The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Rose's birthday dawned with a beautiful sunrise, though she wasn't awake to see it. She'd stayed up late the previous night looking over the two sheets of parchment that comprised her acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Mainly she was looking over the equipment list, thinking about what sort of things she could learn about in A History of Magic or Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. She wondered how big a "standard size 2" cauldron was? Was it as big as Aunt Petunia's biggest pot? Or was is as small as the saucepan that her aunt used to make gravy? She had so many questions and was so anxious that she overslept and was awoken not by the sunrise, or even her alarm clock, but by her cousin Dudley.
"Wake up birthday girl," said Dudley as he gently pushed Rose's blanket-covered form and then jumped back to get out of the range of her arms.
When she didn't attempt to smack him away he stepped back to her bed and pushed harder this time, "Rose, wake up!"
Again, he jumped back to keep from getting hit by his younger cousin's flailing arm as she awoke, and again, he was disappointed when the expected response didn't come.
"Are you even alive?" he asked quietly before taking another step forward and pushing much harder. He let out an "eep" of surprised when his push rolled her off her bed and onto the floor. Realizing that falling to the floor would surely wake his cousin up, he turned and bolted out of her bedroom before she could retaliate.
Rose woke as she hit the floor, and heard her cousin run out of her bedroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. "Dudley!" she shouted as she used her bed to push herself up off the floor. Once standing, she brushed her hair back out of her eyes and glared at the open door. "One day, Dudders," she said coldly, "Once I've learned some magic, you are going to pay for that. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday, when you're least expecting it, you will get what's coming to you."
She then chuckled, grabbed her bathrobe from the hook on her closet door, and made her way to the bathroom. A quick shower, and then about twice as long to get her hair into something resembling a ponytail, which required more hairspray than she'd care to admit and two dozen bobby pins, for, although her hair was the same color as her mother's, it still held the same unruly properties that had plagued the Potters since time immemorial. She then made sure she had her makeup on right. Since starting primary school five years before, this had consisted of careful application of foundation and concealer on her forehead, mostly obscuring her scar. With the addition of a side swept fringe of her auburn hair, it took a lot of work for someone to see her least liked yet most distinctive feature. She finally left the bathroom and headed back to her bedroom, to put on some nice clothes — a simple white blouse and a waist length navy skirt as well as some comfortable trainers and a heather grey hooded sweatshirt. Once dressed, she headed down to breakfast nearly three quarters of an hour after Dudley had pushed her out of bed.
Petunia lead her son and niece out of the Tube station and out onto Charing Cross, "Now, let's stay together. I know my mum and dad said it was just a few blocks from here, but since I've never gone…" She looked around, then with a shrug, lead the the two eleven year olds north, away from the Thames, and hopefully, towards the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley.
As they were about to cross a street to what looked like a block full of bookstores, Rose stopped and pointed at a building across the way, "Is that it?"
Petunia looked askance at where Rose was pointing. It took a couple of seconds, but finally, in what had at first appeared to be a small utility alley between a bookstore and a record store, an ancient looking pub appeared, sandwiched between. It looked at least a hundred years old, possibly two or three times that. After all the fires and bombings that London had endured over that period of time, Petunia was surprised it hadn't been rebuilt at least once. She guessed that was just the power of magic. "Looks like," she said with a nod, "Can't believe I didn't see it at first."
"See what?" asked a confused Dudley.
"The Leaky Cauldron," answered Rose. "It's right there between that bookstore on the corner and that record store. Looks a bit out of place, though, like it hasn't changed since the Civil War."
"What, like Oliver Cromwell?" asked Dudley, who'd never been really good at school.
"Yes, like Oliver Cromwell, what, did you think I was talking about the American Civil War?" asked Rose with a chuckle. "Or perhaps the Spanish Civil War? Lincoln or Franco, Dudders?"
"Rose, there's no need to make fun of your cousin," admonished Petunia. "Just because he'd rather play football or rugby than study doesn't mean you can make fun of him for it."
"Well, what can I make fun of him for?" asked Rose.
Petunia tried not to chuckle, "It might be best if you didn't make fun of Dudley at all, Rose. Just like he shouldn't make fun of you," The second part she directed more towards her son than her sister's daughter. "So, shall we?"
The trio walked across the street and up to the door of the Leaky Cauldron. Rose and Petunia with confidence, Dudley with uncommon wariness. It wasn't until Petunia pulled her son through the door of the wizarding pub that Dudley finally saw it.
"Hello, I'm Tom," said the bald, slightly hunched man behind the bar, "And welcome to the Leaky Cauldron. Just passing through to Diagon Alley?"
Rose nodded, "I'm getting my books for Hogwarts." She smiled, and said confidently, "It's my first year, and I've been looking forward to it."
Tom looked from Rose to Petunia, "Quite the enthusiastic young witch you've got there."
"She's my niece," qualified Petunia, "And Severus, that is, Professor Snape, said that someone would be able to let us into the Alley proper, since only my sister was a witch in the family. Well, other than Rose here."
"Rose?" asked Tom. He did the mental math in his head, and compared the young witch to his memory, "As is Rose Potter?"
Rose nodded, then asked, "Yep, did you know my mum?"
Tom shook his head, "Didn't know her very well. Her and your dad were infrequent but regular customers after they graduated, though they disappeared right after you were born, went into hiding from You-Know-Who."
"Who?" asked Rose, confused.
"You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," further explained Tom.
Dudley, who had just gotten over his confusion at going into a pub he couldn't see until his mother had pulled him into it, continued the running gag, "We don't know who, and if you can't name him, then we'll never know who he is."
"Was," said an older witch, sitting at the bar, "The Dark Lord was killed nearly a decade ago, when he tried to kill you." She was pointing at Rose.
"He killed my parents," said Rose softly.
"But he couldn't kill you," the woman said with a smile. She then stood, holding her pint of bitter up in a toast, "To Rose Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived!"
"Rose Potter!" said the dozen or so other patrons in the bar, echoing the toast. One, a thin, swarthy man in a dirty turban near the back of the pub, stuttered out, "R-r-rose P-p-pot-t-ter."
"Um, thanks," said Rose, blushing slightly. "But, I've really got to get my school books and stuff."
"Oh, of course," said Tom with an admonished look on his face, "You're practically muggle-born. I'll get the wall for you."
"Wall?" asked Rose softly to her aunt as the three of them followed Tom around the bar to the back door of the pub. The walk took longer than expected, since a couple of the patrons wanted to shake her hand and thank her.
Dudley was jealous because nobody cared about him, a rare occurrence since his father would usually boast about something or another he'd done. Without Vernon around, Dudley was just Rose Potter's muggle cousin, and of little, if any, consequence. He didn't like it, but since it was her birthday, he didn't say anything.
Petunia, Dudley, and Rose were all amazed when Tom tapped a brick on the back wall of the pub and an opening grew into an archway into a fantastic vista. The shops, while looking a bit younger than the Leaky Cauldron itself, looked to be of a style of the late nineteenth century, not the turn of the twenty-first. They also sold fantastic wares, from potion ingredients to robes, wands to owls. It was obviously not an ordinary street.
"Dad would hate this," said Dudley softly.
"Not an ordinary shop in sight," agreed Rose. "You're right Dudders, Uncle Vernon would hate this place."
Petunia chuckled. Twenty years ago she was too jealous of her sister to come, and then was too jealous of her sister to come back after hearing Lily and their parent's tales of Diagon Alley. Now, seeing it herself, she kicked herself for being so immature. She loved her husband, but she did have to admit, "Vernon would hate this, but, since he's not here, let's enjoy ourselves, shall we?"
Rose and Dudley looked to Petunia, then raced down the alley, dodging stalls and shoppers as they ran.
"Don't go too far!" shouted Petunia, as she made her way, at a more sedate and civilized pace, after her son and niece.
After spotting a bookstore, Petunia called down the alleyway, "Rose, Dudley, get over here right this instant!" When, after she didn't see nor hear the children, she shouted, "Dudley Vernon Dursley! Rose Dorea Potter! Get over right now!"
Ten seconds later Rose, followed closely by her cousin, broke through the crowd of shoppers and stopped, panting, before Petunia.
"We need to get the prices of your books before we can go to the bank, so no wandering off."
"Awww mum," said Dudley.
"Awww Aunt Petunia," echoed Rose.
"No, you already ran off once, and didn't come back when I called, so, this is your punishment."
Once the crowd finally dispersed after hearing the name of the Girl-Who-Lived, the three of them went calmly (at least, as calmly as a pair of eleven year olds and their parent/aunt can be) into Flourish and Blotts.
"Can I help you?" asked a salesman, who looked to be a few years younger than Petunia.
"I'm looking for first year Hogwarts textbooks. My niece is going there this year and I need to know how much to pull out of her vault to pay for them," replied Petunia. Behind her Dudley and Rose were gazing at the titles spelt out in gilt lettering on the spines of the books that were stacked on the shelves, staying close to the relative normalcy of family.
"Ah, well, are you getting the full set, or are you just getting the updated volumes?" asked the salesman.
"The full set," replied Petunia. "My sister's books are… unavailable at the moment, so my niece won't be able to use them."
"Good, good," said the salesman. He took out a sheet of parchment, and with a wave of his hand it was covered in writing. "This is out price lists. The first number is the price of a new volume, the second is the least expensive price of one of our used books. Since the Defense professor is new this year," and he added sotto voce, "aren't they always," before retuning to a normal voice, "we don't have any used copies of that book."
Petunia looked over the parchment, half amazed by the fact that she was actually reading something off of parchment, and the other half amazed by the odd pricing. "Um, I know wizards have their own money, but I don't exactly understand the symbols."
"Ah, a muggle, we get a few of you every year. The first number, the one after the crossed fleam," he began to explain, pointing to an example of the character, which looked like an upside-down two with a bit of extra curve and a crossbar like some people wrote in their 7's or Z's. "That's how many galleons it costs. Those are the small gold coins. The sext symbol, after the number above the slash, is the sickle symbol." The described symbol looked like a rotated 3 with an extra zig-zag at the bottom, giving it two points below the curved part. "There's seventeen sickles to a galleon, and they're the silver coins about an inch across. The last bit is the number of knuts, that's K N U T. Those are represented by the triquetra. Twenty-nine knuts in a sickle, and they're the big bronze coins, a bit bigger than the sickle. The sickle symbol and the triquetra for the knuts are usually only used when the cost is less than a galleon, otherwise they're just written as sickles-slash-knuts after the galleons."
Most of the books were in the three to four galleon range, though the used books were less than a galleon.
Petunia tried to wrap her mind around the description the wizarding money, but eventually her mind realized that it wouldn't happen, and that she'd just have to let the younger and more nimble mind of her niece figure everything out. In the meantime she'd just round everything up a galleon and let Rose keep the change. "Thanks," she mumbled, before turning and, still reading over the price list, leading the children out of the bookstore and down the alley to the bank.
Rose and Dudley were crowded into the front of the goblin mine car, with Petunia sitting behind them, knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the goblin vehicle.
Rose had been overjoyed when she'd finally caught sight of the large marble edifice of Gringotts, while Petunia was more amazed by the goblins themselves. For her son and niece the goblins weren't that odd — Rose had even compared them to Yoda — though Petunia had wished they looked more like David Bowie's Goblin King than a bunch of Oompa-Loompas.
"What's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?" asked Dudley as the cart rushed through a cavern that was full of the rocky protuberances.
"An 'M'?" guessed Rose, too intent on memorizing the wondrous experience to answer a question from her cousin.
"A stalagmite is on the floor, and is 'mighty' for holding up the ceiling, while a stalactite is on the ceiling and has to hold on 'tight' or fall off," explained Petunia. While she hadn't actually gone to University, having married Vernon and fallen into her role of housewife, and eventually mother, before her twenty-first birthday, she'd had wanted to go into one of the sciences, geology being one of her favorite subjects. After being soundly rejected from Hogwarts she, in typical fashion for a teenager, tried to be everything Lily wasn't, and since Lily was a witch, Petunia wanted to be a scientist.
"Oh, thanks mum," said Dudley, not really expecting anyone, let alone his mother, to give him an answer to the idle question.
As the cart slowed to a stop, the three humans looked around. The tunnel they were in was long and dark, with the only light being a torch burning a bright blue flame in front of each of the perhaps dozen small doors along the passage, with over twenty feet between the doors, which alternated different sides of the track.
"Wow, how far down are we?" asked Rose.
"As you can see, we're in the six hundreds," said the Goblin, stepping out of the cart and gesturing at the golden number '687' on the small metal door.
"Ah, that tells me everything, and yet, still nothing at all," replied Rose with a roll of her eyes as she climbed out of the cart herself onto the rocky ledge outside the vault.
"Don't be so sarcastic, young lady," admonished Petunia, who was still gripping the sides of the cart.
"You coming mum?" asked Dudley, following his cousin out of the cart.
Petunia just shook her head, "I'm not getting out until we're back at the surface. And next time," she turned to look at Rose, "You're coming down here alone. I don't ever want to do this again."
"Aw, it was like, the best roller coaster ever!" exclaimed Dudley at his mother's defamation.
"Exactly," replied Petunia, slightly green.
Rose just smiled, "Thank sfor coming down anyway, Aunt Petunia." She then turned to look at the goblin, "So, how exactly does this work?"
The goblin held out his hand, "Your key?"
Rose looked over her shoulder at her aunt. Petunia reluctantly removed her hands from the side of the cart, extracted the key Severus had given her from her purse, and handed it to Rose, who passed it along to the goblin.
The goblin stepped up, and unlocked the vault door, "Will you be needing a bag, or did you have your own?"
Rose glanced at her aunt, before looking back at the goblin, "I'll take a bag if you're offering."
The goblin extracted a canvas sack from one of the pockets on his waistcoat — a pocket that didn't look nearly large enough to hold the small being's hands, let alone a sack as large as a pillow case. Once Rose had the bag, the goblin (she thought he'd been called Griphook but wasn't sure) pulled open the door.
Green smoke came billowing out of the vault as the door swung open. Rose jumped out of the path of the cloud, while Dudley was more interested in the rest of the passage as she was caught and started coughing. Once the smoke cleared Rose peeked into the vault. Inside there were mounds three feet high of the tiny gold coins, galleons, dozens of carefully stacked silver sickles, and a couple of heaps of the bronze knuts.
"Wow," said Rose softly.
Dudley, finally over his smoke induced coughing, stepped up behind Rose and looked over his cousin's shoulder at the vault, "Holy sh-"
"Dudley, language!" exclaimed Petunia, interrupting her son's attempt at blasphemy.
"Sorry mum," blushed Dudley, "but it is an awful lot of coins. How much did you say they were worth?"
The goblin looked at the pudgy muggle, and replied with disdain, "Each galleon can be exchanged for approximately seventeen of your Pounds."
"Holy sh–"
"Dudley, language!" exclaimed Petunia again. "You say that word one more time and I'll wash your mouth out with soap and you'll not be getting any supper tonight."
"Aw, mum!" whined Dudley. While not as fat as he could have been had his mother not doted equally on him and his cousin, he was still his father's son, and so still enjoyed a larger than average, or was particularly healthy, amount of food.
"He's right," replied Rose, finally stepping into the vault. She knelt down and carefully removed a handful of the gold galleons of the top of one of the mounds. She didn't expect them to be so heavy, each one was heavier than a penny, and those were much larger, though not as large as the gigantic knuts. She opened her hand and guessed that there were at least three dozen coins in her small hands. She looked up and showed her hand to her aunt, who was still a couple of meters away sitting in the cart, "I've got about three dozen galleons right here. Thats… twenty times thirty-six, minus three times thirty-six… seven twenty minus… seventy two and thirty six, which is one hundred eight… so that's seven twenty minus one-oh-eight… six hundred twelve. Six hundred twelve pounds in the palm of my hand."
Dudley let out a low whistle, "Wow Rose, you're rich. There's got to be over a million pounds in there."
"At last count," commented Griphook, who was still waiting patiently with the vault door in hand, waiting to close it, "Miss Potter had five million, seven hundred thirty-five thousand, two hundred fifty-three galleons; two hundred forty-seven thousand, three hundred ninety-two sickles; and seven hundred eighty-one thousand, nine hundred twenty-five knuts."
"Five million?" asked Rose, as she leaned on the wall of the vault in surprise.
"Five million, seven hundred thirty-five thousand, two hundred fifty-three galleons to be exact ma'am," corrected the goblin. "One must be both precise and accurate at Gringotts."
"That's nearly a hundred million pounds!" exclaimed Dudley, who while not the smartest student in his year, his cousin took that adulation quite handedly, was quick enough to do the simple math of five times twenty. "You're bloody rich!"
"Dudley, language!" exclaimed Petunia for the third time. "You've just bought yourself a soup supper young man."
"Aw, mum! I didn't say the s-word at all!" complained Dudley at the unfairness of his mother's punishment.
"He's right Aunt Petunia. He didn't say the s-word, and you said that he'd only get punished if he said the s-word for a third time," noted Rose, still holding the handful of galleons.
"Alright," admitted Petunia. "You're both right, it's not fair for me to change your punishment like that. So, I'll just state, right now, that if I hear any bad language, from either of you, for the rest of the trip, then you'll both get your mouths washed out and go to bed without supper."
"But I haven't said anything!" exclaimed Rose. "Why should I get punished if Dudley says a bad word?"
"You either hang together or hang separately, my dear," replied Petunia, mangling a quote from Ben Franklin.
"What?" asked Dudley, confused. "I thought you were just going to wash out our mouths. Who said anything about hanging? I don't want to get hanged… hung… whatever."
"She means that we need to stick together, rely on each other, support each other, or we'll get punished right next to each other. It's an American saying, I think. I saw it one of the books in the library," explained Rose.
"Are you done here, Miss Potter?" asked Griphook, still holding the vault door open.
"Oh, sorry," said Rose, her face becoming the color of her name as she blushed in embarrassment. She dropped the handful of coins she'd been holding into the bag, then grabbed another few of handfuls, just in case. "My parents sure were rich."
"This is just your trust fund, Miss Potter. As the Potter Heir, when you come into your full inheritance as Lady Potter you'll have access to all of the Potter Vaults," corrected Griphook.
"Vaults, as in plural? Just how rich were my parents?" asked Rose as she stepped out of her vault, the sack heavy with the nearly full gross of galleons she'd dropped into it.
"Did I stutter?" asked Griphook snidely. "Yes, Miss Potter, vaults. The Potters have held vaults at Gringotts since before Hogwarts was founded, yours is but one among many, traditionally held by the Potter heir, though I fear that you will be the last." As the goblin talked of the Potters, he closed and locked the vault.
"Wow," said Rose softly, repeating herself from when Griphook had opened the vault. "What do you mean by the last Potter heir? What about my children?"
"Ah, but they won't be Potters, will they?" asked Griphook. "They'll be of whatever line your husband belongs to. The end of yet another of the old families, like the Peverells and the Gaunts." The goblin then held out the vault key for Rose, "Your key, Miss Potter."
"Thank you," Rose said absently as she took the key and put it into the bag with the galleons, before stepping back onto the cart with her aunt and cousin, as well as Griphook.
The aforementioned goblin released the break lever, and the cart resumed its wild ride, rising back to the surface, though still reminding Rose and the Dursleys of a roller coaster.
The first stop for the Dursleys and Rose after leaving Gingotts was back where they'd been before. Rose had insisted on all new books, while Petunia was more hesitant.
"Aunt Petunia, you heard the goblin, I'm rich. Ten galleons isn't going to make much of a dent in those piles of gold, and you've always told me it's important to make a good first impression. Would you rather that impression be of a girl who had to scrimp and save for every penny, or knut in this case? Or would you rather it be of a confident young woman who didn't have to sacrifice where quality was important?" asked the newly eleven year old witch of her aunt.
Petunia sighed, "All right, it's your money anyway, and I know that your father, even though I barely knew him, would have been of the same opinion. Nothing was ever too good for his wife, and nothing would ever be too good for his daughter." Petunia smiled and added, "Now, if you were a bit more like your mother, you'd have a couple more books in that pile."
"Hogwarts probably has a massive library," countered Rose. "Plus, I still need to get Dudders something."
Petunia shook her head, "Getting your cousin a present on your birthday. It should be the other way around."
Rose just shrugged, "It's barely been a month since his birthday, and I was only able to get him that video game because you and Uncle Vernon gave me the money. So, now I'm going to get him a present from me."
Petunia just sighed, "At least one of you is growing up."
Dudley, who was looking through a book on pranks he'd found, looked up at his mother's comment, "Hey, I'm older than she is. If either of us is going to be growing up first, it's going to be me."
Rose chuckled, "Dudders, don't you know that girls grow up faster than boys? Plus, I don't think you can use that book."
"No," said Dudley with a sigh. "They all require a wand, but it did give me a few ideas for things to do at Smeltings."
Petunia looked shocked, "Dudley! What would your father say?"
"Don't get caught?" answered Dudley hesitantly.
Rose giggled, "Yeah, that sounds like Uncle Vernon."
Petunia just rolled her eyes as her son returned the wizarding prank book it the shelf and her niece collected her new books from the same salesman who had helped them before their visit to Rose's vault. Once they were outside she looked up and down the alley, "So, where now?"
"Well, I was thinking…" began Rose.
"That's dangerous," commented Dudley.
Rose lightly punched her cousin in the arm before continuing, "As I was saying. I think I should get my wand first. Can't do any magic without a wand, can I?"
Petunia sighed, remembering how she'd been terrorized by Lily and Severus with their wands twenty years ago when she'd been particularly nasty to them. "I think Lily said the wand shop was called Ollivanders. I hope they're still around."
The three of them looked up and down the alley before Dudley pointed up at a sign about five storefronts down. "Ollivanders: Makes of Fine Wands Since Three Eighty-Two B.C.," he read. He then added with a smile, "Don't think there's much of a chance of them going out of business then, eh?"
Petunia just rolled her eyes and sighed as the three of them made their way down to the dusty storefront.
"Don't look that busy," said Dudley.
"Well, your Aunt Lily only ever got the one wand, I guess witches and wizards really only need one. Can't imagine how he stays open getting the new students each year as his only customers," said Petunia in response.
"Well, what was it that you told me, Aunt Petunia, 'Wizards do things differently'? This could be one of those things. They use real gold and silver coins, so perhaps they don't have the same," she paused, thinking of the right word, "economic," she guessed, trying to remember the word she'd read in the family's old encyclopedia, then continued, "problems as normal people."
"Well, we won't be getting done any quicker standing round looking at some old wand on an old cushion that should have been replaced before you both were born," Petunia rambled with a nod. She then lead her son and niece into the small shop. Aside from a rather fragile looking stool, the only things in the shop were the shelves full of long, thin boxes. "I suppose those are all wands," Petunia said, looking up and realizing that the room was much taller than an average shop's.
"That they are," came the sudden voice of a kindly looking old man. Like most wizards he was wearing a long robe, which Rose thought looked a bit like what she saw judges wear on the telly, but more comfortable. Not a dress, since it wasn't cut right for that, and even wizards wouldn't wear dresses, would they?
"I'm here for my wand," said Rose tentatively. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that her aunt and cousin were also surprised by the shopkeeper's sudden appearance.
Mr. Ollivander smiled, "Yes, I would expect so. I've been waiting for you to come in. There was talk in the alley that you were here, and since it's your birthday, I had hoped you had finally come for your wand."
"You know it's my birthday?" asked Rose hesitantly.
"I daresay that every witch and wizard in Britain knows that it's Rose Potter's eleventh birthday. When you disappeared, after your parents death, some had thought you'd been lost to us, but I knew you'd be here one day to find your wand. Or shall I say, have your wand find you."
"What?" asked Dudley.
"Don't mind my cousin," said Rose with a glare over her shoulder. "What did you mean, having my wand find me?"
"The wand chooses the witch, you see," said Ollivander. "Come, come, I need to measure you."
Rose stepped forward, beginning to unzip her hoodie, before Ollivander shook his head.
"No, you can leave it on, it shan't interfere," the old wizard said, before taking out a tape measure from somewhere and stretching it along her right arm. He released it and stepped back as the magical tape began measuring her left arm as well.
"Wicked," said Dudley from the edge of the shop, where he stood beside Petunia. Rose had guessed that they had both felt the magic in the air of the small shop and could only come so far.
"Which arm is your wand arm?" asked Ollivander as he noted the measurements the tape was taking, now the length of Rose's left pinky, on a sheet of parchment.
"Um, well, I throw better with my left, but I write with my right," said Rose, unsure if the comparison would hold true. "Oh, when we did archery at camp they said my right eye was dominant, so I always held the bow in my right hand."
"Right then," said Ollivander as the tape began to measure various distances on Rose's face.
She went rather cross-eyed as she watched it measure the length of her nose, before measuring the distance between her nostrils.
"Now, your mother — whom you tend to take after in your looks — seems like just yesterday she was here for her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches, willow, rather swishy. Excellent for charms. Your father, you have his eyes, his was longer, eleven inches of mahogany. Pliable rather than your mother's swish, more of a transfiguration focused wand," explained Ollivander as he jotted down the final measurements, which seemed to be, oddly enough, Rose's height of four foot eight.
"Done sir?" asked Rose as Ollivander collected the magical tape measure with a wave of his hand.
"Not in the least. That was the easy part, allowing me to whittle down the options a bit," explained Ollivander as he looked over the parchment. "See, every wand has a magical core, I favor unicorn hairs, dragon heartstrings, and phoenix feathers in the ones I make, but there are other options on the Continent or the New World. Combined with the wood, and length of course, gives a great many options for your wand. These," and he hefted the parchment, "will allow me to figure out which wands would be best suited to picking you."
"Ah," said Rose, not understanding in the least.
Mr. Ollivander tapped the quill — which Rose was still amused about, actual quills when biros were so cheap — against his chin. With a wave of his hand that looked more Jedi than wizard, a wand box came off of one of the low shelves near where her aunt and cousin stood. Mr. Ollivander caught it and opened it, revealing a rather plain looking wand on a muslin cushion inside the cardboard box, "Here we go. Nine inches, oak, with a unicorn core." He presented the wand to Rose, who took it carefully.
"Um?" asked Rose as she held what not a month ago she'd call a stick in her hand.
Ollivander took the wand back before she could do anything with it, "No, no." He boxed the wand and set it on the stool next to him. "Perhaps…"
The wand boxes flew off the shelves and into the wizard's hand as he tried to find Rose's wand. Dudley at first leaned against the doorframe, but eventually sat on the floor after the first dozen. While Petunia didn't sit down, she was leaning on the doorframe by the second dozen.
"Thirteen, yew, dragon," said Ollivander, compacting his description as he tried yet another wand in Rose's hand with a manic smile on his face. He snatched it back mere seconds after placing it there, like almost every wand so far. "Tricky, tricky."
"It's all right Mr. Ollivander. Perhaps my wand isn't here," said Rose, defeated.
"No, you're just a bit more special," the older man said. He paused, tapping his chin in thought, "Perhaps. Your scar, I hadn't factored that into the arithmancy."
"My scar?" asked Rose.
"Yes, I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that caused it, back in the forties. It was just after the War, Grindelwald was defeated, the muggles had triumphed over their enemies as well. A bright time for the world, both our worlds. Thirteen and a half inches, yew, with a phoenix feather core. A powerful wand, very powerful. If I'd known…"
"Wands don't kill people, wizards do," said Rose, adapting a non-wizarding saying she'd read in an article after that deadly shooting in America a few years back.
"Admirable thought, but without a wand, a wizard is much less powerful," explained Ollivander. "As I was saying, perhaps there is a link." He gestured, and a wand box flew down from a dim reaches of the top of one of the shelves in the store. It flew down and landed gently in Mr. Ollivander's hand. With a puff a breath, it was cleared of the fine layer of dust, "Ah, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Nice and supple, a good wand for any magic."
Rose carefully took the wand out of the box Ollivander presented to her, and felt an odd humming in the back of her mind that she'd never felt before, and a warmth in her fingers. With a smirk she gripped the wand lightly, and then swished it through the air. Sparks shot from the end, forcing Mr. Ollivander to duck to escape.
"Wicked," exclaimed Dudley, who had seen the first interesting thing in the shop, discounting the magic tape measure and the flying wand boxes because he'd seen those sort of things in movies, but handheld pyrotechnics were new to him.
"Interesting," said Mr. Ollivander as he closed the lid of the box and handed it to Rose, "Very interesting."
"Why?" asked Rose, who put her wand back into its box. She felt a slight sense of loss as she closed the lid.
"Well, as I was saying, His wand had a phoenix feather core, just as yours does. That phoenix, he only gave me two feathers to make into wands. The first was sold almost right away, but the second… I'd given up hope that it's witch would come. Your wands are siblings, and as such, I'd expect great things from you, Miss Potter. He did great things; evil things, dark things, but great nonetheless."
"Um," said Rose, uncertain.
"No matter, you are young yet, and have much to learn," Mr. Ollivander said with a smile. "Come, let us finish our transaction."
After finding Rose's wand, the rest of the day's shopping went quickly, Petunia and Rose being experts in the art. In addition to the books and supplies listed, Petunia had insisted that Rose get a trunk, "Witches don't use normal luggage. Your mother was made fun of her first year when she brought a load of suitcases to the train. A trunk is what you need. Don't know why, but if you're to make a good impression, you'll need a trunk."
The trunk in question was simple, even though the shop had quite extravagant options, some with multiple compartments, which Rose didn't quite understand how they worked, since they were all the same size as the trunk itself. Instead, Rose's new trunk, which was loaded with the books and potions supplies they'd already purchased, was sturdy, and had some casters for ease of transportation.
"What about my telescope?" asked Rose as they passed the shop for the third time that day.
Petunia smiled and let out a bit of a chuckle, "A collapsible telescope? Surely you jest." In addition to her knowledge of geology, Petunia had at one time been a bit of an astronomy enthusiast. It gave her something to do during the night when Dudley, and later Rose, were young and had woken her. "No, you'll be taking my old telescope. You don't have anything of your mother's, but at least you'll have something of mine," Petunia explained with a hug.
"So what's left?" asked Dudley, who, as the only male present, had been relegated to pulling the trunk.
"Well," said Rose, looking at the list she had in hand. She'd crossed off everything with her pen as they shopped. "Looks like I just have to get my robes, hat, and cloak."
"What exactly are robes? And why do witches and wizards wear them?" asked Dudley with a confused look on his face.
Rose discretely pointed to one of the passing witches, who was wearing what most people would assume was a light blue dress, though conservatively cut. "That's a robe, I looked it up in my dictionary a couple days ago. It's a cloak with arms that secures, either with buttons or in the case of non-magical robes, usually a zipper, up the front. Like the judges on the telly wear. Some of them, it seems, wear them over normal clothes, like that guy over there, you can see the collar of his shirt under his robes." She pointed to a younger wizard who was wearing a dark blue robe. The collar of a dress shirt, and even a hint of a tie, could be seen at his neck above the high collar of the robe itself. "Others, well, let's just say that I think they have some things in common with the Scots."
Dudley wore a confused expression, "What do wizards have to do with Scotland?"
"Aside from it being where Hogwarts is?" asked Petunia. She knew what Rose was talking about, since she had told her niece about what her own sister had told her parents nearly twenty years before.
"Some witches and wizards don't wear anything under their robes," said Rose with a blush. "Just like a Scotsman doesn't wear anything under his kilt."
Dudley looked no less confused as a blush gave his face a color closer to his cousin's auburn hair than its normal pallor.
Rose sniggered, "But that's mostly the older witches and wizards, and the pure…" She paused and looked at her aunt, unsure of the word.
"Purebloods dear," said Petunia. "The old magical families; much like our nobility, they obsess with the traditions of their world. Lily warned me about them, for they made of the bulk of the other side during the war you were born into, though there were some pureblood families on your parents' side as well, but not as many, or enough."
"So, who won?" asked Dudley, as blunt and tactless as was his father.
"I don't think it's a matter of winning," said Petunia, as she gave Rose a hug across the young witch's shoulders in comfort. "But, since Rose is going to Hogwarts, at least her parents' didn't die in vain. They may not have won, but they did not lose, and that, my young and incredibly rude son, is that last we'll talk about it today."
Dudley finally noticed the tear tracing its way down Rose's cheek, but not being the fastest thinker asked, "What'd I say?"
A few minutes later a less distraught Rose followed her aunt into a small shop, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
The eponymous Madam Malkin was a short and stout woman with a smiling face and conservatively cut mauve robes, "Ah, welcome, welcome. Come for your Hogwarts robes?"
Rose looked to her Aunt Petunia, who nodded, and then smiled wanly at the older witch, "Yeah, can I get my hat and cloak here too?"
Madam Malkin nodded, "I can get you the cloak, but for your hat you really should go down the alley to the milliner."
Rose looked up at Petunia, who replied softly, "Hat maker."
"Ah, thank you, so, how does this work?" asked Rose.
Madam Malkin turned and gestured, "Quite simple, really, come on back. I've got another customer who's getting fitted right now, but shan't be a problem."
Rose followed the witch, and Petunia and Dudley followed Rose, to the back of the shop, where a young boy, about the same age as Rose, perhaps a few months older, was standing on a stool as a robe was getting pinned to length by one of Madam Malkin's assistants.
"Just stand there and we'll get you fitted right up," said Madam Malkin, gesturing at an empty stool. She turned to look at Petunia, "Are you her mother?"
"Aunt," replied Petunia. "Her mother was rather petite," she continued, guessing why the seamstress was asking, "though her father was tall, so I'm not sure how she'll turn out."
"It's less of a concern the first year or two, but I hate having customers get replacements halfway through the year because I wasn't able to anticipate their needs," replied Madam Malkin, before turning and beginning her work.
Petunia, realizing that the fitting would take a while, smiled at Rose, "Your cousin and I still have a bit of shopping to do, it is your birthday after all. We'll come back in half an hour or so, so don't leave the shop."
"Yes Aunt Petunia," droned Rose as she stepped up onto the stool. At Madam Malkin's direction she unzipped her hoodie before pulling on a black robe that was longer in both arm and hem than was needed.
"Hello," said the blonde boy, "Heading to Hogwarts as well?"
Rose looked at the boy, "Uh, yeah."
The boy nodded, "My Father's next door buying my books, and Mother's down looking at wands."
"Oh, I just got mine," said Rose with a smile. "But I thought the wand picked the wizard?"
"Ah, Mother is quite knowledgeable in wandlore," explained the boy in a droll voice, as if he knew he was better than Rose. "After I find my wand, I'm going to drag them down to look at the racing brooks. I don't know why first years can't have them. I'll just have to figure out some way to smuggle one in."
"Ah," said Rose, who had just assumed it was something akin to how people couldn't drive until they knew how, but didn't speak up, not wanting to alienate a potential classmate.
The boy turned his head to look at Rose, "Do you have your own broom?"
Rose shook her head as Madam Malkin pinned up the hem of the robe to mid-ankle, "No."
"Have you played Quidditch?"
Rose shook her head again, "No." By the question Rose assumed Quidditch was a game played by wizards on brooms, and was a co-ed sport, not exclusive to witches or wizards.
"Well, I do have my own broom, and my father says that I'm a natural at Quidditch. He says that it's a crime if I won't play for my House," the boy said with an entitled tone. "Do you know what House you'll be in?"
"No," said Rose, continuing her one-word answers. She knew, at least, what the houses the snobbish boy was referring to were though. Aunt Petunia had told Rose about Gryffindor and Slytherin, the Houses her parents and Professor Snape, respectively, had been in. "Though, my parents were in Gryffindor," she added, hoping to not sound like an idiot.
The boy had a look of horror on his face at the admission, "Well, I just know I'm going to be in Slytherin; all my family's been there. I guess Gryffindor is better than Hufflepuff — I'd just leave if I was sorted there."
By now Rose had formed a solid picture of the young boy in her mind. Entitled, probably a pureblood from how he spoke, and his family was definitely from the side of the war that her parents had fought against. But, knowing that people weren't their parents, for she knew that for all his faults Dudley was a better person than Uncle Vernon, since he actually cared about Rose, she asked, "Are you a pureblood?"
The boy was confused at first, and then prideful, "But of course. The Malfoys have been pure for hundreds of years, and the Blacks on my mother's side as well." The young Malfoy then looked at the heap of the hooded sweatshirt that Rose had taken off for the robe fitting, "By the look of your apparel, I can assume that you, though, are not? I trust that at least both your parents were proper."
Rose scowled, "By proper you mean magical?" At Malfoy's nod, she continued, "Then yes, my mother and father both attended Hogwarts. My Aunt said that they were Head Boy and Girl their final year."
"Well, at least you're not a filthy mudblood," Malfoy said with a spit. "Father says that they shouldn't even allow mudbloods into Hogwarts. Imagine growing up, not knowing magic is real until you got your Hogwarts letter."
"By mudblood, you mean what? Remember, I wasn't raised in the magical world," Rose pointed out.
"Well, I guess you could call them muggle-born, that's the polite term," said Malfoy with a sneer. "Since your parents were magical, at least you're not a mud… uh, muggle-born."
"At least," said Rose with an unseen roll of her eyes.
"So…" said Malfoy thinking, "You parents were Head Boy and Girl, though one of them was muggle-born, based on your aunt." He paused, "Why are you here with your Aunt? Why bring a muggle to Diagon Alley when your parents are magical? And why were you raised as a muggle anyway?"
"They're dead," said Rose flatly.
"Oh, sorry," said Malfoy. For all the pureblood rhetoric his parents had given him, he had not been gifted with tact.
Madam Malkin stood up, "Ah, you're both done I see." She gestured at the fully pinned robes both Rose and Malfoy were wearing. With a wave of her wand the pins were removed from both robes and the hems were sewn. Another wave and two more robes for each Rose and Malfoy were brought into the air and hemmed to the same length as well. A third and final wave and the additional robes were folded and set down on a table. "Young Mr. Malfoy, we're done here, and I see your father has arrived."
Rose looked to the front of the store and noticed an aristocratic man with the same pale blond hair as his son. He was dressed impeccably, and stood with a cane in hand. Rose couldn't see where the books that he was supposed to get for his son were.
"Father," said the young Malfoy, stepping off the stool and running over.
"Draco," his father said, at which Draco slowed and walked in a dignified manner to his father's side.
"Just wait here dear, I'll be just a moment," Madam Malkin said to Rose before stepping away.
Rose couldn't hear what was said, but could hear gold changing hands. Then, suddenly, a small creature appeared next to the elder Malfoy. Draco's father then pointed the creature at the folded robes, which it gabbed before disappearing. Draco and his father then strode majestically out of the shop.
"Sorry about that dear, I tried to get him finished as quickly as possible," Madam Malkin admitted as she returned to Rose. "Now, let's get that robe off you and get the rest of your uniform fitted. Those muggle clothes simply won't do at all. I'll not have the last of the Potters ruining the lines of her robes with inferior workmanship. I dare say, are those off the rack?"
When Petunia and Dudley returned, with a large white owl in a cage, Rose was waiting with her three Hogwarts robes, her winter cloak, as well as a half dozen white blouses, three black ties, three grey v-neck woolen jumpers, one of them sleeveless, a half dozen knee-length grey skirts, a dozen folded black tights, and a pair of plain black shoes sitting on top. Madam Malkin had told Rose that the ties, jumpers and robes all had an "Affiliation Charm" which would decorate them with the appropriate House colors, and in the case of her robes, replace the generic Hogwarts crest with the House's, once she was sorted.
"Wow," said Dudley as he helped his cousin put her uniform into her trunk, "These are way cooler than my Smeltings uniform."
"Thanks for the owl Dudley," said Rose, hugging her cousin.
"Just make sure you send letters to mum and me," he replied, blushing.
Author's Note: First, thanks to Pelehnar, my Beta-reader, for her excellent work in helping me write a more cogent story.
I gave Rose a large inheritance because the Potters are known to be an old pureblood family and most of the old pureblood families shown are quite rich. As for the value of the contents, I assumed five mounds of gold coins (less than a half-dozen, but more than a couple). Each mound, as I wrote, is three feet tall, and a similar number of feet in radius. Rounding down, that gives seven hundred coins thick and fifty coins in radius. Another rounding gives six thousand coins as the base. Since the volume of a cone is a third of its base times its height, and with more rounding, gives a million or so coins per mound. From there I just made up interesting sound numbers (for the precise and accurate comment). After that it was just a simple matter of math to give £102,662,338.72 to an eleven year old girl.
Also, I'm using the movie version of the uniform, with the nice layered look, rather than just a robe over underwear, which is apparently what was described in the books (which is quite disturbing, as a vanishing spell on the robe would quickly give you a full view of the former wearing). I'm basing my interpretation on the PoA and later movies, which I think look a bit more refined than the PS and CoS uniforms.