Chapter 4 – An Invitation To Shop

About a week after she had returned from Trenton Lydia was sitting up in her bed one morning. She was wondering whether to get up and get dressed when she heard a tapping sound. She looked around and realised the sound was coming from the window. She sprang out of bed and caught hold of the curtain. She hesitated for a moment then slowly drew back the curtain a few centimetres. On the ledge outside the window stood an owl. It had a white face and breast, a haughty attitude, and a scroll of parchment attached to its right leg.

Not wanting to alarm the bird, Lydia inched the curtain back the rest of the way. Her hand was trembling. She was standing on tiptoes, jiggling up and down. She knew what this was. She had been waiting weeks for this.

She unlatched and eased open the window. The owl shuffled sideways along the ledge until it was able to step inside onto the windowsill. Once there the owl lifted its right leg, proffering the scroll to Lydia. As Lydia lifted her hands to untie the ribbon around the scroll the owl turned its head away. It was as though it found the whole business of delivering messages beneath its dignity.

Lydia smiled at the owl. "Thank you. Would you like me to get you some water before you go?"

The owl leaned forwards and took the tip of Lydia's finger in its beak for a moment. Then it released it unharmed, turned to the open window, and departed in a drama of huge flapping wings. Lydia had staggered backwards but stepped up to the window again to watch the owl fly away. She did not expect the owl to be looking but she gave it a farewell wave, anyway.

She looked to the scroll in her hand and began to unroll it. Her hands were trembling more than before. It had seemed small but as she unrolled it the scroll was somehow bigger than it had any right to be. Fully unrolled, the scroll that had been less than the width of her hand was now broader than an A4 sheet and over twice as long. Underneath what she recognised as the Hogwarts coat of arms a painstakingly neat green script read:

Dear Miss Lydia Faye Ward

You are cordially invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from the beginning of the coming academic year. Term will commence with the evening banquet on Tuesday 1st of September, with your first classes the following morning.

Below, you will find the Recommended Clothing and Equipment List and the Coursework Booklist. Students may bring a familiar (cat, rat, owl, toad, crow/raven or lizard). It will be the student's responsibility to care for, feed and clean up after their familiar. Because of this a parent or guardian must give their written approval. The use of any other familiar must be agreed with the headteacher before the start of the academic year. Because the school has its own post owls, a student's owl familiar may be housed in the school owlery. Serious or repeated misbehaviour by a familiar may result in the creature being excluded from the school grounds.

All students are encouraged to take the Hogwarts Express from Platform 9¾, London King's Cross, departing at 11am on 1st September. Students from the area surrounding Hogsmeade may meet the train as it arrives at Hogsmeade Station. However, the train journey is regarded as part of the Hogwarts experience, so you are urged to use it. Any other travel arrangements must be agreed beforehand with the headteacher.

I look forward to meeting you all on 1st September,

Professor Minerva McGonagall OoM (2nd Class)

Headteacher

Lydia scanned the lists of clothing, equipment and books. She had none of these things. There were some she had never heard of and would not recognise if she tripped over them. She felt a squirm of worry inside.

She turned over the scroll and saw, near the bottom, a note. It was written in a similar handwriting to the rest of the scroll but the ink was purple instead of green. It read:

Dear Lydia

I have spoken with your dear uncle about arrangements for purchasing everything you will need. He and Professor Malfoy will take you shopping in London. If possible I hope to meet you all there. Ambrose will contact you shortly,

Minerva

Underneath the name was a further note, which appeared to have been written as an afterthought:

(I must only be "Minerva" to you outside school. At school or during term time please call me "Professor McGonagall". I am sure you understand we have standards to uphold.)

Lydia frowned. The words "I have spoken with your dear uncle" and "Ambrose will contact you" made her uneasy. If Draco, who she worked with, was "Professor Malfoy" but her uncle was "Ambrose"… She shuddered.

She put the scroll on her white bedside table, next to her flowery pink diary. She pulled on some clothes and grabbed the scroll. She noticed that the scroll had stayed its full size. Lydia supposed it was because an owl was no longer carrying it. She went to her mum's room. Her mum was not there so she continued downstairs.

As she walked into the kitchen her mum waved and smiled at her. She was talking on her mobile phone.

"OK, I'll let her know, Ambrose," she was saying.

Lydia jumped up and down and waved the scroll.

"Oh, it looks like it's just arrived," she continued. "Shall I put Lydia on?"

Presumably her uncle had said 'yes' because the phone was thrust towards her. Lydia took it.

"Good morning, my splendid young witch," came Uncle Ambrose's voice as she looped her hair behind her ear and held the phone to it. "Minerva told me your invitation to Hogwarts should arrive today."

"Uncle," she said in her best interrogator's voice. "How come you call her Minerva and she calls you Ambrose?"

"Because, my dear little confection of witchiness, those are our names," came the sarcastic reply.

"You know what I mean," she countered. "What have you been up to?"

"Barely anything of note. An afternoon tea here, an evening meal there, a few dances…"

Lydia flopped on to a dining chair at the kitchen table like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"Tell me you're not… dating my headteacher," she pleaded.

"I am not dating your headteacher."

Lydia heaved a sigh as though it were a sack of coal.

"Not as such," Ambrose explained. "We have stepped out together on one or two… or three occasions. Possibly five."

Lydia dropped her head and drew up her knees.

"Could you be any more embarrassing?" she wailed.

"Lydia, we had two meetings to discuss your unusual situation and how best to support you," he explained.

Lydia sat up again.

"Admittedly, the second meeting was at an old-fashioned tea dance and we had a quick turn around the dance floor. But that was intended to deflect any on-lookers from the seriousness of our deliberations. We would have looked out of place had we not danced at least once."

"Please don't destroy my life before I even get to Hogwarts," she groaned.

"Ambrose!" Lydia's mum called out in the hope that he might hear her over the phone. "Wasn't there a reason you needed to talk to Lydia?"

"Quite so," Lydia heard her uncle agree. "Lydia, next Tuesday – that being the 18th – you and I are to go to London. There we shall meet our dear friend Draco, who will assist us in shopping for all the things you will need for school. If you are very good I may refrain from embarrassing you and, thus, your life may not be 'destroyed' quite yet. Your dear mama has agreed to drop you off at mine. Be early or be curly."

"The saying is, 'be there or be square', isn't it?" Lydia queried.

"Possibly so, but I wished to emphasise the early start," her uncle explained. "I shall leave you for now and give you the opportunity to squeal with delight. Congratulations on your new education."

Lydia hung up the phone and proceeded to make the most of her opportunity to squeal.

Catherine had taken Lydia to her uncle's early on the following Tuesday morning. She had then agreed to drop them at the train station. Xander the cat had been charged with looking after Ambrose's house in their absence. This was surely better than having to be cooped up in a cat carrier for two long train journeys.

They were in good time to board the train. As they had wanted to talk privately together on the journey Ambrose had grinned wide-eyed at anyone who had looked like they might join their table. The sight was enough to convince people to look for somewhere else to sit. Fortunately, it fell short of them wishing to inform the authorities of a disturbed individual loose on public transport. Ambrose had brought a backpack from which he produced sandwiches, pies and cans of drinks. They settled down for the journey.

"So, if you've talked to Mrs McGonagall," Lydia began to interrogate him, "who else have you been in touch with?"

"Obviously Harry, as you know from the Trenton excursion. I have also, over the last couple of months, been for a drink with Rubeus, conversed at some length with Draco, had cocktails with Filius, and been to dinner with Ron and Hermione.

"By the by, the teachers at Hogwarts are styled 'Professor'. I understand you are used to calling your teachers 'Mr' and 'Miss' at school. That was a muggle school. Hogwarts is different. Minerva, Draco, Filius, Neville – you will have to call them Professor. It may seem strange to call Draco 'Professor Malfoy', having saved his life and become friends. But you would not want the other students to think you are playing some sort of advantage. Though I gather Hogwarts is a little less formal these days since everyone fought together against Voldemort."

"What did you talk about with Draco?" Lydia asked, her voice laden with suspicion.

Ambrose eyed her for a few seconds. He was not smiling.

"We talked about you. We talked about the Old Magic. We talked about what is known about the powers of the first wizards."

"Why wasn't I invited?"

Ambrose shook his head. "For the obvious reason, my dear. You are such a 'buzzkill' and boys just want to have fun."

"Don't joke. Please, uncle."

"We, and I include Minerva and Harry, want to get as clear a view of these things as we possibly can before we present you with our understanding. I, for it is I who made the decision, did not want you to hear speculation which might worry you, only to find out later that we were mistaken."

"And do you know enough now?"

"Unless Draco has recently found something to cast doubt on what we think we know, then our intention is to discuss it with you before you start at Hogwarts. Minerva asked to be included, if it can be arranged."

"So, there's nothing for me to worry about?"

Ambrose sighed. "There is always something about which any of us might worry. The point is whether we choose to worry. And as worrying never achieves anything I would wholeheartedly advise against it. But, by way of a spoiler, I suspect Draco will admit that he cannot be certain. His sources are very old and many facts turn into legends and myths with the passage of so much time. We shall hear what he has to say, later today. Until then I suggest we enjoy the wonders which magical shopping undoubtedly holds for us."

Her uncle went on to quiz her about everything in her home and school life. She told him how tearful she and her closest friends had been at the end of the school year, knowing they would barely see each other again.

"How did they, the Ministry people, explain it to the school, do you think?" she asked Ambrose.

"At my suggestion, your mother informed them that you had been invited to go to nerd college. Harry had someone provide them with the necessary paperwork. Apparently not one of the teachers was surprised. If your friends ever ask, I suggest you use the same excuse."

"I did, but I just said it was another school, not 'nerd college'."

"'Nerd college', I believe, perfectly sums up everyone's expectations of your career path," her uncle assured her.

"Huh!"

"It's a compliment. The ordinary person's dismissive way of acknowledging your intellectual superiority."

Huh!" she repeated. "That's not very considerate, is it? To me or the teachers."

Ambrose reeled back in mock horror. "I am hurt! I would have you know that I am a very considerate person."

Lydia's scowl said otherwise.

"I am," he protested. "I consider people all the time. The fact that I consider them to be idiots is hardly my fault."

Lydia wagged her head and huffed at him for this.

Eventually the train pulled into Euston Station and they stepped down onto the platform. As they were looking around they heard a call.

"Lydia! Ambrose!"

The familiar figure of Draco Malfoy, dressed in muggle clothes, was waving to them as he approached. He stood out amongst the milling travellers with his white-blond hair. Ambrose and Lydia moved towards him and he towards them.

"Good morning, Professor," Ambrose greeted him with a smile. "How the deuce are you, my dear friend?"

"Very well, thank you, Ambrose. How are you both?"

"Ready to shop until we drop, spend until we bend, and buy until we… cry, I imagine," Ambrose assured him.

"Hi, Draco," Lydia chipped in. "How are Astoria and Scorpius?"

For the briefest moment Draco looked shocked and his eyes flicked to Ambrose. Then he recovered his smile and said, "Absolutely wonderful, thanks."

They chatted about mutual friends as they walked through the clamour of the railway station. Draco had heard about their trip to Trenton and thought Lydia had been brave to have made the attempt.

"Do you know why I couldn't do it, Draco?" she pleaded.

"We'll talk later, Lydia," he replied looking around them. "Somewhere safer."

Lydia smiled and nodded.

As they reached the tube station Lydia offered to deal with the planning and execution of their travel. She was aware of Ambrose's age and Draco's likely unfamiliarity with muggle transport. Ambrose insisted that he was perfectly capable. He claimed to have travelled on these lines since 'before they sunk into the mud and became the underground'. Draco looked sceptical.

"It's all right. I know the way," the professor told them. "And I have a free pass."

He showed them the wand pocket inside the purple lining of his immaculate muggle suit. As expected, the ticket barriers let them through without hesitation. Draco led them with purpose towards the platform they needed.

As they waited for the tube train, Ambrose told them of the passenger tunnels which had been used until the 1960s but were now closed off. He told them of the guided tours and how they still had the posters and adverts from the time they closed, announcing films like 'Psycho' and 'West Side Story'. Draco told them of even deeper tunnels which connected to the goblin bank, Gringotts, and were full of treasure and traps and dragons. Lydia said that Harry and Ron had told her about their escape from Gringotts when they had all been in hiding at Grimmauld Place a few months ago.

They emerged from the Underground into the sunlight.

"Good Lord," Ambrose remarked. "It's still sunny. After the weather we have had so far this summer that is somewhat unexpected."

"It has been odd so far this summer," Draco admitted. "Wet, certainly."

"You haven't done anything to the weather to make it nice , have you?" Lydia questioned Draco.

"Magic, you mean?" Draco grinned. "No, that's a bit beyond my talents, Lydia. Though, thanks for thinking I might have that much power! Some of the most powerful warlocks could have produced a hole in the clouds or a small, localised storm. There are tales of the Old Magic changing the weather, but they are nothing more than tales, as far as we know."

"It takes a couple of centuries of widespread muggle blundering to affect the climate," Ambrose added. "Apparently."

"So, you couldn't…" Lydia began.

"Sorry to interrupt, Lydia, but here we are," Draco informed them.

Lydia looked where Draco was pointing. There was a narrow frontage of a dirty and uninviting old pub. The windows and door were outlined with chipped green tiles. Above the door was a sign which read "The Leaky Cauldron" and had a large black blob on a grimy brown background. Presumably this had once been a painting of a cauldron.

"What am I looking for?" Ambrose asked.

Draco smiled. "Just reach out and touch this door handle."

Draco guided Ambrose's hand. As he grasped the handle his eyebrows shot upwards and his face lit up.

"Ah. Oh. A pub," he observed. "Now there is a secret worth knowing."

"Muggles aren't supposed to be able to see the Leaky Cauldron unless guided by a witch or wizard," Draco explained to Lydia.

"Will the muggles around us not notice us entering?" Ambrose queried.

"No," Draco chuckled. "Muggle minds are very good at ignoring magic, especially when given a little nudge by a well-placed charm."

The professor indicated to Ambrose to lead the way. He opened the door and ushered Lydia in.

Inside it was dingy and in need of redecoration, to Lydia's mind. There was a fruity smell of stale beer-breath, more than a hint of pipe smoke, and another hint of what may have been mildew. If it was not mildew then she would prefer not to know. What light there was came from old lanterns around the walls. The floor underfoot was hard and tiled. The few clients seated at an assortment of round or rectangular tables looked up to see who was coming to join them. They must have decided it was nobody of great interest as their conversations barely faltered.

The old barman nodded to Draco as he followed the others in. "Professor."

"Good afternoon, Tom. Still here, then?" Draco replied.

"Aye. Not long now, though," Tom replied, wiping the bar with a towel.

"We're passing through. Hogwarts shopping for the young lady," Draco explained.

"Aye," said Tom, continuing to wipe the bar down with a towel.

"Good day to you, sir," Ambrose smiled, walking up to the bar and proffering his hand. "I am Ambrose Ward, a thirsty man who is delighted to make your acquaintance."

Tom the barman shook Ambrose's hand and smiled. "Can I interest you in a pint, sir?"

Ambrose looked sheepish as he cast a glance towards Draco. "I am already interested, but I am afraid it will have to wait until a later juncture. There is shopping to be done before I may turn my attention to serious matters."

"Such is life," Tom commiserated.

"Indeed so, Tom," Ambrose agreed. "And we must bear our disappointment with fortitude. Until later, good sir."

Tom grinned, then flicked a momentary scowl at Draco. Lydia followed Draco towards the door at the back of the bar. Ambrose tagged along behind them.

Through the door, along a short corridor, and through another door they emerged into a small, brick-walled yard. It appeared to be a dead end. Draco swept his wand from its pocket and gave one of the bricks a rapid triple tap with the deftness of a drummer. The bricks of the wall rearranged themselves into an archway so quickly that Lydia almost missed how it had happened.

As they stepped through the archway a lane wound away before them, a ramshackle assortment of shops on either side. Lydia almost bumped into a mound of cauldrons stacked in front of a stall.

"This is Diagon Alley," Draco confirmed.

8