There were three stages that Alek had to endure from his parents. The first was of course disbelief. Wizards did not exist, and even if they did, none of Alek's tutors had ever heard of this 'Hogwarts' before. But as the days ticked by, more letters came, sometimes ten at a time would shoot through the boys window, leaving a mess on his bedroom floor. Whoever was behind this wanted Alek to attend this…'institution' quite a bit. Slowly, they began to take the messages seriously, which lead to stage two.
Outrage. Who were these people to make Alek buy his own supplies in a currency they did not recognize? And furthermore, the invite had come with a train ticket, Kings Cross Station, in London of all places. If they wanted him so badly the least they could do was send a private escort, as would any school that respected their lineage. These people seemed to have no regard for status or tradition, treating Alek as if he were some scholarship student. The outrage stage lasted quite a bit, and Alek began to worry.
The date the school had given them was coming up, and Alek wondered if he could get a boat to London in time. As he often said when begging to his parents, he was fluent in English. The writer seemed to be worried as well, sending more letters every day. But what could possibly be done? One doesn't just send a boy of noble blood alone to a country to attend a school no one has ever heard of, and there was no way of arguing with them, as they left no address. Even if they had, it was quite clear that the writer did not communicate by any sensible means.
Alek kept some of his letters, reading over the supplies needed. Some of them were downright disgusting, newt's eyes and batwings, but some of the book titles sounded fascinating. He was told that, as a first year, he was unable to bring a broomstick. Why on earth would he want a broomstick? Was there no house service at this place? His pleas became ever more desperate with every passing day. He didn't quite know why he wanted to attend so badly. Or why he even believed that this place was actually a school for young wizards. Maybe it was because he wanted so badly for this place to exist, as he had wanted his lies to be true as a child. People didn't seem to care about princes and archdukes there, and maybe it was a place where it didn't matter that he would never inherit his father's title. The idea of 'Archduke Aleksander' melted into the immense longing of "Alek the Wizard."
Slowly but surely the third stage rolled around, and too close for comfort in Alek's opinion. Acceptance. This was of course due to a letter that came two weeks from the day he would be expected. It was the same letter, but squished into the envelope was a personal message from the headmaster, saying that due to the circumstances, Alek would be permitted one 'muggle' guardian to stay with him for the duration of his first year. Alongside the message was a note to give to a bank that gave the boy an allowance, as was the custom for any "Muggleborn" students.
Whatever a muggle was, Sophie said that they shouldn't be insulted by being referred to as one. As instructed by the headmaster, the Archduke and his wife announced that they were sending their son to a private and extremely isolated institution for the remainder of his studies.
And so, a week away from the date given, Alek stepped off of the boat in London. He expected to be met with bystanders and press, wondering why an Austrian prince would want to go to an English school, but it was as if the passersby didn't even see him. Their eyes slid past him and Count Volger, who had agreed to be his escort, as if they were invisible. As he looked about in utter amazement at the unimportance of his arrival, a flock of men in long black trench coats approached him. Despite their dreary and unusual dress, the tallest of them had an excited expression as he reached out his hand.
"Prince Aleksander then?" He said before jerking it unceremoniously, "Oh it is a pleasure. We've never had a case like yours I'm afraid, its quite new to all of us. But just think, Prince, you're the first."
"The first what?" Alek asked slowly, taken aback at their brass treatment.
"You don't know?" the man said, then his grin widened, "Well usually your muggle nobility keep it all in the family, if you understand my meaning, and never have room to develop the gift. You're the first wizard to be born from muggle royalty, you see, and of course the papers are all abuzz about it. 'Muggleborn Prince Attends Hogwarts' you must feel so honored."
Alek blinked. He was excited, but the idea that he was anything special never crossed his mind. But then how many princes did he know who went away to mysterious schools in Britain?
"Yes, I suppose," he managed, "Might I ask your name sir?"
"Oh yes of course," the man said, searching madly through his pockets, then produced a card from his pocket. He offered it to Alek, only to have it be snatched away by Volger.
"'Daniel Perkins, chairmen of Muggle Affairs'" Volger read, and then fixed Daniel with his solemn glare. Perkins did not flinch as he grabbed the counts hand and pumped it energetically.
"And you must be the boy's escort. You really twisted our arm, you know. No muggle has ever been on the grounds of Hogwarts, you see, very new."
With that the man turned on his heel and marched into the street. His entourage followed, the last of them beckoning for Alek to follow.
As Alek trotted to keep up, the man talked into the air as if delivering a speech.
"All very secret you see," he said, "Other Wizarding schools would have sold their headmaster to have you attend, but Hogwarts is the best of the best, you believe me, the absolute best."
"Other wizarding schools?" Alek managed as he tried to keep up. The man had a very brisk way about him.
"Oh yes, there are many others, many of them closer to Austria than Hogwarts, but Evangeline won in the end, a fighter, that one." Daniel smiled and halted abruptly, "Here we are."
Alek didn't quite know what to expect when he looked up; certainly not what stood before him. It was a particularly unimpressive pub with grubby letters that spelled out 'The Mermaid."
As one of the men held the door, Daniel strode in, followed closely by Alek. Panic shot through his gut. This was a kidnapping then! How could they have been so foolish? Wizards did not exist, and neither did this school in London. This was obviously some ploy for this Perkins fellow to-
-Walk in a straight line to the back wall of the pub, and begin an elaborate routine of tapping bricks.
Hearing the door slam behind him, Alek looked back at Volger, who had similar thoughts on his mind. But as he turned to face Daniel and demand an explanation he saw the man was already quickly walking through an arch that had appeared on the wall. Alek barely had time to gape as he hurried to catch up. This was saying something, as there was an awful lot to gape at.
They seemed to have arrived at a port of some sorts, but nothing like the docks of London. It was as if they had traveled to a different world, a world unrelated to the dreary city they came from. Colorful flags flapped in the wind, massive cages hung from stalls set up at the edge of the docks, and boxes of all sizes where being unloaded from ships that hovered above the water. Everywhere Alek looked something vibrant was whizzing overhead or weaving between bodies that packed the wooden planks.
As they passed, vendors clad in billowing robes called out their wares, a few of them waving fistfuls of what looked like purple grain to their potential buyers.
Through all this chaos Alek managed to trail behind Daniel, who dove in and out of the crowd like a dolphin. The pure mass of people both astounded and stunned Alek into an amazed silence. He could not remember being in a place this crowded, or been shoved by so many strangers. Half of him wanted to shout out in annoyance and the other half wanted to run and hide.
"This way your highness!" Daniel called to him, waving a gloved hand in the direction of a shop ahead.
In the end the flock of men, or wizards he supposed, had to form a protective circle to keep Alek from being swept away by the masses. They were just as bad as the crowd, shoving and poking him in the right direction until he was pushed into the little shop Daniel had disappeared into.
Contrary to the roar of the public outside, a dead silence lay inside, as well as a musty smell. As Alek's eyes adjusted, he saw shelves and shelves of little thin boxes. As he stared he almost ran into a dark brunette carrying a stack of boxes.
"Sugar," she exclaimed angrily, as her cargo fell. The cases popped open, and little wooden rods rolled across the floor. Alek backed away, mortified at his mistake.
"S-sorry" he managed, looking down at her, then tried to hurry past her.
"Sorry my foot," she snapped in a thick Armenian accent, "Help me you idiot!"
Frozen with surprise, Alek turned, to face her. She couldn't have been older than fourteen, and here she was ordering him about.
The girl didn't look at him as she worked to collect the rods and put them in their cases. Finally her head tilted upward.
"Stop your staring and help me."
"Yes of course," Alek managed as he obediently knelt to pick up the rods.
Daniel's head swung around from a shelf.
"Hurry if you please, your highness. We have a lot to cover-" he began, then saw the boy kneeling on the floor.
At this moment Volger entered, and glared down his nose at Alek. Slowly the boy stood, and with an apologetic nod the girl, followed Daniel to the counter.
"This is Zaven, best wands this end of the Wizarding world," Daniel said loudly, thumping the man on the back.
"Best wands on the other end as well," Zaven smiled, "As of next week of course. Have to make it to France in time for the Beauxbatons."
"No ones ever been this late to get their supplies, but your family were a stubborn lot." Daniel said to Alek, "But you have a few left I'm sure, eh Zaven?"
The man chuckled.
"Business is always slow the last few days," he admitted, then leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Another supplier has set up shop in London."
"No!" Daniel gasped, "Where?"
"In one of those new shops they're building near Gringotes. Diagon Alley they're calling it. All sorts of new places, will run us traveling types out of business!"
"Never," Daniel huffed, then pushed Alek forward, "Young Alek here needs a wand, and no youngster is going to be better at choosing one than you."
Zaven smiled.
"Hogwarts then?" he asked, looking to Alek warmly, "I thought so. Old Evangeline usually gets her way. Has connections. And a good thing to, no better place than Hogwarts. Lilit!" he called, and to Alek's embarrassment the girl trotted into sight. "Lilit's in her third year at Hogwarts. Didn't see any point in going somewhere local to the Ottoman Empire, we always end up in London anyway." He gave the girl's shoulders a squeeze. "Maybe you'll be in the same house!"
The girl sniffed, and Alek thought he heard her mutter, "Doubt it."
But she was shooed away, and Zaven began to climb a ladder to the higher shelves.
"You have no preference of course?" He called down. It took a moment for Alek to realize he was being spoken to, then started and called up a shaky affirmative.
"Try this then," the man said as he leapt off of his ladder, "Dragon heartstring. New model, flexible."
Alek took the thing and waited for something to happen. It was just a lump of wood in his hand. Impatient, he gave it a little flick and a pile of wands shot off their shelves.
He heard Lilit cursing as she picked herself up.
"No worries no worries," Zaven chuckled, "Try this one. Phoenix feather, very old, one of a kind."
Alek stared at the wand, and nervously waved it at the floor, where the carpet abruptly burst into flame. Zaven chuckled and pulled out his own wand, flicking it at the small fire and extinguishing it.
"Closer," he said, then disappeared behind a shelf. "Lilit!" he called to his daughter, "Give the boy a Hammish 36."
With a scowl on her face, Lilit appeared with yet another wand.
"Veela hair," she snapped, "Has a lot of 'umph' but usually" at this she raised her voice, "Are too much for muggleborns."
Alek took the wand from her and waved it, expecting the worst, only to have nothing happen. He was about to ask if this one might be defective, when a warm glow grew in his stomach, then spread to the tips of his fingers. For a moment Alek could move mountains, and any doubt about this strange world vanished. Then all of a sudden the feeling dropped away, leaving behind a tingling sensation in his arm.
He turned to Daniel, who was nodding with approval, then to Volger, who was staring in blatant horror. He looked down at the wand, and waved it again. Nothing happened.
It was Zaven who broke the silence.
"It worked, didn't it?" he called.
Lilit grunted. "Well of course it worked, you're always right." She said sarcastically, and disappeared into a back room.
"We'll take it!" Daniel said happily, patting Alek's shoulders.
Alek still stared dumbfounded at the stick in his hand. It wasn't beautiful or fancy like the others, just a jet black rod with a polished handle. How could something so small make him feel so…powerful?
"Hurry up your highness," Daniel called from miles away, "We still have a lot to get done, and we have to hurry before the shops close!"
Alek nodded slowly, unable to move his eyes from the wand. His wand. It was as if this little rod bound him to this strange new world. Like he had stopped being Alek and Prince, and begun his life as Alek the Wizard.