BOOM.
The person knocked again, a thunderous noise that caused Dudley to jump and look at Ianthe in fear, "Who is it?" he said as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia came running down the stairs, the former holding a rifle (who on Earth had sold him that? The imbecile is more likely to shoot his foot!). They now knew what had been in the long, thin package, not that it did any good as the door was once again knocked on, a great thud resounding.
"Who's there?" Uncle Vernon shouted, quivering like a leaf despite his bravado, "I warn you - I'm armed!" There was a pause, as if it had never happened in the first place, and Uncle Vernon began to relax, and then –
SMASH!
Uncle Vernon shot up and Aunt Petunia shrieked as the door came tumbling down, swept right off its hinges as a giant figure stood in the doorways as the lightning flashed ominously. He had a great mane of long, tangled, bushy hair that would have made Aunt Petunia throw a fit had she not been scared out of her wits, but behind all that mass of hair, you could make out two eyes, glinting like beetles
He stepped through the doorway, clearing his throat as Dudley squeaked and the giant man lifted the door back up, setting it back firmly in the doorway. "Sorry 'bout that, but ya haven't made it easy. Travelled a good few hours to make it here, wouldn't believe the storm out there, would ya!" he said cheerily, eyes crinkling merrily but at the terrified looks of the Dursleys, Dudley now huddled in his mother's arms, he turned to the only occupant not terrified out of their mind, Ianthe.
"Ah an' here's Ianthe!" he took a seat on the sofa, the poor furniture squeaking as it had to put up with the giant's great weight, "Las' time I saw yeh, you was only a baby. Yer look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes. Beauty, they were; reminded me a bit of a Welsh Green's scales. I'd love one; I've always wanted a dragon, see." Ianthe stared incredulously at the man as he smiled, eyes crinkling kindly as Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise in the background.
"Dragons!" he said in part disbelief and other-part horror, "I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"
The giant turned round, "Ah shut up Dursley, yeh great prune," he said, reaching over to easily bend the rifle into an intricate knot before throwing it into a shadowy corner of the room.
"Anyway - Ianthe, a very happy birthday to you; Got summat for yeh, mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste alright all the same." Reaching into his great black overcoat, he retrieved a squashed white box from the inside.
Opening it with trembling fingers, Ianthe's breath caught in her throats as she gazed at the words, Happy 11th Birthday, Ianthe! She stared at it a long while, tracing the words over with her eyes.
"Well?" the giant said at last, nervous by the looks of it as he clenched his hand open and closed, "Do yer like it?" Ianthe grinned, eyes twinkling in the firelight as she answered, "It's brilliant!"
The great man let out a happy breath, "Knew yer probably wouldn't get anything from these lot," he jerked his head towards the Dursley's direction, "So I baked somethin' up for yeh."
Ianthe nodded, before turning back to him, "If you don't mind me asking, who exactly are you, sir?" The giant chuckled, bringing out a pink umbrella dotted with little yellow ducks, "True, I haven't introduced myself. None o' that sir business though," he wrinkled his nose in distaste, "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds, but call me Hagrid. Everyone else does." He snorted at the shrivelled up crisp packets and something shot out of the umbrella tip, making the whole fireplace roar to life, a lovely heat emanating from it.
The giant reached into his coat and pulled out all sorts of things: a squashy packet of sausages, a copper kettle, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs and a battle of some amber liquid that he took a swig of before setting to work. "You could do with some fillin' up, Ianthe." he said, before using the frying pan to sizzle the sausages over the open fire. Not long after, the whole shack was filled with the sizzling of sausages, the lovely warmth emitting all around Ianthe, as if she was submerged in a lovely warm bath.
Dudley fidgeted before at last speaking up, "Hogwarts?" Dudley said from behind his mother, ignoring her hiss of Dudley!
"You mean the magic place; Ianthe's new school, Hogwarts?" Hagrid turned to him, waving him over as Dudley came to stand beside Ianthe, before handing the large boy and Ianthe two slightly burnt sausages. "Aye," he said, smiling, "'course, you'll know all about Hogwarts, don't ya, Ianthe?"
Ianthe shrugged, answering as she ate the sausage, planning on eating for the cake next, "Not really, Hagrid." she said in between mouthfuls, "The only reason I knew about Hogwarts was because me and Dudley were able to read the letter together, though I'm a bit sceptical. Before then, I had no idea about magic." she finished turning back to Hagrid, watching as he turned a great crimson.
"NO IDEA ABOUT MAGIC!" he yelled, standing up and turning on the quivering Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, "DURSLEY! Are yeh telling me that this girl - that this girl didn't know 'bout magic before 'er Hogwarts letter? Are yeh tellin' me that she doesn't 'ave any idea about what - what she's done? 'bout 'ow many lives she's saved?"
Ianthe's eyes creased in confusion, "What I've done?" she echoed as Dudley looks between all of them, as if it was an interesting sitcom drama, like the ones Aunt Petunia watched. "What do you mean, Hagrid? I certainly doubt that I've saved any lives."
"Blimey Ianthe," he said, whirling around to the curly-haired girl, "When Dumbledore told me that yer weren't getting yer letter, I certainly didn't expect this. I wasn't prepared to tell yer about - about what you did."
"Hagrid, I don't like the sound of this. What did I do?" she asked warily, eyes cautious yet earnest as Dudley nodded along with the sentiment.
"You got my sister blown up, that's what you did, girl." Aunt Petunia butted in, "With that freak hunting you down, my sister went and got herself blown up, trying to protect you. Lost cause, if you ask me, you're still as freakish, still as abnormal, and still as demonic as my sister. Always showing off her 'odd abilities' as she called it. Not much different, are you? And when she got her letter, mother and father were so proud. They were so proud, so proud to have a witch in the family, going off to that - to that school - coming home with pockets full of frogspawn and turning teacups into rats. They didn't see her for what she was, a freak!" she hissed, chest heaving as Ianthe turned stiff, her jaw tightening as a heavy feeling settled in her stomach as a voice spoke, She lied, it said, it's only fair you make them pay.
Yet Petunia carried on, as if this had been on her chest for all this time, "And then she met that Potter, no manners and telling us that he lives off a fortune, and then they go and get themselves blown up! Told me before she died that - that awful boy had joined them, told me to be careful, 'Tuney," she sneered, "HA! And then, we got landed with you. So strange, and demonic, and foreign, you are. Not like us, never like us, trying to influence precious Duddikins, we knew the only way to put a stop to it was to never let you know. But you freaks can't take no for an answer, can you?" she said, turning to Hagrid who stared back both sombre and disgusted.
"Can't believe yer Dursley; to treat a child tha' way. Yer lot are rotten to the core, aren't ya?" he said, turning to Dudley who handed a piece of cake to Ianthe who seemed in shock at her Aunt's admission, "Least one of yeh lot is alright."
"They lied," she murmured, "Wouldn't be the first though, right, Dudley?" She said in a humourless voice, letting out a deprecating bark of laughter. Her cousin looked at her, trying to reassure her, "I'm sure they meant to tell you eventually, how your parents died." Ianthe shook her head in disbelief, "But magic's still cool though, think you can write me letters when you go off to Hogwarts?"
"'Course I will." Ianthe answered, bringing the cake up to her mouth.
Uncle Vernon was shook out of his stupor at the admission of her going to Hogwarts, "Enough." he said, and "This tosh is rubbish. Listen girl," her back was still to him as he spoke; she turned around as he seemed intent on burning her through the power of his glare alone, "No denying that there's not something right about you. Nothing a good beating wouldn't solve; should be grateful that we took you in at all, girl; but I ain't letting you go!" he roared, turning on Hagrid, "You hear me, man! You can take your bloody message and leave, the girl ain't going!"
Hagrid glowered threateningly at the portly man, "Like to see a great muggle like you try, Dursley." He cast a glance over the rotund man as Ianthe felt as if she had heard the word - muggle - before.
Ah, Nagini.
"Muggle?" Dudley asked eager as his watery blue eyes shimmered, "Non-magic folk." Hagrid answered dutifully before turning back to Dudley's parents, "Now listen 'ere, I don' know wha' lies you bee' feedin' Ianthe, bu' I'll be putting a stop to it. Stop Lily an' James daughter! Yer mad. 'Er names bee' down since she were born, she'll be one of the brightest minds in that place, I tell ya!" Ianthe coloured at this, because even knowing Ianthe only for a little while, Hagrid was still so sure in his assessment, it made Ianthe warm, knowing that he believed in her; "Ianthe'll be headed off to Hogwarts, come September. One of the' fines' schools o' witchcraf' an' wizardry in the world! Seven years there and she won't know herself! She'll be with younglings of 'er own age fer a change, taught by the greates' minds of the age and all un'er the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts ever 'ad, Albus Dumbled-"
"I'M NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACHER HER MAGIC TRICKS!"
But he had finally gone too far, Hagrid whirled around, bringing the umbrella over his head before pointing it towards Uncle Vernon, "NEVER-" he thundered, "INSULT - ALBUS - DUMBLEDORE - IN - FRONT - OF - ME!" he brought the umbrella up, and with a zap at Uncle Vernon, his teeth began to grow and grow and grow!
Wide-eyed the two children started as his teeth still began to grow, until finally they stopped just before his waist - he looked remarkably like a walrus, now that Ianthe thought about it. Petunia shrieked in shock and Dudley whimpered as he rushed to his father.
Aunt Petunia cast a fearful glance at the both of them, before ushering her husband and her whimpering son into the small bedroom, leaving Ianthe with Hagrid who had a sheepish expression on his face, "Shouldn'ta lost ma temper," Hagrid said ruefully, a hand the size of a dustbin coming up to stroke his long, shaggy beard, "But it didn't work anyway. Meant to turn 'im into a walrus, goes to show tha' there wasn't much left to change in the end!" He laughed out, plopping down on the sofa again.
However, Ianthe stared back at the door in worry, turning to Hagrid to ask a question, "Uncle Vernon will be alright, won't he, Hagrid? Even if he is horrible, I'd never want him to be stuck with those horribly long teeth."
Hagrid eyes softened as he looked at Ianthe, draping his coat onto the floor, "Aye," he said, "He'll be fine. Bastard man, though, if ya ask me. Too kind, you are, Ianthe. Jus' like Lily, yer mother, she was always poppin' down to me hut, back in 'er school days. Head Girl with yer dad as Head Boy, wouldn't find an 'appier couple anywhere," he said, eyes sad and a smile kind as he looked at Ianthe.
All of a sudden, he became very nervous, clearing his throat, "Er - Ianthe, I would appreciate it if yer didn't tell anyone a' Hogwarts. Not really allowed to perform magic on muggles - or since I was expelled."
Ianthe turned very stern in that moment, "Hagrid," she started, "I think it would be best if you set Uncle Vernon's teeth right in the morning; especially, if you're not allowed to perform magic on muggles."
Hagrid tried to protest, "But-"
"No buts." Ianthe said, voice firm and eyes unyielding. Hagrid wilted but agreed nonetheless, no matter how unwilling.
However Ianthe had another question, "You were expelled, Hagrid?"
"Er - well, yes. Expelled in me third year; broke me wand an' everythin'. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore, gave me a place when no one would."
Ianthe wondered what he had been expelled for, but she liked to believe she had more tact.
"Well, it's a gettin' late, have ta go and get yer books and the like tomorrow. Why don't you kip in under there," he pointed to his coat, "Careful though, still might have a couple of dormice in one o' the pockets."
Ianthe cast a glance at the coat, before walking towards it and letting it lay over her like a blanket. It was quite warm, smelling of a strange woodsy scent and something she couldn't quite place. Falling asleep surrounded by warmth and the soft crackle of fire, she couldn't but hope that this would all last.
For the briefest moment, Ianthe thought she was back in her cupboard. She could feel the floor (though when did she get this warm a blanket?) and Aunt Petunia's insistent tapping on the cupboard door.
She'd had a wonderful dream though, where a giant called Hagrid had come to collect her and take her to Hogwarts, she had dreamed that he had made Uncle Vernon's teeth grow to his waist (making him look like a walrus) until Ianthe had told him quite firmly that he was to set the teeth back to normal in the morning.
Yet, the tapping continued. Disheartened, Ianthe shrugged her blanket of - only, it wasn't a blanket at all: it was a coat instead! And the tapping came from the window, not her cupboard door. A smile pulled at her lips as she found that it wasn't all a dream. However, the tapping was getting quite annoying.
Pulling herself up to stand, she was met by the oddest sight of an owl tapping on the window with quite a grumpy look on its face. Walking towards the window, she pulled the latch open, allowing the barn owl to flutter in. It held out its leg as Ianthe pulled the newspaper free.
She laid it on the floor, and my, the pictures seemed to be moving! The man on the front, a short portly man with a striped pin suit and bowler hat seemed to be waving the people away as he entered a large building. Miffed, the owl started pecking at her fingers, causing Ianthe to hiss in pain and accidentally slip into actual hisses - Parseltongue, Nagini had called it; "Ssssssstop it!" Ianthe said, annoyed.
Hagrid awoke at the noise, blearily rubbing his eyes from his spot on the sofa, "Ianthe?" he yawned out, a large hand coming to cover his mouth, "Wha's the matter?"
Ianthe cast a glance at the owl, wary of his beak, as she turned to Hagrid, "Well, there was an owl Hagrid. It had a newspaper, so I took it; only, it started biting my finger off. "
Hagrid chuckled, bringing himself to sit up, "Well, they'll do tha', they will. The owl'll want a paying; rifle in my pockets. You'll find some coins," Ianthe put her hand in the pockets, pulling out a few dormice, a packet of dog biscuits and what seemed to be little green balls, "Slug pellets," Hagrid supplied.
Finally finding little bronze and silver coins, she pulled them out. "Right," Hagrid said, "Give 'im five Knuts," at Ianthe's confused stare he started again, "The little bronze ones, you'll find a - righ', you got that." he said as Ianthe put the Knuts in a tiny leather pouch.
The owl sent one more baleful look her way (which Ianthe returned) before flying out the window, but not before crashing on the window, which had - err, magically swung in its face.
Hagrid handed her a sausage, before popping three in one go into his mouth, "Shou'd be fine, Ianthe. We can have a bi' o' tha' cake after. Have to be on our way though, can't be too late. Have ta meet Prof'ssor Quirrell on the way."
Ianthe was halfway through her third sausage, but perked up at the mention of this new person - a Professor. "Professor Quirrell?" Hagrid turned to her, "Aye. Was the muggle studies Prof'ssor before, took the Defense Against the Dark Arts job now, though. Don't expect he'll last though," he said ominously before turning back to his tea that he took a swig of after putting a little of the amber liquid in.
Ianthe wondered as he swirled the contents together with a silver spoon, "What's Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hagrid?" Ianthe said, feeling horribly stupid with not knowing all these new things, "And why don't you think Professor Quirell'll last?"
Hagrid turned a embarrassed red at the question, "Oh, er- might not want to mention that, Ianthe. 'Bout him not lasting, on yer first day. Defense Against the Dark Arts, DADA fer shor', is all about protecting yerself from dark magic and the like. 'Orrible stuff, dark magic, Really does yer 'ead in, it does. Anyway," he said brightly, "No one expects a DADA Prof'ssor to last more than a year, some say the position's cursed. Gets 'arder and 'arder for Prof'ssor Dumbledore to find good applicants. Las' year, 'e ad to hire a vampire. Got a bit much when we 'ad to stop 'im from fighting with the centaurs."
Centaurs, Vampires? Curses and Dark Magic? Ianthe felt so out of depth, like she was stranded in the middle of an ocean. Licking her lips, she looked up at the giant, "And why are we meeting up with Professor Quirrell?"
"Well," Hagrid said, "We'll meet up with 'im, bu' then yer on yer own with 'im. I hav'ta head down to Knockturn - back alley place where the low lifes trade, so don't let me catch you down there. Yeh'll do most of yer shopping with 'im, and then after I've finished ma errands, we'll 'ead back to yer 'ouse. S'matter a fac' we shou'd be headin' off 'bout now."
Ianthe nodded, standing up and at least trying to appear somewhat presentable even with her rag torn clothes. "Oh, Hagrid," she said, as he opened the door, "Yes?" he asked, taking a step outside. He felt a burning glare as an involuntary shiver went up his spine, "Don't try and act like you forgot to set Uncle Vernon's teeth right."
Hagrid let out a great heaving sigh, as if she had asked the world of him, and set towards the other bedroom, blasting it open with his umbrella as loud shrieks were heard (courtesy of Petunia) and he let out a great zap. He came out the door, with a normal-toothed Uncle Vernon crying out in relief as Hagrid ushered Ianthe out the door, Dudley watching them go, an unexplainable emotion present in his eye.
Walking towards the boat, he clambered in, followed by Ianthe who sat tentatively on the boat, feeling a slight queasiness as Hagrid pulled his umbrella close, "Er - yer don't mind me using a bit o' magic to speed this along, do ya Ianthe?" Ianthe shook her head, more in trying to not vomit than in consent. Hagrid grinned, using his umbrella to propel them along which set the sausages and stale cake Ianthe had for breakfast churning even more violently.
He pulled the newspaper he had gotten earlier from one of his numerous pockets, drawing it out to read as the boat propelled itself forward, seemingly by itself.
The boat moved still faster, and as time wore on, Ianthe felt her stomach settle and her face settle back from the tinted green to her usual golden-bronze with rosy cheeks. Hagrid turned a page snorting, "Ha! 'Minister Asking For Loan Extension From Gringotts.' Like that'll work!" he snorted, "Goblins would never let tha' 'appen. Ministry o' Magic's gonna be turned on their 'eads if they challenge them lot."
"Goblins?" Ianthe asked, turning away from the gently lapping waves of the ocean, a stark contrast from the furious waves of the night before. "Aye, Goblins. Run the Wixen Bank, Gringotts. Never mess with a Goblin, I tell ya. They'll only strike back harder. See, the banks buried 'undred o' miles underground, spells and enchantments. Some say that they even have dragons guarding the high security vaults. No place in the world better if yeh wanna keep anythin' safe - 'cept maybe Hogwarts. S'matter o' fact, one o' ma errands is in Gringotts. I've got something to collect. Hogwarts Business. Dumbledore trusts me with tha' important stuff - fetchin' you, gettin' stuff from Gringotts."
As they neared the shore, close and closer, a thought struck Ianthe, "Hagrid, I haven't got any money. And you heard Uncle Vernon; he won't pay for my fees or my equipment!" Hagrid chuckled at that, "Don'tcha worry Ianthe, money's all sorted. Yeh heard yer Aunt, James lived off a fortune; yer grandfather was quite a successful businessman. The Potter family knew potions like nobody else; yer mum was quite a dab hand too. Sure you'll be great too, so don't worry."
But Ianthe shot her next question, "You said you've got a Ministry?" Hagrid grinned, lying a giant hand on her shoulder, "We've got a Ministry, Ianthe. You're part of our world now, don't ya forget it." a warmth curled inside, you're part of our world now, don't ya forget it, "But yeh, we do. 'Course, everyone wanted Dumbledore fer Minister o' Magic, but e'd never leave Hogwarts. So we 'ad to settle for ol' Cornelius Fudge. Right tosser, reckon 'e only got office 'cause o' Lucius Malfoy. Slippery bloke, tha' man. Anyway, Fudge bombards Dumbledore each morning with owl's fer advice."
They reached the shore, Hagrid stepped out as Ianthe asked her next question, eyebrows slightly furrowed, "But Hagrid, what does a Minister of Magic do?"
Hagrid lumbered on as his large figure made way for a large path, all Ianthe had to do was stick close by, "Keep the muggles from findin' out about us, mostly. We'd be neck deep with muggles wantin' magical cures for their problems, otherwise."
As they walked on, passer-by's stared a lot. Hagrid was fascinated by all sorts: the parking meter, the flickering lamp post, even the advertisement for the Women's FIFA World Cup (unladylike, Petunia would sniff, they give us all a bad name while Ianthe would watch with avid interest at their coordination, at their joy in doing something they loved.)
They reached the station, people scuttling by like ants. Hagrid passed the 'muggle money', as he called it to Ianthe to handle, instead spending his time oohing and aahing at the Dior advertisements and the passing trains. The train to London left in five minutes, and as they boarded, people seemed to give them even more berth.
Ianthe didn't know if it was Hagrid's own giant figure and wild and scraggly appearance or her own ragged and downtrodden one, the air of a 'vicious child' (as Aunt Petunia said) permeable to the travellers. Ianthe decided as soon as possible, she had to have money in Gringotts, she'd buy some new clothes. After all, she couldn't spend the rest of her life dressed as an urchin cross-bred with a hedgehog, could she?
As they sat on the train seats (Hagrid took up two), it throttled by. Hagrid seemed not at all bothered as he set about knitting what seemed to be a canary yellow circus tent. As he set about counting his crosses, he talked, still focused on his project, "Still got yeh letter, Ianthe?"
"Yes," she said drawing it out, the wax seal broken as she took the second letter out:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for formal wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, silver fastening)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
SET BOOKS
All students should have a copy of all the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
Wixen Culture: The Fundamentals by Estella P. Jorgin (exclusively for the muggleborn and muggle-raised)
Muggle Culture: The Principles by Kendrick Hobbinshire (exclusively for the wixen-born)
The Beginner's Guide to Latin, 1990 Edition by Adhideva Bhatt
RECOMMENDED ADDITIONAL FIRST-YEAR READING:
Hogwarts: A History by Bathilda Bagshot
The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts: A 21 Century Edition by Georgina Ursula
The Muggleborn and Muggle-Raised Guide: What You Need To Know by Saffiiyah Thomas
Notable Figures in Recent Wixen History: Hogwarts Alumni, Political Figures and more! By Louie Arellano
Hogwarts and Her Founders: A Biography by Arlene Newman
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 Wand
1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR cat OR toad.
Should a student wish to have any additional pets that are not an owl, or cat, or toad, they must seek permission from the Headmaster firstly and their Head of House secondly.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.
"Hagrid," Ianthe said, suddenly feeling doubtful, looking at the Muggle-Raised Guide, feeling as if she'd have a lot of use for it, a fire of why must i need it if it is the world i was born into? kindling in her stomach.
"Are you sure we can buy all this in London?"
"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid, adding another row of crosses.
Ianthe had been to London once before, with Aunt Petunia. They had needed to go because she had wanted to pick up her jewellery, and Ianthe had been forced to tag along as she couldn't be left home alone. She had been walking when a tall man with silky platinum locks had shoved her aside, sneering foully, as if he had stepped on some dog business, a sneer which Ianthe had returned with a steel look and Aunt Petunia had sneered back to before moving along.
Nonetheless, Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, though he had trouble getting there the normal way. He got stuck in the Underground and couldn't help but complain about how the seats were too small and the trains too slow; "I don't know how Muggles survive without magic, to be honest, Ianthe." he admitted as they climbed down a broken down escalator which led them to the bustling streets of London.
Hagrid couldn't help but point at a passing double-decker bus, manoeuvring about as he made sure they went the right way. Yet, even as they travelled, Ianthe wondered if she truly believed in magic. Did she believe it; did she dare hope that there were others like her and Hagrid? Believe that hundreds of miles underground lay a vault full of money waiting for her?
Despite how ludicrous it sounded, Ianthe believed it. She believed in magic, because what else could it be? Grinning to herself, she pushed forward, following Hagrid as he rounded a corner.
Hagrid came to a halt, causing Ianthe to bump into his back, "'Ere we are," he said, motioning to a grubby-looking pub, "The Leaky Cauldron, famous place, this one." For some reason (magic, her mind supplied) it seemed as if everyone else (the muggles) seemed to completely ignore the tiny pub, eyes slipping over from the large bookshop on the left to the record shop with the newest chart topper on either side of the pub.
Before Ianthe could mention this to Hagrid, he had steered the both of them inside. For a famous place, it looked very dark and shabby, dingy with a side of iconic that if they changed it, people would rebel. Ianthe could spot a trio of old women in the corner, drinking glasses of sherry and talking lowly to each other. Another group of men and one woman sat and played cards together, golden coins and silver ones moving around in a strange rotation. "Mundungus," one said, "Don't try and bloody cheat me, you tosser!"
The Leaky Cauldron, it seemed, was stuck in a moment of time, never changing. A man in shabby robes entered after them, youthful and handsome in appearance, a black piece of cloth wrapped around his ankle, yet it seemed he had too many grey hairs for his age, as well as scars. He pulled up a chair, shrugging his coat off as he stared pensively before ordering for a 'butterbeer'.
Ianthe watched the man in shabby robes, a sense familiarity pervading her senses, as Hagrid conversed with the barman, 'Tom' she had distantly heard. "...Is this - could this be - ...Ianthe Potter?"
Ianthe whipped her head around from the man with amber eyes and too-grey hair, "Yes?" she said, he stared for a moment, before a breath escaped him, "Bless my soul," he started, "Ianthe Potter, what an honour." he suddenly rushed from behind the bar and clambered to shake her hand, warm eyes and even warmer tears pooling in his eyes, "Welcome back, Miss. Potter, welcome back."
There was a sudden silence, the amiable chatter non-existent now. Ianthe didn't know what to do, what to say. Everyone seemed to be looking at her, and if she had looked the left, she would've realised that someone had quite literally fell out of his chair at her admittance. The old lady in the corner kept puffing on her pipe, not realising her pipe had gone out, and the shabby-robed man from earlier seemed to have spilt his drink, sitting rigid as if he had seen a ghost. He stared at her with warring emotions in his eyes, raw pain and relief and why? As if he had seen a spirit of the past, a reminder of painful but once-joyous memories.
She had no time to ponder on this however as there was great scraping of chairs, the Leaky Cauldron's patrons rushing to grab her hand, to say hello to the saviour of the Wixen World.
"Doris Crockford, Miss. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last." A bandage around the forearm, decorated in scrawled flowers.
"So proud, Miss. Potter, so proud." On the man's neck, a name: Daniel T.J. written in a squashed calligraphy and in blue ink.
"Always wanted to shake your hand - I'm all of a flutter." And yet another hand, with not another name but a word (Starlight) but in deep black this time, glittering like stars.
"Delighted, Miss. Potter; just can't tell you. Diggle's the name. Dedalus Diggle."
Ianthe stared at him for a long moment, "I know you - don't I? You bowed to me once in a shop, didn't you?" The tiny man jumped in excitement, his top hat tumbling down, and a bracelet of silver around his wrist glinting in the candle-light. "She remembers me," he said, looking around at everyone, "Hear that? By Jove, she remembers me!"
Before Ianthe could wonder for too long about the bandages, bracelets and wraps of cloth around some people and why some of them had a name, like the Voldemort on her collarbone, whilst others had a word (Idyllic, one had said) and a few even had phrase (accende me) a pale young man made his way forward, hands fidgeting and his left eye twitching. "Prof'ssor Quirrell!" Hagrid cried out, beaming as the Professor came forward.
Ah, Ianthe thought, so this is the impressive Professor Quirrell. "P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Ianthe's hand with his own leather-gloved one, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."
For propriety's sake, Ianthe thought it best to nod in reply, grasping his hand in a firm shake. "Nice to meet you as well, Professor Quirrell. You're the one we were to meet up with later, am I correct?" It seemed as if his whole demeanour changed in that moment, his back straightened from its slight cowering position and he returned her shake of the hand with his own considerate squeeze before retreating, "Quite right, Miss. Potter." A smooth gravelled voice presented itself to her, unlike the previous stuttering, "Though I'm sure you and Hagrid," a curl of the lips, Odd, Ianthe thought. "must stop at Gringotts first. I have my own errands to run, I'm due t-t-o-" his shoulders hunched again, the previously confident posture slipping away, the tick in his eyes returning, he swallowed, "To p-p-pick up a book. On v-v-vampires." he looked terrified at the very thought.
Ianthe was preoccupied with his change in demeanour, she reached out to grab his hand, but in the last moment someone grabbed her hand, the crowds not eager to share her attention with Professor Quirrell anymore. He turned away, and yet Ianthe swore she saw a hint of red in his eye just then before he was swallowed by the crowd.
Ianthe shook hands again and again - Doris Crockford kept coming back for more - and by the 42nd handshake she had quite enough. Turning to Hagrid she spoke, "Hagrid?" he turned to her, a ready beam on his face, which made Ianthe even more annoyed, "I think I've had quite enough shaking their hands. Don't we have some school shopping to do?"
"Right ya are, Ianthe," Hagrid said, "Come on the, you lot – back up! Must get on - lots ter buy!"
Doris Crockford came to shake Ianthe's hand one more time - no matter how uncomfortable Ianthe looked. Hagrid then led her though the bar, where she spotted the many patrons hushed whispers and stares, the man in shabby robes leaving through the door they had just come through earlier, hunched with a weary look on his face.
Hagrid ushered her through to a small courtyard, the only occupants a dustbin and a few wilting weeds. "See Ianthe," Hagrid grinned, drawing out his umbrella, "First step in an' everyone already knows ya." Ianthe hummed, wondering why they seemed so gratuitous towards her. Hagrid had still neglected to tell her what she had actually done to earn their gratitude, after all.
"Yer even managed to stop Prof'essor Quirrell tremblin' fer a bit!"
He drew his umbrella closer, bringing up as he muttered to himself, "Three up...two across…" He stumbled, dropping his umbrella.
He cursed, and as Hagrid bent down to collect it Ianthe pondered her question out loud, "Is he always that nervous?"
"Aye," Hagrid said, drawing himself up to his full height, "Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while 'e was studyin' outta books, bu' then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience...They say 'e met some vampires in the Black Forest out in Germany, and a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag - never bee' the same since. Scared o' the students, scared o' his own subject - even scared o' the house elves!" he finished incredulously. "But 'e did seem a bit mo' confident today, maybe'll e's getting over those vampires? Not likely, bu' still…" he trailed off, a pondering look in his eye.
"Anyway Ianthe," he started, "Might wanna stand back fer this," He brought his umbrella up as Ianthe took a step back. The pink umbrella point came to tap on the bricks, three up from the dustbin, two across and seven down before he patted the brick thrice with his umbrella tip.
The brick quivered - it wriggled - a small hole in the middle appeared before melting away, the hole becoming bigger and bigger, before an arch large enough for even Hagrid to walk though emerged Ianthe's breath caught in her throat, eyes wide and eyes glowing in excitement as she spotted the cobbled road that twisted and winded at every turn.
"Welcome," Hagrid said, grinning at her awestruck face, "To Diagon Alley."
Almost at once Ianthe felt the urge she had always wanted, the feeling of belonging. They walked forward, people rushing by and magic thrown about at every turn. Some rushed by in witch hats, others in intricate robes and odd muggle clothes.
She paid no heed to the wall which had shrunk back into its original form. They walked forward, the sun shining on a collection of rather large pots - no, cauldrons, the sign said; Cauldrons - All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible said the overhanging sign in neat metallic bronze.
"Yeh, you'll be needin' one o' those. Gotta get yer money first though," Hagrid said, following her line of sight. Ianthe, in a rush of euphoria, wished she had another eight eyes. She had a sudden rush in wanting to see everything: the shops, their wares, and even the people doing the shopping.
"Dragon liver, sixteen sickles an ounce, they're mad…" said a plump woman, dressed in green with copper hair.
A soft cacophony of melodious hoots reached her, she spun around to a shop filled to the brim with all sort of owls, she looked up to the shop banner, Eeylops Owl Emporium - Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown and Snowy. Further down she spotted another ruckus of animals, owls screeching and cats howling and many, many hisses and assorted noises coming from a shop brimming with people called The Magical Menagerie.
As they passed by, Ianthe spotted a group of boys ogling with avid interest a sleek broomstick in a window display, "Nimbus Two-Thousand," she heard, "Say that she's the fastest broom on the market - the Comet's got nothing on her, I tell you!"
They walked through so many different shops, assortments of different coloured robes, books peeking out through windows and even spinning silver objects with no obvious purpose looking back at her.
They reached a large, grand marble building at the end of the winding road. It stood proud, gleaming and glistening in the sun as the people flitted about like moths around them.
"Gringotts." Hagrid supplied.
At the opened door, decked in a uniform of scarlet and gold stood - "Yeh, that's a goblin." Hagrid said quietly as they walked towards they walked upon the white stone steps towards him. The goblin, green in colour with a smart and pointy face with a beard stood a head shorter then Ianthe. He bowed to them as they walked in; a curious stare from Ianthe caused him to bare his teeth and growl, something that Ianthe returned eyes glowing and vicious as she played along with him.
A display of dominance, she thought as she saw the goblin shrink away and minutely jump at the glowing eyes. They reached upon a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words etched in them:
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 THAT TREASURE THERE.
"Like I said, yeh'd be mad to try an' rob it." Hagrid said from her left side, as another pair of goblins bowed the both of them through these doors as well, long fingers sweeping in their bow. As they stepped in, Ianthe knew from only one glance about the room that there had to be at least a hundred goblins, all sat on tall counters. Hagrid walked her to an empty counter, where a goblin sat, scrawling across a weathered piece of paper.
He sat scrawling for a long moment as Hagrid searched in his pockets for something, letting out a quiet 'Aha!' when he found it. The goblin finally finished peering at them from up above, eyes inquisitive from behind his spectacles, "Gringotts is at your service, and how may I help you?"
Hagrid cleared his throat, looking pointedly at Ianthe. "Oh, err-" she lapsed into a quick silence, "My name is Miss. Ianthe Lily Potter and I wish to - to access my vault," she demanded. The goblin peered intensely, "Miss. Ianthe Lily Potter?"
Ianthe nodded.
"Miss. Potter, a fact which you may not know is that each Wixen child, on their thirteenth birthday, has an inheritance test, funded by Gringotts herself. However, as the Heir of a Noble House, as is customary, you must be directed to your accounts manager for House Potter. He will provide you with further details about you accounts, as I cannot help you further. I would suggest arranging an appointment with your accounts manager, as he is currently stationed at the Irish Gringotts Branch."
Ianthe mulled this over in her head, a lone finger coming to rest on her lips. "Of course," she smiled lightly, "And what time would be appropriate for my meeting?" The goblin drew his fingers together, "It depends," he began slowly, "We goblins are ever so busy. However, we could send a letter of urgent correspondence; at a price, of course."
"Well sir," Ianthe began, not at all unhappy with the proposition, "I do believe it would be best if that would be arranged, at your earliest convenience?" The goblin nodded, fascinated by the demonic gleam in her eyes, "Of course,"
"Now, onto your vault Miss. Potter, if you wish to access it, you require a key."
Hagrid handed her something - a small golden key, it seemed. She bent up on her tiptoes, for she was a child of small stature, and slid it over. The goblin, with his crooked nose and glinting spectacles, roused about for any imperfections. "That seems to be in order at least," he murmured. He turned to her again, "Gringotts is proud to offer its services, Miss. Potter. Welcome." He said, baring his teeth.
Ah, another show of dominance. The inevitable feelings used to power the glow built up, show him who's in charge, she thought, and the eyes glowed, the same as her mother when she had first stepped in these ancient halls, except the red-haired girl's eyes had glowed with the feeling of joy, not this feeling of executing dominance. Hagrid watched with interest as the goblin smiled thinly.
"Oh! An'ther thing," Hagrid fumbled about in his pockets as he retrieved a letter, handing it to the goblin, "Go' a letter from Profe'ssor Dumbledore," Hagrid puffed out his chest importantly, "It's about You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."
The goblin's long fingers wrapped around the letter, opening it and reading over it carefully, "Very well. I will get someone to take you to your vaults. Miss. Potter, may I suggest that you have a hold on your stomach from henceforth. Griphook!"
Another goblin strode over - this one with a long nose and scowling face, it seemed as if the goblins had only one mood. Griphook the goblin and Ianthe locked eyes, his finger clenched imperceptibly and Ianthe wondered what this feeling building up inside her was; it seemed to be instinctual loathing, and so it should be as the goblin seemed the most horrid of those who worked at Gringotts. The creature ushered them over to a large door. As Hagrid grabbed his umbrella, Ianthe asked the inevitable question, "What's You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?"
"Can't say," Hagrid said as they rounded a corner, "Hogwarts business. Very secret, not something to tell just anybody, Ianthe; Dumbledore trusted me, so I gotta uphold it. More'n me job's worth, to be honest.
Griphook held a door open for them, nodding them forward, Ianthe with a curl of the lips. Ianthe had expected to find more marble, but was instead met with the sight of a small passageway lit with burning torches, railways sat on the floor. Griphook held a finger to his mouth, letting loose a whistle that Ianthe was sure only a dog would hear. They waited for a scant thirty seconds as a carriage hurtled down the rails, coming to abrupt halt at the front of them.
They all got in - Hagrid with some difficulty - and set off, hurtling into an expanse of darkness. At first they rushed by, and Ianthe tried to remember the turns, left, right, right, left, middle fork, left, right, and yet Ianthe lost her way as the carriage seemed drive itself (Griphook certainly wasn't driving it, as seen by his crossed forearms.)
Ianthe whipped her head around as she thought she saw a burst of fire, and there it was: a pale dragon, eyes milky pink even in the distance, its majestic figure huddled against a wall as another goblin held a cow bell and a piece of meat at its feet. Such a fearsome creature, tied in the depths of the earth when it should soar, it made Ianthe ache from inside, her windswept tears hurtling by as they sped past it.
Pathetic, a voice said, to be captive despite being so powerful. How weak. And yet Ianthe didn't know why she would think that.
They plunged deeper and deeper, passing by an underground lake and hundreds of towering stalactites and stalagmites. Hagrid looked to be turning green, and Ianthe hoped he wouldn't be sick all over her.
After that, Hagrid had to take a few minutes supported by the wall, knees trembling as he tried to get his face back from green to its normal rosy colour.
The goblin led them over to an iron door, odd symbols carved into it with a large wheel to spin.
As Griphook opened the door with the key Ianthe handed him, a lot of green smoke came billowing out. As it cleared, Ianthe's eyes widened. She could spot mounds of gold and columns of teetering silver. Even a small mountains-load of little bronze Knuts right in the middle.
"All yours," Hagrid smiled, following her lithe form as she stepped into the vault. She turned to Griphook who stared back impassively.
She raised a single brow, and then, quite unexpectedly, he sighed - "Little lordlings don't even know they're exchange rates from Knut to Sickle and Sickle to Galleon…" he muttered.
Clearing his throat, he droned on in a monotone voice, "The gold pieces are Galleons, seventeen silver Sickle's to a Galleon," he intoned, "and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. You must have your key to access your vault," he gestured to the little golden key which he had returned to Ianthe, "otherwise you must commission another, the process through which requires your blood." Obviously there was an unspoken general rule there that Ianthe did not know about the importance of blood.
"The conversions all use prime numbers?" Griphook grinned, though it was more jagged teeth than actual delight, "The Wixen lot never had much sense to begin with."
Hagrid seemed to be entertaining himself by trying to turn the mountain of Knuts into a fortress of some sorts.
"And would this be my only vault?" She asked as she gazed at the gold, "The teller said my accounts manager was stationed in Ireland for some reason."
Griphook sniffed. "Goblins don't value idleness. We care about gold. And don't be stupid, Wix, this is your trust vault. It is meant to be spent for schooling and equipment, and anything else that passes your fancy. Anything else about your vaults you may discuss with your accounts manager."
Ianthe could tell she was grating on Griphooks nerves; obviously this wasn't in his job description. She grabbed a pouch - brown moleskin with a great crest emblazoned on it, a stag with a triangle set in the background - and filled it up with all the Galleons, Sickles and Knuts it could hold, which turned out, was quite a lot.
"I don't think yeh'll need that much Ianthe. Tha's a Potter heirloom, 'member James had tha' as well once, gotta have some hefty enchantments, not to mention that Undetectable Extension Charm. Must'a had been one o' your ancestors work, probably."
Ianthe hummed, adding some more Knuts under Hagrid's incredulous gaze. Quite finished with them, Griphook led them to the cart again, which, at the sight of, Hagrid turned green again.
"Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please," Hagrid said gruffly, "And can we go more slowly?" he asked as they clambered in. "One speed only." Griphook grunted with a nasty smile, hurtling them deeper and deeper into the underground maze that was Gringotts.
The carriage hurled past faster and faster, going deeper and deeper, the air getting colder and colder as they turned tight corners. At one point, they passed an underground ravine, and Ianthe had been too tempted to miss it, after all, how often would you get to be this deep underground?
She had leant over; trying to see how far below it went. Idiot, the voice had said, you'll fall to your death.
And who are you to judge? Ianthe had snarled back in reply, unnecessarily annoyed with the voice in her head, she must've been going mad. Bonkers if she was talking to a figment of her imagination. You're just the voice in my head, she affirmed, you have no say.
Despite that, Hagrid pulled her back with a heady groan, looking as if he would vomit into the cold abyss at any moment. Ianthe was sure the goblins wouldn't appreciate that, yet she wondered what Griphook would look like if some sick got on him.
But she would never find out as they came to a slow stop, pulling in front of a door with lines embedded into the gold door. Why a gold door? This door too had strange symbols, and yet Griphook passed them by without a glance.
"Stand back," Griphook said importantly. Smarmy bastard, Ianthe thought with a scowl. He stroked the door with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.
"If someone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there." Begrudgingly, Ianthe had to admit that was quite the fool proof security plan. "How often do you check in there?" Ianthe asked, unable to resist. "About once every ten years," Griphook said with an appraising look and rather nasty grin.
Hagrid made his way forward, Ianthe trailing behind. Ianthe leaned forward with a cool look in her eyes, yet eager all the same, expecting to see fabulous jewels or mounds of gold, maybe even some ancient book or artefact but at first glance it seemed empty. But there, on the floor, lay a small package wrapped in grubby brown paper.
Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep in his pockets, Ianthe longed to ask what it was (I as well, said the voice) but she knew better, however reluctant.
Hagrid turned to her one again, "Come on," he walked towards the cart, following Griphook, "Le's get back in tha' infernal cart. Mind though; don't talk to me on the way back. Be better if I keep me mouth shut," he shook his head as they sped off, the wind whipping at the both of them.
They made their way outside Gringotts, the sun partially blinding them as they moved through the large crowds. Hagrid seemed to be looking for someone, probably Professor Quirrell, yet he and even Ianthe couldn't spot the purple-turbaned man.
"Ah!" Hagrid cried out, "There he be, come on Ianthe, let's get goin'. I'll drop yeh off with 'im, he's gonna do the rest of yer shoppin' with yeh and then I'll collect yeh from Ollivanders, 'right?"
Before Ianthe could ask what Ollivanders was, Hagrid was already pushing past the crowd to Professor Quirrell who seemed to already be in conversation with a tall brunette with blue eyes who seemed somewhat exasperated as she talked in low tones, decked in an odd assortment of necklaces around her neck. Corkscrews, symbols and charms - even a radish!
Her hand clenched at her side as she talked, mouth moving infinitely fast. She seemed to spot the pair approaching as her face smoothed out, eyes returning to a clear blue. "My - Quirinus," she said, "It seems you have company," She gestured to Hagrid and Ianthe herself, a serene smile on her lips.
Professor Quirrell turned posture straight and confident, unlike in the Leaky Cauldron where he had been a quivering mess, "It seems I do," he smiled, all teeth it seemed, and it set Ianthe even more on edge.
"Hagrid, Miss. Potter, you have completed your Gringotts run, I presume?"
"Aye," Hagrid said with a bright smile, "Ianthe's got everythin' she needs an' a little extra. 'Ow was your errands Prof'sser?"
"Quite smooth, I -" The brunette woman butted in without a care, "The Ugoraia's seem to want you to introduce me to your friends, Quirinus. I would not be opposed to the idea," she snarked. Professor Quirrell seemed to look furious as he gazed at the woman, "Of course," he said smoothly, not the least bit amused with the woman even from his easy smile, but his eyes, a pale blue that seemed just wrong glinted viciously; Hagrid didn't seem to notice, but Ianthe just knew, after all, it was those eyes that told another story. "Hagrid, Miss. Potter, meet Kalypso Arvanitis, who works in the Ministry Archives; Kalypso, Hagrid as you know, and Miss. Potter, who is due to start the school term in September."
"Pleasure," she smiled, hands twitching, "It's not every day you meet the Wixen world's saviour," she relished the word, as if greatly amused. Ianthe eyes her warily, nerves on end, "Ianthe or Miss. Potter is fine," Ianthe said instead, "It's bad enough that everyone seems to already know about me." And my story, which Hagrid still hasn't bothered to tell me.
"Humility," she seemed impressed, "Anyone else your age would be boasting to the high heavens. But you'll find the fame can be to your advantage, however unwanted. After all, it can be to your advantage; the young Malfoy wouldn't stop boasting about getting to be in your year, did you know? I'd keep a tight leash on him." Professor Quirrell's eyes narrowed at her, mouth frowning.
"But I must be on my way, I can't keep those pesky goblins waiting, I'm afraid; " she said abruptly, "Some business to attend to at Gringotts, such a bother."
Ianthe wondered how sane she was, calling the goblins pesky (but to be fair, Ianthe would've said the same about Griphook.) She only smiled serenely at them though; eyes alight in mischief as she disappeared into the crowd, her hair swaying with the breeze as they all watched her leave.
"Right," Hagrid said loudly, drawing attention from a passing gaggle of redheads who quickly returned to their business, "Mus' be on me way as well. Lots to do; I'll leave Ianthe in yer hands, Prof'ssor?"
"Certainly," came Professor Quirell's reply, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder as his fingers brushed over her collarbone, directly above where her scar lay along with the accompanying writing, a sudden jolt surging through Ianthe and Professor Quirrell too by the looks of it. "You needn't worry Hagrid, everything will be alright."
Hagrid smiled, turning a kind smile to Ianthe, "Yer in good hands Ianthe. I'll come an' pick you up later, once yer done. See ya later," He clapped her on the forearm - her knees buckled at the unexpected force - as he disappeared in the crowds, turning a corner onto a place called Knockturn Alley (The true place for the ones of power, the voice said, is where there is no need for such thing as restrictions. For that, Knockturn is the place to go.)
As she watched Hagrid leave, Ianthe felt as if she had been suddenly left alone, not abandoned entirely, just forgotten for the moment.
She turned to Professor Quirrell, who looked at her with a strange gaze, as if he had been presented with a particularly troubling puzzle. "Lead the way, Professor."
"It is only expected, Miss. Potter." He drawled, both hands coming to rest behind his back, moving forward with expectation of her to follow. It made Ianthe unnecessarily irritated.
How dare he presume her to follow! She thought. She had never allowed herself to mindlessly follow with the crowd; she had always been the one to scout out the possibilities, to test the limits when no adult helped her. She had never followed, she had always led, yet it seemed that this would be something she would have to get used to. Ianthe frowned at his retreating figure, quickly walking to catch up.
"Finally decided to catch up, Miss. Potter?" Quirrell said, a cruel glint in his eye; Ianthe did not like it, and she was so very sure that she would not like this trip or the Professor very much either. She wondered how she would survive the year if she had to put up with him, "I would never let myself be left behind, Professor;" she quipped back as he raised his eyebrow, the both of them disappearing into the crowds, purple robes swishing and a messy-haired girl walking beside him as they set off to the first destination Quirrell had in mind: Madam Malkins.