Chapter three: Diagon Alley
So, where should we go first?" I said, straightening up and checking to see if my hair was not very frizzy.
"Well, taking into account that Ollivander's Wand Shop's over there. . ." said George dully, pointing at a narrow and shabby shop at our right, then using the same hand to scratch the back of his neck, "We could start out by buying you a wand."
We headed toward the shop, George pushed the door open and we stepped into the shop where an old man with wide pale eyes was talking to —
"See there?" said George, pointing at a man with long blonde hair tightened in a ponytail. "That's Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father. Purely detestable, he is. He's like a skrewt, but with blonde hair, y'know. And his son's just as adorable."
"Yes, I know who he is," I said in a bold tone.
"Yes, sure you do. . ." he said, as if he didn't believe me."Blimey! He's here too!" he said loudly, aiming his forefinger at a boy with a pointed face, just like his father's, who was gazing at a group of small boxes. He yelled so loudly that, with any mistake, the witches and wizards outside the store had also heard him.
"Be quiet! He'll hear us!" I whispered. And as if actually he had heard us, Draco Malfoy headed toward us.
"Well, look who it is!" said the boy with an I-am-the-last-coca-cola-in-the-desert grimace. "One of the pathetic red-haired Weasley twins!"
"Aha, yes, but I bet you a thousand Galleons that you don't know which one! I doubt you'll get it right, with your teensy-weensy little brain. . ."
"I don't care, Weasley. Besides, if I win, how are you going to pay for all that? Beans, perhaps? Don't risk your pocket, Weasley, for your own good I'll say. . . Now, as I was saying, I notice you have a girlfriend!"
"Are you nuts? Did you think that I was going to have a bushy-brown-headed-matching-stick as my girlfriend? You are bonkers truly indeed, Malfunction-head!" said George, winking at me when Draco glimpsed at his father.
"Dare insult me like that again and I'll tell Father," said Malfoy, throwing a glance at his father and pretending to call him.
"Oh, is Mr. Malfoy almighty going to cut my head in two? Oh, I'm deadly scared of baby Draco's hero!"
"Shut up, Weasley," said Malfoy, and followed his father who had finished his conversation with Mr. Ollivander. He glanced at us one more time and said, "Better improve that behaviour of yours, Weasley, or else you're find yourself facing trouble — See you at school."
Mr. Ollivander spotted us and greeted us.
"Well, hello! Er. . . Fred?" he said doubtfully over a stack of boxes, which unmistakably contained wands of different ingredients.
"George, actually," George corrected him. "And she's Susanna, new to Hogwarts this year. . ." I nodded and smiled sympathetically towards Mr. Ollivander.
"Ah! Also from the family?"
"Well, not exactly. . ." George said, a bit nervously; then he pointed my hair. "See? No red hair."
"In that case. . . Very well, then, let me see. . ." he said, using a spell to put the stack of boxes he had in front back to their places and walking toward a pile in the opposite side of the room. He reached for the box on top and opened it. "Ah, yes. . . Nine and a quarter inches long, maple and dragon heartstring; try it."
He handed me the wand and I grabbed it. I gave it a wave but stopped when I saw it was doing no good: Mr. Ollivander's gray hair was standing on end, but luckily he didn't notice. George snorted. Mr. Ollivander presumed that nothing had happened and gave me another wand. This wand's box was covered in dust and spider webs. "Ten and a half inches long, ebony and unicorn hair. I — er — hope it works for you."
Suddenly, when I took the wand, sparks began shooting out from its end and a breeze of fresh air entered the room. We then realized that the wand had chosen me. I began examining the wand carefully and noticed an odd carving, some animal perhaps, but it was hard to make up its shape. Also, it had a small wave near the end. With any doubt, this wand was much more than a hundred years old. I put it back into its box.
"Excellent, excellent!" exclaimed Mr. Ollivander excitedly, clapping his hands.
I was going to ask George how I was to pay for the wand, when I saw that he was already handing seven galleons to Mr. Ollivander. When he finished paying, we headed toward the door, but Mr. Ollivander prevented it.
"Excuse me, can I have a word with young Susanna?" He beckoned at me. I exchanged blank glimpses with George, and approached Mr. Ollivander. He bended over so that we were so close I got a bit afraid. He whispered, "This wand you have on your hands is one of the best I have, you know? But no one's ever managed a proper spell with it. Just one other witch, a little older than yourself, bought it here, many, many years ago, and returned it shortly later. But it wasn't because it didn't work; no, according to her, she had never had such an efficient wand on her hands before. Their parents were muggles, and when they saw her with a wand, they wanted to get rid of it. The girl didn't want the wand to be destroyed so she, on her own account, turned it back, with tears on her eyes. The girl had grown such a strong bond between the wand and herself that it was as though she was lamenting the death of a loved one." Oh, please, how can that be. . . I thought. The study-girl Susanna said: Shush! This is interesting!
"I do not wish you to turn it back either; on the contrary, I want you to keep it because I know you'll make good use of it. Use it well, as I expect you'll do, to protect yourself from dark enemies and dangers; or, instead, use it incorrectly, for the harm of others, as You-Know-Who has done and you will find your life has been cursed."
"But sir, how could she have said that she'd never had such a good wand, if their parents didn't let her use them?"
"See, this girl, since the age of birth, had been identified with the qualities of a witch, so at age eleven she was asked to attend a school of Magic. Thus, she was so excited she left her house, asked a wizard to bring her to Diagon Alley and bought a wand here. When she returned to her house, their parents were terrified, not only because she had left her home, also because they were Wizard-haters. They instantly broke the wand in two and burned all the letters regarding the school of Magic she was to attend. Nevertheless, she continued to buy wands and managing spells with the help of a very good book she bought at Flourish and Blotts, but her parents continued to smash them into pieces until she bought this one at age eighteen. She returned to her home with the wand avoiding her parents' looks. She managed to use it many times — although not many days —, by which time she was aware of the Apparating spell. One of those days, her parents found her transfigurating her mother's ficus into a Venomous Tentacula, but before they could snatch the wand out of her, she had Dissaparated."
"And that was when she came here and returned it?"
"Yes, indeed. She was afraid someone — particularly her parents — would steal her wand and break it; she said she preferred not to do magic rather than risking such a good wand; she said it was best that the wand be used by someone else who needed it more than her, who could make better use of it, and who could use it without taking risks."
"But, sir, how come she didn't go to the school by herself? Why didn't she talk with her parents about what she wanted to be? And, how come the Ministry didn't notice there was magic happening inside the house?"
"Oh, she tried many times to convince them. Every time as unlucky as the other. She did not go to the school by herself because the same love she had for magic she had it for her parents, no matter how bad they treated her. About the Ministry, they did notice, but we're talking about six hundred years ago, young lady, and the matters were not taken as they are today. Magic outside the Wizarding World was not considered a crime. Eventually people that knew about our world were forced to turn into wizards or else cleaned from their memories and the new law was stated."
"But, I think it was foolish of her to buy wands if she knew her parents were going to do everything possible to destroy them."
"Yes, yes, I think so myself."
"Sir, how do you know this story if she lived so much years ago?"
"Well, not so many years have passed, but everyone knows her story, dear, she's famous!"
"But why is she famous if — "
"I would love to continue answering your questions but time does not let us. I can only tell you one thing more: She was called Theresa Evans, the Mother of the Wands. It was a pleasure meeting you; I'm very glad that the wand had chosen you. Good-bye! Ta-ta!"
Ta-ta? Well, there's something new, I thought. When he had finished, I approached George, looked at the wand's box, opened my mouth to ask the question I had in mind and, before I could say anything, and as if he had read my mind he said, "A gift from Harry." I then closed my mouth, stunned.
"Where to go next?" I asked, after I had recovered from the 10-second-shock that the alarming news had given to me.
"Um, there," he said pointing at a shop labelled Eeylops Owl Emporium. "If you would like an owl, that is. Well, I supposed you'd want one — because Harry has one — They deliver letters, too — Bloody smart creatures they are, actually — Better than Ron at directions, did you know?"
"I'd love an owl!" I said with an excited smile, which washed out almost instantly. "But, George, I haven't any — "
"Look, it seems to me that Harry likes you, Susanna. Again, he gave me all this money to buy your stuff," and he showed me a handful of galleons. "He told me his parents had left him too much money, and he doesn't have any idea what to spend it on. You two make a great couple, y'know. . ."
"Thanks, George. Now let's buy the owl and —"
"If you ask me, he seems very crazy about you —"
"Stop it, George, don't be so —"
"— starts looking at people weirdly. . . But when he looks at you —"
"What if we head on to the Owlery — " I was getting very nervous now.
"— I caught him smiling at you once, y'know? Once or twice, I don't recall exactly. . . Maybe you should make some move or —"
"OH, PLEASE!" I said, while my mind was circling with thoughts and I got the point that I felt a tickling sensation in my stomach and a big smile stretched in my face. I tried pressing my tongue against my cheek, but it didn't work, so I instantly covered it with my hands to dissimulate a bit.
When we got to the store, I saw different types of owls, including one who looked a lot like Hedwig, just that this one had more black spots. It was obvious: My eyes were fixed on this particular cute owl which was male (another difference). So, I let George know that this was the one I liked the most. He picked up the owl in its cage and handed some coins to the man in charge of the shop ("Another gift from Harry").
"There you go. . ." said George, letting me carry the owl. "So, how are you going to call him?"
"I don't know, yet," I said looking at the owl carefully, just as I did with the wand. "Maybe I'll just let Harry put him a name — Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no, no, no. . .! Hee, hee!" I said, very quickly and nervously, my voice trembling. "No, he won't like it. Let's see, a name. . . How about Har. . . I dunno, I really donnow what 'aim wud go with 'im," I said, and I could swear my face went pink. It didn't sound like Harry, did it? Or did it sound like I don't know?
"HA! CAUGHT YOU! The clever Weasley does it again. It's my Inner Eye. . ."
"What?" I said, raising my eyebrows and regretting the moment we started this conversation. It was getting somewhat dull and childish.
"Tell me, Susanna. Tell me that you were about to say 'Harry', and tried to change it to 'I'." Yep, it sounded like Harry.
"Well. . . I didn't exactly —"
"SEE?!" said George, looking deliriously happy. He arranged his voice to a deep yet squeaky one so that it sounded exactly like Trelawney's, Hogwarts's Divination teacher. " 'Broaden your minds,' use your Inner Eye! Oh my! If Harry likes Susanna, and Susanna likes Harry, then — "
"So what? It's a name, isn't it?" I said, ignoring the words after George's 'divination'.
"Well, of course it's a name!"
"Then, what's wrong? What's the fuss about?"
"Oh my! I can't believe I posses the Sight! I was right, I was right!"
"Let's buy my school robes, all right?" Ooh, so now it's rhyming time?
"You like Harry!"
"What?! I mean. . ." I was driven dumbstruck. For one moment I was going to negate George's statement, but I didn't want him to think that I didn't like Harry. Nor did I wanted to agree; I didn't want him to know that I liked him so much that I had everything K-mart or Amazon could sell about Harry Potter. I couldn't imagine myself saying: "Yeah, I like him, and am ABSOLUTELY proud of it!" So that's why I kept my mouth shut. Voices in my ears shouted Hallelujah when I saw Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. It was my chance:
"So, George, what clothes do I need for school?"
"You'll need a plain black robe, blouse, skirt, and socks, all gray, but I think those shoes you have on are perfect. That's it, I s'pose."
Again, we entered the shop, Madam Malkin took my measures, handed me my clothing and George handed Harry's money to Madam Malkin. I was really looking forward to putting on the school robes.
When we got outside, George asked me, "Can we go to — to the joke shop just around the corner?" I couldn't believe it; George was asking me something as if I were his mother.
"Well, if I were your mother I would say no; because it's time to go to bed." I said firmly.
"I didn't ask you to put in mum's place! Please say yes, please say yes! Please?"
"Something tells me we should go now, George." I said, looking at my watch. "It's ten o'clock already."
"I'll give you a kiss!" he said.
I blushed. "That's very nice of you, but no, I think we should leave at once."
"Mum expects us to be there at eleven o' clock! Besides, maybe you'll find something interesting for yourself!" said George in a convincing tone.
"I'm not into joke stuff," I said, coldly.
"Then, what if my legs were to accidentally turn in the direction of Flourish and Blotts before going to the joke shop?"
"Then I say it's a deal," I rapidly said. Now the responsible Susanna said, (again, in a pronounced English accent) 'You brainless idiot, look what you've done!!! Instincts lead only to calamities!!! Now George's going to buy something terrible, and if it turns out to be a dangerous prank where someone will get hurt it'll be all your fault!!! If it turns out to be anything not-dangerous — which I doubt — then you should thank God for your ginormous good luck!!! That's the second time in the day you've disappointed me!!!' I ignored it.
When the door to the bookstore appeared at our right, I saw George turning in the direction of it, but there was something wrong; he didn't move for some seconds, then faced away from the shop and continued his way to the joke shop.
The apparently digested chicken inside me let out a "PP-KWAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" There was nothing wrong; George had said that his legs would turn in the direction of the shop; he never said we were going to enter and take a look at the books. I sighed loudly and followed George. All my inner aspects, their extreme version, were driving me crazy: A fool!!! That's what you are! . . .Can't believe you! Didn't you know he meant it literally? What would you expect of him? Next time pay attention and ask him as many questions as necessary to make sure what's his intention.
There were not many people on the joke shop; only the cashier, a small girl and an older boy, presumably her big brother, a group of teenagers, and an old woman with a hooked nose. George led the way toward an aisle labeled by a wooden board floating in midair as 'Distracting items'. There were many weird objects I had never seen before; I grabbed one of them. It looked like a slice of pink kiwi, only bigger, wrapped in a transparent bag that read 'Stink Pellets'. I turned it over; there was a warning that said: 'Caution: May cause skin and eye irritation. If accidental ingestion occurs, do not induce vomiting; call a Potion control center right away. Contents under pressure — Do not use near hot cauldrons, in the presence of dragons or any source of extreme heat, as it may explode and cause highly undesirable consequences.' I put the stink pellet back into its shelf and looked at other things in the shop. Near the cash register, a sign above a crystal box with a particularly big book said:
The Most Complete Encyclopaedia of Essential Spells, Charms and Enchantments for the New Witch or Wizard,
Fifth edition,
Revised by the International Committee of Spell-masters
I couldn't believe it! This was exactly was I was looking for! But, in a joke shop? Surely it had something that earned its way to this place. . . Maybe it's not worth buying; maybe it has spells that do funny things. . . Then again, the International Committee of Spell-masters sounded like a serious thing. I walked up to George who was kneeling beside a box that said 'Skiving Snackboxes' and said to him "I thought they only sold joke stuff in here."
George looked at me, frowning, "That is what they sell here." I replied, "So how do you explain this. . ." and grabbed his arm to lead him to the sign. He stared at it for some seconds then a big smiled spread through him. I thought George didn't like encyclopaedias!
"Do you also like encyclopaedias, George?" I asked; he looked at me incredulously.
"I'll talk to you later," he said, and went running to the cashier; I followed.
"How much is that box of whizzing spiders?" George asked. My eyes were looking for that item. . . Whizzing spiders, whizzing spiders. . . Where was it? I only saw shelves filled with small telescopes, fake frogs, bags that had some slimy substance inside, more stink pellets and the box that had the encyclopaedia. The cashier also seemed to be looking for the whizzing spiders. Finally he said, "Oh, you mean the box?" And he pointed – with an umbrella – at the crystal box that contained the encyclopaedia. George nodded.
"Whizzing spiders? George, do you need glasses?" I said, half-laughing.
"Mi vision's as perfect as an owl's," he said. "And the sign says very clearly 'Whizzing Spiders'!"
"But, isn't that an encyclopaedia, sir?" I asked.
George laughed. "I know who needs glasses!" he muttered under his breath. I threw him a very nasty look. "Don't you know how to read? It says in the sign 'Very Scary Whizzing Spiders, Limited Edition'. "
The young cashier seemed to be understanding our problem, because he was nodding. "It's our Find-What-You-Seek Box."
"Oh!" I said excitedly, while George said, "What?"
George didn't seem to understand, so the cashier said to him, "People see in it what they are looking for, in case they don't find it anywhere else in the shop." Finally George exclaimed, "Ah, that's convenient!"
The young man continued, "But if for example you are looking for Skiving Snackboxes, and you see them in the box," he pointed at it, "You will see that we charge a bit more for it than we do with the ones we have in that aisle," he pointed at the place where George was looking. "So before buying anything that you see in the box, make sure you've not seen it anywhere else in the joke shop. . . or ask me; after all, I work here. But I didn't tell you that," he said seriously.
"So, anything can appear in that box? Anything you're looking for?" I asked.
"Yeah," the cashier said, "as long as it is not too big."
"Even things that are not joke-related?" I asked, hopefully.
"Yeah, though that's not very common," he said, while I grinned. "People usually come here when they're looking for joke stuff, you know. After all, this is a joke shop."
"So how much is the encyclopaedia?" I asked, happily.
"Let me see. . ." He looked at a paper in his desk. "Clothes, 2 galleons; All Books, 1 galleon; Joke Shop Products, 1 galleon, but if we have it in stock it's 10 Knuts more expensive; everything else, 5 galleons."
"What?" George shouted. "What if I'm looking for toilet paper?" The cashier raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes sleepily. "Will you charge me 5 galleons?"
"Yeah," said the young man boringly; he straightened up. "But I know you're smarter than that," he sniggered and with his right hand knocked at George's head, then muttered, as to himself, "Yep, it's not hollow." George massaged his head in the place where the young man had hit him. Then, in his normal tone, the cashier said, "You can produce it with a spell, you know." He looked at me. "That lady can lend you the encyclopaedia. You'll have to buy it first though, obviously."
I looked at George, "Can — can you please buy it? The encyclopaedia?"
He looked at me for a minute, then said, "Sorry, I can't. . . I, eh, just have a Galleon," which he showed to me. It was a golden coin with a radius the size of an American nickel.
"So? That's what it costs. Books are extremely useful," I said convincingly.
"I have to buy the whizzing spiders. . ." said George, preparing to hand over the Galleon to the cashier to buy them.
"For what? Scaring your brother Ron? There are more things to life than having fun, George, you have to understand that."
"Are you psychic?" George said, surprised.
"No, I don't think so. But I was thinking about it and maybe I do possess the Sight." I grinned. "So can you please buy me the encyclopaedia? I promise, when I earn some money I will pay you back! I promise!"
"But, I only have a Galleon."
"But, can't you buy the spiders later?" I said. The responsible Susanna said 'Later! LATER!? He should NEVER buy those Whizzy — things! You're acting exceptionally strange lately, Susanna! What's with you?' Then the nice Susanna exclaimed: 'Don't be so pushy to him! He's brought you here, he's been all nice to you, and this is how you repay him? He has all the right to buy what he wants, even if it isn't for a reasonable purpose whatsoever. "I mean, do you really have to buy them?"
George looked stressed. I began, "George. . ."
"Oh for heaven's sake! Get up here, lady, whatever your name is! I can't bear it!" the cashier beckoned at me.
"Me?" I asked, mildly shocked.
"Yes, you, lady," he responded. I walked toward him. "Climb these steps, open the door and get the book." I obeyed: I climbed a pair of steps, opened the crystal door and snatched the encyclopædia. George said, "Whoa! How did the whizzing spiders turn into that book in less than a second?" It was very heavy and seemed bigger now than from the floor. I got down to the floor and looked at the crystal box again; it appeared to be empty now. The cashier said, "Keep it." I frowned; surely the cashier did not mean to give me the book for free.
"But George has not agreed to —" I started.
"Meaning you don't have to pay for it," he said simply, looking away and drumming his fingers on the desk.
"Yes, but. . ." I said, but George nudged me.
"Keep it, before I change my mind," he smiled for the first time; with it, he revealed a quite handsome face. I smiled back and opened the book from the back. It had nearly two thousand pages and a small illustration every few lines.
George looked from me to the cashier. "So that means I can have the whizzing spiders for free too?"
The smile faded from the cashier's young face. "I know you have a galleon with you."
"Oh! that's too bad! Alright, then, I'll buy them," he handed the galleon to the cashier. He stood waiting. From my experience, George had to retrieve the bewitched fake spiders from the box, because if somebody else did, they would get what they want.
"What are you waiting for?" the young man asked. "Get the whizzing spiders! Unless, of course, you wanted to give me the money as a donation."
"Oh, right," he said, and climbed the steps to get the spiders, although he did not need to do it, because he was reasonably tall. I watched him take something from the box — I didn't see anything — and when it was out of it, a bag of small, black spiders appeared in George's hand.
"Thank you for your purchase, please come again," the cashier said, singsong.
Instead of making for the door to leave, George looked for other interesting things that were in the shop. I, on the other hand, sat down on the floor and began to read the encyclopaedia's prologue. After about 5 minutes I was beginning to worry; it was a quarter to eleven and George's mom would be expecting us to arrive soon.
"George!" I said; we were the only customers on the shop now. "It's a quarter to eleven!"
"So?" he said. "Give me just a minute." I sighed and continued to read. The book was amazing, it was organized in the following way:
Prologue...1
Making a Perfect Cast...7
Production Spells...10
Modification Spells... 65
Transfiguration Spells...148
Memory Charms...216
Element Incantations...300
Defensive Spells...372
Hexes...450
Jinxes...567
Counter-curses...643
Learning to cast non-verbal spells... 964
Becoming a Spell-master...985
Potions...1009
Glossary...1741
Index...1858
Before I knew it, it was eleven o'clock. "GEORGE! It's eleven o'clock!"
"Mmm," he said, recklessly.
"Your mother is waiting for us!" I said, worried.
"Alright, alright!" He came. "Let's go, then. . ."
We got outside and walked to a place where very few people were walking; even though it was late, there were still many wizards in Diagon Alley. George took out the battery and began the countdown, "Five. . . Four. . . Three . . . Two-oo . . ." I was ready to touch the battery, but then George sneezed. "Sorry — three. . . two. . . one. . .now!" We touched the Portkey at the same time and found ourselves in the Weasley's garden again, this time dimmed by the absence of the sun. There was a noise and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in pajamas, appeared in the doorsteps, as she had done this afternoon.
"About time! I was beginning to worry about you!" she said; I looked at George with a face that said 'Told you!'. We entered the five-story home; George put my owl and the bag with my school robes and my wand in a corner and went up the stairs, while I waited for Mrs. Weasley to tell me where I was going to sleep or any other additional detail.
"It's six minutes past eleven, dear, you should get a good night's sleep before going to Hogwarts. I told Ginny to wait for you, she's reading upstairs; ask her for your pajamas, she must have found some spare one." I made to climb the stairs, but then Mrs. Weasley said, "Oh, and — I know I told you this already, but — make yourself at home!"
"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley!" I replied and continued up the stairs. I opened the door and, as Mrs. Weasley had said, Ginny was still awake.
"Oh, hello, how did it go?" she asked me, putting her book aside; I closed the door behind me. It was a very small room, with two twin-sized beds, one at each side, an end table between them, and a small dresser near the door. There was a window on top of the end table, and the only sources of light were a magical lamp on the end table and the light that came from downstairs in the kitchen.
"Fine! I got all the things I needed plus this book!" I showed it to her.
"Wow!" she said, looking at several pages. "Very expensive, was it?"
"No, would you believe me if I told you I got it for free?" I said happily.
"Really? Wow, that's so unusual," she said, giving me back the encyclopaedia. "It's great!"
"Thanks! Do you have extra pyjamas?" I asked, placing the book on my bed.
"Oh, no, I was looking for one, but I didn't find it. I'm sorry," she said.
"Oh, okay," for some seconds I lay motionless in my bed, thinking, then I remembered my encyclopaedia. "Ginny?"
"Mm hmm?"
"Do you think it's dangerous for me to try a spell for the first time — now?" I asked, getting to my feet.
"What kind of spell?" she asked, sitting on the bed with her legs crossed.
"A spell to produce a pyjama," I said, opening the encyclopaedia on the Index.
"I don't think so; the worst that can happen is the pyjama being not your size, and you can always try again, so that's not a problem," she said, reasonably.
"I'll be right back," I said, went down the stairs, got the wand and went back to Ginny's room. "Now, I'd have to produce some fabric, like a square metre or so, scissors, a needle and thread. . . Production Spells. . . Page 10. . .Aha! 'All production spells begin by double waving of the wand, pointing upwards, followed by a flicking movement.' And fabric is. . . fabric. . . Aha! 'Textum'. Now how do I decide the quantity, quality and colour of the material?"
"Hmm . . ." Ginny said. She got up and looked at the book. "Look, it says down here you have to really concentrate on it."
"Okay, that would be cotton, about a metre of fabric, and sky blue — I love that colour," I said.
"Well, go on!" Ginny urged.
"Wait," I said, and closed my eyes firmly. "Double-wave, flick. . . Cotton, a metre, sky blue, Textum. . . okay. . ."
"GO on!" Ginny said, eagerly.
"Oh, I'm so nervous! Okay. . ." I closed my eyes to concentrate better on the image, waved the wand two times toward the ceiling and at the same time of the flicking movement, I said, "Textum!" I began to open my eyes slowly. A metre or so of sky-blue fabric was floating on midair.
"Oh my goodness!" said Ginny, clapping her hands, "that's great! That's really good!"
"Whoa," I was so excited! My first spell! And it turned out all right! Ginny got to her feet and touched the fabric. It instantly stopped floating and fell to her hands.
"It's soft! Like you wanted!" Ginny said, I grinned. "Well, continue with the other stuff!" she said, anxiously.
"Okay, okay, let me recover from the shock . . . !" I said; we both laughed. "So it's the scissors next, right?" I said, rhetorically, while looking for the word 'scissors'. "Here! It's 'forfipes'. That's a nice name! Here I go . . ." I waved the wand two times then flicked it and said 'Forfipes!'. This time, I had my eyes open so I could see a silvery substance getting out of the wand and obtaining the shape of medium-sized scissors. After some seconds, the substance had transformed into solid metal and was floating on midair, too. "Good, now how do I get the scissors to cut the fabric without cutting your bed?"
"You'd have to make it float like the scissors are doing now," she said simply.
"Obviously, but how do I do that?" I returned to the index, then remembered the levitation spell. "I could use 'Wingardium Leviosa' then jinx the scissors, but the levitation spell lasts only while I'm controlling it; I can't do two spells at the same time!"
"There's got to be another way. . ." she said. "Maybe if you tried 'Wingardium Leviosa' and then quickly try another spell to hold the fabric in place . . ."
"That's it! There has to be a 'Holding Charm' or something like that, let me see. . ."
"How about 'Arresto Momentum'?" Ginny said; I looked down at the floor, thinking. "Professor Dumbledore used it last year to stop Harry from falling hard in the floor when he dropped off his broom."
"Well, I'll try, but I can't assure you anything. . . Wingardium Leviosa!" the fabric raised as I moved my wand, then rapidly said, "Arresto Momentum!"
BANG
The room was filled with colourful lights while it shook from side to side; the lamp on the end table flashed for a couple of moments.
"What was that?" asked Ginny, terrified. "And mum's probably coming to see what's happened. . ."
The door was closed, so that when Mrs. Weasley talked, his voice was barely audible, "Fred — George ! You're not using those Fizzing Whizzbees in your room again, are you?", she said, in an I-think-I-know-what-these-two-are-up-to tone.
And then, in an even lower volume, we heard, "No mum," — "No Fizzing Whizbees here," — "Not a chance," — "We're good boys."
"You better be!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.
"Ok," I said. "If I can't do Arresto Momentum, then what spell am I going to try now?"
"Maybe it's not you, maybe the spell doesn't work in this place, or that the spell isn't the most suitable for this. Look up 'Holding charm' or something like that."
"Let me see. . ." I turned to the index again. "How about this one? It's the suspension charm — of course! It's the one Hermione used to paralyse the cornish pixies two years ago!"
"Er — how d'you — ?" Ginny stammered.
"Not difficult to remember. . . It's 'immobilus', like immobilize. Now. . ." I waved the wand with a swishing and then a flicking movement, while I said: 'Wingardium Leviosa'. I rose the fabric further upwards than I had intended earlier so that it didn't hit the ground too soon, then quickly said 'Immobilus!'. The fabric stood on place. "Great! Now to bewitch the scissors." It was great how all the spells I tried turned out all right, was the wand the reason why they did? 'Makes sense to me,' said one of the Susannas, probably the humble one, 'because you've never even tried one spell before!' 'Shut up,' said the know-it-all, 'my faculties are presently at work! For your information, my absolutely superior magical talents are the ones behind all this.'
So, in this manner I continued to do spells and enchantments until, finally, at five to midnight I had produced fair pyjamas that were roughly my size.
"Put it on! See if it fits!" Ginny urged me, eagerly.
I put it on; it was a bit tight, but considering the fact that it was the result of all my first spells, I was greatly satisfied. I sat on the bed and looked at the lamp in the table. I blinked instinctively and the lamp stopped giving off light.
"Uh, what has happened?" I asked, perplexed.
"Oh," Ginny said. Then a second later, the light came again. "It's the lamp. . . My brother Percy modified it so that we can easily turn it on and off by simply blinking while staring at it. It's quite clever."
"Excellent!" I said, then blinked many times at the lamp. It flashed many times on and off. Ginny's lamp had turned into a groovy dancing disco ball! I began singing a made-up techno song and did the so-called robot. We both laughed vigorously. "This is amazing. . . It's like a dream come true!" I said, relaxing on the bed.
"What do you mean?" Ginny asked.
"The fact that I'm here! In a magical world, away from mine. . ." This made me think of my family again.
"Oh, well, I guess your story's a bit different from other Muggles'. In the first place, it's other people who took you from your country to here, not your family. Second, you received the letter at your school instead of your house. Third, you're going to enter Hogwarts right into 4th year, not 1st year like the rest of us did. Matters have changed a lot in such a short period of time!"
"Yes, they have! Hm! Every time I think of all the Harry Potter things I have at home and then I find myself here. . . Real Harry Potter. . . Live! It's so much better than all the things I have about him in my room."
"What? You knew about Harry even before they went to pick you up?" Ginny asked, perplexed and amazed at the same time.
"Yes, he's particularly famous in pretty much all of the world!" I said.
"Really?! What do you exactly mean by famous?" Ginny asked.
I shrugged, "Almost everyone knows who he is, and for the rest, his name rings a bell."
Ginny frowned, as though thinking, 'Is Susanna feeling well?'. "We thought he was only famous in our world! I mean, muggles are not supposed to know about this kind of things! Muggles go mad and wizards go mad as a result!"
"Well, muggles know more than his name. . . They have action figures, collector cards, and, as a matter of fact, they know all of you. . . Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Vol – er – You-Know-Who I mean, Rita Skeeter, even you, Ginny!" I said, mirthfully.
"Me? All — What exactly do you mean by all of us?" Ginny was beginning to look worried.
"I told you! Your family, everyone at Hogwarts, everyone at the Ministry, Harry's family. . ." I emphasized every word in the following phrase, "Every single character in Joanne Kathleen Rowling's books!"
Ginny was in a state you couldn't tell whether she was astonished or anxious. "What in the wizardly world are you talking about?"
I sighed deeply. "I'm saying that all muggles on earth know about every magical person in your world because there's a British lady who made you all by writing about you in a set of seven books titled: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth and Seventh years at Hogwarts respectively – which narrate, from a point of view that's focussed on Harry's life, what happens to him and to all the faculty and students at Hogwarts and how every single thing that happens — usually related to You-Know-Who — affects each and every one of you, particularly Harry Potter, whose parents were killed by He-Who-Must-Blah-Blah-Be-Named and who's famous because he's the only person who has survived the unforgivable killing curse 'Avada Kedavra' when he was just months old, which makes him even more renowned!"
There was a really long pause. Then,"You really know what you're talking about, don't you?" Ginny said, amazed. "At first I thought you were joking, but now it seems it's true what you said. I mean, no one who's making up something like that can spring up all those words and be serious while talking at the same time. . ."
"Of course it is true! Plus there's this company called Warner Brothers which, in cooperation with Chris Columbus (director), Steve Kloves (screenwriter), Mark Radcliffe (producer), John Williams (soundtrack composer), Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, Richard Harris, R.I.P., James and Oliver Phelps[... which are actors, began the filming of the motion picture Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (U.S.A.), or, as known in the UK, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in the year 2001. And did you know that your name in real life is Bonnie Wright?"
Ginny didn't know what else to say, was I speaking too much? Yes, highly probable, said one Susanna. No, no, of course not! Feel free to continue chin-wagging until you drive poor Ginny Weasley crazy, said another one. She's already crazy, said another in a dull voice.
"Okay, you know what? Just forget all of what I just said. . . It will only confuse you more than what you are now."
"No, no, it's fine. I — I think I get it," Ginny said. I was surprised. "It's like we're characters from a story or something, and that we've come out of the book we belong to. . . But I don't know this Rowling woman, I mean — I know I'm not supposed to — This really is confusing! — It's very difficult to believe or understand — How can it be? But at the same time, it seems so interesting!"
"Tell me about it," I said. "Well, now you can understand how am I feeling!"
"Yeah. . . Wow. . . How can this be?! I — Ouch, my brain hurts — But I'd like to figure out this thing!" Ginny said, pressing her right hand against her forehead.
"Yes, me too! It really is like a dream. . . You know what? Let's just leave it there. . . Don't try to figure it out because then we're going to have a serious problem with our brains. Something just isn't right. . . Sooner or later we're going to find out what it is. . . I hope. . ."
"Yeah, me too," Ginny said, turning off the magical lamp, this time by blowing air to it, like a candle. "Good night, then. Sweet dreams. . ."
"Thanks, but I'm already living one. . . And, God! Is it sweet! Hee, hee! Goodnight."