In the morning – breakfast, questions (sleepless night), Miss Witt, school list, supplies…

Diagon Alley

Chapter Seven

In the morning, Anna was awoken by beams of sunlight dancing across her face. She hadn't realized the night before that she had been given one of the rooms facing the street. Stretching, she got up and wandered over to the window. She pressed her nose to the glass, and stared down at the passing London crowd. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, smiling down at them. But no one seemed to notice the small red-headed figure watching them through the glass; in fact, no one seemed to even notice the tiny pub in which she stood.

Anna dressed, brushed her hair, and headed down the stairs. Miss Wittikins was already having her breakfast. Anna sat down at the small corner table, and greeted her with a, "good morning."

"Good morning," Miss Wittikins murmured, not taking her eyes away from the paper. Anna looked at the front. The Daily Prophet, read the scroll across the top. The picture underneath was moving. Anna looked at again, to make sure her eyes were working properly. She stretched out a hand, feeling the picture. It felt like plain newsprint to her. Miss Wittikins lowered the paper, looking at her with arched eyebrows.

"Er – sorry," Anna blushed.

Miss Wittikins returned her gaze to the paper, taking a sip of her tea. "Why don't you go order some breakfast Anna?"

Anna went over to the counter where Tom stood, polishing glasses. "G'mornin' Miss Moon. What would ye like for breakfast?"

"Good morning Tom. Um…" Anna thought for a moment, her eyes gazing up at the ceiling. "Do you have toast?"

"Yes, we do."

"With eggs?" she asked, hopefully.

Tom chuckled. "Sure thing Miss Moon. It'll be out in a moment."

Anna returned to her seat. Miss Wittikins had finished with the paper, and it was sitting folded on the table. "Do you mind if I look?" she asked.

"Go ahead," smiled Miss Wittikins. "The 'Prophet' is the best way to keep up to date in the wizarding world. Though, really…" she made a face, "some of the reporters these days… they don't have any news to report, so they create it. Pure fiction."

Anna picked up the paper, and scanned the headlines. "What's Quidditch?" she asked.

Miss Wittikins sighed. "It's a wizarding sport. Similar to football, on broomsticks."

"Oh." She kept on reading. For a long time, Anna was silent. She looked up again. "There's a Ministry of Magic?"

"Unfortunately," Miss Wittikins murmured, before taking another sip of tea. "Yes, we do have our own Ministry. Responsible for all the things a regular Ministry is, with the addition of trying to hide us from all of Muggle Britain."

"What's a Muggle?"

"A non-magical person," answered Miss Wittikins shortly.

There was another period of silence as the two sat, staring out the front window at the traffic going by. Anna felt like jumping up and waving, trying to get the people passing by to notice the tiny pub, but she restrained herself, and instead asked –

"Does anyone ever call you anything aside from Miss Wittikins?"

Miss Wittikins glanced away, hiding a smile behind her tea cup. "Not really. Stella calls me Witt. I suppose she wouldn't mind if you wanted to too."

Anna was about to ask who Stella was when Miss Wittikins reached into her robes, and brought out a note. She handed it to Anna.

"Thought I'd give it to you in the morning, so you wouldn't stay up all night re-reading it like I did when I got mine."

Anna's eyes widened over the note. "You went to Hogwarts?"

Again., Witt chuckled. "Goodness, yes. For a much longer time than the ordinary bloke."

Anna grinned at this bit of slang from such a dignified old lady, and concentrated her attentions on the letter.

Hogwarts School

of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Miss Moon,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Anna fished about in the envelope, and retrieved a list of supplies. Looking it over, she asked in wonder, "I get to buy all this?"

Witt answered in the affirmative.

"How will I pay for it?" she asked, brow crinkling.

"Leave that to me," smiled Witt.

Anna was wondering where on earth you would find such a wide assortment of shops that would sell such marvelous things as the ones listed. She was quite surprised when, upon finishing her eggs and toast with marmalade, Miss Wittikins led her out into a small courtyard behind the shop. She pulled out her wand (Anna had been aching to see some real magic) and tapped one of the bricks in the wall lightly. "It's three up, and two across from the trash can. If you forget, just ask Tom." Anna nodded mutely as the brick wriggled it's way out of the wall. The bricks all around it vanished, leaving an entry way into the most interesting street Anna had ever seen in her life.

It was a twisty cobblestone road, lined by quaint little shops. The signs hanging outside read like 'Apothecary', and 'Quality Quidditch Supplies'. Anna would've stopped to gaze at the sight, and been there all day, but Witt took her by the hand, and let her down the street into one of the tiny shops. "We'll get your uniform first."

They entered 'Madam Malkin's'. A tiny bell hanging above the door rang magically as they entered, and a plump little witch met them at the door. "Hello Dearie, Hogwarts I presume?" She stopped and smiled as she recognized Miss Wittikins. "Why hello Gwendolyne, how are you?" Madam Malkin chatted on and Witt smiled politely and answered her questions. Madam Malkin led Anna back, still chatting on.

"We'll also need a winter cloak, Moira, and a hat – make that two hats, and throw in three additional robes – just the normal. And could I trouble you for some dress robes as well?" Witt asked rather suddenly.

"Certainly!" replied Madam Malkin. "In what colors? A nice green would look quite pretty on you dear…"

"Anna?" asked Witt, "what color robes would you like?"

Anna thought for a moment, having, for the first time in her life, the opportunity to pick out her own clothes. "Blue," she answered decisively. "Dark blue."

"Lovely choice dear!" Madam Malkin pinned up the robe she'd slipped over Anna's head. A few moments later, Anna and Witt walked out of the store, arms full of wrapped up robes. Witt peered through her glasses at the list. "I suppose we'll get the cauldron and the such out of the way next."

At the cauldron makers shop, they bought not only the pewter cauldron asked for on the list, but a nice set of brass scales. Next door, at the Apothecary, they bought the crystal phials needed for Potions ("They'll last longer than the glass ones, just be careful not to break them too many times. They get quite weak after the third or fourth mending charm" added Miss Wittikins), along with an assortment of basic Potions ingredients. Anna was glad to leave the shop, with it's funny sulfuric odor. They stopped at a tanner's for a pair of dragon's hide gloves. Anna admired the dragon's hide handbags as well, but was aghast at the price. "Foolish luxury, and a good waste of dragon," commented Witt. "What's left now?"

"The books, and my wand," said Anna, unfolding the list once more. Under her other arm she carried the cauldron, filled with their purchases. Witt had bewitched it to be very light, and promised to show Anna the spell once she got her own wand.

Witt smiled. "I think we'll leave the wand for last, though I may regret it. It will be quite a chore to drag you away from Flourish and Blotts."

And indeed it was. They walked into the shop, one of the largest in Diagon Alley. It was a good thing that Witt had Anna's hand firmly in her grasp, for Anna was clearly paying no attention to where she was stepping. Her eyes were glued to the shelves and shelves of books, books of all colors and sizes. Witt let Anna explore as she tracked down a clerk to retrieve the text books. Once she had paid, she went in search of Anna. She found her, cheek in hand, deep into the story of a witch by the name of Lydia Trendille, and her romantic escapades and daring adventures in sixteenth century France. Witt was only able to drag Anna away from the store by buying the book, and promising her that she could return every day for the rest of their stay in Diagon Alley. "By then, you'll have read every book in the place."

"Oh, no," answered Anna, wide-eyed and quite serious. "I doubt I could read that many books in a life time!"

"Well," said Witt, returning to her no-nonsense way, "we have to go purchase your wand now, and that is far more important than Miss Trendille's gallivanting about."

Anna was quite excited about getting her wand, to tell the truth. They stopped in front of the unobtrusive store, just a tiny shop with a simple display. 'Ollivander's: Maker of Fine Wands Since 382 BC,' the sign read. Anna tried to comprehend how much time that was, but gave up as they entered the door.

Anna blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim light in the store. It was a plain little shop, small and neat, but very dusty. A shiver ran up Anna's spine. She was sure she heard whispers coming from the very nooks and crannies. The air of the shop seemed to tingle with a certain something – a something Anna couldn't quite place a finger on. There was a movement from the back room. Anna turned in time to see an elderly man walking out, arms full of boxes. He set them on the counter as he noticed Miss Wittikins.

"Hello Gwendolyne. How may I help you this fine day?"

She smiled. "Good morning, Nicodemus. I'm here to find this child a suitable wand. Do you think you might have something for her?" A smile played on Witt's lips.

Mr. Ollivander peered over his glasses at Anna. "Well, well. I do say – what is your name, young lady?"

"I'm Anna Moon," she responded, trying not to let on how nervous she was.

Mr. Ollivander's eyes flashed back at Witt. "Jonathan's child." he murmured.

"Indeed."
"I'm pleased to meet you Miss Moon." He brought out a tape measure. "Very interesting, I do say… I'll be quite interested to see what wand you choose – or rather, which wand chooses you. Wand hand?"

"Er – right?"

"Right, then, let's see…" he mused, scribbling something in his book. Anna noticed the tape measure had suspended itself in mid-air, hovering from the tip of her nose to her toes. She stared at it cross-eyed. The measure continued to take her measurements as he talked.

"Your father's wand was oak and unicorn hair, 11 and a half inches, quite sturdy. Your mother's on the other hand – willow and dragon heart-string, nine inches – quite tricky combination. I was especially proud of that one." He snapped his fingers at the tape, which promptly fell to the floor. "That will do."

He set an armful of the slender boxes on the floor next to the chair. Opening one of them, he drew out a wand. "Here," he said, "try this one. Beech and Dragon heart-string, nine and a half inches. Go on, give it a wave."

Anna had been standing there, looking rather puzzled at the slender piece of wood in her hand. When prompted, she swished it back and forth. Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand immediately.

"Maple and phoenix feather, eleven inches." Anna swished this one about, and was promptly handed another.

"Poplar and unicorn hair, seven and a quarter. Holly and Unicorn hair, eight. Birch and dragon heart-string, ten and a half. Hickory and unicorn hair, nine and a third. Orange wood and phoenix feather, eight and a half.

As Anna's fingers brushed against the end of the wand, she felt a small tingle, like a static shock. She grasped the wand tightly in her hand and waved it in a wide arc. Brilliant blue sparks danced from the tip. Anna knew this must be the one – she had know it from the tingle that had enveloped her hand, and then her body, as it had sparked. Miss Wittikins applauded, and Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands together. "Bravo, Miss Moon. An interesting combination, that one. I was starting to wonder if it would ever take to anyone, it's been sitting in the back for years. I just dug it out yesterday, quite glad I did…" he took the wand from Anna and placed it back in the box. Anna wanted to ask to hold her new wand, but she decided not to ask, as Mr. Ollivander handed her the box. Miss Wittikins opened her purse, and slid the gold across the counter. "I wish you well, Nicodemus."

Mr. Ollivander gave a slight bow. "The same to you, Gwendolyne."

They exited the store, not saying much. Anna wanted to take out her wand, at least to look at, but she didn't dare. What if she broke it? Miss Wittikins broke the silence. "Well. What would you say to some ice cream?"

"Oh, yes, I'd love some, thank you."

They stopped at Florean Fortescue's for an over-sized cone of strawberry, and a small cup of gelato. Sitting outside in the warm sun, Anna attempted to eat as quickly as she could to keep the ice cream from melting away. Witt, meanwhile, was scanning Anna's note. "Minerva McGonagall, well, well, well," she mused. "It's been quite some time since I've seen her. I'd heard she'd become Deputy Headmistress… you'll be having her for Transfiguration as well. She's fair, knows how to run a respectable classroom. You'll like her."

"What about the others?" Anna asked.

Witt closed her eyes, as if scrolling down a mental list of names. "Well, there's Flitwick, wonderful chap, he teaches Charms. Been around for ever. Binns, who has also been around forever, but is dead boring." Her eyes sparkled as she said this. "He teaches History. Sprout, she's sweet, but can be firm if she wants to – that's Herbology, I think you'll enjoy that. Potions is Snape – I won't comment on Snape, and bias you toward him in any way, but I think you'll form a firm opinion of him soon enough. Astronomy – I think a witch by the name of Sinistra teaches nowadays, but I don't know her personally. Then there's Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm really not sure who teaches that anymore. Ever since James, I haven't kept up with the position."

"Witt?" she asked, desperately trying to keep the trail of strawberry ice cream from melting down her arm, "how come so many people seem to know you?"

She smiled, handing Anna a napkin. "I was a teacher at Hogwarts, for quite some time."

Anna straightened up. "What subject did you teach?"

Witt smiled again, a bit wickedly. "Potions."

Anna though for a few moments. "Do you think I'll like Hogwarts – I mean the classes?"

Witt sat back in her chair. "Yes, I do," she answered, looking rather serious. "You may find some of the courses quite challenging, but I think you like a good challenge, Anna."

Anna had nothing to say to this, so she finished her ice cream instead.

They returned to The Leaky Cauldron for an uneventful supper. The regular crowd was starting to filter in, and rather than talk, Anna listened to the witches and wizards around her, discussing everything from the rising price of class B tradable goods, to Quidditch scores, to the most recent bumblings of the Ministry. After dinner, Anna returned to her room, and emptied her cauldron. She spread each item out on her bed, examining it lovingly. She got to the box with her wand in it. Carefully, she lifted it out of the box. No sparks flew this time, but there was still warm tingle, a pleasant sensation, that assured Anna that it could be used for magic. Looking through her new Charms book, she attempted a spell at the beginning of the first chapter. "Lumos," she commanded. The wand tip emitted a glow that filled the room. "Nox." The light went out. "Lumos. Nox." This went on for quite some time, the smile on Anna's face growing broader each time it worked. Witt entered the room.

"Nox, indeed. That will do for now, Anna. I don't want you accidentally burning the place down. I just came in to say goodnight. You left this down at the table by the way." She handed her the book.

"Oh! Thank you." Anna had almost forgotten about her new story. She climbed into the armchair that sat in the corner of the room, and opened the book.

She read on about Lydia into the night. The morning light found Anna curled up in an armchair, fast asleep with the book lying open on her lap. Witt entered the room to check on her. The old lady smiled, set the book on the table, and covered Anna with a blanket from the bed. She hastily scribble a note, then left.

Several hours later, Anna awoke. She stretched, trying to figure out where the awful cramp in her neck had come from. She remembered her book, and threw off the covers, searching for it. She spotted it on the nightstand, her place marked with a note from Witt.

I have some business to take care of, will be back for dinner at six. You can go back to Flourish and Blotts if you like, but please stay in Diagon Alley. Your breakfast will be waiting for you downstairs, along with a little spending money.

- Witt

Anna marveled at the thought that she would want to be anywhere else. She changed into a pair of her new robes, and headed downstairs for breakfast.

After eating, she rushed out to the small courtyard, eager to try her new wand. "Three up, two across," she murmured. Or had it been two up and three across? She tried the later, and was amazed once more, as the wall melted away to reveal Diagon Alley.

She headed straight toward Flourish and Blotts, and spent most of the day in the shop, reading a pile of books she had picked out. The clerk, who had recognized her from the day before, was more than happy to help Anna select several titles she had never heard of before. She read in her own little corner, along the railing of the large double staircase, until the clock below chimed five-thirty. Amazed at how quickly the time had passed, Anna grabbed the book she was reading, and headed to the counter to pay for it. The clerk up front rang it up on the old cash register. *ding* "That'll be one galleon and seven sickles, Ma'am." Anna grinned, and fished the money out of her pocket. She had never been called Ma'am before.

As she was heading back toward The Leaky Cauldron, Anna was stopped by a strange noise. It sounded quite pathetic, like a muffled baby's cry. Searching for the source of the sound, she turned down a alleyway. All that was back there was a row of trash bins, and Anna turned to leave. The strange noise came yet again, closer this time. She whirled around, staring at the nearest bin. She stepped over to it, opened the lid, and peered inside.

Two round, golden eyes stared back up at her. They were set in the face of the most pathetic kitten Anna had ever seen. It was a tiny, scraggly thing, all covered in soot. Anna rolled up her sleeves, and reached into the bin, picking the kitten up. It stopped mewing as she held it eye level, and cocked it's head inquisitively at her, as if to say 'hello'.

"What were you doing in there, you poor thing?" Anna murmured, more to herself than the cat. She stroked it's mangy coat, the soot rubbing off on her hands, and all over her new robes. The kitten's fur was grey, she could see, and quite soft under all the dirt. She couldn't very well leave it here, half starved and shivering with fright. She would take it to Witt and see what she had to say about it.

Anna showed up at dinner a bit late. Witt raised her brows in a questioning way as Anna sat down at the table, the soot covered cat in her arms. "Where did you find that – thing?" she ventured to ask.

"Someone had put him in a trash bin," responded Anna, "and I couldn't leave him there Witt, I couldn't." There was a pause, then she asked, "May I keep him?"

"You'd rather have a cat than an owl?" Witt questioned.

"Oh, yes! This one at least."

"Very well then. You are allowed one pet at school, and I suppose she shall be yours."

"He."

"He, then. I suppose that Darius will be fine for the job if I need to contact you. What are you going to call that pitiful thing?" she asked, trying to stifle a chuckle as the kitten rubbed it's head against Anna's cheek, leaving a black smudge from mouth to ear.

Anna thought for a moment. "Greymalkin," she answered, "after Lydia's cat – you know, from the book I just read.

Witt nodded. "A fair enough name for a grey cat – if that's what he is beneath that coat of dirt. You'd better give him a bath, Anna, though he probably won't like it. There's a handy charm for keeping a cats claws in, you know…" They continued eating their dinner, talking of cats and books and simple charms all the while.