Chapter Four: Preparations for Hogwarts

I protested and protested. Pop cut me off each time. "Kora, listen to me, darling, going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is an honour, now, please don't treat it as if I'm sending you to the Hounds of Hades!!"

And we spent the day around the kitchen table talking and (in my case) brooding about it.

It all went very fast. One minute it was Sunday and Pop was patting my hand and telling me everything was going to be fine, the next minute it was Tuesday and once again I was toppling out of the fireplace into the checkpoint at Diagon Alley. This time, I carried in my pocket a list of all things required to bring into the school.

Pop greeted me at the desk – he had been talking to the old wizard sitting there. He took me outside and swiped a heap of ash from my shoulders. "Can't wait till you reach sixth year, Kora…no more Floo Powder once you learn how to Apparate."

I resisted the urge to tell him that I was more likely to get kicked out by the end of my first year on account of everybody hating my guts too much to keep them concentrating on their exams. He seemed so enthusiastic about my enrolling at Hogwarts that I didn't want to spoil it any further for him.

Pop had meant to come around shopping with me, but the first step we took someone recognized him and bustled about him for a drink. So Pop gave me a kiss, apologized, and made plans for me to meet him in the Leaky Cauldron when I was done. Such is the life of the Head Unspeakable; nobody ever gives him time to spend with his own granddaughter.

My first stop was Gringotts – ten Galleons would not support me in getting what I needed for school. The bank is a huge place, a cavern perfected in white. It was run by goblins, short ugly things they were. Some sat in rows down the whole lobby doing work – counting coins, weighing gems, scribing and writing down inscriptions, and converting coins into Muggle money for holidaymakers. Others served as company while you took a ride down to your vault for your money, which hopefully wasn't too deep down underground otherwise you would get lost if you were unlucky enough to have wandered away from your goblin.

I went for one of the entrances to the vault chambers, and the goblin standing by took me into the dark rocky tunnel within, quite a contrast to what was shown in the lobby. There was a set of iron tracks here, and a stocky cart that looked like it would've had no place better suited to than an old mine shaft.

Going down was fun. I kept my eyes closed; I knew that all around us was darkness, and stalactites and stalagmites and maybe a ravine or two…I happened to find those kinds of features more than a little creepy.

We reached my vault in less than five minutes. They're pretty big things, with tons of security. You wouldn't believe the kinds and amounts of spells they put on these things, yet all it takes for it to open is a tiny golden key – I gave this to my goblin host and he opened it for me.

Now, I don't mean to brag because there's nothing good about it, but the Rastricks have always had wealth in the family right from the middle ages. I like to think that the piles of gold, silver and bronze aren't from the fairytale blackmail and backstabbing that my family name has been abundant of. Every time Pop gets a raise or a bonus from work, he donates it to St Mungo's Hospital or something along those kinds of institutions. We really don't need the money, although now we would have something else to pay for…my school fees for Hogwarts…

I sighed as I filled my bag with coins, ready for the day.

Up in the lobby, I saw someone I recognized. It was the boy from outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. He had just come out of one of the vault chamber entrances as well, and I could tell that he had seen me because he was up and walking down the lobby in a strangely fast pace for someone in a bank.

I don't know why I did it. I called out, "Wait! Stop!"

I don't know why he did it. He stopped, and looked around at me. Once again there were those eyes, and I knew why I had done it. There was something different about this person, and I felt like I was addicted to his presence although I had only just known that he even existed.

He didn't run off as I approached him, but he looked nervous. That made me nervous, so I smiled to try and cheer both of us up. For some reason I received a huge urge to run away, but then it dispersed and I was able to talk.

"Hi." What else, what else? Quick, before he runs off again. "Are you new here?"

He didn't answer. Instead, with an alarmed expression, he shook his head.

"Er, right. So, you live around here, huh?" A nod. "Um, nice day, isn't it?"

Idiot, idiot, Kora. What a dumb question to start off a conversation. But he nodded, and desperate for something to say I looked at a piece of parchment that he was holding in his hand. Hey…that piece of parchment looked just like…

"Oh…so you're shopping around for Hogwarts as well?"

He stole a look at his list, and nodded furiously. His pale face was turning pretty red.

"Cool. So am I. I just came out of getting money from my vault, as you know already. I'm going in for my first year. You too?" Nod. At least he was still there. Okay, time for some introduction. What the heck was I doing? "I'm Kora Rastrick. What's your name?"

He hesitated for a few seconds. I was ready to tell him that it was alright, my apologies for disturbing him and that he should be on his way when he made a fast movement.

He is definitely weird, I thought as he fumbled around in his pocket, fishing out a notepad and a quill. He quickly dabbed onto the paper, then tore it out and gave it to me. Once again I got the annoying insistence to bolt for my life, but I fought it and read out loud, "'Jim Rickman'. Ah. So, Jim…not so talkative, are you?"

He stared, just like he had the day we had met for the first time, but his face was getting a lot less redder which for me sparked the start of him calming down. I certainly was. I gave another smile and said, "Well, Jim, if you want, we could go shopping together. It'd be interesting to hang out with someone for the day, wouldn't it?"

He nodded, and my next bit of paper read, 'Okay.' That bit of paper made my day.

It was Jim's idea to work down the list, regardless if one of the shops involved was just a few feet away. We went to Madame Malkin's, who looked genuinely surprised to see me out with somebody other than Pop, and was very nice from when she and her assistant pinned up our robes for us to handing us the parcels over the counter.

"Have a good year at school!" she granted us. "Cheerio!"

We went to Flourish and Blotts and had a look around. There really were the most interesting books there, and I found out that Jim was interested in Quidditch just like everybody else was. That was something normal at least. We paid for our school books ("Miranda Goshawk? Newt Scamander? These books ought to be good – my Pop recommends them all the time") then went on to get a cauldron. After that we visited the apothecary to get our potions kit. It was foul in there, but nevertheless it was interesting and we spent a good half hour inside poring through the bottles, jars, barrels and things hanging from the walls and ceiling.

We came across the last few dregs of the list. "Right, Jim. Do you want an owl, a cat, or a toad? We can get the owl at the Emporium, but the cat and toad will have to be at the pet shop up the street."

He pointed to the word 'owl', so we went to the Emporium and he bought a nice tawny.

'I think I'll name him Lester,' his note scribed rather proudly.

All that was left now was the wand.

I wasn't used to seeing wands around. Wizards and witches get through their whole lives using wands, but Pop was one of those who don't usually need a wand to do magic. I had gotten used to seeing him bringing the kettle to the boil with just a wave of his hand if he was in a hurry, and just yesterday he had conjured my cloak into the kitchen from wherever else with nothing but his mind. Pop truly was powerful, I guessed…

We went to Ollivander's, makers of wands since 382 BC according to their shop sign. We went in. You could practically see the dust hanging in the air break up as we opened the door – it was an old shop, and everything seemed to be covered in the dry, whittle stuff. There were shelves lined up inside the store, all of them piled to their limits with long, rectangular boxes. Jim was at the front, looking around with awe at how many wands were in that shop, and as I watched him I thought about how he talked through writing…was he that shy? And how he had stayed by me all this time…for that, I was grateful. It was certainly going to be the first and last time I was ever going to be with anybody for a day, that was for sure.

Mr Ollivander was an old wizard, but he didn't look that old. He moved with lack of agility, alright, but he wasn't that old. He appeared amongst the shelves and peered over the two of us through his glasses.

"Jim, Rickman!" Both Jim and I gave a start. How did he know Jim's name?

"By golly, Jim, how fast time flies. You have grown up so much from the last time I saw you at your christening. And you…"

Mr Ollivander was looking at me with his gray-silver eyes. Yes, he wasn't old, but he was creepy. I didn't think I liked Mr Ollivander very much if he gave me the shivers.

"…Ms Rastrick. Going to Hogwarts, I assume…all very good, very good…"

He didn't look as if he had meant it. But then he was away, somewhere in the darkness of the store, rustling and knocking things over when we can hear him. Jim and I exchanged glances just as he reappeared again.

"For you, Mr Rickman…this 12-inch, lax wood wand with a unicorn hair core. And Ms Rastrick…try this 13-inch, birch wood wand, phoenix feather core."

Jim gave his a wave – at first nothing happened, then there was a rush of air and a large bookcase crashed from where it had been standing next to the door onto the top of the counter between us and the wandbroker, making a terrific noise. Mr Ollivander cleared away the dust, coughing as he waved his wand – "Nope, that can't be right, we'll have to try another one – Ms Rastrick, go on, now –"

I raised my hand, and did the first wave of a wand that I had ever done in my whole life.

A couple of sparks shot out, and severed the shelf-climbing ladder in front of me in half. It fell to the floor, narrowly missing Mr Ollivander himself. He was far from being mad, I hoped. He seemed to enjoy the fact that we had not gotten our real wands as yet.

It took us the best part of the late morning to finally find our wands…although it was something that I was definitely not proud of.

Jim was trying out the first one that I had tried, and had managed to get from it a large rainbow stripe running through the air like an eel. This seemed to make Mr Ollivander satisfied. A short while after that, he decided on handing me an 11-inch, ash wand with a dragon tail hair core.

I questioned him about the core. He said, "It was popular once for warlocks in the eleventh century to have dragon hair in their wands. It is a fine instrument, sturdy enough to withstand any spells fired at it in intention of destroying it. It can still be broken, though, so –"

He gasped. I had already given a wave, and everything had changed.

It was as if a large blanket had been settled over the store. Everything was darker, and suddenly the atmosphere was acting as if it was pressing a weight on us. Something was trying to push my arms down…I didn't let go of the wand…they wanted it…they couldn't have it…where was everybody, where was I, who was talking, no, stop laughing, I couldn't…the loud, rich laugh echoed in my ears, who was that, who –

Then I was back. Everything was the same. Mr Ollivander was still in the position he had been in before the blackout, Jim was still standing there. They both looked unsettled.

"Well, Ms Rastrick, it seems that we have found your wand."

There had been no sense in what had happened in the wand shop, but I decided to ignore it. I must have been hearing things, since Jim had no recollection at all of anybody else who had been in the shop with us. I didn't want to make myself even stranger than usual.

We visited Quality Quidditch Supplies, and stood outside looking at the new Comet that was on display. Jim let out a silent sigh. Just for the heck of it I said, "When you get to Hogwarts, do you hope to be in the Quidditch team?"

He nodded, and calmly scribbled, 'I'd like to be a Seeker. They're cool.'

"If I ever try out for the team, I'd like to try being a Beater. Knocking people off their brooms with a club sounds fun. That's if you're as twisted as me."

He gave the first smile that day, even if it had been tiny and had only lasted a microsecond.

On the way to the Leaky Cauldron Jim waved a goodbye. I had been hoping that he would stay longer for the company of it, but I waved back. It was time I let him go, the poor boy must've been dying to get away from me anyway. I went to the brick wall separating Diagon Alley from The Leaky Cauldron and tapped on it three times with my new wand. As the bricks moved away to reveal the pub's back door, I looked at the thin wooden stick in my hand and wondered. What had happened back there? It was as if I had passed out, although I had been standing up the whole time. Night seemed to have come early, and just for those few seconds. And…it was weird, but the moment I waved that wand it was as if a lot of people were talking…and that laugh…

Inside, Pop saw my trolley and chuckled. "Well, that's quite a lot. Had fun while it lasted?" I just smiled. I couldn't bring myself to tell him about my wand, or even Jim, although he had been the best thing that had happened to me so far. I don't know why.