Heyyyyyy.
Just kidding.
I'm so glad to be posting this again.
And really, really hope you all (or y'all, since I'm southern…) enjoy this brand new version of The Forge's Daughter.
Welcome back, my lovelies. I missed you all very much and I hope you enjoy the first chapter.
Oh, fair warning, I will now be writing typically in 3rd P.O.V (well, it's sort of 2nd P.O.V but not exactly so I'm just going to call it 3rd…) I've realized that I'm more descriptive in 3rd/2nd P.O.V
3rd(-ish) P.O.V
The sounds of metal clangs filled the rather short dirty blonde girl's ears as she made her way to the Sword Arena. She grumbled under her breath, wiping her black, oily covered hands on her shorts. To anyone whose has been long enough in this wondrous camp would know automatically that she was a Cabin Eleven girl. But thing again, anyone else who has been at the camp long enough would know her other identity to the camp as well. Being brought to this place when she was only an infant, she was automatically named the baby of Camp Half-Blood.
Yes, she was raised in the camp for the half-god children of the Greek gods and goddess and mortals. Her mother, who the girl never met, left her at the camp entrance and was never heard from again. Being the "baby" of the camp, sometimes she really wasn't taken seriously. And it annoyed her to no end. But, on the bright side, she was one of the best swordsmen in camp to prove that she wasn't helpless like a baby. She was just as good as the rest of the demigods. She might as well be—she touched her first weapon at a young age.
Thankfully, the Hermes' Cabin didn't have to have her after she was only a toddler. She got claimed by her father when she five years old.
But, in the situation he claimed her in; it was rather easy to believe that she was his child before he claimed her. And, well, her name should have supplied others with hints.
How the girl was claimed was very comical. When she was five years of age, the little troublemaker (courtesy of babysitting from the Stoll Brothers) snuck in the Forge and found a pretty Celestial Bronze dagger to play with. The little girl was so fascinated by the weapon; she got rather angry when a big, mean older camper tried to take it away from her. She swung the dagger at his legs, effectively slicing him rather jaggedly to bring the pour camper to his knees. Then she ran around the camp, waving the weapon around, shrieking happily: "I got toy! I got toy! I got toy!" Then, she was so excited about her new play toy, all around her feet burst into bright flames, burning the ground wherever she ran. If she noticed the fire, she ignored it.
It was easy to say when Chiron finally caught the hyper girl, took away the weapon and settled her down; a fiery hammer appeared above her head. When Chiron announced who she was, her father and everyone near stopped bowing, they were met with giggling and twirling child, trying to touch the flaming hammer before it disappeared. Like it was stated, it was rather hilarious.
This rather unique demigod is named Firesmia, Firesmia Rose Pronts. How did Chiron know her name? When Firesmia was dropped off, a small note was placed with her, stating her name and what she was. A demigod. And another part of the note was for another time, Chiron decided. When she would turn eleven is when he decided he would tell her.
That dagger? Firesmia still has, hidden in her left combat boot. Even as a child, she was rather taken with the weapon. But there was another weapon she was highly fond of. Her most trusted sword, given to her by her father on her seventh birthday, Sniper. But it wasn't any ordinary sword. It was a Celestial Bronze one, just like her dagger. Also, if she twisted the hilt in a certain way, the sword would shrink and morph itself into a small, pretty ring that easily fit onto her pointer finger. If she twisted it and slides it off, it morphs into her sword. Her sword was a beautiful one, really. It had a glittering sliver blade, a brown leather grip and a pointed end that was sure to nick someone if she used it the right way. Also, if she lost the ring or sword, it always found it's way back onto her finger, for it was made to stay there. Her dagger that she always hid was a really shiny one. With its glittering gold hilt—Beckendorf was sure the hilt was Imperial Gold—it understandable why it attracted a toddler to it. But, even then, it is still dangerous. And Annabeth, a young demigoddess of Athena, taught how to use said dagger well.
Firesmia is a fierce one, anyone could tell by just looking at the small girl. Yes, she is small. She is rather tiny, but that is too be expected from a eleven (it was her birthday today) year old. Her eyes were the one thing that reminded her siblings that she was cursed with the ability of controlling fire. Her eyes. Firesmia's eyes were something special, said to be inherited from her father himself. (Not that she would know, she never met the god.) They were a golden hue with fiery red spread out along the eye. It was like a mixture of molten gold and fire. And they could give off a really frightening glare if you made her angry enough.
Like it was stated before, our dearest Firesmia has long, dirty blonde hair. She was well built (thanks to years of training) and toned from the ever so constant sun. She generally stuck to a light jacket, easy to slip off before training, shorts and the normal orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt. No, and the Aphrodite cabin would be appalled at such, she did not have much of a closet. It was just shorts and t-shirts. (Other than now when she was heading to sword practice, she wore armor over her clothing. She forgot it once and ended up in the Infirmary for at least three days.) Nothing fancy and that's just how she liked it.
But, despite being raised in the glorious place for demigods—the only true place they could be safe—she was very bored. She had never been on a quest. She was tired of constantly winning Capture the Flag with Annabeth. Being practically sisters (for they were so close) with a daughter of Athena usually meant victory. She desperately craved adventure, a way to prove that she wasn't helpless other than constant training. Yes, it mind sound spoiled and/or selfish but she was bored.
So, all things considered, there Firesmia was, walking to the Sword Arena. She was slightly looking forward to training with Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares. Now, Clarisse could be dreadful and highly annoying at times but only a fool would say she's not skilled in combat. When Firesmia started training, Clarisse took her under her wing for a bit to show her the basic techniques. Then, she was "handed off" to Luke Castellan, son of Hermes and very skill swordsman. But she only started training with Luke when she received Sniper.
She arrived, ducking calmly when a new camper swung his spear around blindly. She let a small laugh when he apologized frantically, blushing embarrassed. She waved him off. She went to the far corner, twisting and sliding off her ring, allowing Sniper to grow in her palm. She twirled the sword thoughtfully, wondering vaguely if she was early than usual. She knew camp usually stuck to a specific schedule, each cabin doing a certain activity. But even Chiron got used to Firesmia ditching activities to train with a sword when she was upset in anyway.
Suddenly, a change of the air current alerted Firesmia and she turned, raising Sniper to block a slice from another sword. She pushed it back, holding Sniper in front of her in a defensive stance. She recognized the sword with ease, not forgetting it since she has trained much against it. Also, being the daughter of the god of blacksmiths did great things to her memory of weapons made from the forge at the camp. The attacker was Luke. He smirked at her, putting his sword tip down and in the ground, leaning on it.
"Great job," He said. "Your reflexes are getting much better than before."
She gritted her teeth. "I was seven. Seven!" She snapped. "Forget about it already!"
Luke shook his head, letting a deep chuckle. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, Fris." he picked up his sword, twirling it. "How about a new training activity today? I've wanted to try it for a bit but I wasn't sure if you and Clarisse would agree."
Firesmia raised an eyebrow in interest. "Oh? Did she agree?"
He nodded. "It definitely took some negotiating but she agreed after I explained the basics." He mused. "It's a basic three-way battle between Clarisse, you and I."
"A fight between the three of us?" she repeated. "No teams?"
He held up his hand. "Shh, I'm getting to that. Whoever is left standing between the three of us will be the solo player against the team of the losers. Say if I was the last one standing between the three-way battles, in the next one: you and Clarisse would be teamed up to fight me. Understand?"
She nodded. "Alright, so when does it start?" She inquired, excited to start this little battle. It would definitely provide entertainment.
"Right now," A rough, familiar voiced sounded. Then there was a clang of metal—Firesmia had to dive out of the way—and Luke blocked a strike from Clarisse's favored electric spear. Luke glared, his eyes darkening with anger. He pushed his sword harder and Clarisse grunted, trying to get into a stance where she could disarm him. But the trick is harder when facing a sword. A sword against a spear is difficult, no doubt.
Firesmia saw her chance. They were both distracted and she had the opportunity to attack and disarm either of them. She decided to go after Luke first. She lunged, raising her sword to slice his arm holding his sword firmly. He grunted, loosing his grip and forcing to roll out of the way when Clarisse almost stabbed him in the stomach.
Firesmia almost yelped when she was forced to block several thrusts with the spear. Finally, she caught the spear in a lock and aimed an uppercut with her left arm. Clarisse pushed herself back, holding her jaw. Now, it wasn't the strongest punch for her left arm wasn't the strongest but it was enough to make a difference.
Luke was back on his feet and he swung his sword, forgetting about Clarisse for the time being. He was rather angry that Firesmia had decided to go after him first rather Clarisse, who was clearly attacking him. He swung, she blocked. He side-stepped, trying to swipe at her stomach where her armor was located but once again she blocked. Firesmia raised her sword, making an 'X' formation with his and pushed Sniper harshly against Luke's sword. He growled, pushing back that way she couldn't bend his arm back and disarm him.
It wasn't too long before Clarisse came between them with a sharp smack to the back of Firesmia's knees, knocking her feet beneath her. Clarisse could have easily disarmed Firesmia then but instead she went after Luke, a look of rage in her eyes. Luke and Clarisse attacked and parried, looking as if they were participating in a dance.
Firesmia scrambled to her feet, wincing at the aching in the back of her knees and rejoined the fight, hitting Clarisse in the shoulder blade with the hilt of Sniper. Clarisse dropped to her knees, grunting when her arm when limp. Firesmia swung, hitting the back of the blade against her helmet to knock her on her side. She sent a swift kick to Clarisse's side, where the armor didn't cover, and snatched her spear, throwing it far from them all. Clarisse was officially out. Firesmia had just enough time to block a strong thrust from Luke when she turned. Once again, they seemed to be locked in this deadly position. If one gave way, the other would be open to a fatal hit that would knock them out of this battle. And Firesmia was struggling to keep her hold at such an awkward angle.
Luke smirked, pushing harder against the blade. He seemed to be trembling with effort, wanting to throw her to the ground and disarm her quickly. She gave way, knowing if she continued at the angle, she would break her wrist surely, it was already starting to sting harshly with pain. Perhaps she strained it. She couldn't focus on that currently; her adrenaline was pumping heavily, along with her ADHD. Then, as if she took Clarisse's place, she began to fight swiftly with Luke, participating in a deadly dance that would end one of them surely (metaphorically speaking.)
Luke saw a small, thin chance and swiped at her side. She wasn't blocking it fully. But once he struck, he knew he made a mistake.
Firesmia grinned, lunging close her to him so they were arm-length apart and raised her arm, bringing her arm down on his forearm painfully. The sword clattered out of his hand when he gasped in pain, his eyes closing. She then hooked her foot around his ankle, tripping him. She pinned him down, pushing her sword against his neck. He was out.
They were both panting with effort and they were both sweating as well. "I… win." Firesmia gasped out.
Luke nodded, straining to catch his breath. The trip must have knocked the wind out of him. "First time… for everything, huh?" he let out a strained laugh; he sounded highly annoyed that she managed to beat him.
She pushed herself off, wiping her forehead and taking several deep breaths to recover her usual breathing pattern. He got up, wincing a bit and walking over to grab his sword. Clarisse was walking back over, looking furious that she was the first to be knocked out of the battle. She nodded to Luke, who let a sly smirk—the trade-mark Hermes smirk that were famously worn by the Stolls—slip onto his lips and nodded back.
Firesmia then realized with a small groan that she since she was the last one standing; she would now have to face them both as a team. Clarisse readied her spear and shield—when she went and got it, Firesmia didn't know—and narrowed her eyes at Firesmia. Luke held his sword in front of him offensively; he was definitely too angry to care about defensive first.
Before Firesmia could raise Sniper to get into an offense or defense stance, a hoot alerted them. In sync, they looked up to see a owl, a dark ink-colored owl that was definitely not from around here, hit against the barrier. The poor creature was propelled backwards, hooted crossly, and flew at it again. It was then she noticed the letter that was kept tight in the owl's talons. Once again, it flew back but continued trying to hit it. It was causing quite the sight and Clarisse thought one of the very young Athena campers would burst into tears soon, seeing their mother's sacred animal hurt from the barrier.
Finally, one of the campers shouted their name, gave the owl permission to enter the camp. The owl seemed pleased when it passed through the barrier after flying at it for the fifth time. It hovered over the camp for a few moments before it dived, landing on a bench near Firesmia. It stared at her and dropped the letter, hooting impatiently. She looked at it oddly, before slowly setting down her sword and walking to it.
"What are you doing?" Luke hissed, reaching for her which she easily avoided.
"Seeing what it wants, duh." Firesmia answered as she crouched in front of it, flinching as it hooting once more at her, picking up the letter with its beak, holding it out to her. She stared once more. It's beady eyes stared at her, urging her. She gently took the letter and the owl watched her every move. She looked at the letter and it addressed:
Ms. F. Pronts
Hephaestus Cabin
Camp Half-Blood
Long Island
New York
The letter, Firesmia noticed, was thick, heavy and looked to be made by some seriously old parchment that even the Hephaestus' campers didn't use unless looking at ancient type blue-prints. She warily flipped it over, ready to open it and noticed a symbol—she vaguely remembered it being called a 'coat of arms'—that contained a lion, an eagle, a badger and a rather creepy snake surrounding an eye-catching H.
She shivered uncomfortably, not really fond of how specific the location was. She gently slid her finger under the flap of the envelope closing, breaking the wax seal. (She was a bit shocked she didn't get a paper cut, mind.) She opened it up and scanned her eyes over the letter.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Ms. Pronts,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
(Firesmia winced at the cursive; her eyes were already starting to hurt at the letter because of her dyslexia, like all other demigods.)
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
Okay, Firesmia was seriously tempted to rip up the envelope after that. A witch? No way in Hades, she thought, I'm a demigod not a magical witch. Still, there was a nagging feeling that she should go to Chiron and talk to him about this. If it really was a prank like she was trying so hard to convince herself it was, Chiron could find the culprits and make them do dishes for a week. This was a rather mean birthday prank, after all.
She decided to head to the Big House at that thought. She turned to Luke and Clarisse, who looked rather bored but curious. "I think it's a prank, you know, from the Stolls. I think they remembered today was my birthday… Either way, I'm going to talk to Chiron about this." She didn't even give them time to respond before she twisted Sniper's hilt, slid back on the ring, and walked briskly towards the Big House. She rapped her knuckles on the door, waiting for a reply and stepped inside. She faced Chiron—in all his centaur glory—and fingered the envelope nervously.
He smiled at her, "Ah, Firesmia, and happy birthday." He greeted, "Come on, come on, what is it that you wanted?" He eyes seemed to twinkle at her and he chuckled a bit. "You're not going to ask me to try to stop the Apollo cabin from singing 'happy birthday' to you again, are you? It didn't work last time, you know."
She shook her head and held out the letter. "I think… I think it's a prank but…" She trailed off uncertainly. He took the letter and envelope, scanning over it, a bit grim. She didn't really like the look on his face at that.
"Ah, I was wondering when this would come." He spoke so soft, Firesmia had to step closer to him to hear.
She flinched. "What do you mean?" She asked quickly. Surely, that letter wasn't real.
Chiron raised his head to look at her. "This, my child, is not a prank from anyone. This, this letter, is very true. I realized early that you would be a witch."
Firesmia almost felt offended at that statement, "W-What?" She sputtered out.
He nodded at her, setting the letter on a table. "One can tell by signs, by Accidental Magic. You had a burst of that when you were six, do you remember?"
She shook her head. She didn't remember anything of the sort—wait… "There was that time the Aphrodite campers cornered me and suddenly their shoes were cemented to the ground…" She muttered, mainly to herself. "Was that magic?"
Chiron nodded once more. "Yes, it was. Now, I am rather surprised why Hogwarts accepted you and not Salem, but I suppose it has to do with your mother attending Hogwarts…"
Firesmia snapped her head up, staring at him in shock. "M-My mother went to this school?" She went rigid with astonishment.
He smiled a bit and bobbed his head at her. "Yes, yes she did. It was stated in the note that was found with you when you were left at the entrance. It said that she was a witch herself and that her school, Hogwarts, would most likely accept you since she attended it."
"So, this is all real? I'm a w-witch?" She swallowed hard, "And a demigod?" She wanted to ask so many things at that moment but her brain didn't seem to be working fast enough.
"Yes, child."
"This letter says that the school is all the way in Scotland, England! How am I supposed to get there from America?" She cried, a bit desperate for answers.
Chiron smiled at her calmly. "By the Floo Network, Firesmia."
"Floo Network?" She repeated, raising an eyebrow.
He gestured to the fireplace and a patch of ash-looking powder. "You simply grab a handful, say your destination very clearly, and you'll be engulfed in flames—don't worry, they won't hurt—and you'll be at the place you stated. But you must state it very clearly. Now, I assume you shall be going to Diagon Alley for all your supplies and I'm sure there will be an escort waiting for you to arrive as well. I would pack your things before you leave, I'm sure they will be having you stay somewhere until you leave for school. Possibly with a trust worthy family or a hotel of sorts most likely." He smiled softly at her.
She felt like her breath was escaping her. This was too much… He gestured for her to sit down, which she gladly accepted and sipped the water that he offered her. "You don't have to go now and you should think this through thoroughly—"
"I want to go." She said firmly, licking her lips anxiously, a trait that's had for the longest time. "I'll-I'll just need time to pack my things and say goodbye to Annabeth and Beckendorf…"
He smiled very widely and she noticed a very prideful look in his eyes, making her chest swell. "I'll owl them back then and let them know they must set up a date where you can meet an escort."
Firesmia stood, smiling and took her letter from the table. Chiron, sensing she was about to leave, went to the window where the owl that delivered the owl was perched silently and started to write back on some parchment from the shelf. She left silently and took a breath while walking through the camp.
Now it was time to break it to her siblings. And Annabeth.
Great, Firesmia thought grimly, this is will take a bit of explaining.
It had been a week, one of the longest weeks of Firesmia's life, in fact. She had been on edge constantly and her ADHD was getting the best of her—more than it should have been. She was waiting for their owl back and the word from Chiron she would leave for London. She felt herself riddled with excitement. Firesmia was already packed and she kept having to take out an outfit to where the following day. She had to, much to her dismay; go to the Aphrodite cabin for normal clothes other than her camp uniform. They were more than happy to oblige her and even managed to give her makeup.
Other than her clothes, she packed several pieces of various metals that she snatched from the forge. She would, most likely at some point, get bored and want to do something. She could tinker with the metal and the small amount of tools that she stole as well. Hey, she thought to herself, we have thousands more of them. I doubt we're going to miss one set. It was more she was convincing herself. And even when Beckendorf noticed the missing set, he grinned and didn't speak about it. He knew where they were and where they were going. It's a shame, too. He liked that set.
She had also stored a bag of about seventy drachma in her bag that she had packed. She had been saving up the money that she's been getting for her birthdays and bets ever since she was five years old. She didn't want to leave it behind so she put it in a secret compartment that she had in the duffle bag and kept it there.
It took more time than she realized to break the witch news to Beckendorf and even more time to Annabeth, who wanted—actually, demanded—proof. She showed the letter to her and it took some convincing but she accepted it after a while. She actually made a request. She wanted to read some of her books when she was done with them after that school year. Annabeth also wanted Firesmia to get an owl for a pet. Go figure.
Beckendorf realized that she couldn't hide her dagger like she hid her sword. And he knew she wouldn't dare to leave it behind so when she was sleeping, he snuck it and made some modifications to it. He turned the weapon into a golden charm bracelet that if she pressed the button on the dagger charm, her dagger would appear in her hands. He claimed it was his going away gift to her. She loved it and thanked him furiously; he knew her so well.
Currently, she was just lounging around the lake, bored as can be. She didn't want to train and her head seemed to be aching after her final lesson of Ancient Greek. She had practically mastered the language already, being taught it ever since she was a child and all. (Best time to teach a child a foreign language is at kinder years, true fact.) But, dear gods of Olympus, she was so bored to Hades! She wanted to go to this Diagon Alley, to meet this escort, to leave Camp Half-Blood. Now, mind, she loved Camp Half-Blood very much—it was her home—but she ached to see the real world. A world she was yet to discover. The Wizard World.
She could hear someone approaching behind her and she lazily turned her head. She saw sandy blonde, wind-swept hair, sparkling blue eyes—bright as the sky above—and a dazzlingly smile. It was the head counselor of the Apollo Cabin, Will Solace. She lifted a hand in greeting and he nodded back to her, fiddling with the strap to his bow.
"Chiron wants to see you." He said and she could have cried out in relief. Those were the words she was begging to hear the last few days. She scrambled upwards, brushing the dirt off herself and nodded, patting his shoulder as she practically sprinted to the Big House.
She got there in less than two minutes. She practically burst through the door, seeing a different owl perched on the window. This one was brown and rather pretty. Chiron, in his wheelchair this time, looked up at her. "That was quick." He commented, his eyeglasses on the brink of his nose from reading the letter. "Hogwarts' reply has come back. You are to go to 'The Leaky Cauldron' and an escort, possibly with another child, will be waiting for you as well. And you will be staying with the"—Chiron looked at the letter once again, skimming through it—"Weasley family. From what Minerva has stated, it seems to a very large and welcoming family. The parents know about you being a demigod so they've casted several protective charms around their house… You'll be safe. The teacher's know about your, er, heritage as well." He concluded. "They're expecting you"—he glanced at the time and his eyes widened—"Right about know, actually. You should get a move on."
She nodded and raced back to her cabin, yanking her duffle bag off the bed, giving several hugs to her siblings and a mockingly kiss on the cheek to Beckendorf, telling them all that she loved them, and jogged back to the Big House. She ran smack into Annabeth on the way as well, who fell over from the impact. "Watch it," Annabeth snapped.
"Sorry, Anna." Firesmia apologized, grabbing her duffle bag. Annabeth looked up, glanced at the bag before her stormy gray eyes filled with understanding.
"You're leaving, aren't you?" She whispered, looking sad.
Firesmia nodded and let out a squeak of surprise when Annabeth threw her arms around her and squeezed her tight. Firesmia hugged back. This was their goodbye. Firesmia forced herself to break the hug, offered a weak smile to her, and waved, promising to write and get an owl. She called goodbye to Luke and Clarisse, who looked confused but said goodbye back anyway. She jogged back in the Big House where Chiron was already waiting at the fireplace, a bowl of black ash in his hands. He looked a bit depressed himself. "We'll miss you here, Firesmia." He said softly but she knew by the tone of voice, he wasn't trying to get her to stay, but he just wanted to inform her. "I will, very much so. I helped raise you as if you were my very own and I consider you so. I will miss you and anticipate your return at Christmas and the summer."
She beamed up at him and stepped into the fireplace, ducking her head so she wouldn't it the top. She grabbed a handful and took a deep breath. With one, final weak smile to Chiron; she spoke, "The Leaky Cauldron!"
Green flames immediately surrounded her and she felt sick, like she was being twirled around and around again. It felt like she was in there for least an hour. (Which was only about five minutes but time didn't seem right with how dizzy she was.) Finally, it stopped and she stumbled out of the fireplace, covered from head to toe in soot, running into a rather large man.
"Ah, yeh mus' be Firesmia Pronts, eh?" He said loudly. He was huge, tall as Chiron on his hind legs, it seemed. He had the longest beard that Firesmia ever seen. His face was almost completely hidden underneath his hair but she could see his eyes, so dark, they were. "Nice ter finally meet yeh! I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts!" She then realized three things. 1) This was her escort. 2) He wasn't talking loudly at all, this was his normal voice. 3) There was another person, a boy most likely her age, standing beside him.
Firesmia studied the boy. He was skinny, rather lanky actually, with very messy hair like he had just gotten out of bed. He wore circular glasses and behind them were the most brilliant pair of green eyes Firesmia had ever seen. They were simply beautiful. She found herself blushing a bit at those thoughts. The boy reached up and attempted to flatten his hair nervously, revealing a lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead. And his hair just as messy, perhaps it was family trait.
Harry was himself was observing her as she studied him. She was, Harry realized, very attractive. She had long, dirty blonde hair that looked glossy in the light that hit it. Her eyes, especially to Harry, were entrancing. They reminded him of fire or maybe molten lava. She wore a plain, scarlet t-shirt and shorts. She also wore a necklace full over eleven different beads. Adorned on her right hand was a golden ring and on her left wrist was a golden charm bracelet to match.
"Oh! Yeh two don' know each other yet, do yeh?" Hagrid said. He patted the boy's back, making him stumble forward at the force. "This 'ere is Harry Potter!"
The boy looked mildly uncomfortable, as if he was expecting her to know him already. She continued to study him. "I like your scar." She said finally and the boy, Harry, looked surprised at her statement and bit in disbelief.
Was she serious, Harry thought, does she even know what happened? Maybe he wasn't entirely famous after all. This girl didn't seem to know that he was 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. She seemed to be telling the truth about his scar. She actually liked it. He felt a bit at ease knowing that she didn't know anything about his famous but tragic past at the moment. Surely she would learn it later but… For now, she didn't know a thing. He smiled at her, a bit awkwardly and stuck out his hand. "I'm Harry."
She glanced at his hand, a bit wary before a small smile slipped on her face and her hand slipped into his. "I'm Firesmia Pronts, nice to meet you." She said. Harry noticed two things at that. 1) She had a rather surprising grip and rough hands for a girl. 2) She had an American accent. He was happy though; he made his first friend in the Wizard World.
Hagrid smiled big. "Firesmia, 'ere will joinin' yeh at Hogwarts, Harry!" He said. "Come on now, we best be gettin' a move on to get the both of yehs supplies." He gently pushed them both forward. Then, a pale young man blocked their path, looking extremely nervous. Firesmia scooted closer to Harry, a bit uneasy out when she noticed one of his eyes twitching.
"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid said, making Firesmia look at him a bit confused. "Firesmia, Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
"P-P-Potter, Pr-Pronts," The professor stammered, shaking Harry's and Firesmia's hands. "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am t-to meet you."
While Firesmia shot a look of disbelief to Hagrid, quickly taking her hand back; Harry asked, "What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"
"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," Professor Quirrell looked scared, as if his own subject scared him. Firesmia held back a scoff. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. He glanced at Firesmia. "Y-you might n-need it, w-won't you, Pr-Pronts? I-I'm sure you'll be g-great at it, th-though." He looked even more nervous at that statement and Firesmia was highly confused. Did they—the wizardry folk—know something she didn't? "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.
Not long after that, people swarmed around, introducing themselves to Harry and Firesmia, shaking their hands. She heard one person call Harry 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. She was highly confused. Why was he called that? Why did Professor Quirrell act like she was 'famous' as well? Did he know about her being a demigod? Then she remembered that the teachers at Hogwarts knew about her so no wonder he acted like that. Did he think she would smite him or something if he disrespected her? She laughed quietly at the thought.
She didn't even notice that they were out of The Leaky Cauldron until she noticed they were in a courtyard with a trash can and a few weeds. She looked around oddly, feeling anxious once again.
Hagrid grinned at them both. "Told yeh, didn't I, Harry? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh—mind you, he's usually tremblin'."
Firesmia nodded to herself, knowing that her theory of Harry being a bit famous in this world was correct. She licked her lips, unsure if asking why Harry was famous was bad. Finally, she couldn't stand it. "Um, why is he famous?" She inquired.
Harry looked more uncomfortable. "Er—"
"Blimey!" Hagrid chuckled. "I forget that you were raised in 'Merica, Firesmia. Harry 'ere is the The-Boy-Who-Lived; his survived an attack from a horribly evil wizard."
"Who?"
Now Hagrid looked uneasy. "Er, um, I don't…"
"Voldemort," Harry whispered to her and she nodded, trying not to be amused by the name.
"Okay, so he—what?—survived an attack from this Vold—" Firesmia started.
"Don't say his name!" Hagrid interrupted, shivering. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed Harry's parents an' tried to kill Harry, just as he was a baby, but something—no one knows what—went wrong an' Harry lived. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named disappeared and the whole wizard world celebrated. Harry's a hero."
She nodded slowly and Harry was avoiding her eyes ever chance he got. Then something occurred to her. "Oh, gods, is that scar from when he tried—"
"Yeah." Harry muttered, rubbing it absentmindedly.
She looked appalled at herself. "Oh, and the first thing I said is I like your scar! Oh, gods, I'm so sorry!" She apologized frantically, looking upset at herself.
Harry smiled a bit at her. "Its fine, I kind of figured you didn't know anything about… well, me."
Firesmia still looked a bit upset but her shoulders were relaxed. "Alright, Harry, well…" She licked her lips. "Despite your story and your famousness"—they both shared a laugh—"I would really like to be your friend, if you'd let me." She seemed shy now, out of place.
Harry smiled happily, practically beaming and Firesmia smiled a bit when she realized how bright his eyes were when he was truly happy. "I'd like that, too, Firesmia."
"You can call me something else if you'd like, 'Firesmia' is a bit of a mouthful, isn't it?" She inquired as she flickered her eyes to Hagrid, who was smiling his to himself as he counted bricks on the wall above the trashcan.
Harry pondered this for a while, thinking of a nickname for her. "I'll call you Fi." He decided.
"Fi?" She let the name roll of her tongue. "Alright, you can call me that."
"So, er, are you American?" The question spilled out of his lips before he could stop it. "I mean, if you're American, y-you're coming a long way, you know?" He ran his hand through his unruly hair nervously. He felt like he hit a touchy subject.
She let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I come from New York. Apparently my mom when to Hogwarts so that's why they are accepting me… But, I have a different theory as well but that's for a later time, yeah?" She beamed at him.
He couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah, sure."
They both joined Hagrid after he tapped the wall with his umbrella three times. The brick that Hagrid had touched with his umbrella quivered then began to wriggle. A small hole appeared and Firesmia gasped, moving closer to him, looking around as if she expected some of the bricks to come flying at them. They kept moving, the hole increasing. Then it was archway, big enough even for Hagrid, that led to a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of view.
"Welcome," Hagrid said, "to Diagon Alley."
Hagrid seemed to beam at their amazement of the place and Firesmia saw Harry turn around but her eyes were caught on several cauldrons in front of her. She could just tell be looking at them what type they were, Hephaestus thing.
"Yeah, you'll both be needin' one." Hagrid said. "But we gotta get yer money first."
Harry was looking in every direction. Firesmia was no better, looking at all the shops and their names as long as she could without her dyslexia messing up her eyes. Firesmia looked simply confused—which Harry thought was a bit adorable in the back of his mind—when she saw broomsticks in the window. "Oh, please don't tell me those are used for flying." She muttered, mainly to herself. "That's so cliché."
Soon enough, they reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. "Gringotts." Hagrid informed. Firesmia's eyes locked on a small figure standing beside the burnished bronze doors of the building, wearing a scarlet and gold uniform.
"Yeah, that's a goblin." Hagrid said quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was a whole head shorter than her and Harry—Harry was only a few inches taller than her—and definitely made Firesmia uneasy. Her fingers twitched, playing and twisting her bracelet. The goblin possessed a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and rather long fingers and feet. He bowed to them as they walked inside Gringotts. Now, all three of them were facing another pair of doors, silver writing engraved upon them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
Firesmia winced, rubbing her eyes after reading it. This dyslexia would be the death of her, surely.
"Like I said, Harry, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," Hagrid said.
They walked further in and Firesmia's eyes widened when she more than a hundred more goblins just inside the building. Now she really looked uncomfortable, playing her bracelet and ring, twisting them both but not pressing or taking them off.
"Morning," Hagrid greeted an unoccupied goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's and Miss Firesmia Pronts' safes."
Firesmia blinked. She had a safe in London, since when?
"You have their keys, sir?"
Hagrid murmured that he had them both somewhere and began emptying all his pockets. After about a minute and a half of Firesmia being in disbelief about having her own vault, Hagrid held up two small golden keys. "Got 'em!"
The goblin looked at them closely. "That seems to be in order."
"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid looked quite pleased as his voice was clouded with importance. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."
The goblin read the letter carefully and Firesmia, continued looked at Harry, who was looking around. "Very well," The goblin said, making Harry's and Firesmia's attentions snap back to him as he handed the letter back to Hagrid. "I will have someone take you down to the vaults. Griphook!"
Griphook was another goblin and Firesmia shuffled behind Harry, not really liking being near the goblins.
"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.
"Can't tell yeh that," Hagrid answered and Firesmia raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Very secret Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job worth ter tell yeh that."
Griphook held open a door for them, which Firesmia murmured a forced thank you, and led them through a narrow passage way that was light with torches. Firesmia calmed instantly, her eyes watching the fire move as she paced them. She seemed to be in a daze at that time. She soon snapped out of it when she got into a small little cart, after Harry. Then she was pushed fully against him, making Harry's and Firesmia's cheeks go fiery red, when Hagrid climbed in. Then they took off in a serious of twisted passages. Firesmia winced; she didn't like this at all. Before she knew—or cared about—what she doing, she buried her face in Harry's shoulder, hiding it from the cold air. Harry's ears even turned red.
They went even deeper, passing by an underground lake where large stalactites and stalagmites grew form the ceiling and floor.
"I never know," Harry called to them both over the noise of the cart and the wind whipping past them. "What's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"
"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it." Hagrid answered. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm going to be sick."
Harry felt Firesmia shake her head in his shoulder. "Stalactite grows from the ceiling and stalagmite grows from the floor, Harry!" She said loud enough for him to her. Annabeth had mentioned once or twice during an Ancient Greek lesson to see if Firesmia was paying attention, she remembered.
Lucky for the rather green-looking Hagrid, they soon stopped at a vault. Hagrid got out of the cart and immediately leaned against a wall, his knees trembling. Firesmia felt a bit sorry for the man. Griphook unlocked the door and a large amount of green smoke came out, making Firesmia cough and wave her hand in front of her to keep the smoke away. When it cleared, she heard Harry gasp. Inside of Harry's vault were mounds of gold coins, columns of silver, and heaps of little bronze knuts.
"All yours, Harry." Hagrid smiled at him.
Harry gasped again. Hagrid and Firesmia helped him gather piles of it into a bag. "The gold ones are Galleons," Hagrid explained to the two. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, its easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh, Harry." He turned to Griphook. "Right, now Firesmia Pronts' vault, and can we go a bit more slowly?"
"One speed only." The goblin replied.
Apparently it wasn't that far from Harry's because after one twist and two turns, they stopped and once again, climbed out of the cart. They were at her vault. Griphook unlocked it and this time bronze smoke filled the air and once again, Firesmia coughed, waving the smoke away. Once it cleared, she gasped herself. It was almost as full as Harry's was. However, it wasn't just wizard money in the vault. There were various tools and metal that was rare even for demigods. And she knew that her father himself added things to that fault as well.
"It was yeh mothers." Hagrid said. "But once she, er, died, she left it to you. You didn't think yeh mother would let you start out with nothin', did yeh?" He asked and they pushed a bit of everything into a pouch on Firesmia's duffle bag. She licked her lips, wanting very badly to take some of the expensive tools and metals. But she forced herself to step away and go next to Harry, who smiled a bit at her.
Hagrid looked at Griphook. "Now, vault seven hundred and thirteen, please."
They all, once again, climbed back in the cart—Harry and Firesmia squished together by Hagrid. They went even deeper into the tunnel and were going fast than the last two times. Firesmia swallowed thickly and ducked her head into Harry's shoulder blade. She must not like roller coasters, Harry thought to himself. They passed an underground ravine and before Harry could lean to far over the side to see what was at the bottom, Hagrid pulled him back by the scruff of his neck, making Firesmia let out a small squeak.
Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole. "Stand back." Griphook ordered, raising his long fingers to stroke the door and the door literally seemed to melt away. Griphook looked at them. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped there."
Harry voiced Firesmia's thoughts, "How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?"
"About once every ten years." Griphook had rather malice grin that made Firesmia twist her ring, pushing it forward on her finger a bit. Firesmia knew that whatever was in this vault was highly valuable and she let her curiosity get the better of her. She peered inside, smiling a bit when Harry followed her actions but only saw a package on the ground. Hagrid scooped it up and put in his coat. Firesmia cursed in Ancient Greek under her breath; this is the time she needed the Stoll brothers around.
"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't' talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut." Hagrid said, turning a bit green just by looking at the cart, dreading getting back in it.
Harry wasn't though; Firesmia seemed to be strangely warm. He noticed it as they were riding on it, when she was pressed against him. And he didn't mind her burying her face in his shoulder either. His cheeks tinted pink at his own thoughts, making Firesmia glance at him, a bit confused.
After the wild cart ride back and the exit of Gringotts, Firesmia was suddenly relaxed and she stopped fidgeting with her jewelry. Harry realized it must have been a nervous tick or something.
"Might as well get yer uniforms," Hagrid said, jerking his head toward Madam Malkin's Robs for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, Firesmia, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."
Firesmia nodded at him, grinning. "As long as you bring me back some hot chocolate." She joked but Hagrid ruffled her hair and nodded.
"Anythin' fer yeh, Firesmia." He said.
She beamed at him and bumped her shoulder with Harry's, leading him into the shop. "We can share it," She whispered to him and Harry felt a small laugh come from his lips. Firesmia observed the woman, Madam Malkin, a smiling witch dressed all fancy-like.
"Hogwarts, dears?" she said softly when Harry opened his mouth to speak. "Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact." She led them both to the back of the shop where a boy with a pale, pointed face stood on a footstool. Madam Malkin led Harry onto the other footstool, put a robe over him and began to pin it just as the other witch was doing to the other boy. Then a witch came out of no where, helped Firesmia onto the footstool between the two boys and threw a robe over her, pinning it as well to the right length. Firesmia looked very awkward.
"Hello," the boy greeted them, "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes," Harry answered for the both of them.
"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," The boy said in a bored voice to match his face. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."
Firesmia bit her lip, clenching her fist vaguely to keep a hold on her tongue.
"Have you two got your own brooms?" the boy went on.
"No," Harry and Firesmia answered.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"No," Harry answered for them both. Firesmia muttered to herself, mouthing the word "Quidditch" at him, curiousness on her face. She obviously didn't have a clue what it was either.
"I do—Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?" the boy asked.
"No," Firesmia answered for them both this time. She knew Harry, by the look in his green eyes that he wasn't feeling very confident about his intelligence at the moment so decided to answer for them both that time to save him.
"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" The boy kept going. Firesmia was too caught up in wondering what the 'houses' were and why the boy wouldn't shut his mouth.
"Mmm," Harry said.
"I say, look at that man!" The boy said suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and Firesmia and holding two ice creams and a hot chocolate, showing that he couldn't come in.
"That's Hagrid," Harry said, happy that he knew something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."
"Oh," The boy said his bored voice back. "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't' he?"
Firesmia sent a small glare toward him before she could stop herself. "He's the gamekeeper." She corrected, her patience for the boy going thin every few seconds.
"Yes, exactly." The boy insisted. "I heard he's a sort of savage—lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."
"I think he's brilliant," Harry said coldly to the boy, making Firesmia smile a bit in agreement, but the smile slipped off her face when the witch tailoring the robe accidentally poked her and she jumped in surprise.
"Do you?" The boy replied, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you two, anyway? Where are your parents? Are you two siblings or something?"
"No, we're not even related." Firesmia looked at the boy oddly. They didn't even look alike, how could this stupid boy think that they were siblings? "My mom died and I don't know where my dad is." It wasn't a complete lie; it wasn't like she could tell the boy her dad was a Greek god. Not that she would if she could.
"My parents are dead." Harry answered simply.
"Oh, sorry," The boy went and he didn't even sound sympathetic. "But there were our kind, weren't they?"
"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." Harry responded.
Firesmia shrugged. "My mom when to Hogwarts and I was raised in America, so I don't know about my dad but I have a feeling he was something magical related." The boy nodded in acceptance.
"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What are your surnames, anyway?"
But before either of them could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear." And neither Harry nor Firesmia were sorry for the excuse to stop talking to the boy who hopped down from the footstool.
"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose." The bored, blonde boy said and left the store.
Firesmia watched him leave and commented quietly to Harry, "Hopefully not."
Harry chuckled softly.
Harry was quiet as he ate his treat (his ice was chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts) and Firesmia seemed to be even quieter as she sipped on her hot coco. Firesmia was once in a while offered some to him when he would feel his mouth be cold and they would trade for a few seconds. She take a bit of his ice cream and he would take a sip of her hot chocolate then they would swap back.
"What's up?" Hagrid asked them, noticing their silence.
"Nothing," Harry lied. They all stopped to buy the amount of parchment and quills. Harry cheered himself a bit when he found ink that changed color as you wrote and Firesmia was very chirper when she found several pretty quills for herself. When they left the shop, Harry piped up, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"
"Blimey, Harry, Firesmia, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know—not knowin' about Quidditch!" Hagrid seemed astounded.
"Don't make him feel worse, or me for that matter." Firesmia scolded and Harry then went on to explain what had happened with the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.
"—and he said people from Muggle, non-magic folk, Fi, families shouldn't even be allowed in—"
"Yer not from a Muggle family." Hagrid corrected. "If he'd known who yeh were—he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles—look at yer mum, Harry! Look what she had fer a sister!" He turned to Firesmia. "And you, Firesmia, yeh mum was a half-blood—a pureblood fer a father and a muggle-born witch. And yeh know what yer father is so don't feel bad for not knowin' much!"
Firesmia realized then she wanted the spotlight off of her before Harry saw there her lie that she said to the boy. "So what is Quidditch?"
"It's our sport. Wizard sport." Hagrid supplied. "It's like—like soccer in the Muggle world—everyone follows Quidditch—played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls—sorta hard ter explain the rules."
"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" Harry inquired.
"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but—"
Harry interrupted him, suddenly gloomy. "I bet I'm in Hufflepuff."
Firesmia bumped her shoulder with his softly. "If you are, I'll be in it, too." She muttered, making his lips twitch upwards at her in appreciation.
"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," Hagrid said, darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."
"Vol-, sorry—You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?" Harry looked at him, a bit interested.
"Years an' years ago." Hagrid said. Then there went into a shop where they bought the books and Firesmia put in Hogwarts: A History so she could send it to Annabeth to read. After practically dragging Harry away form a book of curses, they left the store.
"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley." Harry explained, Firesmia looked at him oddly. "My cousin that I live with, he's horrible." He added, seeing Firesmia's confusion.
"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," Hagrid responded to Harry. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before either of yeh get ter that level."
Hagrid wouldn't let either of them by a golden cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list") but Harry and Firesmia wanted them for two different reasons. Harry just wanted it and Firesmia wanted to melt it down and use it for tinkering. But, to make up for it, they both a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited a shop called the Apothecary, who smelled horrible, but was incredibly fascinating. There were ingredients that Firesmia never dreamed of existing. Hagrid bought their basic potion ingredients while Harry and Firesmia split up to examine other things.
When they were done, Hagrid checked their lists. "Just yer wands left—oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present, Harry."
Harry felt himself go red. "You don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toad went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at—an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."
"It was your birthday?" Firesmia demanded, rounding on Harry. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have got you something!"
Harry turned a darker shade. "It-It didn't seem important…"
She huffed, crossing her arms. "Well, Hagrid, I hope you don't mind but I want to help pay for Harry's owl. I want to get him something…" She trialed off and Hagrid smiled, nodding. "Of course yeh can!"
Soon, they left for Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bight eyes. Thirty minutes later, Harry and Firesmia carried large cages. Harry possessed a beautiful pure white snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing in his. Firesmia, on the other hand, held a different type of snowy owl. Firesmia's was covered with black and white feathers but really caught her attention was the two different color eyes. One was yellow and the other was blood red. It was remarkable no one had bought him already but the shop keeper said that the owl was very picky. But it warmed up to Firesmia instantly. And she knew that she had to have him. Currently, the owl was asleep, just like Harry's.
Meanwhile, Harry couldn't stop thanking and stammering, sounding very much like Professor Quirrell, to Hagrid and Firesmia.
"Don' mention it," Hagrid said gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now—only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."
Firesmia smiled at the excited look in his eyes. This is what the both of them had been waiting for.
The very last shop was old, obviously been around for very, very long. There was letters peeling off the top and Firesmia didn't dare read it, she was developing a headache already. It wasn't any bigger on the inside, Firesmia realized. There were rows upon rows of narrow boxes and Firesmia suddenly like she had entered the Big House at the worst time possible.
"Good afternoon," A soft voice rang out. Harry jumped, making Firesmia jump, and there was a crunching noise and Hagrid scrambled out of the chair he was previously sitting on.
"Hello," Harry greeted awkwardly.
"Ah yes," the man said. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter and Firesmia Pronts." It wasn't a question and Harry and Firesmia shared a look. "You have your mother's eyes, Harry. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." He moved closer to them both and Firesmia looked away from the silvery eyes; they were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it, Harry—it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." He continued to focus on Harry, came so close that the both of them were nose-to-nose. "And that's where…" He poked Harry's scar. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it." His voice lowered to a soft pitch. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wan, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…" Mr. Ollivander shook his head.
Then, Mr. Ollivander focused his attention on Firesmia, who leaned back. "Ah, Miss Pronts, you look so very much like your mother, Amelia. The only thing that is different is your eyes, otherwise an exact spitting image. I still remember your mother's wand, too. Ten inches, pine, great for dueling." He muttered then his eyes shifted over to Hagrid, much to Harry's and Firesmia's relief.
"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid!" How nice to see you again… Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"
"It was, sir, yes," Hagrid agreed.
"Good wand, that one." Mr. Ollivander mused then got a stern look in his eyes. "But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?"
"Er—yes, they did, yes." Hagrid shuffled his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though."
"But you don't use them?" Mr. Ollivander asked sharply.
"Oh, no, sir." Hagrid agreed rather quickly. Firesmia noticed his was gripping his pink umbrella very tightly.
"Hmmm," Mr. Ollivander shot Hagrid a piercing look and Firesmia was reminded of Annabeth in that moment. "Well, now—Ms. Pronts, first. Let me see," he pulled out a ridiculously long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
Firesmia wasn't sure what that meant. "I'm right-handed, if that's what you meant." She supplied
"Hold out your arm." Firesmia complied. "That's it," Mr. Ollivander muttered and measured her from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round her head. As he measured, he told them both, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms. Pronts and Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings 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's wand."
Firesmia retracted her head when the tape measure, by itself, was trying to get near her face. Harry had to stifle a laugh at her face.
"That will do," Mr. Ollivander said while going through boxes. "Alright, Miss Pronts—Mr. Potter, the tape measure will measure you, okay?—try this one, dear. Pine and dragon heartstring, nine and a half-inch. Bendy. Just give it a wave." Firesmia waved it but Mr. Ollivander snatched it back just as soon as she did so. "Maple, unicorn hair, eight inches, not that supple but good enough—" She tried—and Mr. Ollivander took that one faster than the previous wand. He went in the back and came back with one that was rather pretty, in Firesmia's personal opinion. "Cherry wood, phoenix tail feather, ten and a half inches."
She took and a warm feeling spread through her, like when she first began practicing her control on her fire, and waved it around. Emerald green, red, gold and blue sparks shot out of the tip of the wand and Mr. Ollivander, Harry (who was finished being measured by the tape) and Hagrid clapped. "Wonderful, wonderful." Mr. Ollivander said. "That wand is definitely a great one, great for several different things, you'll do great things with it, I can tell, Ms. Pronts."
Then, Mr. Ollivander gestured Harry forward and handed Harry a wand. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beech wood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just give it a flick."
Harry did and Mr. Ollivander snatched it back like he did with Firesmia.
"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try—"
Harry did again, hardly raised the wand when it was taken back.
Mr. Ollivander shook his head, handing him another. "No, no—here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."
And so Harry did. He tried. And he tried the one after that. Time dragged on and the pile of wands that were attempted at already was becoming larger and larger. Firesmia's attention was dwindling down and she was getting distracted even more easily than before. Stupid ADHD, Firesmia thought. But she did notice that Olivander seemed to be getting more and more excited the more Harry didn't get his wand. "Tricky customer, eh?" Mr. Ollivander smiled. "Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere—I wonder, now—yes, why not?—unusual combination—holy and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
Harry paused when he took the wand then flicked it and red and gold sparks shot out from the end. Firesmia whooped while Hagrid clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…"
He put Harry's wand back into the box and wrapped it in brown paper, just like he did for Firesmia, still muttering, "Curious… curious…"
"Sorry," Harry said, "but what's curious?"
Mr. Ollivander fixed his pale stare on Harry and Firesmia would have bet then and there that Harry did or would quickly regret his question. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter." Mr. Ollivander said softly. "Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix who tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when it's brother—why, it's brother gave you that scar." Harry swallowed and Firesmia knew she would have won that bet if she had made it. Mr. Ollivander continued, "Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great."
Firesmia and Harry shivered in sync. They quickly paid their seven Galleons for their wands and left the shop, Mr. Ollivander bowing to them as they did.
Soon enough, they returned to the Leaky Cauldron and Firesmia ignored how people gawked at them all. Sure, they must have looked out of place with the owls and oddly shaped packages. However, her mind was transfixed on Harry, for he had been silent. They went up an escalator and out into a train station.
Hagrid tapped Harry on the shoulder, effectively catching both their attention. "Got time fer a bit to eat before yer train leaves," he told them. Hagrid had both them both a hamburger. Harry kept looking around as they all ate; it was giving Firesmia a headache.
"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet." Hagrid pointed out.
Harry silently moved his eyes at them and continued to chew. Finally, after he swallowed, he spoke, "Everyone thinks I'm special. All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander… but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry—I mean, the night my parents died."
Hagrid leaned across the table to smile kindly at him, making Firesmia smile, too. "Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts—I did—still do, 'smatter of fact."
Firesmia was slightly sad when they helped him onto the train that would take him back to where he was living—the Dursleys, was it?—and smiled at him through the window.
Hagrid handed him an envelope. "Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he informed. "First o' September—King's Cross—it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me… See yeh soon, Harry."
Firesmia smiled at him. "Send me letters any time, I'll send you some, too, Harry." She told him and a smile crept on to Harry's lips as well. "I'll miss you and happy, happy birthday."
The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid and Firesmia until they were out of his sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid, along with Firesmia, were gone.
Firesmia had no idea what had happened but when it stopped, she was more than grateful. But, Hagrid was no where near her and her stuff that they had bought, with her duffle bag in her trunk, was near here. She looked around and saw a rather tall house. There was a sign that said: The Burrow. Firesmia took a deep breath and walked up to the door, inspecting everything curiously and knocked on it.
Almost immediately, the door opened and a plump, fiery red-headed woman answered the door. She looked kind and Firesmia knew that she was the mother of this family. The woman's face split into a large, welcoming smile. "Ah! You must be Firesmia! Dumbledore told me you would be coming today. Come in, come in—you arrived so late; I was beginning to think you had gotten lost!" She ushered Firesmia inside, which she did eagerly, pulling her things with her.
Firesmia smiled, a bit embarrassed. "Um, I'm sorry, Miss…?" She felt even more embarrassed, she had forgotten the name—well, surname—of the family she was supposed to staying with for at least two months.
"Oh," The woman waved her embarrassment off. "You probably have had a rather long day, probably a lot to take in, dear. My name is Molly, Molly Weasley." She led her into the—what Firesmia assumed to be the living room of sorts—and gestured for her to sit down. "Here, sit down and I'll make some tea for you."
Firesmia looked around at all the pictures, was a bit surprised that they moved. She saw Mrs. Weasley, with what she assumed was her husband about six sons and a single daughter. Mrs. Weasley came back shortly after, holding a cup of tea to her which Firesmia gladly took. "You'll be sleeping with Ginny, she's only a year younger and she's quite excited to be sharing with you."
Firesmia was a bit touched at that statement. A girl that she didn't even know was happy to stay with her. "W-Well, I'm very grateful that you and your family took me in until Hogwarts. I really couldn't thank you and your family enough."
Mrs. Weasley continued to smile. "Aren't you polite? Don't worry about it, dear. It's an honor and you're more than welcome here."
Firesmia felt a bit awkward. "S-So, you know about me…" She didn't really know how to explain it.
Mrs. Weasley thankfully caught on to what she was referring to. "About you being the daughter of a god, yes, Arthur and I are well aware of it. My children, Percy, George, Fred, Ron and Ginny don't, so don't you worry, there." Her voice lowered considerably, as if she was expecting someone else to be listening.
Firesmia's shoulder relaxed at that. "And you and your husband are okay with it?" She asked, timidly.
Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Of course we are, dear." She said softly. "It is not like it was your fault that your father is who is he. Like I said, we are more than welcome to have you." She smiled warmly at her as Firesmia happily sipped her tea, feeling at ease with Mrs. Weasley. "Would you like to meet everyone, now? My husband, Arthur, isn't here, at work, I'm afraid. But, you can meet my sons and daughter if you'd like."
Firesmia set her mug down and nodded, pushing herself off the chair. "I would love to meet them." She replied, smiling.
Mrs. Weasley followed suit and led her to the middle of the living room, wrapping an encouraging arm around her shoulders. Then she tilted her head back and bellowed, "BOYS! GINNY! COME DOWN! OUR GUEST HAS ARRIVED!" Firesmia rubbed her ear, it ringing from her loud voice. Mrs. Weasley apologized, stepping away as the thundering sound of several sets of steps came down the steps.
First, there was a rather older looking red-head male. She assumed this was the oldest and he was dressed fairly nice, proud looking and fixing his glasses. Then he was soon shoved out of the way by two identical ginger-headed twins. Then there was two more sets of footsteps and a boy that was almost as tall as the twins came into view, freckled as the last few boys and stood beside them. Finally, there was a small girl, flaming hair just like the rest of the family and just as freckled. She was slightly pretty, too.
The oldest came forward, holding his hand to her professionally. She noticed the badge that he had pinned to his shirt, as if he was showing it off. It had a P on it. "Hello," he said. "I'm Percy Weasley; I'll be your prefect at Hogwarts this year." Firesmia felt a bit confused at that but shook his hand firmly anyway. She assumed it was a student position of authority appointed by Hogwarts. What, she wasn't entirely stupid. But she did have her moments.
The twins came forward, grabbed her hands and kissed the back of them in sync. "I'm Fred Weasley." One of the twins said.
"I'm George Weasley." Said the other one.
Firesmia quickly took her hands back, fighting the blush of embarrassment that threatened to show. "Mum," Fred said. "You didn't tell us that our guest would be so pretty." He winked at her.
George joined in. "Yeah, mum, we'll be spending a lot of time around her!" He winked as well.
They both stepped out of the way for the youngest son to step forward. He seemed extremely awkward but offered his hand anyway. "I'm Ron, Ron Weasley, nice to meet you."
Before Firesmia could respond with her name, Ron was tugged out of the way and the girl replaced him. She shook Firesmia's hand eagerly. "I'm Ginny!" She smiled widely. "I'm pleased to meet you!"
Firesmia felt her own lips twitch upward. "I'm Firesmia Pronts, it's nice to meet you all and I'm happy to stay with you all." She smiled at them all, releasing Ginny's hand. They all smiled back, Percy's forced but polite, and the twin sly, Ron's shy and Ginny practically beaming.
Mrs. Weasley placed her hand on Firesmia's shoulder and squeezed it gently. "You must be dreadfully tired, my dear. Fred and George—get her stuff and bring it to Ginny's room, won't you?" She ordered. George and Fred did so, grabbing her trunk and Firesmia got her owl, making Ginny gasp in amazement.
Ginny looked at the black and white feathered owl, smiling. "Wow, he's so pretty! What's his name?" She inquired.
Firesmia followed Ginny up the stairs, after waving and calling goodnight to Mrs. Weasley who bid her goodnight as well. Ron and Percy followed them up to the point of their room, said their goodnight to Firesmia and Ginny and disappeared into their room. Fred and George came out of Ginny's, saying their goodnights to the girls (after hinting at the wonderful time that they would have with Firesmia), and left to their own room.
Firesmia sat on the bed that was there specifically for her. She slipped some night clothes out of her duffle bag that was in her trunk feeling ready for bed. She glanced at the owl, unlocking the cage to stroke his feathers thoughtfully. "I don't know, Ginny. I'm having trouble naming him, would you like to help?"
Ginny's eyes lit up from her place on her bed. "I would love to!" She smiled at her, throwing on her pajamas.
The owl hopped out of the cage, perched itself on Firesmia's shoulder and nipped her ear affectionately. He hooted and ruffled his feathers importantly.
"He seems rather proud," Ginny commented. "What about Pride?"
Firesmia shook her head. "No, Pride is one of the seven deadly sins that a friend told me about. I don't think it fits him anyway…"
So, after that, they began to throw out names, the owl hooting every once in a while when there was a name that was rather ridiculous.
After a while, Firesmia said softly to the owl, which had moved to go back in his cage and closed the door by himself, "Hypatios."
Ginny looked up at her, her head propped up by her elbow. "What?"
"Hypatios is a Greek name meaning 'most high, supreme' and I considered how you said he is prideful, why not make it official that he is the best? Hypatios." Firesmia explained to Ginny, looking away from the black and white, different eye colored owl but stroking his feathers through the cage absentmindedly.
Ginny looked amazed. "That's a perfect name!" She said enthusiastically. "Where did you come up with it?"
Firesmia smiled to herself. "I learned the language Greek at a very young age and the name popped in my head. I think it fits him very much."
Ginny smiled in agreement. "I don't think Mum will mind if you let him out so he can fly around, I bet Hypatios will like that. He can stretch his wings while we sleep and he can come back whenever he wants."
Firesmia nodded in agreement with Ginny's statement and picked up Hypatios' cage, who hooted in surprise and carried it the window, which she opened. She opened his cage and Hypatios looked at her then the window. "Come back in the morning, alright? I'll give you treat when you do." She told him.
Hypatios hooted, nipped her ear and flew out the window, soaring into the sky gracefully. Firesmia closed the window afterwards, smiling to herself and went back to the bed and crawled under the covers.
"Sweet dreams, Ginny." Firesmia whispered, facing the wall.
"Goodnight, Firesmia." Came Ginny's quiet response.
Firesmia relaxed, feeling sleep call to her with ease. She was safe and she was excited for the following month. And Hogwarts. And to see Harry again. She liked it at the Burrow very much. It was very welcoming and Firesmia just knew it was going to be eventful.
Soon, she couldn't think anymore for sleep overwhelmed her and she eagerly gave into it.
And for the first time in a while, she had a pleasant dreamless sleep. No horrible demigod dreams or nightmares.
Well! That was the first chapter! I do hope you liked it! Read and review to let me know what you think!
Please, seriously, review. I'm kind of scared for you all to read this new version and I'm eager to know what you all think.
(Not counting author notes!)
Words: 13, 970
Pages: 17
~J.J.