Disclaimer: Wish I owned Harry Potter and all that, but I don't, so I'm just writing a fic about it. Read and review.
A small boy of about eleven with mousy brown hair stood inside of the Apothecary of Diagon Alley. Peter Pettigrew was his name, and he was shopping for school supplies for Hogwarts. He wandered around the shop aimlessly, making faces at all of the rather gross things sitting on the shelves. Pickled eyeballs, boiled sheep brains, and some things that Peter didn't recognize, and didn't really care to.
Another boy, about Peter's age, came up to him cheerfully. "Hello," he said. "I'm Remus Lupin. Are you going to Hogwarts too, this year?"
Peter nodded, a bit nervously. "I'm Peter Pettigrew."
"What house do you think you'll be in? I'm betting I'll be in Ravenclaw. I'm what everyone calls the intellectual sort."
Peter shrugged. "I'd like Gryffindor, but I'd never get in. I'll probably be in Hufflepuff," he said, a bit dejectedly.
"Well, that's not so bad," Remus said. "Better than Slytherin, at least."
"Yeah, Peter agreed. "Well, I've got to go now," he added, seeing his parents waiting for him. "See you at Hogwarts?"
"Definitely," Remus smiled.
Peter smiled back and waved to his new friend as he left the shop.
"Let's get your robes fitted," Peter's mother said sensibly, and Peter, having no other choice, agreed, and followed his mother to Madame Malkins while his father agreed to go and get Peter's books.
After getting his robes fitted (a very boring ordeal, indeed, to Peter, at least), it was time to look at wands.
Peter eagerly entered the dusty wand shop, and looked around at all of the wands. He could feel the magic they gave off in the air. Peter grinned. Wands. A wand. The wand always seemed the best part about being a wizard to Peter. The small boy was not very good in sports, and although he did like Quidditch, the idea of actually playing the game never interested him much.
Potions never seemed like much fun, either. Mixing things around in a cauldron, things like eyes and brains, even, did not fit well with Peter's easily upset stomach. Just going into the Apothecary had been plenty bad enough. Actually using those items was just gross.
No, it was the wand that interested Peter the most. Although Quidditch brooms and potions were magical enough themselves, you couldn't do any real magic with them. A wand was the best source of magic there was. That was the only way to do real magic.
Peter was suddenly shaken from his thoughts as Mr. Ollivander, the owner of the wand shop and maker of the wands, welcomed him. "Ah, getting your wand for Hogwarts? I'm sure we'll find just the right one," Mr. Ollivander said cheerfully, though Peter didn't quite get why he kept saying 'we', considering Mr. Ollivander was the only one really doing anything. Peter was just standing still, while Mr. Ollivander's magical tape measure measured the length of his pinkie fingernail and how far it was between two freckles on his cheek.
"Try this one, here," Mr. Ollivander said, handing Peter a wand. "Oak and dragon heartstring."
Peter waved the wand, but nothing happened.
"How about this one?" Mr. Ollivander asked, handing Peter another wand, and yet another, until there was a large pile of wand boxes resting on a small chair next to Peter.
Peter was, truth be told, a bit worried, but Mr. Ollivander seemed quite cheerful about it. "Oh, don't worry," he laughed, handing Peter, yet again, another wand. "We'll find the right one in due time."
Peter shrugged and waved the wand carelessly, suspecting that he would get the same result as he did with all the other wands; nothing.
But there was something this time. Sparks flew from the wand tip, and Peter grinned. Finally, he had his wand!
Peter's mother handed Mr. Ollivander the money for the wand, and they exited the shop to meet Peter's father in front of the bookshop.
"Where have you two been?" he asked, as they came up to the shop.
"I had to go through a lot of wands before I found this one," Peter explained.
"Tricky customer, eh? Well, I suppose after all of that horribly hard work waving wands around, you wouldn't object to going home to much, would you?"
"No," Peter agreed. "That's alright." And they left Diagon Alley, headed for home.
A small boy of about eleven with mousy brown hair stood inside of the Apothecary of Diagon Alley. Peter Pettigrew was his name, and he was shopping for school supplies for Hogwarts. He wandered around the shop aimlessly, making faces at all of the rather gross things sitting on the shelves. Pickled eyeballs, boiled sheep brains, and some things that Peter didn't recognize, and didn't really care to.
Another boy, about Peter's age, came up to him cheerfully. "Hello," he said. "I'm Remus Lupin. Are you going to Hogwarts too, this year?"
Peter nodded, a bit nervously. "I'm Peter Pettigrew."
"What house do you think you'll be in? I'm betting I'll be in Ravenclaw. I'm what everyone calls the intellectual sort."
Peter shrugged. "I'd like Gryffindor, but I'd never get in. I'll probably be in Hufflepuff," he said, a bit dejectedly.
"Well, that's not so bad," Remus said. "Better than Slytherin, at least."
"Yeah, Peter agreed. "Well, I've got to go now," he added, seeing his parents waiting for him. "See you at Hogwarts?"
"Definitely," Remus smiled.
Peter smiled back and waved to his new friend as he left the shop.
"Let's get your robes fitted," Peter's mother said sensibly, and Peter, having no other choice, agreed, and followed his mother to Madame Malkins while his father agreed to go and get Peter's books.
After getting his robes fitted (a very boring ordeal, indeed, to Peter, at least), it was time to look at wands.
Peter eagerly entered the dusty wand shop, and looked around at all of the wands. He could feel the magic they gave off in the air. Peter grinned. Wands. A wand. The wand always seemed the best part about being a wizard to Peter. The small boy was not very good in sports, and although he did like Quidditch, the idea of actually playing the game never interested him much.
Potions never seemed like much fun, either. Mixing things around in a cauldron, things like eyes and brains, even, did not fit well with Peter's easily upset stomach. Just going into the Apothecary had been plenty bad enough. Actually using those items was just gross.
No, it was the wand that interested Peter the most. Although Quidditch brooms and potions were magical enough themselves, you couldn't do any real magic with them. A wand was the best source of magic there was. That was the only way to do real magic.
Peter was suddenly shaken from his thoughts as Mr. Ollivander, the owner of the wand shop and maker of the wands, welcomed him. "Ah, getting your wand for Hogwarts? I'm sure we'll find just the right one," Mr. Ollivander said cheerfully, though Peter didn't quite get why he kept saying 'we', considering Mr. Ollivander was the only one really doing anything. Peter was just standing still, while Mr. Ollivander's magical tape measure measured the length of his pinkie fingernail and how far it was between two freckles on his cheek.
"Try this one, here," Mr. Ollivander said, handing Peter a wand. "Oak and dragon heartstring."
Peter waved the wand, but nothing happened.
"How about this one?" Mr. Ollivander asked, handing Peter another wand, and yet another, until there was a large pile of wand boxes resting on a small chair next to Peter.
Peter was, truth be told, a bit worried, but Mr. Ollivander seemed quite cheerful about it. "Oh, don't worry," he laughed, handing Peter, yet again, another wand. "We'll find the right one in due time."
Peter shrugged and waved the wand carelessly, suspecting that he would get the same result as he did with all the other wands; nothing.
But there was something this time. Sparks flew from the wand tip, and Peter grinned. Finally, he had his wand!
Peter's mother handed Mr. Ollivander the money for the wand, and they exited the shop to meet Peter's father in front of the bookshop.
"Where have you two been?" he asked, as they came up to the shop.
"I had to go through a lot of wands before I found this one," Peter explained.
"Tricky customer, eh? Well, I suppose after all of that horribly hard work waving wands around, you wouldn't object to going home to much, would you?"
"No," Peter agreed. "That's alright." And they left Diagon Alley, headed for home.