Chapter 3: Diagon Alley
Minerva McGonagall had never liked muggle contraptions. Specifically she hated automobiles and, most especially, riding in them There was something very disconcerting about two tons of metal and machinery hurtling down a road at such great speeds And the way some muggles drove! It was as though they expected an unseen force to save them from certain peril. Fortunately for her, Mr. Granger seemed to be one of the sanest motorists on the road. Forcing herself not to think of the things muggle drivers were doing to put her life in danger at that very moment, Minerva allowed herself to consider the reason she was in this muggle vehicle in the first place.
From what she had learned about Hermione Granger in the last two hours she thought the girl was just the kind of student the likes of which Hogwarts needed a few more. Miss Granger was smart and studious. Jean Granger had shown Minerva her daughter's academic records and they were very impressive. Hermione was working several years ahead of her peers and still achieving outstanding marks. Minerva realized that the coursework at Hogwarts differed considerably in subject matter, but she doubted it would make a difference to Miss Granger's academic performance. Apparently Miss Granger was a voracious reader and had such an unquenchable thirst for knowledge that the Granger family made more trips to the library than the grocery store. It was too bad that she would probably be in Ravenclaw. Griffindor could use all the points that this girl was likely to win.
Fortunately they were able to arrive at Charring Cross Road in front of the Leaky Cauldron without incident and, once Mr. Granger had found a parking spot and they disembarked from the car, Minerva led the Grangers to a small, slightly dingy pub nestled between a book store and a record shop. Mr. and Mrs. Granger did not appear to see the Leaky Cauldron, but it was clear that Miss Granger could. Judging by the frown on the girl's face Minerva guessed that it was not exactly what she had expected.
"I assure you, Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall, "that the view from where we are going is quite a bit more glamorous." She then instructed the Grangers to hold their daughter's hands so that they could be led inside. As they passed through the pub the Professor was greeted by the barman and several of his patrons. They passed through a door and found themselves in a small courtyard, occupied by nothing but a trash can.
"Watch carefully," Professor McGonagall instructed Hermione, "you will have to do this yourself in the future." She drew her wand and showed Hermione a brick that was three above and two across from the trash can. Professor McGonagall tapped the brick three times with her wand. For a moment it appeared that nothing had changed, but then a hole began to grow at the exact spot where the wand had touched the wall. In a few mere seconds the wall was no more. In its place was a large archway overlooking a cobblestone street.
"Welcome," said Professor McGonagall, "to Diagon Alley."
There was so much to see, to hear, and to smell that Hermione was sure she would suffer from a sensory overload. There was magic being performed everywhere, the figures on posters and advertisements were moving, instruments and artifacts on display let off bangs, hisses, and pops, the air was hung with the smell of delicious food from a nearby restaurant as well as the rather unwelcome smell of potion ingredients from the apothecary. Hermione was sure she could spend a week here and still not see everything there was to see. She was just considering where she ought to go first when Professor McGonagall broke her chain of thought.
"We ought to go to Gringots first. You'll need to exchange muggle money for wizarding currency."
The transfiguration professor led the Grangers down the alley to a large, white marble building. It was certainly the most imposing structure in Diagon Alley, towering over the other shops and casting looming shadows on the otherwise sunny street. As they ascended the marble steps Hermione noticed that the two people standing on either side of the bronze doors didn't look normal. In fact, Hermione was quite convinced that they weren't even human. She turned to Professor McGonagall, intending to ask what these creatures were. Before she could find a tactful way to voice her curiosity the Professor seemed to realize what she intended to ask.
"They're goblins" said McGonagall. "They have controlled Gringots for several centuries, ever since the uprising in 1612, but you will learn all about that in History of Magic with Professor Binns."
The group continued up the stairs, through a set of silver doors, engraved with a warning against thievery. Hermione wondered what was meant by "finding more than treasure there". Beyond the silver doors was a marble hall of cavernous proportions. There were many more goblins in here including about a hundred who sat behind a long polished wood counter, writing in ledgers, weighing gems, and helping customers.
Mr. Granger was able to exchange pounds for galleons without difficulty and, once Professor McGonagall explained the value of Galleons, Sickles, Knuts to the family, they were ready to go shopping.
Professor McGonagall led the Grangers to a shop directly across the street from the bank. Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions was devoid of customers when they entered and Hermione was able to leave barely ten minutes later with three pairs of neatly folded black robes, a thick, warm cloak, a pointed hat, and a pair of dragon hide gloves.
Their next stop was at the apothecary. The smell was absolutely putrid, but Hermione soon forgot about the noxious odors as she examined the plethora of ingredients. There were things in jars, bottles, and barrels of every shape and size. She was surprised to learn, by virtue of finding their pickled, stewed, or dried body parts for sale, that many of the creatures that she thought only existed in fairy tales were real.
To purchase Hermione's cauldron, scales, and phials they went to a potion supply store next to the apothecary. It seemed impossible that there could be so many different kinds of cauldrons, including ones make of solid gold and silver, one big enough for her whole family to sit in comfortably, and several encrusted with precious gems.
Several doors down from the potion supply store was a particularly fascinating shop devoted to astronomy. The walls and ceiling were bewitched to look like the night sky. Stars and planets gleamed down upon them, casting a surprisingly bright light upon the various telescopes and galaxy models. The Grangers spent quite some time admiring a table showing the solar system's moving stars and planets and wishing that they could purchase it for their home.
As Hermione left the astronomy shop, brass telescope in hand, Hermione realized that they were either headed to purchase spell books or a wand. Frankly, she wasn't sure which she more excited to possess: the books, giving her knowledge of spells or the wand, making her able to perform said spells. All such contemplation was forgotten however, as Professor McGonagall led her into the bookstore called Flourish and Blotts. Hermione was quite sure she was in heaven. There were just so many books. Books in every shape, size, and color, and all of them had knowledge of a world that she was only just beginning to discover. Before her parents could blink she was off, booklist in hand, ready to plunder the very depths of the shelves.
Not even ten minutes later she was back, laden with a copies of the first year texts. They made quite an impressive stack. Mr. Granger, fearing that his daughter would topple under the weight of her books, hastily removed them from her arms.
"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said, beaming up at her new teacher, "I was wondering if you could recommend some books for background reading? I don't know anything about the Wizarding World. I want to learn all about it and I'll have a lot of free time this summer."
"Certainly, Miss Granger," said the transfiguration mistress. Personally, I would recommend Hogwarts: A History, Modern Magical History, and A Muggleborn's Guide to Magic. This was really quite impressive thought Minerva. Eight textbooks would keep most eleven year olds occupied for well over a year. In fact, she highly suspected that most of the first years barely did half of their reading assignments. Yet, here was proof that there was even just one student that enjoyed reading, even asked for extra reading.
Hermione scampered off to find the extra books then accompanied her father to the counter where she chatted amicably with the clerk while Mr. Granger paid and loaded the heavy tomes into several bags.
Meanwhile, Minerva was still contemplating the average Hogwarts student's lack of enthusiasm for reading when Mrs. Granger, who had been remarkably quiet all afternoon, spoke.
"Professor McGonagall," she said rather hesitantly, as though debating whether she ought to speak her mind, "I am excited for Hermione to go to Hogwarts, I really am." There was a pause before she continued, seemingly choosing her words very carefully, "but, I have to admit to being a little concerned. Hermione has never been the most… popular child. As a matter of fact, she has been downright bullied and ostracized by her peers. Our Hermione is a strong girl, I wouldn't say she's overly sensitive, but the truth is that she has never really had any friends. I get the feeling that Hermione is getting her hopes up, thinking that all of her peers will be as into books as she is. Judging by the other children I've seen around the alley today, I'm betting that's not the case. Kids are kids, she's just as likely to get teased for being brainy at Hogwarts. When she was home we could keep an eye on things and make sure they weren't getting too bad, perhaps have a discrete word with a teacher. I'm afraid that when she goes off to school we won't know or be able to do anything about it if she's miserable."
There was a short silence. Minerva thought for a moment about how she ought to respond and then said, "Bullying is not tolerated at Hogwarts, although I won't pretend as though it does not happen anyway. The professors do all they can to ensure the physical and emotional safety of all our students. In particular the student's head of house should be consulted. Your daughter appears to be a likely candidate for Ravencalw. I will be sure to let Professor Flitwick know that Miss Granger is likely to be a target and I, myself, will keep an eye open. There is no reason a student should be bullied because she enjoys her education and takes it seriously.
"Thank you Professor," Jean replied, but before she could say anything else on the matter her husband and daughter finished up their business at the counter and turned to join them.
"Last thing to get is your wand," said Professor McGonagall briskly giving Hermione a small smile. "Ollivanders is just up the street."
The group walked for several minutes before coming to a halt before a small, very old shop. A single wand was displayed upon a faded purple cushion in the window. Peeling gold lettering above the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
"Wow," breathed Hermione. She had never experienced anything connected to something so ancient.
The three Grangers and the professor entered the shop in silence, finding themselves in a very dusty front room with thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly up to the ceiling on all sides and one spindly wooden chair. As the door closed a bell tinkled somewhere in the depths of the shop. After a few seconds of silence a soft voice emanated from the shadows.
"Good afternoon."
The Grangers jumped and looked around. A short and thin man with luminous grey eyes had emerged from a back room. He gazed around the room until his eyes landed on McGonagall.
"Ah, Minerva McGonagall. Mahogany and dragon heart string, eleven and three quarter inches. Quite a nice combination for transfiguration."
"Indeed," said Minerva crisply. It was a bit wearing that Mr. Ollivander thought it necessary to remind her that he had made and remembered her wand two or three dozen times a year.
"Well now, what do we have here?" queried Ollivander, turning to Hermione. "Muggle-born, eh? Not to worry we'll get you fitted up with a wand in no time. If you would extend your dominant hand please?"
Hermione extended her right arm as Mr. Ollivander pulled a tape measure with silver markings from his pocket. He began to measure her from shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, and several other odd distances while he gave what was clearly a rehearsed speech.
"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Granger. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heatstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard or witch's wand."
At some point during his speech he left the measuring tape to continue its work on its own and began flitting around the store selecting boxes from the many stacks against the walls. Once his arms were full he returned to the center of the room said "that will do" to the measuring tape, which fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, and handed Hermione a thin, lightly colored wand.
Oak and phoenix feather, ten inches, nice and swishy. Give it a wave."
Hermione did so, feeling rather foolish. Nothing happened.
Ollivander took the oak wand back and handed her another. "Birch and unicorn tail hair, twelve inches, 9 inches, rigid."
This wand let off a bang when she waved it and Ollivander snatched it back in a hurry.
"Maple and phoenix feather, seven inches. Quite whippy."
Once again there was no result. Hermione tried another two dozen wands before Ollivander handed here yet another and said "vine wood and dragon heartstring, ten and a quarter inches. Strong, yet reasonably pliable."
Before she even waved this wand Hermione knew it would be hers. Warmth was spreading from the tips of her fingers, through her body. She brought the wand up and swung it in an arch. A rainbow of sparks cascaded from the end and cast dancing lights on the walls. Hermione felt so pleased. She couldn't stop smiling.
Hermione put her new wand lovingly back into its box while her father paid Mr. Ollivander seven gold galleons.
When they exited the shop the afternoon sun was low on the horizon. Their shopping complete, Professor McGonagall walked the grangers back down the alley, through the Leaky Cauldron, and to their parked car. She reversed the shrinking charm that she had applied to make the many bags, particularly those filled with books, easier to carry, and helped Mr. Granger load them into the trunk of the car.
"Well, Miss Granger," she said, "I do hope that you enjoy the rest of your summer holiday. I shall see you at Hogwarts."
"Yes, thank-you Professor."
McGonagall took several steps backwards, turned on the spot, and vanished.
"I can't wait to learn how to do that," said Hermione to no one in particular.
AN: Sorry for the delay. I'm updating on a Friday, just a couple of Fridays after I had origionally intended.
Just as a note: Minerva's wand isn't cannon. I made it up, but JKR never told us anything about McGonagall's wand. Hermione's of vine wood and dragon heartstring is cannon, but the length is not. that was never specified in the books or by Rowling.