I don't own Sailormoon. I don't own Harry Potter. First Harry Potter character found here. Don't worry, you'll see Harry himself in the next chapter.

I have no idea what Michiru's mother's name is, so I made one up. Her first name (Sachiko) comes from a H. Beam Piper story and her (maiden) last name (Amiru) comes from a possible shortening of the pairing Ami X Michiru. I don't know if her father's name (Aki) has been mentioned yet, but that I chose because I liked it. It means 'autumn', I think. In other words, completely random Japanese-sounding words that have absolutely no bearing on canon reality. If you know of Michiru's mother (or father)'s real name, please let me know.

Oh, and I have no clue whether any of the senshi are left-handed or not. If you do, I'd be glad to know that too.

Enjoy!

Notes 6/15: Changes. Some are obvious, most are just a few shifts in wording. No major plot changes. Go ahead, read.



3. Diagon Alley



Here we are. Michiru's mother said proudly, a gleam of amusement in her eyes, as Michiru and I gazed around in wide-eyed wonder. So much that I had never even thought existed, just waiting for me to walk up to and gaze at. It was, in a word, overwhelming. Mother was peering at the list of school supplies we had received, so I felt less guilty just standing there with my chin hanging only a couple of inches above the ground and my eyes as wide as dinner plates.

First cauldrons and the other equipment, then wands, clothing, books, and then we'll just wander to see if there are any pets that catch your eyes. Sound good?

What are we waiting for? Michiru asked, as I brought my chin back into position and nodded fervent agreement. I took back everything bad I had ever said about shopping. I couldn't wait to get started!

* * *

I looked at the pewter cauldron with increased respect. Standard size 2 is larger than it sounds. I admitted. We could probably fit most of the rest of the supplies in them.

Mother smiled, her cerulean eyes twinkling. That is the general idea.

What is the telescope for? Michiru asked, pointing to the two that had been paid for and placed (within their cases, of course!), one in each cauldron. Her mother laughed.

Astrology of course, what else? She cocked her head. Some astronomy too, but this is a school of magic for the most part, after all. And since magic works, is it that much of a stretch to believe that occasionally astrology does as well? That amused twinkle was in her cerulean eyes again. Of course, as with Muggles, it's still mostly smoke, mirrors, and absolute nonsense.

Do we learn to read crystal balls too? My question was not completely sarcastic, amazing as that might seem, but her reply still completely floored me.

Goodness no, not yet! You aren't allowed to sign up for Divination until your third year, and even then, it's only an elective.

Can we say, facefault?

* * *

The next place we stopped at, Ollivanders (Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC), was not nearly as impressive. Small, narrow, rather dark and dusty, the room's only decoration a single small chair and shelves and shelves of narrow boxes--there must have been thousands. To solve the chair dilemma in the most expedient way possible, Michiru and I sat on the floor together, leaving the chair for our mother.

Ah. New customers, I see. A soft voice sounded near us. Michiru shifted slightly, the only indication she gave of her startlement. I felt him enter--my contact with the winds, like Michiru's with the sea, had only deepened recently and I had easily sensed the shifting in the air currents indicative of another person entering the room. It was becoming easier and easier for me to keep a constant light contact with the winds, a fact that both excited me . . . and kind of scared me. As I looked up, it seemed for a moment that he was almost disappointed by his failure to scare us, but that expression--if it had even existed at all--quickly disappeared.

He peered nearsightedly at Mother, before nodding. Yes, I remember you. Sachiko Amiru. Cedar, phoenix feather, eight-and-a-third inches. Good wand, that. These your daughters?

So he was sharper-eyed than he gave the appearance of being. In the dim light of the shop, wearing jeans and a baggy T-shirt with my hair tied back in a tight ponytail, very few people would recognize me as a girl. More than when I kept my hair short and made a point of acting as much like a guy as possible, but still not that many.

She smiled. This is my daughter Michiru and her best friend, Haruka Ten'ou. They're both just beginning at Hogwarts this year.

He nodded, then turned to us. Wand arm?

Mother smiled. Usually your wand arm ends up being your dominant hand. She stage-whispered.

I answered immediately, followed soon after by Michiru's

I see. And I got the idea that he did see, more than many people gave him credit for. You first, girl. He pointed at me and I stood up, at a loss. A silver tape measure, previously sticking ever so slightly out of his pocket, now began measuring me as he got up onto a stool, taking down various boxes. He continued to talk as he took down the boxes. With many young people, especially as young as you kids, it's hard to figure out the dominant characteristics of your personalities, since they are not yet fully formed. One's personality figures greatly in which wand chooses you, and often the wand reflects the person someone will become. Take You-Know-Who. No one knew he would turn out so bad, but his wand--yew, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Very powerful. And no one can deny that he was powerful. Evil, yes, but one of the most powerful wizards this world has seen in quite a while.

You and your friend, though, your personalities are much more distinctly formed, almost as if you had lived longer than eleven, twelve years. Sometimes people who live very eventful lives are like that, as well, but for the most part, personality formation comes only with the passing of years. For you, I know of maybe four, five wands that are nearly guaranteed to be a perfect match, much narrower a selection than I usually have to wade through. Same with your friend, there. Even her mother was harder to pinpoint, about as hard as a normal eleven year old.

Most likely because we weren't normal eleven-year-olds. Or even truly eleven. At least, not so far as our experiences were concerned. Still, I wonder what he thought of the reason for our . . . difference. Not that it mattered, really--whatever he postulated couldn't possibly be nearly as strange as the truth.

What's the difference between the wands? Michiru asked, and to a certain extent I wondered the same. After all, a stick of wood is a stick of wood, right?

Wands are very different, child, very different. He seemed almost offended. You must find a good match in order to do your magic best. Never quite get the same responses--or even necessarily the right ones--with another person's wand. And of course, all the wands are different, as all the unicorns, dragons, and phoenixes we draw the magical part of the wand from are individual.

Now I was even more interested. Is there any symbolic significance to the different species of cores?

He just rubbed his chin, and I got the idea that ordinarily he didn't talk nearly as much. Finally, he climbed down, holding three boxes. Couldn't find the other one I was looking for. Pretty good sign that it wasn't a good match, staying hidden like that. Here, give this one a wave. Gingko, eight inches, dragon heartstring.

Dragon heartstring, He continued as he handed me the wand, is generally attracted to very loyal people. Generally, I say. You are going to Hogwarts? Yes, there are many in Hufflepuff with dragon heartstring wands. No sooner did I touch the wand than it felt wrong to me, and I shook my head nearly involuntarily as he snatched it away. Figures.

He looked at me with increased interest in his silvery, moon-like eyes. You look like you have the makings of a good wand dealer. Interested in finding a summer job? Stymied, I opened my mouth, and shut it, having absolutely no idea what to say. It sounded interesting, very interesting in fact. But . . . I was only eleven now . . . was that even allowed?

He chuckled, another action I had the feeling he did not do very often. Try this one, then. Willow, ten-and-three-quarters inches, unicorn hair. This time, I knew almost as immediately that this was the wand for me and, theatrically, I brought it slicing through the air almost as if it was my Space Sword. A crescent of blue and green sparkles flew out of the wand, like the vacuum blade my Space Sword creates, and impacted harmlessly on the far wall. I grinned, exhilarated by how completely right this wand felt, and he nodded approvingly. Yes, I thought the willow would match your personality well. And the unicorn hair . . . signifies purity. Purity of heart. I'm not surprised your wand holds the unicorn. Not at all surprised.

Pure heart . . . if I hadn't been holding the wand, still in the feedback cycle of happiness and well-being it induced in me at first, my face would have fallen despite my efforts to remain expressionless. Yes, our hearts were pure . . . pure enough to hold two of the three Talismans. Yet I had a hard time believing that our hearts remained pure. Not after all we have done.

The silver tape measure had begun to measure Michiru as the man took my wand (amazing how short a time it took me to become so territorial--no longer was it merely a wand, but now and forever more mine) and placed it gently back into its box before climbing to put up the wand I had rejected out of hand and picking up three others. The first of these three he opened and gave to Michiru. Beechwood, thirteen inches, phoenix feather. He snatched it out of her hands even before the no' in my throat had the time to become a reality, and gave me a glance. Saw that too, didn't you. Yes, you'd definitely make a good assistant, once I've given you a little training. Phoenix feather tends to be attracted to people with undauntable courage. He nodded sharply.

Dogwood, nine inches, dragon heartstring. This Michiru held a little longer before it was obvious that the wand wasn't the right one for her.

No, dragon doesn't really fit you either, does it. Loyalty, yes, but not blind and subject to change as your beliefs are. It still stunned me, how much insight he could gain into our personalities just by the wands we chose . . . and even more, from the ones we rejected. He took the box I had rejected by default. Maple, twelve inches, unicorn hair.

Hm. Almost there. He opened the last box. This one should work, since none of the others did. Silver maple, eleven inches, unicorn hair.

The wand swished through the air, and green sparkles lit the air, floating down around our faces, almost like miniscule fireflies. Michiru, the man and I all spoke at the same time. This was her wand, as obviously hers as the other had been mine. His eyes found me again. Yes, you definitely have the touch.

Do you think I could come work here during the summer? I asked Michiru's mother. I felt I had the right to make the decision, but she's the one who would probably be providing transportation, and she really is almost like a real mother to me. The shop, which had previously seemed so gloomy and closed in, now glittered with a serene mystery, almost as if Michiru's sparkles still hung, half unseen, in the air.

I think, she paused, looking at the man, That we could work something out. If that is what you want to do, I trust you to make the right decision.

A smile lit my face, almost as bright as the one when I first held my wand. Thank you. This is what I want to do. This place--it's magic like I haven't seen in a long time.

If that is what you see, perhaps you do belong here. Michiru's eyes reflected her agreement, slightly puzzled as to what I would find so interesting in this dingy little shop, but I didn't mind too much. This place really was magic, filled with so many possibilities, and I felt rather sorry for the people who, coming in here, only saw the tiny, dimly lit so-called reality.

* * *

Must everything be in black? Michiru complained softly as we stood inside Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and I couldn't help but agree. Black is a nice color--though I much prefer a dark navy blue--but enough is enough!

At least it doesn't say the gloves have to be black. I pointed out. And we could get colored sashes or something so that it won't be completely black.

Michiru's mother smiled. Now why didn't I ever think of that when I went to Hogwarts? Having a colored sash would have been ever so much better than just monotonous black, black, and more black, day in and day out.

Michiru and I shared the same thought at all that black, for years on end.

However, the dragonhide gloves came only in the darker colors: black, midnight blue, dark green, burgundy, and a truly nasty blackish/greenish yellow. Can you bleach the color out of them, or dye them, or something? I asked.

The young wizard at the counter replied, Dragonhide refuses to hold any dyes, except occasionally some of the darkest shades. I have heard that some people over at the Ministry of Magic are attempting to develop some lighter hued dyes, but so far there has been little success, as far as I know. He grimaced. Except--the one dye they have managed to come up with--a truly eye-blinding shade of neon pink.

I sighed. So much for adding color to our garb in that category. So I got a pair and a couple of spares in the midnight blue, while Michiru got the dark green.

Of regular cloth, however, there was no shortage of bright hues. Some of them a bit too bright for my tastes. They had a whole range of blues and greens, of which we bought a strip of nearly every color (except the olive green . . . ew), plus a nice selection of yellow/golds and grey/silvers, and even a few of the nicer shades of red.

This should make us a bit more noticeable. Michiru commented, and I grinned. Not that I necessarily wanted to be the talk of the school, but sure, why not? We might even start a trend! And it would do these people good to shake them out of their complacency a bit. I began considering flowers and how I could attach them to those pointy hats--not that I planned on wearing them any more than necessary. Hm . . . I'd have to talk to Michiru and her mother about that.

* * *

The trip through Flourish and Botts was simple and out of the way quickly, as we each bought a copy of the eight school books necessary according to the list. Plus, on a whim, we bought a book on elemental theory that looked like it held some good information that we might be able to apply to our bonds with the elements--mine with the wind and Michiru's with the sea.

Then we went window shopping. Diagon Alley is filled with so many incredible shops, from candy shops with the strangest types of candy I'd ever seen, to a shop devoted completely to Quidditch, a strange wizarding game similar to soccer, only played in the air with broomsticks. It sounded interesting, and better yet, each of the houses at Hogwarts had their own team. Unfortunately, as first years weren't allowed to bring broomsticks, I sincerely doubted that we would be able to play. Unless we formed our own, juvenile team? But no, not when we weren't allowed broomsticks in the first place. A pity, that. I've always thought it would be neat to be able to fly.

Finally we stumbled upon a smallish shop called the Magical Menagerie, a pet shop by the looks of it. Of course, we went in, since we hadn't chosen our pets yet.

Inside it was smelly and noisy from all the animals stuffed into so small a space. Cats, large black rats, ravens and other birds of all shapes and sizes . . . every inch of the shop seemed fascinating to two small eleven-year-old girls in search of a pet. Since Michiru figured fish wouldn't make very good pets for taking to Hogwarts (although she planned to get a few to put in our room--we both still remembered the wonderful aquarium on the top floor of our apartment building with great fondness) she came with me towards the bird section.

I wasn't quite sure I wanted an owl, but I knew I wanted to have a bird of some sort. I've always enjoyed watching them fly and envied them deeply that ability. When I was younger, before I stopped dreaming, I dreamed of flying nearly every night, of seeing the world so small below and reveling in the feeling of the wind. Yet despite that, when we reached the birds I didn't see any that seemed right to me. Michiru, on the other hand, instantly fell in love with a tiny, baby snowy owl.

Then I heard the voice and stiffened, the slight movement beside me indicating that Michiru had hear it too.

Dissgussting. The voice commented, its tone wry and humorous, a very likeable voice with a slight lisp. Adult elf owlss are the ssame ssize and they tasste a lot better.

The voice, I realized, seemed to be coming from the hole in a fake log inserted in one of the nearby glass cages. We're not planning on eating it. Michiru replied sharply.

A small silver head peeked out of the log, two red eyes regarding us measuringly. I know. It sighed, writhing out until it had wrapped itself around the log several times. A pity that humanss have sso little tasste. The snake was completely silver from its head to the tip of its tail, with eyes that reminded me more of Chibiusa's red-brown than Setsuna's garnet.

I smiled. Who cared if it wasn't a bird? I had just found the perfect pet. Michiru knew what my smile meant, and a look at her eyes showed that she approved. I'm not the only one with a slightly warped sense of humor, after all.

And the snake? Well, it didn't have to talk to us, and the fact that it chose to was a pretty good indication that it agreed as well. Plus, later it told us so. And the bird seemed to understand that the snake wasn't going to eat it, so it too was happy.

Michiru's mother seemed to have a few qualms about buying a snake, but she was also inclined to let us make our own decisions. All in all, the trip to Diagon Alley was a stupendous success. Michiru's father, I think, enjoyed the joke a great deal more than her mother, when we called him to tell him about the day--he, unfortunately, had not come along. Even gave us a few tips on how we could use it to create the maximum amount of mischief possible--it's quite obvious, now, from where Michiru got the less serious side of her nature.

Not that I needed too much help on the topic of creating mischief. After all, it's not like letting a snake loose in a room full of girls (as opposed to logical human beings that just happen to have been born female--like Michiru and I) wouldn't provoke plenty of hilarity, all on its own. I must admit, though, that the scenario with the fudgesicle and three paper clips has its own charm . . . perhaps I'd have to try it out, sometime . . .

Needless to say, Hogwarts had no idea what it was getting into.



7/21/2001
6/15/2002