Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings.

Chapter 11 – Introductions
posted August 8th, 2006

Wotcher Diary,

It has been almost a month, and I'm still not able to think about John as Harry Potter. On top of that, John had started to resume playing haunting pieces that tore at my heart, and the mental images I tried to draw of John as a wizard didn't work. I've drawn the line, however, when, one week after the incident, he had climbed the stairs – by dragging himself up; dad was at work – to see me in my room and ask why I was shunning him. Seeing his honest face asking me this broke the ice, and I decided to forget my insecurities and help him.

I started to tell him all about himself. I hadn't memorized every little fact, but I could tell him what a wizard was in general, and what his history was. He himself went into denial for some time, but he recovered much easier than I (and without external help, too).

With dad in tow, we visited Diagon Alley, once, and, seeing Gringotts and recalling parts of a discussion I had with Charlie about his family, I remembered about the key Trelawney had left us. By chance, I had it on my keyring (I'm a bit of a key collector: I have nine of them, of all shapes, in assorted rings... even if some of them don't even work)

We went to the bank, and they confirmed that it was a Gringotts key, for Harry Potter. They had to take a blood sample from him and a Witch's oath from me for them to let dad go there (while I stood guard next to John's wheelchair – too many passing customers were throwing glances filled with pity, disgust, or contempt as it was).

Dad returned a little shocked and told us that there was a small fortune down there. A fortune!

Being the gentle boy I knew he was, John offered it to us. When we refused, he started to ask about how expensive Hogwarts was, and about how he couldn't go there if we wouldn't accept his offer (he certainly knew about it from a discussion with dad during the school year, because I never said anything – I didn't even know how much it was, and dad never told me... to this day, I still wonder why, or how he paid).

With that in mind, dad reluctantly agreed, and we returned to the tellers to get a mean of payment that would be easier than going down to the vault. They offer several means, and dad got a anti-theft replenishing purse for John and a check book for him – much like we (the muggles) had; when he asked about cards, though, he only got wide eyes looking back at him.

We then explored a bit, buying the necessary stuff and looking around for interesting things (I mean, dad and I looked, although John was as excited as we were). However, the general attitude of people around us was starting to get on our nerves and we hurried to the wand shop to finish the day.

(yawns)

Sorry about that, it's really late already.

Ollivander was as I remembered: old, and creepy. It was a pleasure, then, to see his attitude crumble when he noticed John there. His first reaction was dismissal until he made a double take and gasped. "Mister... Potter?" he asked with as much uncertainty in his voice as a three-year-old asking to play outside when it rains (I don't know why this image came to my brain... honest).

"Yes?" John replied firmly, his face turned towards him as though he could see.

And that was that. The old man recovered easily and, not noticing that John was blind, he started to give him wands to try.

Er...

Let me rewind a bit, there. I'm sure there's something I forgot...

There!

Dad and I were so preoccupied that the old wand maker wouldn't accept giving him a wand (a wand made someone's latent magical talent real... or so I was told; to be denied one would be the sign that John wasn't a wizard – speaking about that, I now realize that he did accidental magic before... I only attributed these to me... selfish girl)

Where was I? Yes... we were so preoccupied that we didn't think about helping John taking the wands.

But, as it happened, we didn't have to.

John took every wand proffered without hesitation.

Now that I think of it, it's surreal. I know he's blind. He can't read a text even an inch from his eyes. And there, he was grasping the wands unerringly! It makes me think of other things, too: how he can move around the house (as much as his wheelchair allows, though) without disturbing anything (while I, who see, stumble upon visible obstacles).

Finally, after trying at least fifty wands, the old man seemed to have an epiphany and he got John a particular wand, which – as he said – was brother to the one Voldemort used.

I sighed (although I'm sure dad and Ollivander thought it was because I was bored – John had that little knowing smile and I'm sure he took no offence of it) and dad paid, before we went to leave the shop. Ollivander called us back, though, and, still looking at John in disbelief that a reputedly powerful wizard was reduced to being pushed around in a wheelchair (his visible opinion, not mine) he gave us the address of a prostheses shop.

When dad, on a whim, asked him if there was such a shop for eye replacement, the old man asked why and dad indicated John. Ollivander's eyes got wide and, visibly stunned, he mumbled something about the indicated shop doing both legs and eyes.

(yawns widely)

I'm knackered.

I leave you there, Diary. I'll tell the rest tomorrow.

Sleep tight.

To be continued in next chapter: Prostheses...