Elizabeth Wellington had never had a cavity, never broken a bone, and never met a Muggle. She had lived her whole life with her grandparents above the bookshop Flourish & Blotts, which her grandfather ran. She knew very little of the Muggle world, except from the bits and pieces of the passing conversations she picked up on in Diagon Alley. She knew plenty of wizarding things though. She knew the positions at the Ministry of Magic, she knew the rules of Quidditch, and most importantly she knew about Hogwarts. She would be starting her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in September and had spent all summer asking her older brother Richard what it was like. From the minute he got off the Hogwarts Express for summer holiday, she began bothering him all about classes, professors, houses, and even the many ghosts residing in the castle.
Elizabeth liked to know all she could. It was a trait that ran in her family. She preferred reading in her spare time, she fancied solving puzzles, and she rather enjoyed learning altogether. She had learned from Richard that she was a perfect candidate to become a Ravenclaw, much like himself. He prided himself on the fact he was also made prefect this year. He brought it up every time Elizabeth had a question about school. She thought it terribly like Richard to be so full of himself.
She sat in a large, brown leather chair in the parlour, reading A History of Magic. She had already read it more than once, but it was required reading for first years, and besides, she found herself rather bored that afternoon. Her grandfather had a shop to tend to, her grandmother was preparing dinner, and Richard knew as much about fun as the Gringotts goblins. The only one in the house that Elizabeth considered any fun, besides her grandfather, but he was limited by age, was her dear uncle William. He lived with them, if one could even consider what he did living there. He came and went as he pleased, when he pleased, and if he was going to even come back was a question her grandmother had to ask every time he walked out the front door. Elizabeth knew he was rather forgetful sometimes. He fancied going off to visit friends far away without telling anyone, or making stops in the Muggle world on his way home and completely losing track of time. He had a terrible habit of doing that and it worried his mother sick.
The grandfather clock in the parlour struck seven. The whereabouts of William were still unknown and Elizabeth was utterly bored with nothing to do except read. She peered into the kitchen at her grandmother preparing dinner. Elizabeth never understood why she took pleasure in the tedious housework. She couldn't begin to fathom why anyone would actually enjoy washing filthy clothes and picking up after messy children, but her grandmother did.
The stairs creaked and Elizabeth knew it could only be one person.
"Richard," she called him as he passed the door. "Know where Uncle William's been?"
"Who cares?" Richard always had the attitude of a cranky cat. "It's quiet around here for once. Enjoy it while it lasts."
She never cared much for Richard. She found him quite smug at times and he always spoke down to her. She tried to be as nice to him as possible when home, for her grandmother's sake, but Richard made it rather difficult. Elizabeth thought he tried to act far too old for his age. He thought it made him more mature. She just thought it made him dull.
She shifted in her chair. "But he's been gone since yesterday morning and I've got nothing to do."
"Go read a book or something." He brushed her off as he walked away.
Elizabeth sunk back into the chair and looked at the book in her hands. "Thanks Richard, you're a big help." She cautiously looked back at her grandmother. "Gran," she said softly. "Gran." She waited for a response. "Gran!"
She turned around to reveal a small, severe looking elderly woman. Her chestnut-brown hair was beginning to grey and she wore it half pulled back. Her dark eyes narrowed. The only thing Elizabeth found more intimidating than her grandmother's glare was the sound of her high heels clicking on the hardwood floors.
Margaret Wellington liked order, she liked organisation, and most of all, she liked cleanliness. She preferred the house to remain as spotless as possible. She required Elizabeth and Richard to keep their bedrooms neat, and since William couldn't seem to follow this rule, she cleaned his bedroom for him. She had a habit of dusting twice a day and she was stuck in her old fashion ways.
Elizabeth never got along much with her. She was a very strict woman who enforced the house rules mercilessly. It was safe to say she was an authoritarian, but at least it kept Elizabeth from stepping out of line too much. Richard had told her it kept him from doing anything questionable at school as well. The thought of what Margaret would do to him when he got home was enough to scare him straight.
"Where's Uncle William?" Elizabeth asked.
Margaret sighed. She turned her back on Elizabeth and resumed preparing dinner. "I don't know."
Elizabeth slid out of the chair and placed her book quietly on it. She slunk over to the wall separating the kitchen from the parlour. She pressed her body to it as she peeked into the kitchen at her grandmother.
"Did he say when he was coming back?" she asked innocently.
"No, he did not."
"Oh." She quietly moved into the kitchen. Margaret turned around at the sound of the front door opening as Elizabeth rushed to look down the entrance hall. "It's just Gramps," she said, slightly disappointed.
Elizabeth's grandfather was very different from her grandmother. Contrary to Margaret's uptight attitude and strict enforcement of the rules, Elizabeth's grandfather was laid back and much more lenient when it came to Richard and her. Elizabeth never truly saw what attracted him to her grandmother, truth be told.
He was only three years older than Margaret, but his once blond hair had completely greyed and he was slowly going senile. He wore thick, square glasses which magnified his green eyes. Sometimes he would spend hours searching for them, only to realise he was wearing them all along.
"Do you know where Uncle William is?" Elizabeth asked as he came into the kitchen holding a leather-bound book.
"Elizabeth, stop asking that," Margaret demanded.
"But he's been gone since yesterday morning and ─"
"Elizabeth, stop your whingeing." She walked over to the cabinets, pulled out the dinner plates, and held them out towards Elizabeth. "If you're bored, do me a favour and lay the table."
Elizabeth reluctantly took the plates and began placing them on the table.
"Is William gone?" her grandfather asked. "It has been quieter I suppose."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Her grandfather was known to make jokes no one but himself found funny.
"Thomas, has Odysseus returned yet?"
Odysseus was the family's barn owl, whom Elizabeth cared none for. He had a poor temperament and bit almost anyone who tried to touch him. Her grandparents used him frequently to send letters, and up until that summer, Richard had as well until their grandparents had bought him his own owl for being made prefect this year. Richard named him Telemachus and Elizabeth thought he looked rather like a small, fat, brown feather duster, but Richard had grown quite fond of him anyway. He was still a young owl. Most of his day was spent screeching and sleeping when he wasn't causing a commotion. Elizabeth called him Pudgy, but Richard insisted he was just heavily feathered.
Richard never let her send letters with him, but she didn't mind as she didn't quite trust him to make much of a journey yet. Instead, Elizabeth was known to send letters via a small light umber coloured owl named Talons, whom had a love of free falling and chasing other owls. However, she was only allowed to send letters to her grandmother in France with him, as she didn't have anyone else to send letters to at such a young age. He had a nasty habit of not coming back for days though when she did, and Margaret always had to yell at him when he came home.
"Not yet," said Thomas as he put the book on the tabletop and sat down in his chair at the end of the table.
"What's that?" Elizabeth's curiosity got the better of her.
"It appears that someone has been drawing rather...suggestive cartoons of the shop owners in Diagon Alley." He opened the book and showed Elizabeth a caricature of Madam Malkin, which was quickly snatched away by Margaret when Elizabeth giggled.
"That little louse," Margaret muttered under her breath as she tucked the book into her oversized pockets and grabbed a serving plate off the counter. She nearly dropped it on the table in front of Elizabeth, causing bits of chicken to fly off and land on the white tablecloth. "Elizabeth, sit down." She pushed Elizabeth into a chair. "Richard, dinner!"
Margaret smoothed out her long skirt as she sat down and unfolded her serviette to place on her lap. Elizabeth exchanged looks with Thomas as an awkward silence hung in the room.
"What?" Margaret asked. "Eat."
Thomas started fixing himself as plate as Margaret grabbed Elizabeth's plate.
"I don't like cabbage," Elizabeth said as Margaret scooped a heavy heaping of steamed cabbage on her plate.
Margaret just looked at her sternly and scooped more cabbage on Elizabeth's plate. Every night Elizabeth would tell Margaret she didn't care for what had been prepared for dinner, and therefore wouldn't be eating, but Margaret would have none of it when she was in a bad mood, which was always, so it seemed. She placed the plate in front of Elizabeth, who quickly pushed it away, but Margaret pushed it back.
"Eat," she said sternly. "Richard!"
Richard popped his head into the room. "Anyone seen Odysseus?" he asked.
"He is currently delivering a letter for your grandfather," Margaret said. Elizabeth tried to pushed the cabbage to the top of her plate while Margaret was distracted, but Margaret simply spun the plate around so it was all at the bottom in front of Elizabeth. "Eat your cabbage," she told her. "Richard, sit down, it's dinnertime."
"No thanks. Not hungry." His head disappeared behind the wall.
"Richard!"
Richard stood his ground in the doorway between the kitchen and the parlour. "Uncle William doesn't have to eat when he doesn't want to. Why do I?"
Odysseus had appeared at the kitchen window and was waiting to get in.
"Gran," Elizabeth tried interrupting.
Margaret raised her voiced sternly. "Because you live under my roof."
"But so does he."
Odysseus was tapping at the window with his beak.
"Hey Gran." Elizabeth tugged on her skirt, but Margaret ignored her, lightly smacking Elizabeth's hand away.
"Eat your dinner," she told Elizabeth. "And you're fifteen, Richard. William is thirty-one. Despite his behaviour, he is an adult."
"But —"
Odysseus was now trying to unlatch the window.
"Ehm, Gran —"
"Not now, Elizabeth."
Thomas tried to defuse the situation. "Richard, what your grandmother means is when you're William's age, you'll have the same choices he has."
"Hopefully he won't still be living at home though," Margaret muttered.
"Maggie, please."
Richard stomped into the kitchen, pulled his chair out violently, and sat down. Margaret said nothing to him and continued her meal as if the conversation had just not occurred at all. Odysseus slammed his talons into the window, causing Margaret to jump out her seat.
"Gran, Odysseus wants in," Elizabeth said.
Richard got out of his chair. "Good, now I can send my letter."
"You," Margaret pointed to Richard, "sit down and eat your dinner." Margaret got up to open the window for Odysseus, who immediately flew on the table, dropping a letter in front of Thomas.
"But I want to send my reply to Percy tonight."
"Why?" Elizabeth asked.
Richard glared at her. "Shut it."
"Don't tell your sister to shut it," Margaret scolded.
Elizabeth was grinning. "You two still swooning over that girl?"
"Shut it, Elizabeth Ann," Richard growled.
Richard had a terrible habit of calling Elizabeth by her first and middle name as if it were one. It drove her mad, simply because she couldn't do it back to him, as Richard Oliver Thomas was a mouthful.
"Richard, for the last time don't tell your sister to shut it." Margaret demanded. "What girl?"
"Some Ravenclaw he and Percy have been chasing."
A gust of wind blew Elizabeth's hair as another owl flew in through the window and down the back hallway.
"Elizabeth!" Richard threw down his silverware.
"What's the racket?"
Uncle William, appearing rather unkept in his old faded jumper and tattered jeans, which had a new hole covered in blood and bandages, was casually leaning against the wall in the kitchen. He sniffled as he came into the room, pushing the hair out of his eyes. It was long and never brushed, which annoyed Margaret to the point where she'd chase after him with scissors somedays in hopes of getting a few centimetres off so she could see his eyes. He looked far more like Thomas than like her and was heavily freckled with an unusually large burn mark on his arm from the time he got so mad at Margaret, the fireplace exploded in a mess of ash and flames, catching a good portion of his right arm and the back of the settee in the parlour. He seemed not to mind the disfigurement.
He was a terribly odd fellow who fancied collecting broken items. All his possessions were unnecessarily tawdry or terribly worn out. Most of all, he was accident prone. He would trip up and down the stairs, fall out of bed, bump into corners, hit his head on the wardrobe doors, slip on the hardwood floors, cut himself on things that weren't even sharp, and every morning like clockwork, he would slam his hand in the toilet seat cover trying to put it down. Margaret always said it was a miracle he lived to see thirty-one.
"What did you do to yourself now?" Margaret asked once she saw the cut on his leg.
"Ran into a hedge."
"You're a walking disaster, William."
"That's not fair. If that fat man wasn't chasing me, I wouldn't have flown right into it."
"Well, that's what you get for —" She stopped mid sentence. "You louse!"
Elizabeth was fairly convinced at this point in her young life that "louse" was the single most used word in her grandmother's vocabulary, followed by "stop" and "no," of course. She used it at least once a day, usually more, and it was always used in reference to William, whether he was around to hear it or not.
"Mum —"
"Can I go now?" Richard asked.
"It's 'May I go?" and not until you finish your dinner," Margaret said. "William!" He was trying to sneak back down the hallway into his bedroom. "Get back here!"
Margaret chased after him and Elizabeth took the opportunity to shovel the cabbage from her plate to Richard's as he scarfed his food down.
"Knoff iff off, Elisabeth Ann," Richard slurred out through a mouth full of food.
"You do this every year!" Margaret could be heard loud and clear.
Richard pushed all the cabbage back on Elizabeth's plate before he sprung up from his chair.
"May I go now?" he asked.
Thomas simply nodded and Richard ran upstairs to his room, slamming the door behind him.
"You deserve it!" Margaret yelled.
"Gramps?" Elizabeth asked meekly.
"Hmm," Thomas mumbled, cleaning his glasses in his serviette.
"What's Gran so mad about now?"
"Thomas!" Margaret had appeared ragged in the hallway. "Do something about your son because I'm done!"
"I wish!" William yelled from his bedroom and Margaret rushed back in for round two of the argument.
"Your uncle has a bit of a problem listening to your grandmother sometimes," Thomas said.
"Thomas!"
"Like when she tells him to be back by dinner, or to let her know if he's going to visit Mamie —"
Elizabeth and Richard had lived with Thomas and Margaret ever since their parents had died. They had no other family on their father's side beyond Uncle William, and Margaret's sister Catherine, who had a very peculiar husband named Oscar that played with toy train sets. They had one surviving son out of three, Michael, who was married, but had no children, just a lot of hunting dogs and an unsociable cat named Twinkle. On their mother's side, they only had their grandmother, whom they called Mamie.
She was a very wild French woman with an appetite for life. She lived in Alsace and they rarely visited her because Margaret didn't want them going to France on their own. Therefore Mamie came to visit them in Diagon Alley, much to Margaret's disapproval. She quite fancied printed fabrics and royal purple with gold trim. She started every morning by dancing, which Margaret considered silly and inappropriate behaviour. She smelled of passionfruit, her hair was a different style every time they saw her, and she always wore blue around her eyes. Margaret loved to complained highly of her and would chew out William about going to see her. William was quite taken with Mamie though, as she was an awful lot like the kind of people he tended to associate with.
"You louse!" A loud crash accompanied Margaret's voice.
"He went to visit Mamie?" Elizabeth asked.
"Uh, no," Thomas said, looking down the hall. "He, uh, well, he went —"
William marched into the kitchen with a large red mark on his face. "Tell her it's his birthday."
"Uh," Thomas looked at Elizabeth, then back at William and Margaret, who had stormed into the kitchen behind her son. "It's his birthday tomorrow, Maggie. Cut the boy some slack."
Margaret put her hands on her hips. "Elizabeth, go to your room."
"But —"
"Go!"
Elizabeth dropped her silverware on her plate and reluctantly got up from her chair. She hated being chased from the room when there was an argument brewing. All she wanted was to know what was going on, but Margaret always made sure the children were kept in the dark about as much as possible. Everything was on a need to know basis and Richard and Elizabeth clearly didn't need to know.
She took her time leaving the kitchen and slowly climbed up the stairs, hoping to catch a bit of the conversation as she left the room. As she passed Richard's room at the top of the stairs, the door cracked opened and he hissed at her.
"Hey." He peered through the crack in the door. "Who are they talking about?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "They're talking about it being his birthday tomorrow."
"Whose birthday?"
"Elizabeth, go to your room," Margaret called from the kitchen. Elizabeth turned around to see her grandmother watching her with a stern expression on her face. "Go." She took a few more steps toward her door before she turned around to watch her uncle take some ice from the freezer and put it on his red cheek. "Elizabeth." Margaret didn't have to warn her again.
The question of whose birthday it was plagued them both for the rest of the night. They spent all breakfast exchanging looks, secretly wondering if they should bring it up or let it go. They didn't bother asking their grandmother. They knew her too well to think she would tell them. She was terribly good at keeping secrets and avoiding unwanted subjects. Fortunately, William knew most of what Margaret was hiding and Richard and Elizabeth could always find out from him if they really wanted to know. Of course, William never revealed his own secrets unless he wanted anyone to know, which was rarely. He enjoyed possessing a hint of mystery. It was very much like a game to him.
After breakfast, Richard and Elizabeth had decided it was much easier to ask their grandfather. He was becoming forgetful in his old age and wasn't hard to trick. Elizabeth thought it was taking advantage of him, but Richard saw it differently. He would tell her that if Gran didn't want them to eventually find out, then she would never let Gramps know in the first place. Elizabeth still believed it was tricking him and despised taking part in it.
Richard and Elizabeth spent most of their free time helping their grandfather in the bookshop. Flourish & Blotts wasn't what one would expect from an average bookshop and their grandfather required a lot of help once the Hogwarts letters had been sent out. The shelves were stocked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all.
That morning, Richard was dusting as Elizabeth organised a new shipment of schoolbooks. She sat on one of the rungs of the ladder, taking books from her grandfather and stacking them in a pyramid. As Thomas picked up another book to hand to her, it slipped from his grasp and fell open on the floor.
"I'll get it," Elizabeth said.
"No, no," said Thomas, groaning as he bent down. "I can get it. My knees could use the workout anyway."
Richard motioned for her to ask Thomas about the previous night. She shook her head. "No," she mouthed. He raised the duster like he was going to throw it at her.
"Here you go, darling." Thomas had retrieved the book and handed it to Elizabeth. Richard quickly resumed his dusting. "A little slippery, eh?" He chuckled to himself.
She took the book as she looked back at Richard. He motioned for her to ask again. "Hey Gramps," said Elizabeth innocently. "Whose birthday is it today?"
Thomas looked at her over his glasses. "I should've known you'd ask."
"I didn't want to, Richard made me."
"Elizabeth Ann!" Richard threw down the duster. "You little narc!"
Thomas laughed. "You two," he said shaking his head. "Curiosity will get the better of you." He handed Elizabeth another book for the display.
Richard scowled at Elizabeth as he picked up the duster to resume cleaning. She stuck her tongue out at him in response.
She hesitated for a second. "So, whose birthday is it?"
Thomas's grip on the book in his elderly hands tightened. "An old acquaintance of William," he said as he avoided eye contact with her.
Richard looked up from the dusting and caught the eye of Elizabeth. "Ask who," he mouthed. She shook her head again. "Ask who!" Richard mouthed anxiously.
Elizabeth sighed. "Who?"
"Just an old acquaintance."
She could tell he was avoiding the real answer. "Then why isn't he allowed to see him?"
"Your gran just doesn't like him to."
"Why not?"
"Well ─"
Thomas's expression changed quickly as two people entered the store. A large giant with shaggy hair and a beard to match stood near the entrance. Behind him was a skinny boy, no older than Elizabeth. His black hair appeared rather untidy and his round glasses were held together by tape.
"Hagrid!" Thomas exclaimed.
"'Ello Thomas. How yer been?" said Hagrid.
"Oh, fine, fine, just fine," said Thomas. Elizabeth rolled her eyes as her grandfather completely ignored the subject at hand. Richard just picked up the duster and went back to clearing cobwebs from the corners of the shelves. "And who do we have here?" Thomas directed his attention towards the boy behind Hagrid.
"This is Harry," Hagrid introduced the boy.
"Ah, yes, Mr. Potter." Thomas lowered his glasses. "First year at Hogwarts, rather exciting, rather exciting indeed."
Richard and Elizabeth's ears perked up at the last name.
"Thomas is a very good friend o' mine, Harry," Hagrid explained. "Known him fer years. Went ter Hogwarts with him. Knew his sons when they went too. An' his grandchildren too."
Elizabeth smiled as he shot a glance in her direction.
"Come on, Harry," said Thomas. "I'll help you get your books."
As soon as they were out of earshot, Richard rushed over to Elizabeth. "That's it, isn't it?" he said in a hushed voice.
Elizabeth knew what he was talking about. She looked over her shoulder to make sure their grandfather was out of sight. When she saw him busy pulling books off the shelves and talking to Hagrid, she leaned down to respond to Richard. "It must be. It is his birthday after all."
Richard peered down the stop at Harry being buried under the books Thomas was handing him. "So Uncle William went to see him last night?"
"Brilliant deduction, Richard," Elizabeth mocked him, having figured out very quickly where her uncle had been the previous night and why he was there.
Richard hit her hard across the leg, prompting her to smack him back. Their grandfather perked up at the noise and the two of them stopped when they noticed him. He gave them a disapproving look for a moment before quickly attending to Harry again.
Elizabeth glared down at Richard from the ladder. "Swot," she said.
"Churl."
A/N: Plot from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K. Rowling, Chapter Five, Diagon Alley, pages 80 to 81.