I'll likely be moving quite swiftly through these Hogwarts years, as it largely consists of plot threads that we're all so familiar with we could retrace them in our sleep. Much of the focus here will be on building and emphasising the relationship between the characters, with some spotlight on the usual suspects. Enjoy!
BLAKE KALLIS AND THE WORLD OF MAGIC
The School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
September 1st, 1991
The Hogwarts Express whistled shrilly, steam rocketing high into the air before exploding into shimmering colours like a firework. It was the five minute warning - the time honoured sign for all clinging parents to finally relinquish iron grips on long-suffering children, and let them run off into the world.
Blake Kallis was one such child, finally managing to pry himself away from his mother, Sofia, and making a mad dash for freedom as he blew a kiss over his shoulder. His trunk scurried along behind him, little wooden feet with clawed ends that had sprouted from the bottom hopping along frantically to keep up, before leaping handle-first into his waiting hand as he climbed aboard.
Squeezing past several students that looked to be first years - 'Merlin, was I seriously that tiny once?' - and hopping nimbly over a suspicious puddle of ooze that glowed a menacing green and snapped at nearby ankles despite not having a mouth, Blake made his way towards a predetermined compartment, and stopped outside the door.
He took a deep breath, bracing himself, and opened the door, where he was met with several voices exclaiming jubilantly at the sight of him.
"There he is-"
"-thought you'd miss the train this year for sure-"
"-so your mum nearly succeeded in dragging you back home then? Poor mumma's boy, eh Blake?"
"Shut up, Diggory." Blake shot back without even having to look at who had made the last comment. Cedric merely grinned at him whilst Katrina cackled and Ant smirked. They'd all gotten taller, he idly observed - himself included. He and Cedric were duking it out for the height advantage, both of them growing like weeds, but Katrina and Ant had shot up over the past couple of months too.
Every year on September First, they met together at the same compartment they had all sat together in on their first trip to Hogwarts. And every year, Blake nearly missed the train due to a combination of bad luck, predestined fate, and the unstoppable force that was Sofia Kallis - none may stand in her path.
And his friends found that utterly hilarious. The traitors.
Ant held out his hand and both Cedric and Katrina placed a galleon into it, grinning at Blake's sour expression.
Of course they're placing bets on whether I'll miss the train. Curse you, mother.
He immediately glanced behind him. Sofia had a supernatural sense of when he was thinking rebellious thoughts, and he wouldn't put it past her to be able to appear behind him whenever she pleased. It seemed he was in the clear for now, as there was only the compartment door behind him.
Blake dropped heavily into his seat, a flick of his wand sending his trunk soaring into the overhead storage.
"Good summer then?" he asked everyone, stretching out comfortably as the train rumbled to life and pulled out of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
"Excellent summer! Ant and I visited family in Amsterdam with Mum, and got to see the magical alley there - Kanaalweg - you'd have loved it Blake." Katrina gushed teasingly, and Ant nodded in agreement.
Blake harrumphed good naturedly - his friends knew very well how much he loved exploring and experiencing every bit of magic he could get his hands on. Last year, during the Christmas Holidays, Blake and his parents had taken a trip to Paris, where they had gone to the famed 'Rue de la Magie' - Street of Magic - and he had practically had to be torn away from examining each and every oddity he could spot. One day he would go back and browse to his heart's content.
One day, he'd be free to go anywhere he pleased, stay as long as he wanted, and study anything he found. At least he could annoy the residents of Hogsmeade every so often… they loved him after all.
Of course they do, I'm me after all. Hmmm… and humble too.
"My summer wasn't too bad, I caught a few of the League games, Puddlemere are having a strong season." Cedric jumped in, ever the quidditch fanatic. "Oh, my dad also showed me a couple of his work related things, I have to say that I never want to see a manticore closer than a hundred yards. Those things are vicious." Cedric shuddered at the memory.
Blake's mouth fell open in indignation. "You got to see a bloody manticore?!"
"No manticores for you, Kallis. You'd probably get too close and it would eat you, or worse." Ant interjected with a knowing smirk.
"What could be worse than being eaten by a manticore?" Kat questioned her brother whilst rolling her eyes. Ant shrugged.
"Don't shoot me, I'm just the messenger."
Blake ignored them, huffing while crossing his arms, "Everyone gets to do the fun stuff. All I did was go hiking in the Dolomites… we all got lost three times, but hey, climbing things is cool I guess… stupid mountains."
It was a Kallis family tradition that every summer they took time to just get away and spend time together as a family, with no outside distractions. Whilst Blake grumbled at it, he would never trade it away for anything. His family was the most important thing in the world to him, not even magic could change that.
"Oh, so that's why you look like someone stuck you in an oven and slowly roasted you then, huh?"
"Shut up, Diggory."
The journey seemed to fly by as they all caught up, a well-timed visit by the lunch-lady and her wonderful trolley providing them with snacks and sugar rushes. Blake and Cedric had long since learnt their lessons and Katrina was strictly forbidden from indulging in too many sweets, as the already hyper girl became a veritable tornado under the influence of sugar.
Indeed, it was just like any of their other trips on the Express… until it wasn't. All of a sudden, the compartment door banged open, and a short, platinum-blonde boy with a stick on sneer and pointed chin barged into the compartment, with two others behind him.
"Er… can we help you, kid?" Blake asked slowly, wondering if he should be offended. Katrina certainly looked put off. Ant seemed indifferent, and Cedric…
Ced seemed to know the kid, judging from his resigned expression.
"Can we help you, Malfoy?" Cedric asked, and his tone wasn't quite rude, but it wasn't polite either. It was the kind of tone you take when speaking to a small dog that you aren't quite sure isn't going to viciously attack you - no matter how ineffective it might be.
The boy drew himself up and his sneer seemed to grow, if anything.
"I'm looking for Harry Potter, he's meant to be on the train. Clearly he isn't here though." He looked around the compartment as if to confirm that, before continuing. "I'm surprised at you, Diggory… I wouldn't think you'd be sitting with this riff-raff." And he looked at Blake, Katrina and Ant with an ugly expression.
Oh. He's one of those people.
Warm anger blossomed in his chest, and Blake could see from Cedric's glances at him that he wasn't doing a very good job of keeping it off his face. Malfoy seemed to notice too.
"I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. Just so you know when your betters are speaking to you… I'm off, proper witches and wizards to find." He smiled nastily and exited the compartment as abruptly as he had entered, leaving Blake fuming at the door and his friends looking at him with no small amount of concern.
"That little-"
"-No, Blake." Ant cut him off. Blake stared at him.
"What?"
Ant shook his head. "No, you can't throw a kid out of the train while it's moving." Blake blinked.
"I wasn't thinking-"
"You were about to. No throwing children out of vehicles, okay?"
"Fine." Blake grumbled, glaring half-heartedly at the door. "I can think of things far more creative for little shit-stains anyway. See if I need physics."
Cedric cleared his throat, and looked at Blake somewhat apprehensively. "Mate, I know it's hard, but you can't let the supremacists get into your head like that so easily. Flint would have an absolute field day if he knew how easy that was for Malfoy."
For the past three years at Hogwarts, Blake had been the target of some of the purebloods that believed only those with purely magical parents should be allowed to perform magic. Blake made sure to let them know exactly how stupid that philosophy was every chance he could.
As a result, he had developed a very bitter feud between himself and Marcus Flint, a fellow fourth year Slytherin who took sick pleasure in attacking Blake.
Flint was just lucky that Snape was his Head of House, or Blake would have done something far more drastic than turning his curly hair into snakes. He often thought that it was probably the only time his friends were grateful that the overgrown bat was around.
Okay, maybe I do react a little strongly… but so what! They're assholes! Racist assholes!
"Flint will keep his mouth shut and his oversized teeth hidden from view if he knows what's good for him." Blake smiled serenely. Cedric shook his head despondently before glancing at Ant.
"We should start a betting pool for how many fights I'm going to have to break up this time around."
"Wouldn't be profitable - the higher the number the more folks would win."
"Hey!" Blake protested indignantly. "I'm not that bad surely… Can you cut me in?"
Laughter filled the compartment after Katrina smacked Blake over the back of the head in exasperation. The rest of the trip proceeded without any more interruptions, and soon enough the Express was slowing to a stop at Hogsmeade Station. Shuffling through the crowded hallway, they disembarked into the cool air outside.
"I think this is the first time it hasn't been raining when we've arrived at the station." Katrina mused, gazing at the star spangled sky.
"You know… you're right." Cedric agreed. "It's a sign." He nodded seriously.
"Yes, a sign that we'll be dry heading up to the castle for once." Ant rolled his eyes, while stretching like a cat.
"Oh look, it's Hagrid." Blake watched as the massive man - someone who made his own father appear miniscule - strode onto the platform holding a lantern that was half the size of a grown man. "He seems awfully chipper at the moment, be right back!"
Blake ducked out of the slow-moving stream of students heading towards the carriages and headed towards the gamekeeper corralling the group of firsties.
"Evening Hagrid!" he called out, happy to see the man after being away from the castle for so long.
"Alrigh' there Blake? Good ta see ya." Hagrid boomed, a smile splitting his wide face, beetle eyes crinkling.
"Never better now that I'm back! Tea on Friday as usual?" Tea with Hagrid had become a sort of tradition for Blake (and sometimes his friends), ever since second year when the gamekeeper had happened upon him defending himself from Flint and his cronies. They had built a steady bond ever since and Blake delighted in his company - the man was perhaps the kindest, most genuine person he'd ever met. Oh, and an absolute trove of knowledge about any and every creature that roamed the Forbidden Forest.
"Wouldn't dream of missin' it." Hagrid beamed at him, before turning back to the nervous looking students gathered. Blake spotted one with glasses held together with tape, and the messiest head of hair he'd ever seen.
"Firs' years this way! Follow me!" Hagrid boomed out at foghorn levels of volume, before turning back to Blake. "I'll see you at the feast, Blake, get goin'."
Blake hurried towards the carriages, more than a little deafened. He spotted Cedric climbing into a carriage and followed him in, grinning as he made Katrina jump.
"I dunno about you lot, but I'm bloody famished." Cedric complained, rubbing his stomach.
"Poor man, you'll waste away." mocked Blake, dodging Cedric's half hearted swipe at him. In no time, the carriage had reached the massive front door of the castle, and they disembarked quickly, before entering into the Entrance Hall.
Blake looked suspiciously around the room, noting the positions of all the armour stands, the hung tapestries, and even the doorways of the Great Hall, and opposite, the path through to the Grand Staircase. Seconds passed, as Cedric, Katrina, and Ant all stopped and watched him slowly turn on the spot while taking it all in. Blake reached into the satchel that always hung at his side, and sunk his arm in up to the elbow, with a small slurping sound and a muffled burp emanating from the bag as he did so.
Undetectable extension charms, how I love you so… but sound effect enchantments are king.
He thought about the item he wanted, and immediately felt it in his grasp. His hand reappeared with a small journal in hand, and he swiftly opened it and began rifling through some pages urgently. He came to a sketch that he had quickly done last year when he had arrived at Hogwarts, and now he held it up and compared it to the room that was currently in front of him.
"I knew it!" he exclaimed in triumph, startling some second years that were making their way inside.
"Knew what, Blake?" Cedric asked curiously. He leaned over Blake's shoulder to have a look at the journal and got a flick on the nose for his trouble, and immediately retreated to a safe distance.
"The room - it rearranges itself. It's different from last year, and probably every year! Aha! I knew it, stupid castle." Blake gloated, glorying in his hard fought victory. "Ever since second year I knew something was different every time we come in here for the first time… but I came, I saw, and I conquered!"
"Yeah… Can we go and sit down now?" Katrina asked, ignoring his grand and eloquent victory speech. Ant and Cedric nodded in agreement, and outnumbered three to one, Blake could only pout and concede defeat. He could swear one of the suits of armour waved goodbye mockingly in his direction, but when he turned to look at it directly, it was in the same pose it always was.
Bloody tin can.
Blake headed towards the Ravenclaw table, and watched Cedric and Katrina peel off towards the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor ones respectively, while Ant joined the green and silver Slytherin table next to the Ravenclaw one. It was odd how each of them had gone to a different House, but that was life, Blake supposed.
He spotted Cedric staring mournfully at the empty table, and stifled a grin. That boy could really eat when he wanted to, it was scarily impressive.
"Good summer, Blake?" asked Roger Davies, fellow fourth year and Ravenclaw Quidditch captain.
"Good enough Roger, but boy am I glad to be back." Blake sighed as he revelled in being back at Hogwarts once again. "What did you get up to?" While he wasn't nearly as close to his dormmates as he was with his other friends, Blake still made the effort to chat to them, since he had to sleep with them for seven years.
I'd rather not make an enemy of someone that could curse me in my sleep, thanks.
"Not much honestly, caught a few League matches… the Arrows are in for a real shot this year I reckon. What do you think?" Blake grinned at how much Cedric and Roger were alike. Not that he could say that to Cedric without dodging a jinx or two.
"I heard that Puddlemere are playing well." Blake shrugged. Roger scoffed and shook his head.
"They've got no chance against the Arrows, mark my words."
Blake nodded thoughtfully. "I'll keep it in mind."
At that point, Professor McGonagall swept into the room from the Entrance Hall, and looked towards the staff table, where the Headmaster sat.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was an odd fellow, in Blake's opinion. He probably kept half the custom robe designers in business with his ridiculous outfits, had somewhat of a reputation as a nutter amongst most of the students, and likely had a sugar addiction. However, he also held three different positions of power as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, and the Headmaster of Hogwarts, which was unheard of really. One thing was undisputed though.
Headmaster Dumbledore was an extremely intelligent, powerful wizard. Blake merely had to close his eyes and concentrate for a moment to sense the raw power that the Headmaster emanated from across the Great Hall. It was no wonder the staff and students looked up to him so much.
Dumbledore nodded at the Deputy Headmistress, who Blake noticed had a new witches hat this year. He grinned sheepishly.
Probably my fault.
The doors swept open by themselves, and a long line of new students filed in behind Professor McGonagall, wide-eyed at the sight of the enchanted ceiling, and all the students watching them closely.
The Sorting Hat sang its song - wide-brimmed mouth being pushed to the limits with the range of the vocals that it had been enchanted with. Most of the students were listening, and Blake was too, but for an altogether different reason.
'I wonder if the Hat just recycles the same songs every decade or so… it would save it from coming up with new lyrics every single year for the past aeon.'
It was just yet another thing on Blake's bucket list of things to accomplish at Hogwarts before he graduated in four years. That thing had nearly become sentient itself, with the amount of additions he'd scrawled into it. At least if it were evil, its attention would be split between too many goals for it to do much damage. Maybe.
"Hannah Abbott!"
McGonagall began reading out names from her roll of parchment, and judging from the length of the roll, and the number of kids in line, it would be a little while until dinner. Blake could practically see Cedric sink into depression as he came to the same realisation, and snickered under his breath.
Time passed swiftly, with the line of kids dwindling as more and more found their new homes with their houses. An excitable girl and an anxious boy both went to Gryffindor. The blood supremacist ponce - Malfoy - went to Slytherin. 'Big shock there. Huge.' Blake spent his time attempting to guess where each kid was going to go, but more often than not he was utterly wrong. It was as normal as a sorting could be… until it wasn't.
"Harry Potter."
The Great Hall seemed to hush for a moment, even with no one really speaking. Dead silence drifted over the students, watching the small, black-haired, green eyed boy walk slowly towards the hat… and then the moment passed, and a tidal wave of whispers rushed over them, only stopping when the battered rim of the Sorting Hat descended over Harry Potter's face.
A moment passed.
Then another. The silence grew to become deafening. Blake could see Harry Potter's fingers fidgeting as he sat upon the stool.
'I wonder who he is? Someone important? More likely the son of someone important, I guess. The name seems to ring a bell.' From the way Cedric was eyeballing him with a meaningful expression, Blake supposed that either way, Potter was someone of note.
Another minute passed. At one point, the Hat's mouth opened wide, about to cry out a name, before it shut again just as quickly as it had opened. Blake rolled his eyes.
'Dramatic old hat.'
As if sensing his comment, the brim again opened wide and cried out its final selection.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The table decorated lavishly in red and gold exploded into cheers and whistles, clapping echoing through the Great Hall. Harry Potter clambered down from the stool, handed the Hat to McGonagall, and hurried over towards the table with his head down, clearly embarrassed by the attention he had received.
The rest of the Sorting moved quickly, and in no time at all, a Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin, concluding the group of first years. Dumbledore rose from his seat, and all eyes were immediately upon him.
'Well of course they are, we're hungry damnit.'
Beaming out at all of them, the Headmaster raised his hands and kept it short and sweet. "We must all be famished - I know I am! Allow me a few words, and we shall eat. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" And he sat down.
'The Headmaster', Blake thought as food appeared on the table before him, 'is more than a little strange.'
Most conversation ceased as everyone dug into the delicious ensemble of food before them, and almost before Blake could blink, the plates flashed a blinding gold, with the main food being replaced by dozens of dessert dishes; fifty different types of dessert pies, crumbles, pastries, tarts - ooh, treacle tart! - and more were hungrily devoured with gusto by the hundreds of students that suddenly found a second wind.
Eventually, stomachs were filled, and the plates once more became spotless as the last crumbs and remnants vanished without trace. Dumbledore then stood, immediately commanding all attention with his mere presence alone.
"Now that we've all eaten, I have a few start of term notices that I wish to announce. Firstly, to our first years - please note that the Forbidden Forest that borders the school grounds is strictly… forbidden to all students, for your own safety. Some of our older students would also do well to remember this."
Blake turned his head skyward and pretended that the enchanted ceiling was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen, as he felt Dumbledore's twinkly-eyed gaze pass over him. He resisted the urge to whistle innocently.
"Secondly," Dumbledore continued on, bemusement detectable in his tone, "our resident caretaker, Mr Filch, has requested that all students refer to the list of banned products on his office door, as usual. I must also wish a warm welcome - and return - to our newest Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell, who is taking the position on board after a year's sabbatical." A polite round of applause was given to a thin man wearing a purple turban. He bowed shakily and then swiftly sat down, refusing to look at the student body.
Blake glanced at Roger and hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "Wasn't Quirrell the old muggle-studies professor?" Roger nodded.
"I heard he had a nasty run in with some vampires on the mainland. Poor bugger thinks he's being hunted everywhere he goes now, or something like that."
Blake eyed the turban with some scepticism. "What's with the hat then?"
"Oh, rumour has it that he stuffs it with garlic, and incense. That kinda spooky nonsense that muggles think keeps away vampires." Roger smirked.
"How did you even know that? Seriously, we've only seen the guy since we got here for the feast. Who told you this?" Blake demanded. The Hogwarts Rumour Mill was one of the most vexing universal conundrums he had ever seen. It was living proof of the saying 'Nothing travels faster than the speed of light, with the possible exception of bad news, which obeys its own special laws.' Damn that Douglas Adams for writing such good stories. I love him so. "Tell me, Davies, or I'll-"
"And finally, I shall end with this. The third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds," the Headmaster paused, giving the Weasley twins a significant look, before again tracking to Blake himself. Blake shrugged. This is just pure discrimination.
As if reading his thoughts, Cedric gave him a look from the Hufflepuff table, that unquestionably said, 'Not. Discrimination.'
"Yes, I'm afraid that the third floor corridor is indeed out of bounds, unless you wish to die a most painful death." He stared seriously out across the student body. "That will be all, now off to bed you trot!"
Blake ambled through the Ravenclaw common room on his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was early in the morning, and few had risen yet - just the way he liked it. The fire sputtered back to life in the fireplace, crackling merrily in greeting. Blake waved back at the flames.
He made his way towards the Great Hall, keen on tucking into some breakfast. The fastest way down to the main level of the castle was usually via the Grand Staircase that connected every floor of the castle. Said staircase was a five minute walk from the common room, and it was widely accepted that if you didn't have to wait for a staircase at least once, the luckiest day of your life had come.
Which was why Blake instead went to a nondescript tapestry that hung between two stands of armour, and walked through it like it didn't exist - entering a narrow passageway that was behind it. The passage would halve the journey to the Great Hall, and was one of his favourite short cuts around the castle. The only problem was, the passageway only existed if you were one of the first forty-nine people out of bed in the castle. Number fifty? No passage. More than once Blake had been too late to make the passage, and walked headlong into a solid stone wall.
Magic is weird. But, like, good weird.
He popped out into a corridor on the first floor that intersected the main hall that led to the staircases. Brushing some imaginary dust off - because for some reason, there was no dust, even in rarely used passageways… house elves are scarily good at their jobs - he made his way into the Great Hall, and took a seat at the table.
A first year Hufflepuff looked at him with something akin to mild terror and stuttered out, "Are… are you meant to be sitting here mister?"
Blake looked at the kid and raised an eyebrow. If he remembered correctly from the Sorting last night, the Puff's name was Flinch-Flutchey or something like that.
"Sorry!" they squeaked, and turned away. Blake shrugged, running a hand through his hair and slouching against the table a little.
"No worries, kiddo. There's no rules against sitting at other tables - except for the big feasts like last night. What's your name again?" Blake explained quickly, eyeing off the fruit bowl that was spawning more and more blueberries into existence as people took them.
"Oh, okay… I didn't know," the Puff answered quickly, looking relieved that Blake wasn't upset. "My name's Justin. Justin Finch-Fletchley."
Ah well, close enough. No one's perfect, right?
"Nice to meet you Justin." He smiled, looking up at the head table, where his Head of House, Professor Flitwick was sitting, looking through a small stack of parchment. As if sensing his gaze, Flitwick held up a single finger in the universal 'wait a moment' sign, and didn't look up.
Used to his professor's antics, Blake settled back and started munching on the multiplying fruit bowl. He didn't have to wait long, as with a quick wave of his wand, Flitwick singled out a single piece of parchment, and with a simple movement, the parchment transformed into a white gull. It flapped its wings twice and soared gracefully across the room, narrowly missing Justin's awestruck face and swooping into Blake's outstretched hand, where it promptly cawed and turned back into a sheet of parchment.
Grinning, he quickly scanned the parchment, which contained this year's schedule for him. He ran a finger down the sheet, humming thoughtfully.
Hmm, Transfiguration, Charms, DADA, Potions, Herbology, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy. A far lighter schedule than last year. I'll have much more time to look into interesting things!
Nodding in satisfaction at the schedule, Blake began to tuck it away into his satchel, when Cedric sat down heavily beside him and snatched it out of his hands, scanning through it with bleary eyes.
"Huh, why'd you drop Magical Creatures? I thought you enjoyed that one last year when you exchanged Divination for it." Cedric yawned, pouring a coffee with his spare hand. Blake drew his wand and muttered under his breath while jabbing his wand at his annoying friend. Cedric's tie gained a mind of its own, and decided that it didn't much like its wearer's face, writhing up and smacking him on the nose several times, eliciting a loud yelp.
Taking back his timetable, and stowing it away quickly this time, Blake grinned at Cedric still fighting his tie, and ignored his incessant demands to save him.
"Blake, call it off! Why is it growing teeth?! Blake!" At that moment, the tie fell limp, the magic in the spell running its course. Cedric glared at him. "Uncalled for."
"Oh no, that was completely necessary." Blake rejected, smirking. "Keep your hands to yourself next time, Ceddy boy." Cedric merely harrumphed and began piling eggs onto his plate.
"That was so cool!" Justin interjected, still staring at where Blake had resheathed his wand into its holster on his wrist. "What kind of wand was that? It looked red."
Blake looked at Cedric who shrugged as if to say 'I don't know him.' before sighing, and unsheathing his wand once more with a quick flick of his wrist.
"Well, that's because it is red, kiddo. It's made from redwood, a kind of wood that's native to the western united-states." He sighed, casting his mind back in time all those years ago to when he first stepped inside a certain wandmaker's store…
A bell chimed somewhere in the back of the shop, hidden by the numerous stacks of precariously balanced boxes, and dusty ladders. Blake could have sworn that some of them not only defied the laws of physics, but straight up chewed them up and then spit them out again.
Advancing slowly in, alone as Paul and Sofia had decided to try out the admittedly delicious looking ice-cream parlour across the alley, Blake made his way to the counter in front of him. He was expecting another bell, maybe an 'out to lunch' note.
He was not expecting a thin, aged voice to say "Hello there" from right behind him, making him jump a foot and yelp in an embarrassingly high pitch.
Whirling around, he saw a wiry man, a little stooped with age but still very tall, with pale silver eyes that gleamed like shiny moons. There was a small smile on his face from Blake's reaction to being startled, but that disappeared quickly as his eyes focused on Blake's own.
"Here for your wand I assume, young man? I am Ollivander, owner of Ollivanders Fine Wands, though I guess that you can read and looked at the sign out the front of the store."
Blake blinked.
"...Uhh, yeah, I'm here for a wand," he said slowly, "It's nice to meet you, Mr Ollivander. I'm Blake."
"Well then, let's get started!" Ollivander gestured him over, and seemed to bounce with a sudden influx of enthusiasm. What followed was an incredibly thorough measuring process - who knew that acquiring a wand needed to know the length between his nostrils of all places - before being asked if he was left or right handed.
"Right handed. Wait, does that actually matter?" Blake asked curiously, his familiar thirst for knowledge rearing its head.
"Why yes, it's very important, Mr Kallis. Left and right handed witches and wizards are very likely to possess different corresponding traits that a wand is sensitive to." Ollivander explained while perusing a stack of boxes next to the counter with a keen eye.
"Traits? Like what?"
"Oh, don't worry too much lad. The traits themselves don't matter a lot. Indeed, it's mostly a trial and error process that I've narrowed over a long, long time. Now how about…" and with that, he thrust an open box into Blake's hands.
"Blackthorn and unicorn hair, twelve and three-quarter inches. Quite whippy. Give it a wave there, and… oh, no no, dear me." Ollivander snatched the wand back after Blake gave it a wave and a concussive blast of force nearly flattened a shelf nearby.
Hmmm, how about…
Two dozen wands later, and between blasts of fire, angry conjured insects, and a noodle that had somehow become weaponised and attempted to strangle him, Blake was beginning to become a mite worried that each wand was rejecting him so thoroughly. Ollivander, on the other hand, only seemed to grow more and more excited by the challenge that he was presenting.
"No, not that one… too temperamental for the unicorn hair it seems… hmmm, I wonder…" The old wandmaker fixed Blake with an intense gaze. "Yes, maybe…"
He disappeared into the stacks, reappearing a moment later holding yet another box. He opened this one almost reverently however, and Blake caught sight of a gleaming, reddish wood laying upon the satin pillows that Ollivander stuffed all of his box linings with.
"Redwood and phoenix feather. Thirteen inches, firm. Give it a try there."
Blake swept the wand through the air, and immediately a wind swirled through the shop, accompanied with the candles winking off and on again. The breeze was warm, comforting, and felt like one of his mum's strong hugs. He knew without doubt that this was his wand.
"Curious… very curious." Ollivander muttered, staring at the wand in Blake's grip.
"Er… What's curious, Mr Ollivander?" Blake questioned, eager to know more about the wand that had chosen him.
"I've sold very few redwood wands, Mr Kallis. The wood is native to the United States, and getting a permit to travel there as merely a tourist is difficult enough, let alone travelling there as a wandmaker to collect ingredients for his trade. Thus, I've only been a handful of times, and I will only select the finest materials that I can possibly acquire." He paused, gathering his thoughts.
"Redwood wands have a certain reputation for bringing extraordinarily good luck to their wielders. For this reason, they are rather sought after, and as they are rather stringent in selecting their wielders, most of these hopefuls are rejected. As such, their legend only grows. Of course, they don't provide amazing luck to a witch or wizard - they are no felix felicis. I have found it far more likely that a wizard chosen by a redwood wand is simply very adept at landing on their feet." He spoke softly, but in eager tones, but Blake wanted to know more.
"What about the other part? The, erm… feather?" He asked, still staring at the wand, admiring the fine details on the handle, the way the handle itself integrated seamlessly with the rest of the shaft… It was beautiful.
"The phoenix feather? Yes, that is the core of this fine wand, Mr Kallis. Phoenix feathers are the rarest of the cores I provide, due to the reclusive nature of the creature that gives them - and make no mistake, they are a gift. One does not simply catch a phoenix, after all. But, they are the most versatile of the cores as well, and can become very, very adept in practically any field of magic that you turn an eye upon. Of course, the most curious part about the phoenix feather is the old saying that one who has a phoenix feather wand, makes their own luck." He finished with a wry smile and a wink at Blake, who couldn't help but smile back at the implied connection between his wand wood and core.
"Now, that shall be seven galleons today, Mr Kallis, unless there is anything else that I can provide assistance with?
"Oh, yes." Blake said quickly. "How much extra for one of those arm sheaths, on the shelf near the counter?" He pointed them out. "And is there anything I need to do to take care of my wand?" He did not, under any circumstances, want his wand to be damaged due to his own negligence, or worse.
Ollivander, for his part, looked delighted by the question. "Of course, young man! Here, this wand oil that you simply rub in every week or so, and this wax - a once a month application will be more than enough - will keep your wand in tip top shape. I'll throw in the wand holster for free, it's a rare treat to see a student so invested in keeping their wand well treated."
Blake handed over the appropriate number of galleons.
"Is it possible to get more than one wand, Mr Ollivander?"
The wandmaker raised one bushy brow. "Oh? Why do you ask, young man?" His tone wasn't impolite, but there was almost an edge to it that made Blake feel a little uneasy.
"Just out of curiosity, Mr Ollivander," he rushed. "And, I don't think it would hurt to have a spare, just in case, right? It's not illegal or anything is it?"
Ollivander sighed. "No, Mr Kallis, it is not illegal. Quite unusual, unheard of even, but there are no actual laws against owning more than one wand." He raised a hand to halt Blake's follow up question. "The reason that it's generally not done, is that it's very, very difficult - even for me - to find a second wand that matches even remotely as closely as a witch or wizard's first wand. For most, it is simply not worth the effort." He paused.
"In fact, I think that in most cases I've heard of, the magical has crafted their own second focus. Be that wand, staff, or other means of focusing magical power that is commonplace in other cultures. Myrddin Emrys is one such example."
Blake raised his eyebrows. Merlin himself was certainly a strong example to use.
"I tell you what, young man… come see me when you're of age, and we'll talk more about acquiring a second focus for you, if you still want it then."
Blake agreed quickly, and turned to leave. One thing bothered him though, so he stopped.
"Mr Ollivander… I never told you my last name was Kallis, so how did you…"
But when he turned around, the store was empty, with no trace of the wandmaker to be seen.
"...Um, Blake? Did we break him or something?" he heard a young voice question.
"Nah kid, he does this all the time. Means he's thinking real hard about something normally. Or he's messing around in that thick skull of his, who knows what horrors are hiding in there." Oh, he knew that voice.
"Shut up, Diggory." he said in reflex, shaking off the last remnants of his little trip down memory lane, looking around in surprise to see that the little table group had grown.
"That wasn't very nice now, was it Ced?" Katrina admonished Cedric lightly, smiling at Justin who was looking on with interest at the now cowed Hufflepuff.
"Morning Kat, sleep well?" he asked, nodding in greeting to Ant, who was munching his way through a breakfast burrito. "Remind me to get Ant to make you a breakfast burrito, Justin. Those things are legendary." Justin nodded slowly, now looking at the burrito as if it may attack him violently.
"I slept great, Blake. You? Have you got your schedules yet? I'm still waiting for mine, Professor McGonagall only hands them out as breakfast is wrapping up."
The Katrina Tornado never rests, Blake thought fondly as he tossed Katrina his new schedule to look over, eliciting a cry of complaint from Cedric. A brief look at his tie shut down any protest from his friend though.
"Any reason you're dropping COMC, Blake?" Ant asked, reading the timetable over his sister's shoulder.
"That's what I said!" Cedric cried indignantly. "Then he attacked me with my own tie. I'll never recover!"
"Hush you," Katrina said absentmindedly, patting Cedric on the head. "You'll be fine." Cedric almost cracked a pout in response.
"For your information, I dropped Care because while the class is interesting, and Kettleburn is an alright teacher, despite having more replacements for his flesh-and-blood limbs than having his original ones, Hagrid is way more knowledgeable about all the magical beasties out there."
Ant gave him the most deadpan look he could muster. "Hagrid. The gameskeeper. The one you have tea with every Friday. Hagrid, who nearly set a Christmas tree with live fairies in it on fire because he drank too much last New Years Eve and belched flames. That Hagrid?"
"Yes," Blake retorted. "That Hagrid. The man knows a literal shitload about creatures. He loves the things. Plus, he'll take me into the Forest to look for cool stuff whenever, so it's perfect!"
Katrina looked a little pale. "I don't think I appreciate your use of the word 'literal' in that context, Blake."
Blake blinked. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Heh." He reddened and went green simultaneously. "But anyway, do you have any idea the number of creature components and potions ingredients you can find in the Forest if you know where to look? I'm definitely taking advantage of that. Bless Hagrid, his kind soul will live on forever."
The others could only shake their heads in despair. Clearly, they feared his genius. He watched as some of the other first year Puffs arrived, and Justin slid down the table to meet them, waving goodbye to Blake and the others as he went.
"So…" Cedric swallowed his mouthful of toast. "What are we gonna do today? It's a free day, before classes start tomorrow. Any plans?"
"We could go flying?" Katrina said immediately, Quidditch crazed lady that she was. Ant merely shrugged. None of that mattered, however, as Blake cut in.
"Well, isn't it obvious, Ced?" he exclaimed enthusiastically, at which the others, including Ant, all groaned simultaneously, fearing what was about to come.
"We're going to take a look at that very forbidden, absolutely out of bounds, painful death inducing third floor corridor... Seems fun, right?"
So, that wraps up Chapter Two… well, more like chapter one if you count the prologue separately, but eh. This chapter was pretty much a set up chapter for the plot of the next few - the Stone is in the castle, Blake intends to learn creatures from Hagrid (and use him to gain more... legitimate (of sorts) access to the Forest), and there's just something that Blake can't figure out about this Potter kid. After all, he didn't get a round of applause when he was Sorted, did he? Yes, he's a little clueless about some things.
I'm going to attempt to keep these chapters at a certain length… 5000 words or so. Whether or not that is successful remains to be seen… and we're off to a fantastic start at 7K words. Lol.
As always, let me know if you enjoy the story with a follow, favourite, or review. They give me motivation to keep writing, and let me know someone else out there enjoys what I do. :)
Until the next one.
-ADN
