Chapter 2

Diagon Alley

"I can't believe this is it!" I very nearly screeched, racing toward the stairs. You can never tell when each staircase is going to move, and if you don't go fast, you might catch yourself being transported in a direction you did not want to go. "I finally get to shop for my own Hogwarts things!" I fling myself at the banisters, pulling myself up so that I'm straddling it and slide down, giggling more and more as I gain speed. I fly off the end, just barely managing to land on my feet.

"Have mercy, child," Professor Sprout puffs from the top of the stairs. "Not all of us are so young anymore."

I cover my mouth with a hand so she can't see that I'm smiling. "I'm sorry, Professor Sprout. I'm just so excited!"

She finally reaches me, pausing to dab at her sweaty forehead with a cloth she usually keeps tucked into the pocket of her robes. "I'm sure you are, Jocelyn. It's a big deal, after all. You're finally old enough to be a student. Although I'd wager you already know plenty more than a lot of the first years you'll be in class with."

I hook my arm through hers so that I won't be tempted to bolt off and leave her behind again. "I wonder what house the sorting hat will put me in."

She smiles down at me fondly, patting my hand. "Well, we wouldn't say no to you joining Hufflepuff, but I suspect you'll end up elsewhere, and they'll be lucky to have you." I hug her arm, a silent thanks for her encouragement. "Now. Do you have your coin purse?"

I pat the front pocket of my jeans. "I do. Dad reminded me to bring it about thirty times this morning." I roll my eyes with a smile.

"Well, let's get a move on, then. We have quite a bit of travel ahead of us."

"I know!" I shriek, dancing and twirling through the Great Hall. "I finally get to go to Diagon Alley!"

"You make it sound as though it's such a special place," she chuckles.

"But it is! We never go further than Hogsmeade, and I've heard the other kids talking. There's so much more to see, so much more to do! I had to practically beg on bended knee to even get Dad to agree to let me go. He said I could get practically everything I need in Hogsmeade, but I'm tired of the same old shops. I want to do something new, have an adventure!" I clap my hands. "I can hardly wait!"

That sets me off, again, and I'm mid-twirl when I bump into something solid, knocking myself backward a few paces. "And just where-" a voice drawls, "do you think you are going?"

"Uncle Sev!" I bound forward again, taking a flying leap so I can wrap my arms around the neck of Severus Snape, my godfather and adopted uncle. Uncle Sev catches a lot of backlash because he's a little bit of an oddball. He's not quick to praise, and moments of affection are few and far between, but he's been kind to me over the years, taking pity on a little girl bored to tears when her father had far too much business to attend to and didn't have time to play with her. He's doctored scraped knees and held me while I sobbed my heart out more than once, and I will always love him for stepping in when I needed someone.

He doesn't wrap his arms around me the same way I do him, but he does give the top of my head a few affectionate pats. "Off to do your shopping, I see."

"Mhm." I let go of him, dropping to the floor. "I'm excited to finally learn Potions from you! You can't tell me I'm not old enough tp play with your ingredients anymore. I'll try not to blow anything up, I promise."

"Mm. Can't wait," he deadpans.

"Alright, come on, dear girl. We have a schedule to keep to," Professor Sprout reminds me.

"Okay, okay," I agree, stepping forward to give Uncle Sev's waist one last squeeze. "I'll see you later, alright?"

He waves me off with one hand, and we're back on our way. The journey to Hogsmeade is short, just fifteen minutes or so. When we walk into The Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta gives us a wave, but she's too busy serving patrons to come and say hi.

Professor Sprout steers me toward the fireplace, stopping just in front of it. She holds out a bag filled with silvery powder, raising an eyebrow at me. "I believe you know how to use this."

I grin. Although you can't leave Hogwarts using Floo powder, thanks to all the enchantments, you can use it to travel to the many different fireplaces inside the castle. It's my favorite way to move about, if only because it's the only way I can manage to catch my dad by surprise.

Taking a small handful of the powder, I step forward, take a deep breath, then toss it down and shout, "Diagon Alley!"

Emerald green flames woosh up around me, and a tugging sensation behind my navel, and the next thing I know, I'm standing in unfamiliar territory. I step cautiously out of the grate and look around, eyes wide in fascination. This must be The Leaky Cauldron. It looks a bit more drab than I would expect, nothing at all like the warm, comforting environment of the Three Broomsticks.

I scan the few faces around the pub, surprised to find that not knowing anyone around me has me feeling uncomfortable. I've been surrounded by the same people all my life, gone the same places. Very little is ever new for me. I find that I miss seeing friendly faces staring back at me. I chew my lip, glancing nervously at the fireplace every few seconds, until in another burst of emerald flame, Professor Sprout comes stepping out. I let out a breath of relief, once more feeling secure enough to explore this new place. The barman lifts a casual hand to us, calling out a greeting to Professor Sprout. She calls one back, and I file his name, Tom, away for future use. We step through a back door, and come face to face with a brick wall.

If my life had turned out different, and my parents hadn't passed away, I would be like any other muggle born witch, staring at this brick wall and wondering what was going on. But I was lucky enough to be taken in by a magical parent, and so when Professor Sprout produces her wand and taps one of the bricks three times, and the wall begins melting away, I don't bat an eye. This is common place for me. I've seen far more awe-inspiring things, calling Hogwarts my home. But I'm still amazed at the view, and when the wall finishes disintegrating, I step through, looking around in wonder.

Professor Sprout steps up beside me, laying an arm across my shoulders. "Well, dear girl? Is it everything you imagined it would be?"

"Oh, yes!" I lace my fingers together and bring both hands up to tuck under my chin, eyes darting back and forth to take everything in. Hogsmeade is beautiful, but rather sleepy. Diagon Alley is bustling, filled to bursting with men, women, and children flitting in and out of shops, gaping into shop windows at the latest broom designs, giggling at tables outside the ice cream parlor. And above it all looms the white stone pillars of Gringott's. I've heard so much about it, I half wish that I had a reason to visit, but I already have plenty of coins jingling away in my pocket.

"Where would you like to go first?" Professor Sprout asks, leading me forward.

"Oh! Um..." I pause to think, pulling my list out so consult it again. "I think I should probably get my books and the cauldron for Uncle Sev's class last. Those will be the heaviest things to carry around."

"Good thinking," she winks at me. "Perhaps stopping for your robes first."

I nod my agreement, and we head to Madam Malkin's. A flurry of shopping follows, Professor Sprout and I becoming more laden with packages and bags as we go

"Okay. I need to visit Ollivander's for my wand, and then only the books and cauldron are left."

"You go on ahead, Jocie. Give me your packages, and I'll go and get us a table at Florean Fortescue's. Your father told me I simply couldn't leave without indulging your sweet tooth first, or he would hear about the missed opportunity for months."

I grin at her. "He's probably not wrong." I hand my packages off to her and slip through the crowd, coming to a stop outside of Ollivander's. I peer through the window, but the shop looks abandoned. I check to make sure the shop is open, then carefully push the door open, stepping inside cautiously.

A little bell announces my presence, but I still can't see anyone, so I call out with a hello. I've just about convinced myself to turn around and go find Professor Sprout, tell her that there was nobody here and we'll have to come back another time, when a voice rings out, startling me.

"Miss Dumbledore. Your father told me to expect you today."

The speaker is an older gentleman, with snow white hair in complete disarray, like a cottony cloud floating about his head, and pale blue eyes the gleam with an intelligent spark. He's leaning over the banister of the stairs he had just descended, studying me. I get the distinct feeling that this man always sees more than he lets on. This must be the famous Mr. Ollivander, the most celebrated wandmaker in the magical world.

"I've been contemplating which wand would work best for you. I don't think any of the usual suspects will do. An unusual girl requires an unusual wand."

Unusual? I don't think I'm all that unusual. Being adopted is hardly an unheard of circumstance. I open my mouth to say so, but he swoops past me, heading to the wall covered from floor to ceiling, where his fingers dance across the boxes like they have a mind of their own, coming to rest on one halfway down the wall. He pulls the box out and opens it, producing a light brown wand.

"Fifteen inches, ash, unicorn hair." He mumbles under his breath, then hands it over, instructing me to give it a wave.

I do, and the wall behind him explodes, wands and boxes flying every which way. I gasp, sure that I'm about to be in serious trouble, but he merely says, "Definitely not." He moves about the shop again, letting his fingers lead the way once more. Another box, another wand produced. "Try this one."

I wave this one, and a glass sconce on the wall explodes. This pattern repeats three more times, various things around the shop descending into chaos with each time I waved a new wand. He sits back, wiping a hand over his mouth, muttering under his breath, and I bite my lip, trying to stave off tears. What is wrong with me? He's said more than once that the wand chooses the witch, but none of these wands seem to want to choose me. Why?

After a few moments, he moves to a small desk tucked into a corner, opening a cabinet underneath. Inside the cabinet is what looks like a small safe, and he whispers something to it, giving it a tap with his own wand, and the door pops open, releasing a wave of musty-smelling dust. Inside is a single box, which he draws out, pausing to close the safe. He comes back to me, placing the box on the counter in front of me. He opens it slowly, and inside gleams an almost white want, a little longer than others he's had me try.

"Seventeen and a quarter inches. White oak."

I take a breath, brace myself, and reach for the wand. This time, a warm tingle tickles my fingers when I touch it, and when I wave it, suddenly there are butterflies made of smoke, dancing in the air around us. One flies over and lands on my shoulder before gently wafting away in a cloud.

I turn to Mr. Ollivander, who has an odd smile on his face. "Curious. Very curious. I can see that interesting things are heading our way."

I let him take the wand, wrap it back in its box, and he tucks the box into a bag. I pay him, and he hands me the bag. I'm tempted to run away from the shop, dreading the day when I'll have to purchase a new wand. Instead, I force myself to be polite, giving him a smile. "Thank you." He nods to me, and I turn to go, but something is bothering me. This feels...off. Not like the normal experience one should have picking their wand. My mind is racing with so many different questions, but finally, one rises to fore. "Mr. Ollivander?"

"Yes, Miss Dumbledore?"

"You told me what the core of all the other wands was, but you didn't say what mine is."

A mysterious smile tilts his lips. "A single hair from the head of a fairy."

I duck out of the shop. I didn't think fairy hairs were used in wand making. For one thing, fairies want very little to do with witches and wizards. There are some in the wizarding community that think other magical species are somehow less, and they don't take kindly to being looked down on or governed by laws made by witches and wizards. And then there's the fact that fairy magic is inherently stronger than that of a witch or wizard. They can do things that no mortal being should be able to do. The strongest among them even have the power to bring back the dead. And they don't always use their power for good. A shiver runs down my spine, and I surreptitiously rub my arms, warding off the chill of discomfort. I don't know what it says about me that the core of my wand had to come from such a powerful, yet volatile creature.

I'm walking on auto pilot, my feet pointing toward Fortescue's without much thought, as though I've walked these streets a thousand times. I can't shake this sense of foreboding, and I'm so caught up in it, I almost don't hear my name being called.

"Jocelyn!"

My head snaps up, and I realize that I've almost plowed someone over. Well, as much as someone my size could plow over a man twice the height and width of a normal person. "Hagrid!" I exclaim, a surprised smile on my face.

"I've been callin' ya. Ev'rythin' alright?"

"Oh. Yeah, I was just thinking about something. I thought you were escorting another student today."

"I am!" He lays a hand on my shoulder, using his other to gesture to the boy standing next to him. "Jocie, I'd like ya ta meet Harry Potter. You'll be firs' years together. Harry, this is Jocelyn. She's the headmaster's daughter."

Like everyone else in the wizarding world, I know exactly who Harry Potter is, but his wide, green eyes are watching me warily, and I can just imagine the response he's gotten everywhere he's gone today. He's The Boy Who Lived, after all.

Instead of commenting on his fame, I simply give him a smile. "Hello Harry. Have you gotten everything on your list?"

"Hello. Yes, we're nearly finished."

"Are you excited for the start of term?"

"I am. A little nervous, too."

"I am too. I mean, I live there all the time, so I'm not afraid of getting lost or anything like that. Just...it's different when you're a student. I'm not usually allowed to interact with the students. Dad says it would give me an unfair advantage. I usually stay in the kitchens during the day, helping out, and there's a whole tower for just me and my dad. I'm allowed anywhere I want after curfew though. Dad says he can't keep me cooped up all the time." I pause to draw a breath.

"A definite change in pace for you, then. I've got that to worry about as well, on top of getting lost." Harry laughs nervously, reaching up to stroke the beautiful, white snowy owl perched on his shoulder.

"Well, I can help you there. I know there's no guarantee that we'll be sorted into the same house, but there's no rule against different houses being friends."

"Friends. I like the sound of that." He gives me a shy smile.

"I do, too." I hear Professor Sprout calling me, and I turn to see her waving me over, t,wo huge ice cream sundaes on the table in front of her. "I suppose I'll see you at Hogwarts, then. I won't be on the Express, obviously, as there would be no point." He nods, agreeing with me, although I'm not sure how much he knows about the wizarding world, so he may not be familiar with the Hogwarts Express. "It was very nice meeting you, Harry. See you soon."

"It was nice meeting you as well."

I give Hagrid a hug goodbye, promising to come and visit him and Fang when we're both back home, and I hurry away, glancing behind me one last time, just in time to see Harry and Hagrid disappear from sight.