Author's Note: Gosh it's been so long since I've had anything to do with fanfiction, writing and even Harry Potter. My sudden entrance into the dating world has kept me busy, but let's not discuss my personal life. I like this chapter, and in the car I came up with so many plans for the future, because I do plan to turn this into a series. And if I believe in myself, I think I will. Please tell me if I spelled a name wrong or had some really bad grammar error somewhere. I can accept constructive criticism… I think.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. Let's leave it in simple terms, please.
Chapter Three
Life had fallen into slow motion for Tracey, as summer neared autumn. Letters were tied to owls, pictures began moving, and china was beginning to explode at random moments. Along with going at a snail's pace, life had just become very abnormal.
The letter that had caused it all had been pinned to the bulletin board in the kitchen, like an excellent grade sheet or an award-winning essay. She found it too trivial and stupid to be allowed the honor of going on the bulletin board.
Her parents, though, thought different.
"Hello, my little witch," Samuel called as he pulled into the driveway. Tracey, who was sitting on the porch reading, blushed crimson and glared at her father. That was the millionth time that month he had called her by her little "nickname."
She presumed that it was because she still didn't believe all this mumbo jumbo, or just to remind her how weird she officially was. Either way, it was humiliating, and Emily was starting to ask suspicious questions.
"Salut, papa," Tracey replied without glancing up at him. She boredly flipped a page in her book and crossed her legs.
"Your mother still trying to turn you into a bilingual?"
"Trilingual, we started on Japanese today. Konnichi wa," Tracey said, finally looking up at him with tired eyes.
He walked up the steps to the porch and looked down at her as she sat. His grin faded into a look of worry.
"Have you been sleeping?" he asked, examining the shallow bags under her deep blue eyes.
"Of course, I've just been waking up early," she replied, and returned to her book.
Samuel cast curious eyes down upon her before nodding and entering the house in silence.
She lifted her head, looked around and sighed. It wasn't true, she was hardly sleeping. Nightmares had been plaguing her since that night her mother had displayed fear towards her... and that letter.
She would dream that she had a magician's wand, black with a white tip, and that she was waving it about unwillingly. Every time that wand pointed at her mother, the older woman would burst into flames with a bloodcurdling scream.
Tracey wasn't able to look her mother in the eye for a week.
A flutter of wings dragged Tracey from her thoughts and she immediately looked toward the sky, eyes squinted at the hot summer sun. Finding nothing, she bowed her head once more and continued reading.
"My god, Tracey Davis. You are so predictable! Reading on a nice summer day, with school approaching, no less. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" shouted Emily, as her and her friend Samantha ran over to Tracey, both were in their bathing suits and quite tan and freckled from all the swimming they had enjoyed lately.
"Not in the mood," Tracey muttered, licking her index finger and slowly turning the page of her book.
"Bah. My dad's filling up our new built-in swimming pool," Samantha boasted, pulling up her straight red hair into a bun and wrinkling her little freckled nose at Tracey.
"Now is not a good time. Sorry," Tracey retorted.
Samantha was about to say something but Emily shushed her. "Tracey hasn't been feeling well."
"Oh," Samantha replied, frowning quite childishly.
"I'll see you later, Tracey," Emily called as she pulled Samantha out of the yard.
"Yeah!" the redhead added.
"Bye," Tracey muttered, before closing her book and heading inside.
The house was nice and cool compared to the porch and Tracey breathed in, the summer outside was suffocating. This was relaxing. She wasn't a warm type of person (physically), she liked a cool breeze, some rain. So obviously the summer wasn't her favorite season.
When she entered the living room she found her dad reading and her mom tending to the blaze in the fireplace. It was silent, except for the old grandfather clock near the doorway that Tracey was standing in. She liked to soak up silent moments such as these, the peace of it all, and she closed her eyes for a moment, not noticing her father lower his book and grin at her serene appearance.
"Dreaming in the doorway are we? Quite dangerous I would think," he observed, closing the thick novel in his lap and setting it aside as Tracey unwillingly opened her eyes.
"There isn't anyone in the house? Right?" Tracey sighed, hovering for a moment over the threshold before taking a seat on the couch beside her father.
He laughed, always amused by his daughter, and leaned back, placing his hands behind his head.
Meanwhile her mother had stood, grabbed the familiar old envelope and had taken a seat on the armrest next to her. She held said parchment in front of Tracey's face and said, "You have school supplies to buy, Miss."
"I refuse to!" Tracey blurted out, then covered her mouth as she saw her mother's disapproving look.
"It's best to take a look at something before you're sure you don't believe in it."
"What your mum said," Samuel agreed, messing with his daughter's long black hair before standing.
"This all stupid. Why don't you two go. Leave me here to do more productive things with my time. I have a reading list to catch up on before I start school," Tracey said, tossing her hair back and crossing her arms stubbornly.
"The letter says we must be joined by one magical being. And you just happen to be ours," Samuel stated.
"We leave on Saturday," Anne added, before her and her husband left the room.
Tracey frowned at the floor, arms still crossed.
"It's all not very fair, is it?" she said to herself, kicking off her sandals and sinking into the soft cushions of the couch. She sighed heavily.
When she received no reply, even from herself, she stood and headed up to her room. Hoping to catch some much needed rest.
The heart-shaped face of an eleven-year old of average height and tiny shape, peeked over the passenger seat so as to get a better look at her father who was driving, a bit recklessly, might I add. She narrowed her blue eyes before leaning back into her seat, arms crossed over her chest.
"We're almost there," Anne sighed, as she read a nearby street sign.
"Good, I think my foot is falling asleep," Samuel said, chuckling for a moment before remembering the serious females that surrounded him.
As they drove on, Tracey shifted uncomfortably before looking out the window, watching the blurs of people and shops in London. It was all very nice and old, a city she enjoyed visiting, but now there was nothing to enjoy. She was being driven unwillingly to possibly the location of a cult or something very silly. Although, she thought as she smirked to herself, she had the satisfaction of being right. Oh, she loved that very much.
"Okay, it's on this street... and on the right. Be sure to keep an eye out, Tracey, for the, ahem, 'Leaky Cauldron'," her mother said, hesitating and pausing quite a bit as she spoke. This name was obviously very foreign to her.
Tracey looked out the window, bored and waiting till they could go home again. Then, all of a sudden, a name flashed for a millisecond in her vision before disappearing again.
"Stop!" she cried, instinctively grabbing something solid as her father skidded the car into halt.
She jumped out of the car, almost forgetting her seat belt, and stood on the sidewalk, breathing heavily as a few passerby's stared at her.
"Did you see it?" her mother asked, leaning out the window.
"I think so," Tracey whispered, mostly to herself as she stared ahead. Her face was blank but her mind was filled with a zillion emotions.
The glimpse almost felt like magic, as if a shock had went through her...
Tracey immediately shook herself, frowned and muttered, "No such thing as magic."
"Dear god, Anne, she's gone insane," Samuel said as he took a step out of the car and looked down at his muttering daughter.
Anne got out as well, circling the car to check for any scratches (a habit of hers) before standing beside her husband and Tracey.
"Which way was it?" Anne asked.
"That way," Tracey replied, pointing in the direction from which they came, and then looking back down at her feet.
"Well, let's get going, August doesn't last forever," Samuel stated, grabbing his wife and daughter's hands and walking toward their mysterious destination.
Tracey felt sick, quite sick. She felt that as if she could throw up onto the pavement, despite her being dragged along. She simply was not going to be proven wrong. Especially with a matter such as this.
And yet she saw the pub again, as clear as day, right before her eyes and felt that same spark flow through her body as it had in the car. Her finger twitched, causing her parents to stop and look down at her as if she knew everything about it all.
"Do you see the pub?" her father inquired.
She nodded silently.
"The Leaky Cauldron?" her mother asked.
She nodded again.
"Where?" they queried in unison.
Tracey pointed straight ahead and Samuel cleared his throat.
"There's nothing there," he stated.
"Oh, please don't say that," Tracey said, pulling away from him and placing her face in her hands. She knew it was childish but she was always right, and this was not going to be any different.
"Show us in, Tracey," Anne said with a final tone.
Tracey nodded and took the lead, walking straight toward the pub and opening the door for her parents.
The gasps from them didn't help one bit.
"Oh my goodness."
"Did you see that?"
"Unbelievable."
"Oh, be quiet," Tracey pouted, nudging her parents in as politely as she could and slamming the door behind her.
The room, smelling strongly of whiskey and cigarettes and something else she didn't want to name, went silent for a moment before the original bustle returned.
Tracey felt her knees quiver as she looked over the room. Women wearing odd hats, men in cloaks, candles floating, forks moving on their own.
"No." she whispered, hand moving to her gaping mouth and eyes wide.
Her parents were gaping as well, looking like silly fishes (out of water, of course) as they stared at a dish rag cleaning a hovering dish on its own.
"Muggles, I presume," an old voice came from nearby and Tracey jumped a foot in the air before glaring up at the man that had scared her.
"Muggles?" she asked after composing herself.
"Yes," her mother interrupted, fixing her coat, and holding out her hand. "I am Anne Davis, that is my husband Samuel and our daughter Tracey."
He shook it limply, grabbed her father's hand, and then held it out to Tracey who grimaced.
A grunt from her father made her sigh and accept the offered hand.
"Cute lil' thing. I suppose you're here for Hogwarts supplies?" he inquired, smiling and showing yellow, crooked teeth.
"Yes, but I do not know exactly where-" her mother began, looking over the pub, but was interrupted by the old man.
"Not here, this where you'll find the entrance to Diagon Alley," he said, still grinning.
"Diagon Alley?" Tracey repeated, frowning.
"Yes, then, could you show us where this is?" Samuel inquired, smiling.
"Follow me," the old man said as he lead them to the back of the pub to a tall and lean wooden door.
Tracey opened it to find an empty area, with nothing but a brick wall, trash can, and a few wooden crates here and there.
"I should have placed a couple hundred pounds on my realistic side of the argument. I could do with a big screen television in my room," Tracey said, smirking up at her parents. She continued talking, despite the looks her dad was giving her. "Obviously it was some kind of magnet making those candles do that. You guys should know better than that."
"Televis-what?" the old man asked, blinking slowly, before shaking his head, pulling out a long stick, and tapping the bricks on the wall with it.
Tracey's grin faded as her mother smiled in amazement. She looked back at the wall to find that it was no longer there. An entrance stood in its place, leading to what looked like a small market place, but somewhat weirder. She saw people in funny clothes walking and shopping as if in their own kind of little odd mall. Signs hung from doorways, with funny names and even funnier things lying on the outside.
"You have got to be kidding me," she said, wide eyes glancing from here to there, unaware that her dad had pushed her through the entrance and was leading her past these shops, unaware that the old man was talking about money exchange and such.
All that was on her mind was the fact that she was wrong, and that it was official. She was a freak.
"Next you're going to tell me there are such things as unicorns and ghosts," Tracey muttered, glaring up at her parents.
"Where do you think the muggles got the idea from, eh?" the old man laughed.
"Hmmph," she pouted.
Tracey was quite aware of how immature she was acting, and how bad of an impression she was making with this new... ehm, species of people she was meeting. But when Tracey Davis is shocked or surprised, or worse, proven wrong, she could become quite the child. And this day was certainly no different.
"Tracey," her mother whispered in her ear as they passed by a bunch of caged owls, "please, please, be on your best behavior. We've never met these people before and we want them to like us. Right?"
"I suppose," Tracey muttered to herself.
"You will be good. I know you're mature. So act it."
"Yes, mum," Tracey sighed, as she put on a wide, fake smile and grabbed her hand.
"Real smiles are so much better," Samuel chuckled, and immediately received a deadly glare from his daughter.
"Okay, we're here," the old man said.
They stopped at the steps of a huge building, and the old man pointed toward the doors, saying, "Just enter, go to the last desk on the right near the big double doors, an' you'll be able to make your exchange there. And, by the way, I'm Tom. Have fun."
Just as casually as he had introduced himself and said goodbye, he disappeared into the crowd. Samuel cleared in his throat and directed the two girls into the building, where they found themselves faced with a pair of silver doors and an inscription that sent chills down Tracey's spine.
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
"Bloody hell," Samuel muttered, hand hovering over the handle as he stared at the poem.
"Can we just enter?" Tracey sighed, nodding to a pair of weird looking creatures who bowed them through the doors.
The three entered, as Tracey glanced back at the creatures in surprise, into a great hall, with the same creatures at every desk. Weighing, stamping and doing bank types of things.
"Goblins," her mother whispered in her ear in reply to the curious look on her face, before going at a faster pace to the end of the vast marble hall.
"Somebody pinch me," Tracey murmured, tossing back a curly strand of black hair over her shoulder as she caught the eye of a slightly taller blonde, who was obviously about her age.
He smirked rather sardonically at her before turning away and talking to a beautiful and tall blonde woman, presumably his mother. Tracey watched them converse silently for a moment, then faced forward again, only to run into her father's side.
"Oomph," she said as she almost fell to the floor. But her chuckling father grabbed her hand at the last second and helped her to her feet, thankfully before anyone could see.
"How much do you think she'll need, Samuel?" Anne asked, as she stood at the counter before a grumpy looking goblin.
"First year?" the goblin inquired, looking down at Tracey over small spectacles.
"Yes," Samuel replied, patting his daughter on the head.
"Then you'll need at least 10 galleons. To get her by-and-by through her year at Hogwarts," the goblin explained.
Her parents nodded in unison at the reasonable amount, and while the goblin made the long exchange, Tracey began to wander around.
The hall was gigantic and beautiful, the white marble was very perfect for all the gold and jewels that seemed to be laying about. Tracey thought that if someone could live somewhere luxurious and worth bragging about, this would be it.
Tracey continued to walk around and found herself pondering on what was hidden behind another pair of double doors silently, when she abruptly heard a cough from behind. Due to her short acquaintance with this new world, she was immediately frightened, and she whipped around and jumped a foot in the air all at once, only to be greeted with gray eyes and a face that was possibly too taken care of.
"Hello?" she said, though it came out as more of a question than a greeting.
"Hello," he replied in a drawl that proved, more than his clothes and hair did, that he was unbelievably spoiled.
"Do I know you...?" she asked, eyes shifting uncomfortably. He was rather close, not too close, but at a proximity that wasn't very normal.
"You should," he said, and as soon as those words left his mouth, Tracey knew he was not going to be her best friend.
"Well, I don't. Are you going to, ehm, Hoggywats?" Tracey asked, feeling quite stupid as she attempted to pronounce the school's name.
He gave her a look that read quite clearly that he thought she was an idiot.
"You mean Hogwarts? Yes, I am going there as a first year. My name is Draco Malfoy," Draco stated, and held out his hand.
"Um, me too. I am Tracey Davis," she retorted, shaking said hand before dropping it and taking a step back.
"Interesting... well, I'll see you there, or on the train. Goodbye," he said, and was suddenly gone, not even giving her a chance to reply...
"Odd people, I swear..." Tracey muttered as she went to find her parents, perhaps the only near normal beings in the alley.
After spotting her parents, who looked a bit too fascinated by everything, making it clear that they were the only muggles (a word she had no choice but to get used to saying) there, they began their expedition through the magic shops. First, was a place called Madam Malkin's, a robe tailor of sorts, where Tracey was to be fitted for her uniform.
"Oh, great," Tracey moaned as she was pushed into a dressing room as a boy with messy black hair and glasses left the shop.
"Oh, you're a small one. Let's see, we'll have to trim these down quite a bit," the old, plump and purple lady muttered as she bustled about, sticking pins here and there,
"Oh, isn't this just adorable," Tracey heard a sigh come from the other side of the shop, obviously her mother was getting maternal again. "Her first uniform, and a cloak! Wow, Tracey, did you see this? A cloak!"
"Calm down, Mum," Tracey sighed, pouting and looking down at her shoes, which were covered by loads of material. She sighed heavily and looked around the shop, as she mumbled, "Can I get a different color, if they let me wear something besides the uniform around the school?"
"I suppose if your parents are willing to pay the extra money for it. Other colors are more expensive than the black, due to the lack of need. We get a lot more students than regular witches and wizards," Madam Malkin explained, with a pin in her mouth and glasses on the bridge of her nose.
"Mum?" Tracey called with a hopeful expression.
"I see you like the cloaks then," Anne replied, smiling shrewdly. "I suppose we can buy another two cloaks for you. What colors?"
"Dark green and dark red, please," Tracey said quickly, the last word almost a whisper.
"Well, okay then. I'll make sure to get smaller sizes this time, or else we'll be here all night fitting you," Madam Malkin laughed, sewing the hem of Tracey's robes in a graceful and fluid motion.
"I'm quite parched. After this how about a cup of tea at the pub? Then we can continue our shopping," Samuel suggested, fiddling with the materials in the "dress robe" section.
"Sounds brilliant," Tracey said, head held high as she stood perched on her little stool. "I've been craving some green tea with a lump of brown sugar."
"You know it's best to drink that kind of tea without anything added?" Anne chuckled.
"But that's what makes Tracey Davis, Tracey Davis," Samuel retorted, and winked at his daughter good-naturedly.
--------------------------------------
"Green tea with just one lump of brown sugar, please," Tracey requested, folding her napkin once, twice, continually.
"And for you?" the toothless waitress asked, turning to her mother and father.
"Just two regular black teas," Samuel said.
The waitress nodded and drifted toward the bar, almost as if she was hovering over the ground. But, anything was possible here.
"Still don't believe in magic?" Samuel whispered, eyes glittering with delight and fascination.
"I'm lacking in anymore doubts," Tracey mumbled, round almond-shaped eyes flitting about, taking in everything, yet not taking anything in at all. It was too much.
Tracey heard the creak of the door and immediately turned to watch as a girl entered in a summer dress with wavy dirty blonde hair that fell to her waist, and a tall narrow-faced woman with wide green eyes that matched (what Tracey assumed was) her daughter's. But the woman's hair was light brown with small threads of gold weaving in and out of her loose curls, and her skin was tan and almost amber. The young girl was a bit pale with a few small freckles on her nose and a mole on her left cheek.
The two were quite fascinating. The woman held her head high and wore a mud-stained cloak, leather boots that made a dull "clunking" sound, and a knife in her belt, that Tracey only noticed when it caught the light of a nearby candle. The little girl, on the other hand, looked the picture of innocence. Her long hair was tied back in a tight braid, with a black bow holding it together at the end, and she wore a yellow and black small dress with simple black shoes.
The young girl looked over at Tracey and grinned brightly, clasping her mother's hand and trying to keep up with the woman's long strides.
"She looks about your age, Tracey," Anne observed, following her daughter's stares, "perhaps she's starting at Hogwarts this year, also. Why don't you ask her?"
"I think the girl's going to ask instead," Samuel chuckled as the small girl headed over, still grinning.
"Hello, there! I'm Astrea Moon." she exclaimed, holding her hand out as Tracey nervously shook it.
"Hi," Tracey mumbled. "I'm Tracey Davis."
"Are you starting this year?" the girl queried, grabbing a nearby chair and plopping down on it.
"Yes, I'm uhh, muggle-born."
"Wow, fascinating! My mum's a witch, I think my dad is, too. Never met him though. Are these your parents?" Astrea said, her mouth moving a mile a minute. It somehow comforted Tracey and she felt herself loosening up.
"Yes, this is my dad, Samuel, and my mum, Anne," Tracey replied.
"Nice to meet you two!" Astrea exclaimed.
"Same here," Samuel said, as he stood and gathered his coat. "Me and your mum are going to look at some stores, we'll meet you at Ollivander's."
"Okay," Tracey smiled, and waved to her parents as they left. She turned to Astrea and immediately started asking questions. "So what's magic like? Is this all a hoax? You can tell me."
"Magic is everywhere, basically. And what do you mean? A hoax. Tracey Davis, you're never going to get anywhere with that kind of motivation."
"It's just, I was never the type to follow all that unicorn and dragon rubbish."
"You know, those do exist. Watch what you say, you might be near one of those humanitary-thingies, the witches and wizards that protect the magical creatures."
"Wow. So this is like another dimension or something."
"Close. But no, we're still apart of your world, just hidden. And for good reasons, too."
"What reasons?"
"Well, I don't really know... But they're good!"
Tracey laughed, shaking her head as Astrea joined in with her own small giggles.
"I like you. We should go on the train together, keep each other company. Besides, I hear this one house is rather mean to first years," Astrea said, her voice dropping down to a mumble.
"What's a house?"
"It's like a family of sorts. There are four and you get sorted into one that you stay with for seven years. You have house points and quidditch..."
"Quidditch?"
"I'll explain later. It's a bit complicated."
"Oh. Well what that house's name?"
"I don't really know. All I know is that my mum thinks I'll be sorted into either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. My mum was in Ravenclaw, my dad was in Gryffindor."
"Wow, I hope we're in the same house," Tracey said nervously.
"I think we will, don't worry."
"Astrea," the tall woman returned from her conversation with the bartender and came over to their table.
"Mum, this is Tracey. She's a first year, too," Astrea explained.
A smile crept on the thick but stern lips of Astrea's mother as she shook Tracey's hand. "I'm Sapphira Moon, it's nice to meet you Tracey. I hope we see you at the platform. Come along, Astrea."
The two made their way out, Astrea waving goodbye before they were enveloped by the bright light of the sun outside the pub.
Tracey stood, took one last sip of her tea and headed back to Diagon Alley, which was fortunately left open by someone who had just passed through. She stepped on the cobble stone street and headed through the crowds, watching the signs over the doorways for Ollivanders. When she found the shop, she made her way through dozens of people and pushed opened the door, wincing as it creaked loudly. A faint bell rung in the back of the shop and Tracey sneezed as the dust from all around drifted toward her.
Her parents weren't here. Perhaps they had made a stop somewhere. Tracey took a seat on an old armchair and looked at all the boxes everywhere, fingers tapping restlessly at her side.
"Hello Miss Davis. Looking for a wand I presume?" a dark and rusty voice drifted from the back.
Tracey turned in her seat, "How did you-?"
"Your parents were just in. First year, eh?"
"Yes, and I uhh n-need a wand," Tracey stammered, the hairs on the back of her neck standing as the old man came into view. His dark gray eyes penetrated her and her mind, and it scared her half to death.
"I believe we already came to that understanding," Ollivander smirked, with a raspy chuckle under his breath. "Let's get started, shall we?"
He began to dig through boxes, calling over his shoulder, "What is your wand hand?"
"I use my left I suppose," Tracey mumbled.
"That shall do," Ollivander replied, pulling out a couple of long white boxes and opening one, before handing a long narrow wand to Tracey. "Ebony and dragon heartstrings, six and a half inches. Quite good for charms."
Tracey grasped the wand and gave it a feeble wave, but it was immediately snatched from her thin pale fingers and was no sooner replaced by another one.
"Willow and unicorn hair, fourteen inches. Flexible," Ollivander continued, watching the feeble wave before snatching it back.
After a few pathetic attemptive waving of some wands, Tracey began to feel doubtful. As Ollivander became increasingly more excited.
"Another tough one today? I'll be busy all week if this keeps happening," Ollivander laughed, pulling out a long wooden box with funny carvings on the sides. He set this one down more carefully and took out the wand, carefully slipping it into Tracey's hands. "Yew, unicorn hair and phoenix feather, seven inches. Quite an interesting combination, one of my only wands with a combined core."
Tracey felt a heat ignite in her fingers, her arm, her body as she grasped the handle. This felt right. So right. Sparks of maroon and green glittered from the end of the wand and Ollivander smiled in delight.
"About time we found an owner for that one," he sighed as he headed up to the counter and rung it up.
Tracey followed him, still gripping her wand tightly before she had to hand it over to him so he could wrap it up for her.
"That's quite a wand Miss Davis," he said as she was exiting the store, "take good care of it and be cautious. Always."
Tracey nodded to herself and exited the shop, walking fast and not stopping until she was far enough away. She breathed deeply, his words etched on her brain boldly. She leaned her head against the brick wall she stood along, hidden in the shadows and behind the throngs of people.
This was a fascinating new world, so full of wonder and astounding experiences. And Tracey had never been more afraid in her life.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her parents, and a smile came to her face when she saw the cage with them. Inside was a cat. Tracey had always wanted a cat.
Author's Note: You know what sounds better than green tea? Some reviews. I know, they feel like a hassle to leave, but they really keep this story going… and hopefully you like it enough to keep it going.