When Zeph woke at last, it was in a comfortable bed in a pleasant, colorful
room. Zeph blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked around curiously.
It was morning; the sunlight was forcing its way through the lightweight
curtains hanging over a large window opposite him.
A rustle startled him from his rather sluggish thoughts. Zeph sat up with a start and swung around to see Cub sitting up in a bed next to him. Cub put a finger to his mouth and winked as he slipped out of bed and crept silently out of the room. Zeph looked beyond the now empty bed to see Rocky, sleeping tightly curled up on a bed on the other side. The gentle snoring Zeph could hear was coming from Storm, lying on his back on a bed on Zeph's other side. Both were definitely soundly asleep, and Zeph doubted very much whether either of them would be stirring any time soon. He looked at his watch: seven o'clock.
Zeph slipped out of bed as quietly as he could and padded out of the door, hoping desperately that he hadn't woken them up. A final backward glance assured him that if either of the pair had been at all disturbed, they gave no sign of it. Zeph found that he was now standing on another landing, with four other doors opening off it. A flight of stairs extended both up and down. After a moment's thought, Zeph decided that downstairs was most likely to lead him to the common room he'd discovered the previous night. He stared around as he went, the silence ringing uneasily in his ears because it was such a startling contrast to the lively bustle of the previous evening.
It turned out that he was right, and the floor the common room was on was the next one down. As Zeph went in, he noticed a few others sprawled reading or dozing lazily on the sofas. One boy was desperately scribbling at the table by the wall.
"Morning Zeph," Cub said, peering at him over a book. "You're early this morning. We've got another half-hour in bed if we want it, and you were out like a light at nine yesterday. Most of us choose to sleep in when we can, unless, like that idiot Kent, you've not done your prep."
"Less of your cheek, Cub," said the working boy sharply. He was the one who'd been causing most of the colorful sparks the previous evening. "You appreciated my stuff enough yesterday."
"But I didn't know you hadn't done your prep then. Come on Zeph, I'll introduce you to the portraits."
Zeph stared at him, not sure whether Cub was mad, he himself was mad or a combination of the two.
"You'll what?" he asked incredulously.
"Sorry, I keep forgetting you were Muggle born, you've got so much magic its hard to believe you've not had any training. Wizard portraits can move and talk, not like boring Muggle ones. This one over here's Professor Eberhard," he continued, pointing to a sleeping young man in emerald green robes. "He taught Transfiguration at Hogwarts about a century ago, and he was Professor Dumbledore's favourite teacher. He's nice, and always willing to help you when you get stuck with work, just remember that you always have to call him Professor, else he gets moody."
"Thank you, young Cub," the painted scholar said teasingly, eyes snapping open. Cub jumped, looking guilty. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, young wizard. How are you known?"
"He means what's your name?" Cub mouthed at him.
"Uh, Zeph, Professor."
"I will be seeing you around then."
"I hope so Professor."
Cub led him on to the next portrait, of an elderly lady who appeared fast asleep.
"This is the Old Lady," Cub whispered cautiously, keeping one eye fixed on the painting. "I don't know her name. She bosses us all around, and always favors the girls. The one on that wall is Old Reg, but we have to call him Sir Reginald, or it'll start him off and he sure can roar. The portrait over by the fireplace is Gwen, the Shepherdess, and she always does what Old Reg says. I think she fancies him, Merlin knows why, but she's quite sweet actually."
"Right," said Zeph, uncertainly. "Shouldn't we start getting up now, or something? It feels like about half an hour's passed."
"Oh, we've got a few minutes leeway, but I guess you don't really want to be late on your first day. Do you like the room, by the way? I decorated it myself when Peter, Spike and Warwick moved out."
"Yeah, its great," Zeph said, and meant it.
They found Storm and Rocky now perfectly awake and moving when they arrived back in the dormitory. Cub showed Zeph the drawers allocated to him and pointed out the bathroom door. Zeph opened them curiously, expecting them to be empty, but they were filled with piles of neatly folded clothes. He looked questioningly at Cub.
"Where did all this stuff come from?" The other boy had a look.
"Some of it will be stuff that's been passed down from the rest of us, and some Dad will have got last night. I did wonder where he'd got to after supper."
"He got it for me?"
"Of course he did, you didn't have nearly enough with you, and you're one of us now so remember it. The stuff you had with you will be in there somewhere. I expect someone will take you to Diagon Alley today to get your school stuff and then you'll be properly sorted. Come on, its almost breakfast time."
Zeph shook himself from his startled daze and carefully put on a new pair of jeans and a red knitted jersey. Cub grinned broadly when he saw it.
"You've got a Weasley jumper!"
"A what?"
"A Weasley jumper. Mrs Weasley's a friend of dad's and she knits them all the time. They're really warm too, so you'll be fine if you go out today. Remember to put on your badge, it's on your bedside table."
Breakfast was a plain and simple affair compared to what they'd eaten last night - a bowl of cereal, some fruit, and a slice of toast if you were hungry - but it was very nice, and good and filling before his full day's work.
"Uh, thank you for the clothes," Zeph said shyly to Wolf. The teacher smiled at him, and told him that it was nothing. After he'd finished eating, Wolf called Rocky over.
"You've met Zeph, haven't you? Zeph, this is Rocky. Take Zeph to Diagon Alley to get his things. Here's some money, all you'll need, and a list of what you need to get. Come back by four and treat yourself at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour when you've got everything on the list."
"Cool, thanks Wolf," Rocky said, smiling at the thought of the anticipated treat. "Let's got then, if you're ready Zeph?"
"Sure," Zeph said, hastily swallowing his last mouthful of toast and honey. "How do we get there."
"Floo powder," Rocky replied, leading his new friend through to the common room. "You chuck it in, step into the fire and call out Diagon Alley. I'll go first to show you how it's done, then you follow. I'll be waiting at the other end."
Rocky took a generous pinch of dust from a little pot on the mantelpiece and sprinkled it in the fire. Zeph gasped as he stepped casually into the flames, which had turned a startling shade of green.
"Diagon Alley!" he called clearly and vanished.
Zeph took a deep breath, took a pinch of the powder, threw it into the flames and stopped on the edge of the fireplace. He extended a shaky hand towards the flames and, when it wasn't burnt, shut his eyes, jumped in and shouted as fast as he could
"Diagon Alley!"
It felt like he was being sucked down a green, whirling plughole in a bath. Zeph squeezed shut his eyes after a nauseating glance around, and hugged his arms tightly to his chest. At last, he was spat roughly out into a cobbled street. Rocky grabbed him and held him steady while he got his balance.
"It does get easier with practice," he said reassuringly. "You'll see. Welcome to Diagon Alley, fantastic, isn't it?"
"Hmm," Zeph said, trying to take in everything at once.
The cobbled street he was standing on wound out of sight on both sides and was filled with crowds of bustling wizards and witches in robes all the colors of the rainbow. Some had decidedly better taste than others - hadn't anyone told that witch that green hair and red robes really did not go? The boys were standing outside a huge, snow white building that towered powerfully above the small shops that were the normal sort of building to be seen.
"Gringotts, its the wizards' bank," Rocky said, pointing it out. "Let's get your stuff now, then we can look around after lunch. We'll get you some robes first, in case you ever need them. We wear them for Quidditch, and Cub said if someone important visits, we put them on then. In here."
He led Zeph into a shop proudly labeled 'Madam Maulkin's Robes for All Occasions'. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom inside the shop. Rocky led him over to Madam Maulkin herself, a squat, merry witch in mauve robes.
"My brother needs some new robes, please," he said politely. Madam Maulkin smiled.
"Will that be anything in particular, dear?"
"Everyday robes and Quidditch robes. Daddy says he can start learning this year - Tom's been wanting to start playing for years and years, but mum said no until now."
"Aren't you lucky then, Tom. What colors would you like?"
"Green please," Zeph said shyly.
"That's for your everyday robes, yes? And for your Quidditch robes?"
"Red, if that's okay?"
"Of course - are you hoping to be in Gryffindor then, when you start at Hogwarts?"
"Of course he is. I want to be too, when I start in September. I think Gryffindor's the best - it's where dad went too, so we stand a good chance, I think," Rocky said quickly.
"Ah yes, now, do these colors suit you?"
Zeph nodded when he saw the cloth she was holding up and quickly found himself standing on a small stool having them pinned on carefully to the right length. At last, she looked him over critically.
"I think that's you done, dear. Come back this afternoon at about two and I'll have them ready for you." Zeph hopped gratefully off the stool.
"Thank you very much, Madam Maulkin, they're brilliant."
When they were outside again, blinking like bats despite the gloom of the day, Zeph asked,
"Brother? Tom?"
"Easier, and Zeph is rather a distinctive name. I suppose its short for Zephyrinus. That was the name of a really famous wizard - Zephyrinus Potter. Anyway, it's easier, since I know my way around and you don't. I get to be older 'cause I have the money. If anyone asks you, say our dad sent us. Otherwise, just follow my lead. We can do your books next. Wolf likes us to have a complete set of Hogwarts textbooks, even if we don't use them so much in lessons, so that we can study on our own. This is it, Flourish and Blotts. Apparently, it's the only decent wizard bookshop around."
The bookshop was filled with shelves towering right up to the ceiling, filled to bursting with books of all shapes, sizes and materials. They looked around while a helpful young shop assistant found the books they needed. When they left at last, tearing themselves away from Quidditch for Beginners, Rocky consulted his list.
"I think we should do your Potions stuff now, then have lunch. That way we've just got to get you a wand before we can go around ourselves. I'd like to go to the joke shop, the sweet shop, and the Quidditch shop if we have time. It says to get a broom if there's a good one for you, but we could do that another day."
After eating lunch in a dark, shabby pub called the Leaky Cauldron; Rocky took Zeph to a narrow, rundown looking shop. Gold letters above the door read 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382BC'. A faint bell rang as they pushed open the shop door. Zeph stared around at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly. The whole place seemed to him to tingle with magic.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Zeph jumped; Rocky grinned at his discomfort. A wizened old man was standing behind them, gazing curiously at Zeph with pale, silvery eyes.
"My brother needs a wand, Mr Ollivander," Rocky said, rather awkwardly. "He'll be starting school next year, you see, and dad wants everything done early so we won't forget anything."
"Ah yes, let's see. Well now, which is your wand arm?"
"I'm left handed."
"Hold it out for me, that's it." He measured Zeph from shoulder to finger then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around his head. As he measured, he explained to them in a dreamy voice about his wands.
"Every Ollivander wand has a magical core. We use unicorn hair, phoenix feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are exactly the same, just as no two wizards, unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get quite the same results with another wizard's wand."
Zeph realized with a start that the tape measure, which was now measuring the length of his mouth, was doing this on its own, while Mr Ollivander flitted around picking up seemingly random unlabelled boxes from around the room.
"That will do," he said, plucking the tape measure out of the air with a practiced hand. "Try this wand, nine inches, nice and flexible, it's beechwood with dragon heartstring. Just give it a wave, young man, and we'll see."
Zeph took the wand and waved it randomly until Mr Ollivander snatched it back from him. Wand after wand followed in long succession. Rocky was shifting uncomfortably from leg to leg, but Zeph was fascinated by it all now.
"Hmmm, tricky customer," the old shopkeeper said. "Don't worry, we'll find the perfect match somewhere. I wonder, try this, holly and phoenix feather, 14 inches."
Zeph took the wand. It felt warm and comfortable in his hand. He swished it and blue and silver sparks burst from the end in a shower that rained down on poor Rocky.
"Oh bravo, my boy, bravo. Curious though, how very curious."
"Why Mr Ollivander?" Rocky asked, brushing the sparks off his shoulders.
"What young man? Oh yes, yes, it's a very rare combination, holly and phoenix feather, and I've only ever sold one other. That was to young Mr Potter, and look what he's achieved. You must be destined for great things, yes, great things." Back outside again, feeling rather spooked by this confident prediction, Zeph asked,
"Who's Mr Potter?"
"Hand on a minute, let's get seats first."
Rocky found them seats at the ice cream parlor and bought an ice cream for each of them. Then, licking his chocolate ice every few words, he began.
"Harry Potter's a boy at Hogwarts, that's the most famous Wizarding School. He's in his fifth year now, so he must be, uh, about fifteen. When he was a baby, this really powerful Dark wizard attacked his family. His parents were killed, but when he tried to kill Harry, he almost killed himself. Harry's got a scar on his forehead because of it - its really famous. While he's been at school, he's saved the Philosopher's Stone, killed a basilisk and won the Triwizard Tournament. He's pretty much the best wizard still at school, from what I've heard. Wolf seems to know him quite well, if you're interested, and look here, in Modern Magical History. You've got the new edition, lucky man, but that's a picture of him in the Triwizard Tournament, while he was getting past a dragon. Amazing, right?"
"Yeah, have you ever met him?"
"Me? Course not, we're illegal, remember? Wolf says we will someday, and I can't wait myself."
That afternoon, they bought a broomstick that Zeph carried proudly around, then spent the rest of their money on sweets and headed for home. The house was quiet when they got back.
"Hello!" Rocky yelled when they opened the front door. "We're back!" Wolf came pounding cheerfully downstairs from his room in the attic four floors up.
"Have a good time?" he asked.
"Great!" Zeph said.
"Good, do you want to start learning now, Zeph? If you work hard, you should have caught up with Rocky and Storm in a few months. They aren't working nearly as hard as they could."
"I'd love to, thanks, but I don't want to be a bother to you at all."
"No bother. Put your books in your locker in the common room - Rocky will show you where - and come down to one of the classrooms with your wand and your Standard Book of Spells. Rocky, you could probably do with the revision if you come too." "Okay."
A rustle startled him from his rather sluggish thoughts. Zeph sat up with a start and swung around to see Cub sitting up in a bed next to him. Cub put a finger to his mouth and winked as he slipped out of bed and crept silently out of the room. Zeph looked beyond the now empty bed to see Rocky, sleeping tightly curled up on a bed on the other side. The gentle snoring Zeph could hear was coming from Storm, lying on his back on a bed on Zeph's other side. Both were definitely soundly asleep, and Zeph doubted very much whether either of them would be stirring any time soon. He looked at his watch: seven o'clock.
Zeph slipped out of bed as quietly as he could and padded out of the door, hoping desperately that he hadn't woken them up. A final backward glance assured him that if either of the pair had been at all disturbed, they gave no sign of it. Zeph found that he was now standing on another landing, with four other doors opening off it. A flight of stairs extended both up and down. After a moment's thought, Zeph decided that downstairs was most likely to lead him to the common room he'd discovered the previous night. He stared around as he went, the silence ringing uneasily in his ears because it was such a startling contrast to the lively bustle of the previous evening.
It turned out that he was right, and the floor the common room was on was the next one down. As Zeph went in, he noticed a few others sprawled reading or dozing lazily on the sofas. One boy was desperately scribbling at the table by the wall.
"Morning Zeph," Cub said, peering at him over a book. "You're early this morning. We've got another half-hour in bed if we want it, and you were out like a light at nine yesterday. Most of us choose to sleep in when we can, unless, like that idiot Kent, you've not done your prep."
"Less of your cheek, Cub," said the working boy sharply. He was the one who'd been causing most of the colorful sparks the previous evening. "You appreciated my stuff enough yesterday."
"But I didn't know you hadn't done your prep then. Come on Zeph, I'll introduce you to the portraits."
Zeph stared at him, not sure whether Cub was mad, he himself was mad or a combination of the two.
"You'll what?" he asked incredulously.
"Sorry, I keep forgetting you were Muggle born, you've got so much magic its hard to believe you've not had any training. Wizard portraits can move and talk, not like boring Muggle ones. This one over here's Professor Eberhard," he continued, pointing to a sleeping young man in emerald green robes. "He taught Transfiguration at Hogwarts about a century ago, and he was Professor Dumbledore's favourite teacher. He's nice, and always willing to help you when you get stuck with work, just remember that you always have to call him Professor, else he gets moody."
"Thank you, young Cub," the painted scholar said teasingly, eyes snapping open. Cub jumped, looking guilty. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, young wizard. How are you known?"
"He means what's your name?" Cub mouthed at him.
"Uh, Zeph, Professor."
"I will be seeing you around then."
"I hope so Professor."
Cub led him on to the next portrait, of an elderly lady who appeared fast asleep.
"This is the Old Lady," Cub whispered cautiously, keeping one eye fixed on the painting. "I don't know her name. She bosses us all around, and always favors the girls. The one on that wall is Old Reg, but we have to call him Sir Reginald, or it'll start him off and he sure can roar. The portrait over by the fireplace is Gwen, the Shepherdess, and she always does what Old Reg says. I think she fancies him, Merlin knows why, but she's quite sweet actually."
"Right," said Zeph, uncertainly. "Shouldn't we start getting up now, or something? It feels like about half an hour's passed."
"Oh, we've got a few minutes leeway, but I guess you don't really want to be late on your first day. Do you like the room, by the way? I decorated it myself when Peter, Spike and Warwick moved out."
"Yeah, its great," Zeph said, and meant it.
They found Storm and Rocky now perfectly awake and moving when they arrived back in the dormitory. Cub showed Zeph the drawers allocated to him and pointed out the bathroom door. Zeph opened them curiously, expecting them to be empty, but they were filled with piles of neatly folded clothes. He looked questioningly at Cub.
"Where did all this stuff come from?" The other boy had a look.
"Some of it will be stuff that's been passed down from the rest of us, and some Dad will have got last night. I did wonder where he'd got to after supper."
"He got it for me?"
"Of course he did, you didn't have nearly enough with you, and you're one of us now so remember it. The stuff you had with you will be in there somewhere. I expect someone will take you to Diagon Alley today to get your school stuff and then you'll be properly sorted. Come on, its almost breakfast time."
Zeph shook himself from his startled daze and carefully put on a new pair of jeans and a red knitted jersey. Cub grinned broadly when he saw it.
"You've got a Weasley jumper!"
"A what?"
"A Weasley jumper. Mrs Weasley's a friend of dad's and she knits them all the time. They're really warm too, so you'll be fine if you go out today. Remember to put on your badge, it's on your bedside table."
Breakfast was a plain and simple affair compared to what they'd eaten last night - a bowl of cereal, some fruit, and a slice of toast if you were hungry - but it was very nice, and good and filling before his full day's work.
"Uh, thank you for the clothes," Zeph said shyly to Wolf. The teacher smiled at him, and told him that it was nothing. After he'd finished eating, Wolf called Rocky over.
"You've met Zeph, haven't you? Zeph, this is Rocky. Take Zeph to Diagon Alley to get his things. Here's some money, all you'll need, and a list of what you need to get. Come back by four and treat yourself at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour when you've got everything on the list."
"Cool, thanks Wolf," Rocky said, smiling at the thought of the anticipated treat. "Let's got then, if you're ready Zeph?"
"Sure," Zeph said, hastily swallowing his last mouthful of toast and honey. "How do we get there."
"Floo powder," Rocky replied, leading his new friend through to the common room. "You chuck it in, step into the fire and call out Diagon Alley. I'll go first to show you how it's done, then you follow. I'll be waiting at the other end."
Rocky took a generous pinch of dust from a little pot on the mantelpiece and sprinkled it in the fire. Zeph gasped as he stepped casually into the flames, which had turned a startling shade of green.
"Diagon Alley!" he called clearly and vanished.
Zeph took a deep breath, took a pinch of the powder, threw it into the flames and stopped on the edge of the fireplace. He extended a shaky hand towards the flames and, when it wasn't burnt, shut his eyes, jumped in and shouted as fast as he could
"Diagon Alley!"
It felt like he was being sucked down a green, whirling plughole in a bath. Zeph squeezed shut his eyes after a nauseating glance around, and hugged his arms tightly to his chest. At last, he was spat roughly out into a cobbled street. Rocky grabbed him and held him steady while he got his balance.
"It does get easier with practice," he said reassuringly. "You'll see. Welcome to Diagon Alley, fantastic, isn't it?"
"Hmm," Zeph said, trying to take in everything at once.
The cobbled street he was standing on wound out of sight on both sides and was filled with crowds of bustling wizards and witches in robes all the colors of the rainbow. Some had decidedly better taste than others - hadn't anyone told that witch that green hair and red robes really did not go? The boys were standing outside a huge, snow white building that towered powerfully above the small shops that were the normal sort of building to be seen.
"Gringotts, its the wizards' bank," Rocky said, pointing it out. "Let's get your stuff now, then we can look around after lunch. We'll get you some robes first, in case you ever need them. We wear them for Quidditch, and Cub said if someone important visits, we put them on then. In here."
He led Zeph into a shop proudly labeled 'Madam Maulkin's Robes for All Occasions'. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom inside the shop. Rocky led him over to Madam Maulkin herself, a squat, merry witch in mauve robes.
"My brother needs some new robes, please," he said politely. Madam Maulkin smiled.
"Will that be anything in particular, dear?"
"Everyday robes and Quidditch robes. Daddy says he can start learning this year - Tom's been wanting to start playing for years and years, but mum said no until now."
"Aren't you lucky then, Tom. What colors would you like?"
"Green please," Zeph said shyly.
"That's for your everyday robes, yes? And for your Quidditch robes?"
"Red, if that's okay?"
"Of course - are you hoping to be in Gryffindor then, when you start at Hogwarts?"
"Of course he is. I want to be too, when I start in September. I think Gryffindor's the best - it's where dad went too, so we stand a good chance, I think," Rocky said quickly.
"Ah yes, now, do these colors suit you?"
Zeph nodded when he saw the cloth she was holding up and quickly found himself standing on a small stool having them pinned on carefully to the right length. At last, she looked him over critically.
"I think that's you done, dear. Come back this afternoon at about two and I'll have them ready for you." Zeph hopped gratefully off the stool.
"Thank you very much, Madam Maulkin, they're brilliant."
When they were outside again, blinking like bats despite the gloom of the day, Zeph asked,
"Brother? Tom?"
"Easier, and Zeph is rather a distinctive name. I suppose its short for Zephyrinus. That was the name of a really famous wizard - Zephyrinus Potter. Anyway, it's easier, since I know my way around and you don't. I get to be older 'cause I have the money. If anyone asks you, say our dad sent us. Otherwise, just follow my lead. We can do your books next. Wolf likes us to have a complete set of Hogwarts textbooks, even if we don't use them so much in lessons, so that we can study on our own. This is it, Flourish and Blotts. Apparently, it's the only decent wizard bookshop around."
The bookshop was filled with shelves towering right up to the ceiling, filled to bursting with books of all shapes, sizes and materials. They looked around while a helpful young shop assistant found the books they needed. When they left at last, tearing themselves away from Quidditch for Beginners, Rocky consulted his list.
"I think we should do your Potions stuff now, then have lunch. That way we've just got to get you a wand before we can go around ourselves. I'd like to go to the joke shop, the sweet shop, and the Quidditch shop if we have time. It says to get a broom if there's a good one for you, but we could do that another day."
After eating lunch in a dark, shabby pub called the Leaky Cauldron; Rocky took Zeph to a narrow, rundown looking shop. Gold letters above the door read 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382BC'. A faint bell rang as they pushed open the shop door. Zeph stared around at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly. The whole place seemed to him to tingle with magic.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Zeph jumped; Rocky grinned at his discomfort. A wizened old man was standing behind them, gazing curiously at Zeph with pale, silvery eyes.
"My brother needs a wand, Mr Ollivander," Rocky said, rather awkwardly. "He'll be starting school next year, you see, and dad wants everything done early so we won't forget anything."
"Ah yes, let's see. Well now, which is your wand arm?"
"I'm left handed."
"Hold it out for me, that's it." He measured Zeph from shoulder to finger then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around his head. As he measured, he explained to them in a dreamy voice about his wands.
"Every Ollivander wand has a magical core. We use unicorn hair, phoenix feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are exactly the same, just as no two wizards, unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get quite the same results with another wizard's wand."
Zeph realized with a start that the tape measure, which was now measuring the length of his mouth, was doing this on its own, while Mr Ollivander flitted around picking up seemingly random unlabelled boxes from around the room.
"That will do," he said, plucking the tape measure out of the air with a practiced hand. "Try this wand, nine inches, nice and flexible, it's beechwood with dragon heartstring. Just give it a wave, young man, and we'll see."
Zeph took the wand and waved it randomly until Mr Ollivander snatched it back from him. Wand after wand followed in long succession. Rocky was shifting uncomfortably from leg to leg, but Zeph was fascinated by it all now.
"Hmmm, tricky customer," the old shopkeeper said. "Don't worry, we'll find the perfect match somewhere. I wonder, try this, holly and phoenix feather, 14 inches."
Zeph took the wand. It felt warm and comfortable in his hand. He swished it and blue and silver sparks burst from the end in a shower that rained down on poor Rocky.
"Oh bravo, my boy, bravo. Curious though, how very curious."
"Why Mr Ollivander?" Rocky asked, brushing the sparks off his shoulders.
"What young man? Oh yes, yes, it's a very rare combination, holly and phoenix feather, and I've only ever sold one other. That was to young Mr Potter, and look what he's achieved. You must be destined for great things, yes, great things." Back outside again, feeling rather spooked by this confident prediction, Zeph asked,
"Who's Mr Potter?"
"Hand on a minute, let's get seats first."
Rocky found them seats at the ice cream parlor and bought an ice cream for each of them. Then, licking his chocolate ice every few words, he began.
"Harry Potter's a boy at Hogwarts, that's the most famous Wizarding School. He's in his fifth year now, so he must be, uh, about fifteen. When he was a baby, this really powerful Dark wizard attacked his family. His parents were killed, but when he tried to kill Harry, he almost killed himself. Harry's got a scar on his forehead because of it - its really famous. While he's been at school, he's saved the Philosopher's Stone, killed a basilisk and won the Triwizard Tournament. He's pretty much the best wizard still at school, from what I've heard. Wolf seems to know him quite well, if you're interested, and look here, in Modern Magical History. You've got the new edition, lucky man, but that's a picture of him in the Triwizard Tournament, while he was getting past a dragon. Amazing, right?"
"Yeah, have you ever met him?"
"Me? Course not, we're illegal, remember? Wolf says we will someday, and I can't wait myself."
That afternoon, they bought a broomstick that Zeph carried proudly around, then spent the rest of their money on sweets and headed for home. The house was quiet when they got back.
"Hello!" Rocky yelled when they opened the front door. "We're back!" Wolf came pounding cheerfully downstairs from his room in the attic four floors up.
"Have a good time?" he asked.
"Great!" Zeph said.
"Good, do you want to start learning now, Zeph? If you work hard, you should have caught up with Rocky and Storm in a few months. They aren't working nearly as hard as they could."
"I'd love to, thanks, but I don't want to be a bother to you at all."
"No bother. Put your books in your locker in the common room - Rocky will show you where - and come down to one of the classrooms with your wand and your Standard Book of Spells. Rocky, you could probably do with the revision if you come too." "Okay."
