Chapter Three: Planning

"There it is!" I said in a quiet, but very excited voice. "The Leaky Cauldron! Over there! See?"

Mother smiled patiently. "Yes. I know. I've been here before. At least a few times. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah," I answered distractedly as we entered the pub, already scanning the patron's faces for anyone who looked like he or she might be a professor. One very nervous-looking man brightened upon seeing me. Excusing himself from his conversation with the bartender ("N-n-no, I'd r-rather hear ab-b-bout your p-p-p-p-pet t-tarantula l-later..."), he crossed the room and greeted me.

"I s-see that w-we have a Hogw-w-warts st-student here. Hm?" He smiled weakly, wringing his hands.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" I asked confusedly.

He pointed to my hand, which was holding the letter. "Th-that!" he exclaimed triumphantly. I laughed, having forgotten that any witch or wizard in England would be able to deduce that I was a student simply by seeing the envelope.

"Good point, sir!" Then I remembered that it would be polite to introduce myself. "I'm Andromeda Zænidh, and this is my mother."

"P-p-professor Quirrell, miss, m-ma'am," the man replied. "I'm the D-Defense Against the D-D-D-Dark Arts M-Master. Y-you'll b-b-be in my c-class you know! T-terrible stuff, the D-Darks Arts..." Professor Quirrell winced each time he said "Dark Arts." I suspected that many students would make fun of him.

"Well, good afternoon, and I'll see you at Hogwarts!" I finished, as Mother dragged me out of the pub by the arm. Tapping the bricks on a solid wall in a certain order, she opened the doorway to Diagon Alley.

Although I had visited the wizard shopping center several times, thanks to my two older sisters, the sights and sounds never ceased to amaze me. Everywhere I turned, magical folk (and even a handful of Muggles) bustled about in brightly colored clothing, gathering the items they needed. Most were stocking up on supplies for the year at Hogwarts, although an unfortunate few had been caught in the throngs while going about their normal business.

"First," I informed Mother, "you should go to Lincoln Books. The service there is so much better than at Flourish and Blotts, and it'll be less crowded. Then if you could pick up my telescope, scales, etc., I'll meet you at Eeylops Owl Emporium (you know I want an owl, Mother, they're so useful!). I should be done fitting for my robes by then. Afterwards, we can get my wand at Ollivanders, and I'll be all set for the year."

Mother smiled in disbelief. "Your sisters were never this organized! They just ran around from store to store, doubling back to shops they'd forgotten, and losing each other in the crowd. If Gem and Libra hadn't gone to India after graduating, I think they would be here with you, like they were students again! You're taking all the fun out of it."

"No way," I said, in complete sincerity. "My system is faster." Mother rolled her eyes, but still smiled.

"Then I'll meet you at Eeylops, according to your plan, sweetie. Here, this should be enough for any clothes you want. Have fun," she advised, handing me a small bag of Galleons and Sickles.

At Madam Malkin's, I did have fun buying robes. Before checking out with my black work robes, hat, and winter cloak, I tried on every color and style of garment I could find. I finally settled on a beautiful honey-colored robe with gold decorations; a bottle-green light cloak embroidered in copper; scarves, ties, and hats of various colors and designs; and an extra pair of tall, practical, leather boots. I had to have something to wear in my time off from classes! At the last second, I remembered I needed gloves, and picked out a steel-studded dragon-hide pair.

Paying for the lot of it and thanking Madam Malkin profusely for the wheeled trunk she had pointed out ("It's handy, it's big, and it's on sale today only!"), I rushed out of the shop just in time to see Mother approaching the Owl Emporium. I grinned at my cleverness in planning, and ran up to meet her.

We entered the shop together, and I chose a tall, dark-colored owl. Promptly, I named him Sir Dinadan, after the arrogant and excitable young noble in the Muggle musical "Camelot." (Father had taken me to several Muggle plays, movies, and other odd forms of story-telling. I suppose it's good enough for people who can't do magic.) He did look a bit restless, constantly turning his head back and forth and fluffing his feathers.

Now I only needed a wand. Upon entering Ollivanders, I was greeted by an old man with shrewd, piercing eyes. "Ah!" he said, as if he knew me. Mother winked; apparently, Mr. Ollivander always seemed to know a new student's relatives, catching quite a few first-years off guard. "I remember your sisters' wands. Very good for practical spells, both of them. Although the yew was much bendier than the maple. Gryffindors, weren't they? Your sisters, I mean." I nodded, wondering if I would end up in Gryffindor like my sisters, Ravenclaw like Mother, or Hufflepuff like Father. The man continued speaking.

"I suppose you want a wand, too. That would be why you came, wouldn't it?" Without waiting for a response, he pulled out a measuring tape which measured from my knee to my feet, around my head, between my knuckles...all on its own. It was a little disconcerting. Mr. Ollivander walked up and down rows of wand boxes, some of which lay covered in dust and spider webs.

"Perhaps we should try...oak and unicorn hair, fifteen and a quarter inches, with a bit of a spring to it." He removed the wand from its box and placed it in my hand. Seeing that nothing unusual happened, he pursed his lips, replaced it, and pulled another box off the shelf. So it went, through all different lengths, wood types, and cores, until one wand sparkled and fizzed at the end like a rocket. "Good, good! It's chosen you," the wandmaker exclaimed. "Teakwood and dragon heartstring, eight inches precisely. Rather stiff, but it's nice for most lasting spells. That'll be eight Galleons and two sickles."

Mother paid, and we both thanked Mr. Ollivander. Stepping out into the bright sunshine, I realized that the wand shop must have been dismally dark inside. "I remember getting my first wand," Mother commented. "And Mr. Ollivander didn't seem much younger, even then!" Laughing carelessly, I almost ran my wheeled trunk into a boy in the street.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going!"

"It's alright," he said, looking more at his supply list than me. He pushed his uncombed brown hair out of his eyes, revealing a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Before I could think of something to say other than: "You're Harry Potter!" (which I didn't say, as it seemed rather unoriginal), he had entered Madam Malkin's. Several other passersby had also noticed the famous boy, and were stopping to gawk; but I wanted to go straight home to read up on Potions and learn how to tie a tie.

To Be Continued...

Disclaimer: I own the Zænidhs and Sir Dinadan, but not the name Sir Dinadan. Also own the original events and dialogue. As before, if Rowling invented it, I didn't.