A/N: Sorry for the delay! I offer you TWO chapters to make up for it.
Opal Gimstone - LOL! Oh well, no four year old is meant to have common sense!
Gypz - Aheheheheheh… Okay… You've succeeded in scaring me… But thanks anyway!
TicTacTurtle - Patience, my friend and soon we shall rule… mwah-hah-hah… or not. I'm sorry; I underestimated how long it would take to give Albus magic.
Lameth Mornefea - Thanks very much! But do you really think I'm at liberty to answer that question?
Meowcat00 - Thanks!
Heiress of the Hogwarts Four - Are you really? How very cool… errr, in reply, thanks and as I started this story before HBP, there are some mistakes. But notice I called Septimus just that: the seventh, meaning he has a very large brother allowance. Also, about Abraxas -Jo said Dumbledore was 150 years old. Abraxas could very well be the generation after Septimus.
Greenfly - I'm sorry! I got distracted and I beg your forgiveness. As for love of Dumbledore… who doesn't?
Abster - Thanks! But if I told you that, then there would be little point in reading, would there?
Here we go again, happy as can be, all good friends and… erm…anyway-
The very next day, Mother took Albus to Diagon Alley. He watched in excited fascination as Mother, having emerged from a fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, steered him through the crowd and tapped a group of bricks with her wand. Diagon Alley burst into existence and Maria could not help but smile at her son's wonder.
Albus almost forgot what he was there for in walking down the cobbled street lined with shops. He had to be dragged away from Quality Quidditch Supplies, where a brand new broom, the Nightbreeze, sat on a display stand, to the awe of a group of other boys who were talking excitedly about the latest match between the Holyhead Harpies and Puddlemere United. Albus had only ever been vaguely interested in Quidditch but he could tell that the Nightbreeze was a very fine broom indeed and would give any owner of it good cause to be proud. Mother gently reminded him that First Years were not allowed broomsticks and that they had come to Diagon Alley to get Albus's school things.
Mother insisted that the most boring parts (at least, for Albus) were done first, meaning that first stop was at Madam Clam's - where a short, plump woman fitted his Hogwarts school robes. Albus found this extremely tedious but he brightened at Flourish and Blotts, where once again, Mother had to forcibly move him away from a large leather-bound book entitled Magic of the Ancients: A Study of Egyptian Curses and a thick tome that was apparently all about Merlin. As a compromise, Albus left the shop not only with a brand new quill and his school books but also the newest edition of Hogwarts: A History, which he attempted to read whilst walking along, an activity that almost ended in disaster when he knocked into a large fat man who'd been leaving the shop opposite. Afterwards came the Apothecary where Albus tried to touch all the most disgusting things without anybody noticing.
The most important thing was left till last. It was in silent acknowledgement of how important it was that was indeed left to be the crescendo of the trip and not done immediately. Albus's heart started thumping as they neared Ollivander's, and he wondered if there really was a wand suitable for someone who had almost been a Squib.
The shop was as silent as a grave when they entered and Albus suddenly felt that it would be almost criminal to talk. He inched nervously up to the counter; eyes darting around the dusty shelves piled high with boxes. Magic seemed to hang in the air and make his already wild hair stand on end.
Mr Ollivander appeared so abruptly that Albus jumped back into Mother, causing her to yelp. Mr Ollivander was almost bald, with strands of silvery hair just managing to cling to his scalp, and he had large, bulbous grey eyes that made Albus shiver. He smiled vaguely in their direction and then stepped forward, seeming to almost glide over. He ignored Mother entirely and looked directly at Albus.
"Albus Dumbledore," he whispered in a low, rasping voice. "I've been expecting you."
Albus did not know how to respond to this extraordinary statement, so he said nothing.
"Your father's wand I remember very well. Ten inches. Ash. Quite stiff. A temperamental wand, for a temperamental wizard. And your mother-"
Those large eyes flicked to Mother, who met his gaze reluctantly.
"Eleven inches. Rosewood and unicorn hair," he shot at her. "Very springy. Good for Charms."
Mother nodded, apparently as struck dumb as Albus was. Ollivander's eyes moved back to Albus.
"Well, we will find you a wand, Mr Dumbledore. Indeed, it shall be difficult-"
Albus gulped; did Ollivander know he'd almost been a Squib?
"-but we shall toil onwards, so we shall. All paths must be set upon somewhere, so try with this one - oak and dragon heartstring - eight inches - give it a wave."
Albus took the proffered wand and gave it a wave. He had barely lifted it when Ollivander snatched it back out of his hand, shaking his head.
"No, no - this, perhaps? Yew and phoenix feather - a powerful combination, nine inches, springy-"
Yet no sooner had Albus taken hold of this wand when Ollivander took it back again. So it went on, discarded wands being piled on the counter, until Albus felt as though he'd tried every wand in the shop. He was wondering whether he would ever find one when a deep voice suddenly echoed from the back room.
"Father - will you not try the mongrel wand?"
At that, Ollivander's face contorted, as though thinking of something painful. He turned and aimed his voice at the doorway into the back room and spoke in tones of deep disgust.
"I believe we advertise ourselves as a maker of quality wands. We do not want to inflict that monstrosity on any paying customer-"
A young man - or rather, a man who was young in comparison to Mr Ollivander - emerged from the back room. He had the same bulbous eyes as his father and was clutching an elegant-looking pale wand. Albus wondered why it was a monstrosity as the man shook his head, smiling.
"It is not a monstrosity, Father. It is just a very powerful wand."
Ollivander glared at him and then rolled his eyes. "It will never be compatible with anyone, nor be anything more than a nicely cut bit of wood."
"I say the boy should try it," protested the younger Ollivander, who seemed even calmer and more ethereal than his father.
The senior Ollivander sighed and then nodded his head slightly. Turning, he addressed Albus, who had been watching the exchange with some curiosity. "Do not feel obligated to try it, Mr Dumbledore - it is my son's… creation…" He paused slightly before the word creation, as though he'd wanted to use the word 'abomination' instead. "It is - uh - a little experimental and my advice would be to try a more-"
"No, I'll try it - if you don't mind, sir," Albus said quickly; there was something about this new wand that drew him.
"Very well," said Ollivander resignedly. He took the wand from his son and held it up to the light. For the first time, Albus could see how exceptionally long it was.
"Seventeen inches," said Ollivander quietly, as though he had read Albus's mind. "But as for the wood and the core-" Here he shot a look at his son. "-That is harder to say. I know that hazel and oak were the woods involved in its conception and I believe my son wondered what would happen if he used a phoenix feather, a unicorn hair and-" He stopped and stared at his son, with an expression of confusion and another emotion Albus could not define.
"The hair of a demiguise," filled in the younger man.
"The hair of a demiguise," repeated Ollivander. "Indeed. And has anyone ever successfully made a wand with a demiguise hair, Oswald?" he asked pointedly.
"No," said the younger Ollivander unashamedly, not even blinking. "But I have."
The older man frowned slightly. "We shall see," he said darkly and he handed the wand to Albus.
As soon as Albus touched the wand, there was a surge of what felt like fire up his arm. As he raised the wand and brought it down, purple sparks burst from the end of it. He gazed at the tapering point of the pale wand in glee.
Ollivander, for the first time, seemed taken aback. His son, meanwhile, smiled vaguely, as though he'd made the wand with Albus specifically in mind.
Albus was so fond of his new wand that he didn't want to put it away in its box. He clutched at it and held it to his chest when Ollivander offered the box to him. Mother smiled at him and Albus left the shop still admiring his new wand.
"Oh Albus," said Mother softly, beaming down at her son with that glint of pride in her eyes that always made Albus uncomfortable. "A phoenix and a special wand… My son, you shall indeed be a great man."
"Mother," moaned Albus, feeling himself go pink. "I'm not great. I'm just lucky."
Once home, Albus immediately started reading what appeared to be the most interesting of his school books. He read the Defence Against the Dark Arts one first and was rather disappointed by its dry text; he hoped the actual lesson would be more interesting. He also read most of the Transfiguration one and found it so fascinating and engaging to his quick young mind that he was tempted to read all night, until Fawkes accused him of being something called a 'nerd.'
September the second dawned bright and yet somehow coldly so. When Albus awoke, the butterflies already fluttering in his stomach, the air in his room had a chill to it and the light coming from his window was painful to the eyes. He got up to find that it was only half past six, and that nobody else in the house had yet stirred.
Unable to go back to sleep, with the excitement buzzing through his blood, he got washed and then dressed in his favourite, purple robes with gold edging, knowing that he would be expected to change on the train. He then began to pace around his room - a habit that was to become a major one in latter days - for about an hour, turning the idea of going to Hogwarts over and over in his head. Father had gone to Durmstrang but Mother had gone to Hogwarts and had been in Hufflepuff. She had refused to answer questions about how it was decided which House one would bee in and had said as little about the Houses as possible, saying that she did not want to bias Albus too much - although she had spoken, at length, in glowing terms of her own House.
This still wasn't much to go on and so all Albus knew about the Houses was their names and so could not hope for one or the other. All that could be hoped for the obvious - that he didn't end up in a House with a load of rotten fools for Housemates.
It seemed years before anyone else stirred, but when Father finally got up, things finally began to move. Albus hardly ate any of his breakfast; his stomach felt as though it had been removed and then used as an ingredient in a particularly complicated potion. Mother smiled encouragingly at him whilst Father told him to present himself well and make the name of Dumbledore one to be respected. Aberforth asked if there were goats at Hogwarts, to which Albus replied that he hoped there weren't.
Then the whole family, with Albus staggering under the weight of his trunk, Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron. Father seemed to want to stop for a drink but, to Albus's intense relief, Mother told him that they would be late if they lingered and so Father cast a Disillusionment spell on all of them before they exited into the Muggle street outside.
It was during the difficult journey (for, as the Muggles couldn't see them, the Dumbledores were forced to manoeuvre around people carefully and twice, Albus accidentally hit some very surprised Muggles with his trunk) that Albus saw his first Muggles. He stared at them with interest, and the pity of the magical for the mundane.
The Muggle's clothing seemed frankly bizarre to Albus's eyes. The women wore things which could be construed as robes but the men seemed to feel the need to wear a separate garment for every part of their bodies, with bits of material pinched around their crotches. It reminded Albus vaguely of the clothes Lightning wore and the only thing that seemed the same were the crisp, white, stiff shirt collars - a discomfort that Albus had to share as Hogwarts demanded (in what Albus saw as rather unreasonable tones) that a white undershirt be worn underneath the robes, so that just the collar overlapped.
All thoughts of Muggles and how odd it would never be to never be able to do magic were abandoned at the sight of King's Cross Station. They stopped in the space between platforms nine and ten, but Albus couldn't see the Hogwarts Express anywhere. Seeing Father lean casually against the Muggle ticket barrier as if there was no hurry at all made Albus wonder if everyone had forgotten where they were going.
"Father-" he began desperately.
"Copy me, Albus," ordered Father and, confusedly, Albus leant against the ticket barrier.
The next moment, he fallen sideways through it and Father had taken the Disillusionment Charm off. Albus gasped - all around him, young witches and wizards dashed around to the sound of owls hooting, whilst the huge scarlet Hogwarts Express loomed behind them.
Mother glanced at the clock over Platform Nine and Three Quarters and sighed. "You'd best be getting on, Albus, there's very little time until it leaves."
"I-" said Albus and then, quite unexpectedly, a lump came into his throat. He had never been away from his family before and he wouldn't see them for several months.
Mother seemed to know what he was feeling and hugged him tightly. Squashed against her, Albus guilty savoured her motherly warmth; the warmth that subconsciously recalled the dark security of the womb. Knowing he was being immature did not lessen the sensation.
"You do us proud," she said. "Enjoy yourself."
Once she'd let go, Albus was astonished to find Father patting him on the shoulder. Ulfin so rarely displayed affection towards his eldest son that Albus hardly knew how to respond.
"Choose your chums carefully - I wouldn't want to hear that you'd been consorting with mudbloods, young man." Albus nodded obediently, although privately thinking that he didn't care very much. "And, as your mother said, enjoy yourself."
"Thank you, Father," said Albus solemnly.
He glanced, with some vague pang in his chest, at Aberforth. His younger brother was not half so sentimental and simply waved, before saying that he was bored and wanted to go home.
Albus took one last look at his family before heaving his heavy trunk and climbing into the nearest carriage, speculating as to whether Fawkes, who'd flown on ahead, was already at Hogwarts. H pushed past other young witches and wizards, muttering "excuse me" every now and then as he went down the compartments, searching for a seat.
He finally found a carriage that was half empty and stowed his luggage in the rack before starting towards an empty group of seats by a window. On the other side of the compartment sat a group of other boys but, not wanting to intrude, and feeling almost ill at the idea of meeting new people, he strode straight past them. He sensed their eyes on him and felt himself flush slightly under the weight of his own personality. He was just about to sit down, when one of the other boys called out to him.
"Hello! Say, why are you going over there? Why not sit with us?"
Albus turned around nervously. "Uh - r-right-" he stammered, wishing the stranger had not spoken.
One of the boys patted the empty seat next to him and Albus staggered over to it, feeling ungainly and somehow out-of-place already. He sat down in it as the other boys looked curiously at him.