Monday, 08/30/93
My sleep schedule is virtually non-existent or inconsistent —and I hate it. It's like I can't sleep anymore without randomly waking up multiple times throughout the night. Jet lag has just made things worse.
Mom and I landed in England two days ago, and I know a seven-and-a-half-hour trip shouldn't be that exhausting, but we had to drive five hours up to JFK because some intern at Mom's job neglected to consider IAD as the more sensible option. Like not even a connecting flight or anything, but rather a counterintuitive layover in Vienna. I know that's such a first-world problem to complain about, but my exhaustion warrants it—even though I haven't really done anything.
Neither one of my parents could take much time off for me to be dropped off, so Mom took the opportunity to clock in some time at the US embassy here. She honestly could've just dropped me off at the terminal and let me fend for myself, but she's a little protective.
We went to this place called Diagon Alley today, and Mom navigated her way with ease. She only took one good look at the map that Professor McGonagall sent and figured it out from there, meticulously checking things off the list one by one.
Diagon Alley was a lot like Adamantine Avenue—informally referred to as the alleyway in DC because wizards would sneak in through, you guessed it, alleyways before Rappaport's Law was abolished—instead of entering from a seemingly conspicuous corner down at the Metro and the whole place being located under the Department of the Treasury, you come in from this bar called the leaky cauldron, and it's actually outdoors. I think. You can never be sure, especially with the number of charms that exist.
Anyways, enough about DC. We went to the Gringotts to exchange some cash for galleons and some potion shop because Hogwarts apparently doesn't cover potion supplies. Then, I stood in a long line outside Madam Malkin's while my mom went to the nearby ice cream shop.
You could tell Madam Malkin was pretty good at her job, not only by the number of customers she had but also by the array of fabric she had stitched. She was curious to know why a kid my age would know all of her measurements off the top of her head, so I told her about how I've been upcycling my thrifted clothes ever since my aunt taught me how to sew.
As she was summoning my robes, I couldn't help but notice a dark green, almost black, hooded winter robe with dainty flowers embroidered on just the right places. I only snapped out of admiring it when her soothing voice instructed me to try on the robe she got out. The robe in question fit perfectly, so she got a second one of the same measurements out, and I paid for them.
"Has anyone ever told you how incredible your stitch work is?" I asked, practically drooling over how incredible her flowers looked.
"Anything in particular makes you say that?" she asked.
I pointed to the robe by the corner. "That one over there is just magnificent in every single way. Reminds me a lot of the tapestries they have in art museums."
She summed the robe over while I was gushing. With an endearing smile on her face, she asked, "Well, would you like to try it on?" I nodded like hell because I was at a loss for words looking at the thing. I put it on and she adjusted it to fit me more. "How do you like it?"
"Wow! It's stunning, the detail of craftsmanship is just…" I tried forming a coherent sentence. "Wow!" I exclaimed but then felt my heart drop when I saw a reflection of the tag in the mirror, knowing damn well I couldn't afford it. I scrambled to take it off and apologized for wasting her time.
She said it was a paid commissioned order. The customer, for undisclosed reasons, told her to keep it.
I told my mom all about the pretty robe I got while eating lemon-flavored ice cream. She was a bit skeptical and asked, with the pitch of her voice raised, "What on earth did you say get a witch equivalent of a burberry trench coat, for free?"
"I was just complimenting her work."
She took my hands in hers, pleading, "Teach me your Jedi mind tricks, master." She caused me to giggle but then let go. "But what did I tell you? Kindness always comes back, like karma or something." She took a spoon full of eye cream and booped me on the nose. Then, as I adjusted the robe in the bag so it wouldn't crease, she turned away from her mulberry bewitchment. "Ooh lemme try."
I passed her the robe.
It fit her tight in the arms and was too small for her overall, but she still decided to model it out of nowhere. She strutted around our table, striking multiple poses while I pretended to photograph her with my fingers. "And, Scene." She did the thing people do at the end of plays. "That, kid, is how you end up on the cover of vogue. I'd know because I'm actually Cindy Crawford in disguise."
"I'd buy it. Estera Kazemi: translator by day, supermodel by night. Clark Kent should take notes from you."
She noticed a ten-year-old boy pointing at her and whispering to his big brother, who was preoccupied with taking pictures of his surroundings. "Oy, whatcha lookin at Bucko?" Mom playfully chided.
He looked down, feeling guilty, and soon after came with his mom, Mrs. Creevy. His mom found the whole situation amusing. It turns out it was little Dennis's first time in a magical area. Her oldest, Colin, is a muggleborn, just like me, but a year below and sorted in Gryffindor. The brothers seemed too embarrassed to talk with me, but I still smiled and waved at them, especially little Dennis.
I still had to get my books, and mom Mom sat on a bench between two shops, translating a fifty-page manuscript to Farsi. She picked up the assignment right after we landed and got it done by the time we finished shopping.
She suggested getting an owl because she somehow came to the conclusion that "the ones at Hogwarts suck."
Eeylops Owl Emporium was filled with a good amount of owls, but as I walked in, one, in particular, caught my attention. A relatively young tawny owl, who had the preowned label, was on a stature away from all the other owls.
I brought my arm towards him, hoping he would come on to it. "It's okay bud, I gotchu."
He was reluctant, but it flew on my shoulder and started to warm up to me as I held and opened a bag of treats for him and read the information tag off his claw.
A lady came in front of me with a worried face. "Are you sure you don't want a less aggressive owl?"
"He doesn't seem aggressive," I replied.
A much older man took over and said, "His previous owners brought him back in for excessive pecking."
"Oh but he's not pecking me now, is he?"
"Well sure but—"
I took out the change for the treats and laid it on the table, "I'm sure it'll be fine, how much?" I rummaged through my bag, looking for the correct coins.
"Two galleons." I looked at the woman, bewildered at what she said because the prices on the wall said ten. "because of the pecking problem," said the woman.
I gave her the galleons, got a cage, and brought my attention to the owl who hadn't left my shoulder.
"Hey, do you mind if I call you Noxie instead?"
He pecked my ear lobe. I tried not to squirm. "Noctua it is."
He seemed to despise his cage, so I just had him on my shoulder for the rest of my time shopping. My mom was too busy, aggressively scribbling away, to notice me pass her on my way to Flourish and Blotts.
I found my books there with ease, but there was one that was difficult to get my hands on looking at the shelves. I looked around and saw two out of three students being handed the book. When they left, I told one of the employees there that I needed The Monster Book of Monsters. He cursed under his breath and almost started bawling his eyes out when two other students behind me asked him for a copy.
The students whispered among each other, but I could hear them loud and clear.
"Ernie, she seems new, doesn't she?"
"Yeah but we should just ask her."
The girl with long red hair was alarmed that I turned around. "Sorry. I didn't mean to talk behind your back. I was simply wondering if you are attending Hogwarts since I haven't seen you before," she said hastily. "I'm Susan." She interlocked her fingers with the dirty-blond beside her. "And this is my boyfriend, Ernie."
"Wotcher," said Ernie.
I almost forgot it was my turn to talk, "Oh, hi I'm Raya, the new transfer." My owl pecked me. "And this is Noctua, he's— feisty."
"Aw he looks absolutely adorable," said Susan right before Noctua squawked at her. "So— erm—which school are you from?"
"Ilvermorny?" asked Ernie before I could answer.
"Yup," I replied.
"I have some cousins that go there but they're Canadian and I presume you're american," said Ernie.
Susan's eyes lit up as soon as she heard him. "Merlin! Have you been to the shops on Times Square? I've been dying to go back for ages. Mum bought a snallygaster hide handbag that has lasted her seven years! Seven!" Susan exclaimed before she slowed down. "Sorry I didn't mean to come off too excited there, I just really want to go back."
"Oh you're good but I didn't get the chance to go yet. I'm looking forward to one day going one day though," I replied. It was a breath of fresh air not being the only person nervous and fast-talking as me, "Hey! Maybe we can all go together, one day?" I nervously asked, expecting the worst possible answers.
"That would be so exciting!" said Susan.
"Want to take a Portkey next summer?" asked Ernie.
"That would be great, bubs." Susan squeezed his hand.
The employee came back with his eyes redder from crying and handed us our books. Ernie's book was practically chomping off Susan's hair until we both got it off her. Thankfully, she didn't lose an inordinate amount.
Ernie asked the shopkeeper for spellotape, and we managed to bolt our books shut with it. The employee looked as if he had a revelation when he saw it work.
Ernie and I helped Susan fix her hair, getting a small comb out from my crossbody bag. I handed her a compact mirror in case she wanted to check everything. She thanked us both.
"Thought about which House you might be sorted in?" Ernie asked.
"Not really."
"Hopefully you'll be a Hufflepuff, I could use a prepared roommate," said Susan.
Ernie covered her mouth, "Shhh, don't say that!" He looked around paranoid and gritted his teeth. "Hannah will hear you!"
She pried his hand off her "She's at home!" Susan exclaimed before chuckling, "You aren't still scared by her, are you?"
"She always has a way of knowing things!"
"She isn't that bad. I promise. Ernie is just frightened by his best mate because she not-so-accidentally revealed he fancied me," said Susan trying to reassure me.
"You'd be too if she held as many secrets about you," he reasoned with her as she was attempting to hide her laugh. He then looked at me, "Just be very nice to her. Understand?"
"Aye, aye, captain." I saluted.
"We have to go. Ernie's dad is here," Susan looked out the window to see a man holding his pocket watch up against the glass. "It was nice meeting you, be sure to look for us on the train."
"Same here," I said, trying to control my smile.
They both started walking towards the door. Ernie looked back at me, "You're welcome to sit with us during meals."
I bid them farewell. Then I went back to Mom, showing her the stuff I got and telling her all about our exchange. She looked genuinely happy for me as she said, "That's wonderful, honey."
She dropped me off at the Hotel while she went to the embassy, just a ten-minute walk away to submit her translations and make some interpretations as well as picking up new assignments. I can't track everything she does, but she does a lot of work. Usually too much, if you ask me.
By the way, I have no idea how I actually got away with sneaking Noctua into the room by just hiding him in my jacket. When I was holding Noctua in place over my abdomen, I got a lot of nasty glares from some older women in the elevator. I made sure to glare back at each and every one of them.
I tried raising a remote controller towards me using that weird ability of mine but nothing. In fact, it's been nothing for the past few weeks now, and I just haven't come to terms that I don't have that cool ability anymore. The last time I used it was when I showed Mike at the movies.
I'm kinda bummed I don't have cool telekinetic powers like Jean Gray, but hey, at least I got magic.
Even though Mom said I could order anything from room service because her work was covering it, I only ended up ordering two plates of spaghetti bolognese without the meat at the time she was gone. It's not that I don't eat meat; I just don't like ground meat, and I don't know why that's so hard to believe. I know that no meat defeats the purpose of bolognese, but they didn't have any other variety of tomato sauce and pasta listed, and picking up the phone is as nerve-wracking as it gets having a palate of a four-year-old.
I fear ordering off the menu might hurt the chef's feelings, and I don't wanna do that. I've never been in a formal kitchen, and they're hardworking as heck, so why should I make their job any more difficult than it already is. Maybe I'm overthinking, but I just don't wanna risk something like that.
I honestly just eat spaghetti with marinara sauce every time we go to a fancy restaurant. I don't care how many Michelin stars the chef has; I will order the same safe option because there is nothing worse than trying something new just to realize you hate it. That being said, Mike and Paulina are the ones who usually get me to try new food, and I found a lot of my favorites thanks to them.
God, do I miss them so much. I know we had a three-day sleepover at Mike's before I left, but I can't help but miss them like hell. I'm just counting down to Christmas break.
Oh god. I have school tomorrow.
