (:
Tank Ou for Reading,
Emmy. x