A/N: I don't need to bother with the disclaimer because JK Rowling is so well-known at this point that everyone is aware that some little idiot called Kate isn't the owner of Harry Potter.
Caitlin: thanks for your support.
Sarah: your support frightens me, but I'll deal with it, as always.
Everyone else: if you're not reviewing then I don't love you as much as I would.
Flourish and Blotts was our arrival point. It was so chalk-full of books that I thought I had stepped into the wizard's Barnes and Nobles. In a sense I really had. Mrs. Weasley didn't stay for long. She informed me that we had to go to the bank first. Gringotts, it was called.
I felt my face go hot. "Mrs. Weasley, I… I don't think I have any money."
"Of course you do." She said, pulling Favian out of the book shop and onto a cobbled street. "Do you think Dumbledore wouldn't take care of you?"
"Well, I didn't really… how?"
"He transferred your parent's bank accounts to yours, dear." She said delicately.
"Oh." I was dazed, not just by the sudden information but the busy street and the vast array of stores. We didn't stop in any of them, to my sheer disappointment. I was too shy to ask if we could. We went to a tall building on the other side of Diagon Alley.
Gringotts was run by goblins, dangerously smart looking creatures with long noses and fingers. Their heights didn't exceed my shoulder. Their beady eyes surveyed my muggle clothing. I felt trashy in Hermione's shirt because of how it bobbed at navel height. I pulled down nervously to no avail. Mrs. Weasley took out four keys and handed me one.
"This is the key to your account. Don't lose it."
I swallowed hard. It was small and I was very bad at keeping track of things, especially small things. I nodded anyway.
A goblin called Rarthnix took us on a wild cart ride to our accounts. First we stopped at Harry's, whose vault was so full of gold, silver and bronze that I thought he must be the richest wizard in the world, or else all wizards had heaps of treasure. Hermione's vault had a sizeable mound but the Weasley's had so little that I felt terrible. They had been taking care of me and could barely afford to send their children to school. My vault contained what must've been my parents' entire life's savings. My face glowed in embarrassment.
"These are called Galleons, these are Sickles and these are Knuts." Mrs. Weasley explained as we left, holding each coin up for me for me to look at. "Twenty-nine knuts to a sickle and 17 sickles to a galleon."
"Odd numbers." I said quietly.
Mrs. Weasley smiled. "It's all relative to value, Favian. Now what shall we do? Tell you what, I'll go and buy your books while you're at Madam Malkin's."
I nodded numbly, wondering who she was talking about. Mrs. Weasley guided me to a shop labeled in fancy purple lettering Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Well, that made sense. Mrs. Weasley led me in and left me with a middle-aged woman (interestingly enough, her name was Madam Malkin.)
"I don't recall seeing you here." She said, looking me up and down. "And I think I would remember you."
"No, this is my first time here."
"Is it your first year in Hogwarts? You look older than eleven… I'd have guessed sixteen…."
"Fifteen. Yes, it's my first year at Hogwarts."
"But you're an American! How fascinating! What school do you come from?"
"I come from a muggle school." I admitted.
"Oh." She seemed vaguely disappointed but asked no more as she began to take measurements. "What's your name?" She asked genially.
"I'm Favian. Favian Clark."
"That's a lovely name. Do you have a middle name?" She continued, measuring my height.
"Yes." But in my opinion my middle name was even weirder than my first.
"Do share?" Madam Malkin smiled encouragingly.
"Oh, it's Fynn."
"Favian Fynn Clark." She tested. "I like it.
"You can take it then."
"Haha! Oh dear, you are a real character. All right, hold on for a moment." Madam Malkin bustled away, muttering the measurements to herself. I was left alone in a room with three full-length mirrors that I cautiously did not look in. I saw only my feet and looked away hurriedly. The door opened and a tall black boy and a dark-haired lad walked in talking together.
"Mum says if I keep growing she's going to cut me legs off. Sometimes I wonder if she is crazy or… well, crazy." The dark-haired boy had an Irish accent. I loved accents. That had been the one major plus to moving to the United Kingdom. My mom had always told me that men with accents were so much sexier and that I should've been pleased to be plopped in the middle of them. I felt as though I had deflated upon thinking about her. I closed my eyes for a moment and let the feelings subside.
"If your mum's crazy then my mum is a psychiatric miracle." The black boy moaned.
"Dean, your mum is cool even if she thinks Quidditch is second to soccer. At least she doesn't obsess over what the Daily Prophet rambles about."
"Don't even mention anything at school, Seamus. Harry is our friend." Dean muttered.
"Yeah." Seamus bit his lip and leaned against the counter. I watched from the other room. "Where is Madam Malkin, anyway?"
"She's got other customers you prat."
"Is anyone in there right now, you reckon?" Seamus began walking towards the door. I had backed into a wall and was sincerely wishing that I didn't look like a dumpy freak. I fought the urge to look in the mirror.
"Well?"
"Not that I can see." Seamus was looking straight into the room but I had managed to make myself unnoticeable in a shadow. He slowly turned his head in my direction. I wanted to look sort of natural so I leaned against the wall and stared blankly at the wall opposite me. "Oops. There is." He turned a bit pink at the ears and cheeks. He left the room and muttered to Dean.
"I've never seen that girl at Hogwarts before."
"She could be a first year." Dean offered.
"No way could she be a first year. She's about fifteen or sixteen."
"Maybe fourteen?"
"Maybe, but I'd have seen her before." Seamus said fervently. How bad was my acne? My fingers stopped inches from my face.
I've got to know!
No, no, no! It will only make you more self-conscious!
I scrunched my eyes. It didn't matter, zits were trivial, and unless I had become reminiscent of a leper I shouldn't have had to worry.
"I'll look." Dean said.
"Don't! I mean… won't that look stupid?" Seamus whispered loudly.
"No. Obviously we just want to place her." I heard Dean come to the door and poke his head around. "Hello. Who are you?"
"Favian." I said, feeling warm in the face. I don't think he could see my blush because I was in a shadow.
"I don't think we've met."
"I know we haven't." I smiled.
"Ah, well then. I'm Dean, and that lad back there is Seamus." Dean jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "What grade are you in?"
"I don't know yet. Professor McGonagall said my classes would vary in grade level."
"Why?" Dean asked slowly.
"It's my first year at a wizarding school."
"Don't they have them in America?" He had obviously placed my accent.
"I guess so. I don't know what happened." I shrugged.
"Oh well."
"All right, Favian Fynn! Your robes will be ready tomorrow!"
"Thanks." I smiled, wishing she hadn't used my middle name. I started to leave.
"I guess we'll see you at Hogwarts!" Seamus called after me.
"Yeah… see you!" I ran out of the shop, both embarrassed and giddy. I kept meeting people that were friendly. I hoped they were all this way.
(A/N: as we know, not everyone is this friendly. Hint, hint, wink, wink, cough.)