And it's time for some more hoggy warty goodness! I don't own Harry Potter, alas. If I did, I would be somewhere exotic having hot boys wait on me. By the way, there is currently an amusing article on The Onion (theonion . com) about J.K. Rowling stopping the series because she's discovered boys. ;-) Quite amusing.
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Ethan looked down Diagon Alley, suddenly very overwhelmed. He hadn't even been given a list of what to purchase! All he had ever been given was that acceptance letter, which he was pretty sure he'd left on his dresser.
As if reading his mind, Fawkes spoke. "Don't worry, kid, it's all up here." He gestured to his head and coughed a few times. Ethan found it profoundly unreassuring, but there wasn't much he could do about it.
"So, where should we go first? Madame Malkin's?" Ethan nodded towards the crowded-looking shop.
"Madame Malkin's?!" Fawkes let out a raspy cackle, and several witches looked at him in slight alarm. "Don't be stupid. If you want good, stylin' robes, you'll go to Madame Versace's."
"Versace is a witch?!" Ethan asked in disbelief, after biting back a comment about not having the money. Judging by the bulginess of his pockets, he had galleons to burn.
"Of course she is hopped up on floo powder half the time, too. But we'll handle your clothes later. First stop is Ollivander's; we have to get you a wand."
"Right," Ethan said nervously, following Fawke's directions to the old shop. It was deserted, which struck Ethan as more than a little foreboding considering the throng of people outside. To make things worse, there was a small sign outside that said "NO PETS!" in a bossy tone of voice as they approached. "NO PETS" was also written on the sign for the hearing-impaired.
"I'm not a pet," Fawkes said, voice dripping with disgust. "But I don't want the old geezer to soil himself. I'll just wait out here." He settled on top of the "NO PETS" sign and took a generous dump down the front, snickering quietly to himself. Ethan wrinkled his nose and pushed his way into the shop, silent except for the quiet tinkle of the bell over the door.
He stood on the dusty floorboards and looked around. Every available flat surface was buried under slim, neatly stacked boxes. His natural boy instincts to poke around were squashed by the nagging fear that Ollivander would notice if anything had been touched.
Before Ethan's internal battle could go definitively one way or the other, a wispy-haired man with pale, bulging eyes emerged from the back room, looking like some sort of cave creature that was only just now seeing the light of the sun. Mr. Ollivander blinked a few times, then looked down at Ethan.
"Ah. The main character. I wondered when I'd be seeing you."
'How in the hell does everyone know?' Ethan thought to himself as he smiled weakly at the old man. Did he have it stamped on his forehead? 'No pun intended,' he added wryly to himself.
"A wand worthy of a main character," Ollivander said softly to himself, eyes scanning the shelves. He darted to the side with surprising swiftness and agility for an old guy and was back at Ethan's side a moment later. "Try this one. Willow, twelve inches, dragon heartstring." He thrust the wand into the bewildered boy's hand. "Give it a wave!"
"Uh, right," Ethan said, swallowing nervously. He stretched his arm out and gave the wand a timid wave.
The roof fell in.
"Ah not that one, then." Mr. Ollivander repaired the damage with a wave of his own wand while Ethan coughed. Fawkes had been watching the street with bland interest, but now turned around to watch Ethan through the window. Apparently the boy was giving a better show than the passerby go figure. As Ethan caught his breath, the willow wand was snatched away and another was pressed into his hand. "Here. Mahogany, eleven inches, unicorn hair."
Ethan looked dubiously from the wand to Ollivander and back. The man was smiling eagerly, as if nothing delighted him more than the potential for disaster, except possibly disaster itself. Ethan gave the wand a tiny wave.
The roof stayed in place. Mr. Ollivander's underwear, however, jumped two feet to the left. Red boxers embroidered with tiny golden snitches hovered in midair. 'Well, at least they're boxers,' Ethan thought in a pathetic attempt at optimism. He could hear Fawkes laughing through the glass.
Mr. Ollivander didn't look the least bit perturbed. An instant later, Ethan found himself with a new wand. "Holly, thirteen inches, phoenix tailfeather!"
That sounded suspiciously like Harry's wand. Ethan wrinkled his brow and waved it. A long streamer shot out of the end and promptly began spelling insults in the air.
Mr. Ollivander smells like poo! The streamer spelled happily. Ethan wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. To see Mr. Ollivander, however, you would think this sort of thing happened daily.
Ollivander is a wanker!
The holly wand was removed, though the banner remained. "Here!" Ollivander said with a flourish, handing Ethan yet another wand. "Try this one! Teak, ten inches, dragon heartstring, excellent for transfiguration!"
Normally, Ollivander wears women's panties!
With a little, despairing sigh, Ethan held the wand as far away from himself as he could and twitched it.
There was a loud crunching sound. Ethan whirled around and looked out the window just in time to see a giant chasm open in the middle of the street. Dozens of witches and wizards tumbled into the void, wailing.
"That's the one, kid!" Fawkes said over the screaming, laughing so hard that he was crying (and unwittingly repairing small potholes in the cobblestones below wherever his tears struck the ground). "Perfect! Absolutely bloody brilliant!"
"Ahh," Ethan said, gingerly setting the wand down on an exposed bit of counter and backing away from it. "Sorry about that"
"Oh dear" Ollivander stepped outside, Ethan trailing miserably behind him.
Ollivander is the most inept salesman the world has ever seen! The banner whooshed gleefully through the rafters.
It took Mr. Ollivander a full five minutes to return things to their normal state, Ethan apologizing profusely to anyone who would listen. Most of them saw that he was the main character and brushed it off with a grin and a friendly pat on the shoulder.
Finally the repairs were finished, and they went back into the shop. The boxers were still hovering quietly in the middle of the room, and the banner was just finishing what looked like a jab at Ollivander's ancestry.
"Let's see," Ollivander mused with an air of slight desperation that hadn't been there before. He looked more concerned now with damage control than with finding the right wand, and Ethan really couldn't blame him. The old man frowned pensively at the shelves for a while, then pulled down a box and opened it. "Ash. Twelve inches. Phoenix feather." He held out the open box. Ethan carefully removed the wand as if it was made of something very fragile.
If Ollivander was a fruit, he - wait, he already is one!
Ethan looked at Mr. Ollivander for reassurance, which turned out to be a mistake as the man was currently bracing himself against some furniture and trying to look like he wasn't. Biting his lower lip, Ethan gave the wand a healthy wave.
Immediately, the shop filled with sunshine and birdsong. Ollivander squinted painfully against the sudden ocular onslaught; the floorboards were quickly covered in grass and a babbling brook began to meander its way across the shop.
"Ah," Ollivander said once his eyes had adjusted, looking immensely relieved. "That's the one, then. That'll be three galleons."
Ethan dug eagerly into his pocket and paid for his wand as quickly as he could without appearing rude (though he dropped the galleons once when a deer came up out of nowhere and nuzzled his arm), and backed out of the shop with a relieved sigh.
"You should have gone with the last one, kid," said a disappointed Fawkes as he settled himself on Ethan's shoulder. "It suited you."
"Oh, sure," Ethan muttered sarcastically. "What better way to make friends here than by opening chasms wherever I go?"
"Hey, it could have been a useful trick during that whole Chamber of Secrets ordeal," Fawkes argued with a few hacking coughs.
"Wait," Ethan stopped dead, forcing Fawkes to spread his wings to stay balanced. "I just paid Ollivander with busy-galleons! What if -"
"Kid," Fawkes interrupted flatly. "Again with the worrying! Sheesh! Do you honestly think Dumbledore would breed busy-galleons too stupid to know when they'd been used to buy something? They stop multiplying once they're spent, or else they'd be pretty useless, wouldn't they?" The bird shook his head, leaving Ethan feeling a bit more foolish than he really should have.
Luckily, there were no more episodes like that one in Ollivander's shop, so the rest of the morning passed uneventfully. By lunchtime, Ethan had his books, his cauldron, his potions ingredients and his robes. He was trying to decide whether he wanted a pet or not; Fawkes might not hang around forever, and it would be nice to have someone to talk to if the other students totally rejected him (something he was fairly positive they would do). And if he got an owl that was good with long flights, he wouldn't have to worry about making any of the school owls carry his letters home, or be forced to entrust the letter to any birds of lesser intelligence (he was still a bit worried about that albatross).
"Fawkes," Ethan said as he munched on a sandwich from the Leaky Cauldron, "should I get an owl?" They were sitting on a bench out in the sunlight, Ethan's pile of wizarding merchandise beside them. Fawkes was perched on the arm of the bench, smoking pensively. "I mean, could an owl even carry a letter all the way across the ocean? Or am I going to have to keep finding seagulls?"
"Of course an owl can carry a letter that far. That's what they're bred to do," Fawkes said, blowing a series of smoke rings and putting slight emphasis on the word 'they're'. "You could always get a school owl to take any letters; but if you really want one, get one."
"Will you be nice to it?" Ethan asked, looking sideways at the phoenix as he chewed.
"What are you implying?"
"I just don't want to buy something you're going to clash with."
"Then don't get something green. That would look too Christmas-y."
"I'm not talking about color, Fawkes! If I get an owl, you have to promise to be friendly, okay?"
"Fine, fine. I do have some sense of common courtesy." Fawkes flicked the cigarette away, nearly setting alight the hem of someone's robes. "I'll keep an eye on your stuff; go pick out your bloody pigeon."
"Thanks," Ethan said, standing up and brushing sandwich crumbs off his lap. "If anyone touches anything, singe 'em."
"Now you're speaking my language!" Fawkes cackled. "With pleasure!"
Ethan grinned and walked over to the owlery. It was very dark inside, but full of little noises, like the clicking of talons on wooden perches and the rustles of feathers and the occasional muffled hoot. Every kind of owl Ethan had ever seen and then some was present, from tiny elf owls to hulking great horned owls. And all of them were looking at him intently.
Ethan hadn't said anything, but he knew from experience that most birds could tell he was a parrotmouth almost immediately. However, birds rarely made the first move in initiating a conversation. After all, just because someone could talk to you didn't necessarily mean that they wanted to. So Ethan was allowed to look around the shop in peace, without owls clamoring to be bought. The shopkeeper was frowning up at the birds, noticing their sudden, relative silence. Ethan nodded at the man and wandered around a corner, several owls leaning out to get a better look at him.
There was one owl that wasn't facing at him. It was sitting off to one side, slightly hunched over and looking a bit resentful. It also, Ethan noticed with some concern, was completely surrounded by empty perches. The other owls were nestled wing-to-wing and watching him with bright eyes; this owl looked like it wanted nothing to do with anyone.
"Excuse me," Ethan said quietly to the bird. The shopkeeper nodded to himself in sudden understanding and went back to scribbling in his ledger. The owl peered back at Ethan with large, dark eyes.
"What?" it asked sulkily. It sounded quite young.
"You're sitting by yourself," Ethan observed. The owl looked away.
"They pick on me 'cause I'm not a native," it said quietly. "I'm from across the ocean."
"So am I," Ethan said with a tiny smile. It was a barred owl; he had seen one once. They were smaller than great horned owls, but still fairly weighty. It wasn't likely to get blown off course. The owl looked back over its shoulder at Ethan.
"Really?" It shuffled around on the perch until it was facing him. Its dark eyes looked even darker next to its yellow beak, and its cream-colored breast was decorated with a pattern of numerous, vertical, thin brown bars. "There were others here like me, but they've been bought." It looked curiously up at Ethan. "Why are you here?"
"I'm going to school here. I'm worried the kids will make fun of me, too because I'm different." The owl looked at him silently for a long moment. "Do you want to come with me?" Ethan ventured. "Then we'd both have someone to talk to. And if you like, you can carry letters to my mom; she lives across the ocean. And if you had family there, you could visit them." The owl looked thoughtfully down at its feet. "You'd be out of here, anyway," Ethan said with a shrug.
There was a long pause, during which neither moved. Then Ethan shrugged again, turned, and started to walk away.
He had nearly reached the end of the aisle when there was a frantic flapping sound from behind him. A moment later, the owl landed heavily on Ethan's right shoulder.
"I'll come with you," it said. Ethan grinned.
"Do you have a name?" The owl gave a long, complicated hoot that sounded like "Oru hu'huuuunaa." "Right. How about shortening that up a bit?"
"Erm Ruhuunaa?"
"What about just Ruhún? I can call you your full name when I'm talking to you, but other people are going to want a name they can pronounce."
"That'll work," the owl said after giving it some thought.
A minute later, the owl was paid for. It opted to sit on Ethan's shoulder, not much liking the look of the cages available. They left the owlery in favor of the now thinning crowds outside. Fawkes was perched over Ethan's things and looking positively ferocious.
"That's Fawkes," Ethan explained. "He's a bit strange, but he's very nice. He's not a pet, he's just helping me shop."
"Am I a pet?" Ruhún asked, looking nervously over at Fawkes.
"No, you're a friend," Ethan said firmly. "Come on, we'll go meet Fawkes."
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Well, there's that! Hope you enjoyed! It got a bit sentimental at the end there, didn't it? Whoops. :-P For more information on barred owls, including photos and call recordings, visit (minus the spaces) http : owlpages . com / species / strix / varia / Default . htm
See if you can find the pic I based Ruhún off of. ;-) And I know the name may have sounded a bit dorky, but if you listen to the calls, you'll understand why.
Quirky Writer: It's quite all right. I'm glad you think it's funnier than the Mockfest I'm kind of leaning that way myself. :-P And I don't know where these ideas come from. It involves a lack of sleep, though.
Aindel S. Druida: Why, thank you! :D And I don't think she has but thanks for reccing my fic to other people!
The Weaseling Dragon: Huzzah for the end of exams! Hope you liked this chapter!
Batgirl Beyond: Thanks! You flatter me terribly! (blushes)
Fuji the Hobbit: Don't worry, Fawkes isn't going anywhere any time soon! Fake fighting is fun; the old roomy and I scared the crap out of our RA freshman year, hehe.
Syth Colbalt: Aww, poor badly written fics. :-P I feel so terrible. And Ethan yeah, being the main character is no fun at all.
TheSiriusSparrow: Just take the galleons to a pawnshop and tell them they're solid gold replicas of the props used in the HP movies. Then you won't have to worry about cheap transportation. ;-) Just make sure you always keep a few.
Leo Cole: Sorry! I thought you knew! :-P And my work schedule shifts around a lot, so hopefully we'll be able to talk soon. Hehehe, I'll stay off the sidewalks, then! ;-)
Kath: Gotta love the obscure Minnesota references! Don't forget MIT! :-P MERSHEEP!
LilyFire: Yay, glad you like it! Here's more!
Medea12: Awww! You're reviews always make me teary! You're so nice! (dabs at eyes) It's very nice to know my work is appreciated; thank you so much! (hugs) I'll always continue to share them as long as there are people like you reading them!
Kathryn Bushore: One time someone called my room and thought it was the switchboard and wanted me to transfer them to the campus bookstore. That was surreal, since they called in the morning and woke me up. Thanks!
Ember the angry Firedrake: You don't give them the talk, you just let them go at it. ;-) Look, I've updated!
morph: Thanks, and hopefully I shall! Just don't spend 'em all at once. ;-)
D6: Why, thank you. And try sticking them under a stream of cold water. That does it.
Skimbleshanks: ALL the main characters get Griphook, silly! And since he's shopping, there are still some similarities. It's purposeful, you see. But I do try to exaggerate things (like the disasters as Ethan is trying out wands and the Disney scene that results from him getting the right one). As the story goes on, it'll branch out, don't worry. And you can have BGOTWSP as soon as I'm done revamping it.
Lady Lifecharm: Hehehe, thanks a bunch! I don't know how either, but if I did, I'd bottle it and sell it! :-P
ElvishNature: YOU'RE BACK! (tacklehug!) I resent the term "perv" I prefer to say that my mind is "habitat-challenged," thank you very much. And the busy-galleons are very quiet they have to be discreet, or they'd be confiscated. Hehehe. Glad you respect Fawkes; if you didn't, he'd hunt you down and MAKE you. Thanks!
Laire: Oh, it will be I hope. Naughty? Me? :-P
Vanyaria Darkshadow: Sorry this chapter wasn't quite so quick I had to update the Sequel so my LOTR fans wouldn't hurt me. :-P I haven't read "Bored of the Rings," but I want to. I have, however, read "Barry Trotter and the Unauthorized Parody," which is quite amusing. Thanks so much for the long review and extensive praise; it really made my day! Between you and Medea, I'm going to get a big head. :D
Anamaria Elentari: I agree; weird is definitely preferable to normal! Enjoy your busy-galleons, hehehe! And I didn't forget about the Sequel! Glad you think I'm abnormal in a good way, hee! XD
Katie115: Yeah, I know it dragged a bit, but hopefully this one was better! And this is taking place during book 6, whatever that one will be called. So I'm going to be making it all up as I go. And there will be a new DADA teacher! I just can't decide whether I want the teacher to be good or awful. ;-)
purplestainedglass: The best kind of money!
Spoofmaster: Nope! But thanks for pointing that out, or else it would have been a plothole. Can't have those! Yeah, galleons would become like lira those made shopping in Italy frustrating thank Jeebus for the Euro, I say!
FrighteninglyObsessed: Mersheep would make interesting pets, that's for darn sure. Sorry for making Fawkes so damn cool, it won't happen again. :-P
Pointy Ears Are My Thing: Well, at least you know that if money breeds, you'll just get more money and not an axe murderer or something.
Hirilnara: We have no rumors here concerning Essex girls, hehehe. "Essex that's somewhere in England, right?" Oh, I hope you can update soon! I love that fic! And not just because I'm now in it!
Rachel the Insane Unicorn: I thought it was better than the first two, too! So good! But that freeze-frame was a bit odd, I agree. Yay Fawkes! Hehehe.
Phaidra: There may be some mild Harry bashing. I'm thinking he isn't going to be too nice to Ethan, since poor Ethan will be stealing his limelight. :-P I'll try to make Snape and Malfoy cool. Bwahaha!
Well, there you have it! Thanks for all of your reviews! MERSHEEP FOR EVERYONE!
-Platy
