Author's Note—
10/6/06
So I've done it again—I've revised. I've gone back through all the chapters and fixed some errors or little things that were bugging me. Tweaked a conversation here, elaborated a tad more there…nothing very major, and if you could actually spot the changes, I'd be very happy because that would mean you paid attention the first time 'round.
Oh wait, I did change some stuff—namely chapters 9 and 10. Changed them a lot. I overhauled that part for many reasons—the main one being that I didn't like the direction it was going. And since I hit a wall and hadn't been able to write for the past year (really, very sorry about that) I went back and revised to try and work my way out of the corner. I hope you'll like the changes.
I know—I'm a bad author for going back and altering stuff in the middle of the story. A true author would have all of that worked out before he/she posted or just be willing to work with what they had created. I really am sorry.
Disclaimer—No. I do not own these characters. I'm not that talented.
Chapter Two—"Nevermore"
It was all unreal. It couldn't be real. She did not own a trunk full of spell books, there weren't shopping bags containing outrageous ingredients for magical potions, it wasn't possible that her closet was now bursting with black robes and wizard hats for a school half-way around the world. She had imagined the whole thing, just one more of her crazy dreams. Hazel eyes closed and reopened to find things exactly as they were a second ago.
Feeling lightheaded, Sarah flung herself on her bed, seeking solace in the familiar comfort of her pillows. The past few hours had been eventful and confusing. And completely magical.
Apparently, her favorite used bookstore, owned by sweet Mrs. Harowell, was actually just a front for one of the lesser-used entrances into New England's second largest wizard community. A door she had never noticed before led right into Mr. Harowell's Spot O' Tea, a charming tea room which boasted the finest brews from around the world. Mrs. Harowell, who had baby-sat for Sarah many years ago, was shocked to see her supposedly former Muggle charge walk into her store in the company of Stephanie Alcott, the woman responsible for overseeing the transition to magic for all the children from Muggle families in the states of Maine and New Hampshire. Born into a Muggle family herself, Mrs. Harowell was overjoyed to discover Sarah was a 'late bloomer' and offered her advice should Sarah ever need another Muggle-born to talk with. The woman then turned to Toby and proceeded to fuss over the boy who minded not one bit and happily took the sweets she offered him. After only a bit of persuasion, Mrs. Harowell convinced Sarah to let her watch the little boy while the two women went shopping.
Raven's Grotto had been beyond words for Sarah. It was everything she could have hoped for and so much more. In her dreams she had studied the history and the 'how to' of being a witch, but she hadn't learned what it was like to be one. She had never walked through a wizard community and in fact, had never met with any of her teachers in anything other than a school related setting.
Seeing the everyday life of the people of Raven's Grotto was a prized experience. There were shops that sold normal things like clothes and candy and then there were the shops which sold flying broomsticks and magic wands. There were bistros and bookstores and one building at the corner of Grindlehook and Smithey had a belfry.
Adults chatted and laughed as they window shopped the store fronts or walked purposefully down the street, rushing off to somewhere undoubtedly important. The children who had run through the boulevard didn't find it odd to see a wild looking old woman calling out, "Fresh salamander extract, teeth, and tail! Sure to cure the common cold! Only 3 sickles a pound!"
A half dozen teens, just around her age, exited from a candy store. Four in the group were dressed in the flowing robes Sarah had mentally dubbed "wizard wear" but two of the teens wore jeans and t-shirts. Stephanie pointed out the two teenagers and commented on how they were probably from a Muggle family.
"I don't have to wear those robes then?" Sarah had asked, a little relieved. Stephanie had laughed.
"Only at school, and probably any 'decent' place you go, like a nice restaurant or any sort of government-run facility. There's no rule that says you have to wear the robes, but they're part of our history and there's no small amount of pride attached to those things. The wizard community in general tends to change more slowly than the Muggle community, so fashions from a hundred years ago might still be in style with relatively few alterations. For those of us from Muggle families, it's a real annoyance; give me jeans and a hoodie sweatshirt anytime. Luck for me, I deal with Muggles so often that it's better if I wear Muggle clothes—seems to frighten people less."
For all the strangeness of Raven's Grotto, it had felt just like any other town. It struck Sarah to be a sort of parallel version of her own small city with commerce and business an active hub in the center and comfortable homes skirting around the outer edges of the settlement.
The two women had turned to Gringotts Bank after a quick foray through the center of Raven Square (the town and square being named after a witch from the 1700s who apparently kept the whole village from annihilation during a poorly planned Sasquatch migration by leading the creatures around the town and up through the lower parts of Canada) and Sarah had paused at the sight of the honor guard at the front door of the large building.
"No need to worry," assured Stephanie as they entered the bank, "they're just goblins. Incredibly smart creatures, they run the only chain of wizard banks in existence; over forty Gringotts world wide. Their main branch is in Diagon Alley, out of London. A very lively place I'm told, though I've never had a chance to visit. One of the great things with having goblins in charge of your money—they insist on using the same type of currency in every country. Sickles, knuts, and galleons are used by witches and wizards all over the globe. Wish the Muggles could do the same."
"Oh," said Sarah, "I know what goblins are. One of my teachers was a goblin actually and we focused entirely on goblin current events for nearly two months. We also did their history and I made it to the beginnings of Gobbledygook. It's just…I've seen goblins in person already, before my teacher I mean, and the ones I met weren't very smart and I certainly wouldn't trust them with my money. They didn't look like this either; they weren't as—uniformly pointy as these goblins are."
"Are you sure they were goblins?" Stephanie had asked, curious.
"Very sure."
"Hmmm…well, I don't really know how to answer that. They could have been some sort of hybrid or half-blood I guess. I really would like to know your story, Sarah. It sounds like quite a tale. But anyways, here we are. Now where's that letter?" she asked searching around in her backpack. The two women had reached one of the counters and a goblin was waiting impatiently to help them.
"Ah, here. We would like to withdraw from vault—uh oh, there's no vault number given here," she said sounding surprised. In her hand she held the letter which dictated the wishes of Sarah's benefactor and apparently did not give the Gringotts vault number for her new account. "I hadn't noticed before. Strange. Well, here," she said to the goblin attendant, offering him the parchment, "I hope you know who this is from because we sure don't."
"You are Sarah Williams?" the goblin had asked, black eyes scanning the sheet only to snap to hers in surprise.
"Yes."
The goblin made a noise and abruptly turned, walking behind the counter until he came to a table away from the bustle of the bank and its occupants. The lone goblin at the table looked up from where he was counting out a large pile of what looked like emeralds and read over the letter he was handed. Sarah could feel the goblin's eyes all the way from where she stood as the new one stared hard at her. He said something that she couldn't hear, and the first goblin rushed off with a quick nod. Curious eyes searched hers for something before returning to the jewels spread out on the table.
The first goblin returned shortly carrying a respectable sized money pouch. "The stipulations say we must fetch the money for you. This is the specified amount given by the owner of the account. You may withdraw again on the 1st of each month with one allowable emergency removal during a six month period."
"Thank you," Sarah said. "I'll be leaving for England in a few months and I'll have to use the Gringotts over there. Do I need to transfer funds or change vault numbers or something?"
"No," he said. "Tell them your name. They will know you."
"Oh. Thank you."
The walk out of Gringotts Bank had seemed to last an eternity and Sarah could feel every little beady goblin-eye in the place following her.
After the oddness at the bank it felt good to go out and shop. Sarah saw more of the town and loved all that she glimpsed. There was an old-time feel to everything. Torches and lanterns lit the brick pathways and candlelight burned merrily in windowsills. With the old-fashioned clothing people were wearing, the stuffy clothing and feathered hats, Sarah felt the town could have come straight from Dickens himself. She never wanted to leave.
Their shopping led them all over and around the Square until they stopped before a pleasant looking brick building with bright yellow shutters on the windows. 'Witch Wand?' read a large sign. The proprietress of the shop, one Miss Aralia Whittlebird, was a plain faced young woman with bright red hair who wasted no time with pleasantries.
"My wands mirror their owners. I will find you the wand which most closely compliments you. Hold out your wand hand."
Sarah's right arm extended and was roughly grabbed by the woman. She studied the hand closely, making unintelligible noises as her fingers traced over crease lines and faded scars.
"Fine then," she declared, having abruptly dropped Sarah's hand. The woman turned to the shelves behind her, her red hair glinting orange in the candle light, and pulled out several long, thin boxes. Removing them from their cases, she placed ten wands in a row on the counter before Sarah. "I have you narrowed down to these ten wands. Pick one and try it out, your match is in this group."
Starting at the right end, Sarah picked up a wand and felt nothing. The second was no different as were the third and fourth. It was at wand number nine that something finally happened. Warmth shot through her hand and her whole body gave a shudder as she felt something shift within her. The wand released a small shower of brilliant white lights that hung suspended in the air before slowly descending to the floor where they faded from sight.
"That wand is made from the bark of a Rowan, a very special type of tree with a history older than I care to contemplate. The core is the powdered incisor from a very large minotaur I chanced upon once some years ago. The creature had failed to answer a sphinx's riddle and was grateful enough to offer me some substances for my wands after I healed his wounds. Six galleons twelve knuts."
Sarah paid Miss Whittlebird and left the store, her new wand back in its box and stowed safely in a sack with some of her other purchases.
"Aralia isn't the friendliest person, but she's one of the best at what she does. While most wand-makers stick with the traditional stuff, Aralia goes out and works with all sorts of unorthodox ingredients. The Wand Guild kicked up a real fuss when she started experimenting, but the wands work fine and no customer has complained," confided Stephanie as the two women headed back to the Spot O' Tea shop and through to the bookstore where Sarah's brother and Mrs. Harowell had been waiting.
From there it had been a short trip back to the Williams' house where Stephanie had helped Sarah carry her new things into her bedroom. Toby was put to bed, although he'd been asleep the whole ride home, and Stephanie had said her farewells to Sarah.
"This should be just about everything. The paperwork is finished, the shopping trip eventful, and you've been shown around your local Wizarding community. I think you're all set. Now, as your representative in the American Division of Muggle to Magic, I'll be keeping in touch with you and your school over the summer. Feel free to send me an owl if you have any questions."
"An owl?" Sarah had asked, forgetting the discussion earlier that night.
"Darn! We forgot to buy you an owl. Students are allowed certain pets at Hogwarts, and most of the time it's an owl because they can carry the mail and whatnot. Although, since you're going overseas, it's probably a moot point anyway. You'll have to use the Post Office in Hogsmeade and they'll send your letters over here. Now, I do have a phone, you can call me if you need to," she explained, fishing out a business card from a pocket and handing it to Sarah. "You can go back to Raven's Grotto some time and buy an owl then if you'd like. Oh, and if your parents have any questions or concerns, tell them to call me, that's what I'm here for."
"Thank you, for all your help," said Sarah.
"Not a problem, I love my job. Lots and lots of shopping trips. Well, I'm off then. Take care, Sarah. And remember, no magic until you're on school property," she said. With a broad grin and a wink, she disappeared from Sarah's room before the girl's very astonished eyes.
Disapperated, her mind had corrected as she marveled at the phenomenon
It had all happened. It really had.
She was a witch!
Sitting up on her bed, she wanted to squeal, to shout, to scream out her happiness. If it weren't for her brother asleep just down the hall, she would have done so. Instead she leapt from the bed and crossed to her vanity mirror. Sitting in the chair she called out, "Hoggle? Ludo? Sir Didymus? Oh, please answer, I have fantastic news!" A shimmering in the mirror, the twisting of reality, and behind her reflection, upon her bed—appeared the form of a much-loved friend.
"My Lady!"
Sarah turned happily from her seat and crossed to the bed, practically bouncing upon the patchwork quilt. "Sir Didymus! Oh, how good it is to see you!" she greeted the little fox with a hug and a kiss on his nose that left his whiskers twitching in delighted embarrassment. "Where are Ludo and Hoggle? I have something I want to tell you guys."
"Alas, fair maiden. Mine brothers in arms were called to duty by His Majesty, not but a fortnight past."
"What? Why?"
"Do not be concerned, milady. We all serve His Majesty when 'tis required of us."
"Oh. Do you know when they'll come back?"
"I do not," his fox ears drooped at the statement, the normally jovial lupine features showing an uncharacteristic sadness.
"Well then, you'll be the first one to hear my news and have the pleasure of telling them," proclaimed Sarah, trying to cheer her friend. The two friends spent the remainder of the evening gossiping as only a teenaged girl and battle-deprived soldier could.