A Collaborative effort with jdwest91 and Niros the Mad Warlock.
Chapter 1: Ambrose's First Trip to Diagon
Ambrose stared wide eyed at the ceiling of his bedroom. He hadn't been able to do much more than that since Professor Atramor had left. A few hours before that he had been a normal boy on a normal summer break, waiting to go back to his normal school. Now… now he had no idea what he was. The professor and even his own mother had called him a wizard. It was shocking how fast his mom had accepted the fact that magic was real, Hogwarts existed and Ambrose was going to be a wizard.
She signed the extensive paperwork connected with letting one's child attend a Wizarding school before the Professor left, despite insisting that they sleep on the matter and give it a few days thought. She was so gleeful that her son was going somewhere where most could not that she did not catch the Professor's reason. His mother was just so happy her son was going to be someone amazing in the world. Perhaps even a famous wizard, maybe? She had convinced herself that wizards were rich or that all the richest people were in fact wizards or witches, and her SON was going to be among them! Ambrose noticed the Professor had tried to break her from this leap of logic, but his mother seemed to ignore it. When she got like this, it was pointless to try to break her away from an idea, despite how delusional it may be.
Ambrose needed to know how she was accepting this so fast while he was still shell shocked, so he asked her. His mom's response came after she dug an old wooden box from the storage. It was quite old, and dust had gathered in the swoops and swirls that had been carved into its surface. She explained that when she was younger than Ambrose was now, her grandmother would tell the most amazing stories to her and her sister. Unbelievable stories about magic, a world unseen by normal people and an amazing place called Hogwarts. She always believed the stories were true and now considered the recent events as proof. Her grandmother was really a witch!
Ambrose's mother handed him the box and told him it used to belong to her grandmother. Unfortunately, the lock was broken, and it would not open. It hadn't been opened even once as far as she could remember. She told Ambrose the box had been passed down from mother to daughter since the original owner had it. Since his great grandmother was a witch and Ambrose was soon to be a Wizard, his mother thought the box was better in his hands than hers. Plus, she didn't plan on having any more children, so there was little chance of having a daughter to give it to.
The last part was a joke, but Ambrose's mind was swimming too much to laugh.
The only possessions left of his witch great grandmother was his now. When everything was said and done, Ambrose's mother shooed him to his room, and he didn't argue. She said they would be visiting the place the Professor had spoken of the following day and that Ambrose needed his sleep. Tomorrow, they were going to Diagon Alley.
But sleep was proving difficult. For him, anyway. Mera, who had been hiding under his bed, was sound asleep nestled between his arm and body. The still-closed box was at the foot of his bed. Ambrose hadn't even tried to open it yet. He didn't want to break the lock and had no idea what to expect.
That was pretty much his thought on everything so far.
He had no idea what to expect.
The last thing that went through the boy's mind before he finally drifted off was something the professor had told him; "Some wizards look down on muggles, non-magical folks. You come from a muggle world with muggle parents. As such, unfortunately, you may not be too popular with such wizards."
Ambrose had no idea what to expect...
It was very early the next morning, at least a few hours before Ambrose would have woken up during the school year, and he was pretty sure he was the only sane one left his his family. It was ridiculous how fast his mother had talked his father into the craziness. Now his father was just as excited that his son was going to be a famous, rich, parent-supporting wizard someday. Ambrose had a dreadful feeling that they were hoping for too much and would have to explain how things really worked one day. That day was still far off as he knew so little about the wizard world.
Ambrose sat in his bed watching Mera lick her paw. There wasn't much else he could do at the moment. His friends weren't up yet, and his parents had left for the bank a few moments ago to withdraw the savings they had built up. They were going to need it for Ambrose's school supplies, and Ambrose felt terrible in how fast they were willing to put the little money they had into this wizard schooling.
Fed up with doing nothing, Ambrose picked up his great grandma's old box and pulled it into his lap. It was time to see what was inside.
If there was no key, he'd try to remove the hinges. No, that wouldn't do. There was no access to them while the box was closed. Fortunately the lock looked like it needed a simple skeleton key which meant it could be very easy to open. It was just a matter of slipping in a screwdriver, finding the right angle and turning it slowly. Ambrose just needed to find a screwdriver and he'd have the box open in no time.
He slid to the side of his bed and was about to run down stairs with the box under his arm when the lid cracked open..
Ambrose couldn't believe it. How did could it of opened so easily? How could his mother or his grandma not manage to open the darn box when all it took was holding it upright? He'd have to ask her when she got home and probably tease a little.
Ambrose paused before he thumbed the box open all the way. It hadn't been opened since his great grandma closed it. Whatever was inside, he was the first person to see the content in a few generations. Whatever was inside used to belong to a real, magic using, spell castings witch! Biting his lower lip, Ambrose slowly lifted the lid.
And the contents were rather anticlimactic. There were just three items inside; a thin stick like the professor had, a brown leather-bound journal and a silver chain. Ambrose felt a little silly for thinking anything crazy or magical could have been left in the box for all these years.
Ambrose picked up stick to examine it. It was stiff, straight and made of a polished, warm colored wood. The handle had a blackened, scratch-like spiral carved in the surface. A tarnished metal band embedded in the wood separated the handle from the majority of the rest. Ambrose held the stick like Professor Atramor had held his.
"This might of been her wand," he said absently, waving it around but quickly stopping when the discarded comic book in his trash pall caught his eye. Fixing that book, even temporarily, had been an accident. Waving around something that wizards use to do actual magic stuff was probably dangerous. He placed the wand back in the box. A wand was on the list of supplies he needed. With any luck he could use this one instead of having to buy a new one.
Ambrose picked up the chain next and found a tiny pendant at the end. The pendant featured a rather savage-looking cat. In the cat's protective grasp was a single teardrop-shaped purple gem that was slightly smaller than the cat itself. The cat kind of reminded Ambrose of Mera, who was still busy grooming herself, before she started to trust him. She wasn't that friendly before then.
A horrible little thought crept into Ambrose's mind. He actually considered selling the necklace to pay for his school supplies so maybe his parents wouldn't have to pay as much. Who knew how much the thing was worth but every bit helps, right? He already felt guilty for having them pay for his stuff, and now he felt guilty for wanting to sell such a sentimental item from someone who was no longer with them. It was a lose-lose either way. Maybe his mom would want to keep the necklace instead.
The journal was smaller than the average notebook but thick. It looked quite expensive as well. Ambrose had no idea where to look to buy a journal made with leather like this or even how much it would have cost. However, it looked very worn with use; the edges of the covers and bends in the binding had lost their color and were soft to the touch. The journal clearly had a lot of use before his great grandmother had placed it in the box.
The inside of the journal, however, seemed untouched. Every page was clean, crisp and had no writing on it whatsoever. It was as if it was brand new; a quality betrayed by the old cover. Ambrose eventually closed the journal. He juggled it between his hands for a few moments and idly opened the book just to see if he had missed something. Ambrose tilted his head trying to figure out what he was looking it, and found text that was definitely not there before. "Property of Ambrose Ward" was written on the inside of the cover. It was definitely not there a moment ago. True, it was strange, but Ambrose had seen a chair change color while he still sat in it, so the shock value just wasn't there. He wondered how the book knew his name, though. On the first page a small note appeared, written in a clean and neat handwriting that read:
"Dear descendant. In closing this box, so do I close myself from the magical world. Even though I wish to live as a muggle for the rest of my life, I am pleased from beyond the grave that my bloodline still has magic in its veins. Please accept these gifts as they were the only things I couldn't part with. Never forget that I love you, my great granddaughter. Be the best witch you can. Love, Lysandra Catsith"
"Lysandra Catsith," Ambrose muttered, running his fingers over the text. It was rather annoying that whatever magic the book had in it thought he was girl, but it felt kind of nice to know the name, the witch name, of where his magic came from. Ambrose was a Ward and would always be. But he was also a Catsith now, and he'd never forget it.
"Is this really it?" John asked, adjusting the straps of the old knapsack he wore, "It looks like a dump." Ambrose shared his father's sentiments. The Ward family stood outside a junky, run down shop sandwiched between two normal, running business.
"It's right here on Professor Atramor's instructions, see?" Karen showed her husband the piece of paper before stuffing into the large, empty bag on her shoulder. She had brought it and and the knapsack for Ambrose's school supplies just incase they would be too much of an armful to carry. Even Ambrose had a mostly empty bag of his own strapped across his chest. Better safe than sorry.
Ambrose found himself fiddling with the cat pendant, which is mother made him keep, hanging from his neck. He took a deep breath and stepped into the building with his parents in toe. The first room was just as junky as the exterior but that didn't stop Ambrose. He passed through the next doorway and paused.
"Woah…" was all he could manage to get out. The small, run down building opened up into a large room filled with people. Most were seated at the center table eating foods Ambrose had only dreamed off. Other's stood around the outside the room, some at smaller tables, talking amongst themselves. The walls were the most fascinating. They looked warped, stretching out as they went up so the owners could hang more picture than at eye level.
Ambrose felt like he and his parent's stuck out like a sore thumb. Oddly enough, the Wards seemed to be the only people wearing 'normal' clothing. All the patrons in the pub were wearing really old fashion clothing that Ambrose would expect to see in a history book or a costume shop. Maybe it was just theme the pub had going or something.
"Come in, come in. Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron," greeted the woman after she served one of her customers his drink. "Are you folks passing through to Diagon Alley?" Ambrose nodded weakly, marveling how such a wrong looking building could exist.
Magic, of course, he concluded and somehow just passed it as normal as he parent's couldn't quite do.
"Come along, then. I'll show you through," the woman waved the family over to a door in the back. "Are you going to Hogwarts this year?" she asked in friendly curiosity.
"Yes, ma'am," Ambrose replied softly, "It's my first time."
"Oh a First Year," she smiled and guided the Ward parents through the doorway. "You are in for an amazing time, dear." Outside they were surrounded by 3 brick walls, a few bags of garbage and no where else to go. "Here, I'll get the gateway for you."
The woman pulled a stick- a wand, Ambrose corrected himself- from her belt and tapped the bricks in a counterclockwise circle. Mr. and Mrs. Ward gasped loudly in amazement. Even Ambrose couldn't stop himself from gulping as the bricks came alive, moving on their own accord and sliding out of the way till there was a passageway large enough for even his father to not have to duck down.
"Enjoy your time," the woman turned to leave. "I'll see you when you come back through."
"Thank you, ma'am," Ambrose croaked out.
Diagon alley was surprisingly more cramped than Ambrose had imagined. The first buildings were as warped as the interior of the Leaky Cauldron. It was like someone tried to fit all these shops into a space that was too small to fit them all, smooshed them into place and that somehow succeeded. If buildings looked like that anywhere but here they probably would have been been condemned and torn down if they didn't fall on their own accord first.
However, this was normal to the people. They paid no attention to the odd, curved buildings as they chatted or went about their business. In fact Ambrose was a little shocked, as his family moved through the crowd, at how many people there were. Yesterday, magic didn't exist and the whole world agreed with this fact, and yet here was a whole bustling wizard community hiding in plain daylight under everyone's nose. How many other places like this were out there? Just how big of a world was Ambrose really stepping into?
The Ward family ventured further into the Alley. There was a lot more people as the street widened. They wandered for quite a bit and probably got a little more lost than any of them would of liked to admit. They saw shops selling the most amazing and odd things which, Ambrose assumed, where normal for the average wizard to buy.
"This place was unbelievable," Ambrose's father had said for the fifth time. Ambrose agreed but still grumbled under his breath. He was successfully keep his wonderment on the inside as to seem normal and not draw too much attention to himself. His parents were doing the opposite and every pair of eyes they attracted only made Ambrose even more embarrassed. They already stuck out. Ambrose had hoped that after they left the pub, he'd see more people in normal clothing but nope. Old-timey clothing seemed to be very common as well as people wearing baggy robes. Wizard robes, Ambrose assumed.
"There's the wand shop," Ambrose pointed out after seeing a small number of kids his age go in, "Let's going inside."
"We have trade our pounds for wizard money," Ambrose's mother read from Professor Atramor's instructions "We need to go to Gringotts Wizarding Bank."
"It was back the way we came," turned and excused himself for almost bumping into someone.
They found Gringotts, and Ambrose couldn't help but stare at the pillars that 'should' be straight instead of bending as they did. The hesitation didn't last. He wanted to get inside before his dad started talking about how unnatural the pillars looked and started to make a scene. The doors opened by themselves as the family approached. It probably wouldn't of been such an odd sight if the if the doors weren't massive, thick, and extremely heavy looking. A short hallway was just beyond the door, and two rather odd looking guards bowed before them.
These guards were nothing like Ambrose had seen before. It was possible they weren't even human. They had human features but were very short, shorter than Ambrose despite how old they looked. They had pointed ears and the longest, ugliest noses Ambrose had ever seen. Ambrose was so focused on how odd they looked that he had trouble noticing their red and gold uniforms.
Maybe the creatures, whatever they were, were too short for his parents to notice because they were staring at the silver doors that separated the small hallway with the rest of the bank. Upon the doors was an engraved message:
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.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ambrose's mother asked to no one in particular. Neither of the guards answered. Ambrose took it as a warning. If someone wanted to steal from this bank, they would find something worse than police, or whatever a police-wizard were called, after them. His father nodded in agreement.
"It's like a palace in here," his mother gasped at the massive bank as the family moved past the silver doors. Ambrose nodded. He noticed how much larger it seemed on the inside than the outside, but kept it to himself. To point that out to his parents ran the risk of them running outside to check.
"Get a look at that…" whispered his father. He was gesturing towards one of the creatures behind the counter that were writing on some documents. It was the same kind of creature as the guards were. Ambrose couldn't help but stare with his father. The creature and the rest of its kind were just so freaky and ugly looking. They kind of looked like the evil, underground mutants from one of his comic books and...
And...
A wave of terrible guilt washed over the boy. Ambrose scowled and was very disappointed at himself. He suddenly felt very guilty for thinking the creatures were ugly and freaks. The whole bank was run by whatever-they-were-called, and that just seemed to be how they looked. They were normal here and so was the way they looked. Ambrose had been taught better than that. He knew better than to judge by appearance and had been on the receiving end of such treatment more than a handful of times.
"Come on, Dad. Stop staring. You'll…" Ambrose didn't get to finish his plea.
"Is it safe to assume that you have never dealt with goblins before?" asked a voice from behind them. The voice belong to a witch who had entered after the Ward family.
"Yes it is," Karen replied with a smile, putting on her usual charm, "It's our first time at Diagon Alley, buying our son supplies for school."
Ambrose stopped listening to the adults the moment he noticed that the witch was accompanied by a young girl close to his age. She was the kind of girl all the popular boys at his school would fight over; pretty, long blond hair, just a little shorter than him and she had grey eyes like him. Oh god, she was looking right at him! He was rubbish talking to new people, ESPECIALLY girls! Thankfully, before he could say something stupid, the girl stuck her hand out.
"Fox," she said with a cheerful smile. "But friends call me Lovelyn. You're going to Hogwarts." If Ambrose wasn't so focused on not making a fool of himself, he might of noticed the lack of a question in her statement and ask how she knew that, but it went completely over his head. He remembered he was a wizard now and should act like it. Pulling himself together, he met her hand for a friendly shake.
"Hi, I'm Ambrose," he replied with a light smile. At least he thought he smiled, "My friends call me, uh, Ambrose." Ambrose wasn't sure why he said that. It just came out without thought, and he felt incredibly dumb for a moment, trying to think of what else to say. "Are you going there too?"
"Yes, of course," Lovelyn replied. Ambrose was sure she noticed what a doofus he was, but she was polite enough not to say. "What house do you hope to get?"
"Oh, um," he had no idea what she was talking about. Ambrose knew he was going to live at the school but his mother did mention dormitories, not houses. There was no point in lying so he'd be blunt. "House? ...Sorry. I didn't even know Hogwart's existed before last night."
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Houses… are like tribes. The one you get says a lot about who you are." Ambrose thought better than to point out how primitive the word 'tribes' sounded, and had even less of an idea of what to expect at this school now. "There are four houses," she explained, holding out four fingers, "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. You'll probably end up in one of the first three. The last one… well, they tend to prefer… um…wizards and witches who were born by generations of wizards and witches. They're called Purebloods."
"I see…" Ambrose said simply, hoping the process of finding out which house he'd belong to was nothing like choosing teams for sports since he was sure he'd be picked last.
It was a little disheartening to learn that one-fourth of the school would look down on someone based on the family he was born into. Ambrose also had noticed that there seemed to be something uncomfortable about this subject that Lovelyn was trying to be delicate about. It felt eerily similar to how some people had talked to him about being poor while trying to be polite about it. He couldn't change where he came from anymore than he could change the past. There was no point in worrying about it, so he fell into one of his old habits: poke fun at it.
"I guess it's pretty obvious I don't come from a wizard family, huh?" Ambrose said with a grin as he gestured with a nod to his father who was STILL staring at the poor goblin. His smile brightened when the girl laughed.
"So it would seem!" she said. Ambrose was seriously disappointed when the adults decided to bring their kids back into their conversation.
"My Lovelyn is going to be starting at Hogwarts soon, too. She's going to be a Slytherin, aren't you, dear?" Her mother stated affectionately. Ambrose, however, noticed Lovelyn's expression sour for a moment when "Slytherin" was spoken. Two things were pretty clear to him at that point: she was a Pureblood witch, and she did not want to be in the house that favored them.
"That sounds very prestigious," Ambrose felt his mother's hand on his back as she spoke. He wasn't sure if she really knew if it was a prestigious thing or not, or if she was just being a flatterer. "Ambrose, honey, maybe you and Lovelyn should get to know each other better at the school." Ambrose's eyes widened as he realized what his mother meant with such a suggestive tone. How did he have not seen that coming?!
"Oh god, mom," he groaned as he tried to hide his face in his hands. He didn't want anyone to see the bright red blush on his cheeks, nor did he want to see Lovelyn's reaction.
"What's the matter?" Ambrose's mother pressed, not giving her son any mercy. He could hear the heavy grin in her voice. "You don't think she's pretty enough?" Ambrose begged for either death or for his mother to stop talking. He was ok with either option. "...Kids are so much fun, aren't they?" his mother asked as she patted his back.
"Oh quite!" Lovelyn's mother agreed, "We must finish our errands, but it was a pleasure chatting with you, Mrs. Ward! The goblin your husband seems to be affixed with will be able to help you with your exchange!"
"The pleasure was mine," Ambrose's mother stated and waved. And with that, Lovelyn and her mother departed. Ambrose was pretty sure she'd never want to see him again and that any chance of friendship was gone.
Mrs. Fox was right. The goblin Ambrose's father had been staring at was able to exchange their pounds. He even turned out rather pleasant.
"Sorry for staring, chap," Mr. Ward apologized, "I didn't mean anything by it. Today has been a little overwhelming."
"Don't worry about it, sir," the goblin waved off any offence he might of had as he counted coins, putting them into a purple bag. "You aren't the first, and I doubt you'll be the last. Alright," he placed the bag on the counter between him and Mrs. Ward. "Ok, at current rate your total comes to fifty-four galleons, thirteen sickles and one knut." The goblin reached into the bag and retrieved a sparkling gold coin. "This is a galleon." Next came a smaller, silver coin, "A sickle. There are seventeen sickles to a galleon." Last was the single small, copper coin. "This is a knut. There are twenty-nine knuts to a sickle. Got it?" He placed all 3 coins into the bag and pushed it forward.
"Twenty-nine knuts to a sickle. Seventeen sickles to a galleon," Ambrose's mother parroted back and encouraged her son to do the same. She picked up the bag, tightened the drawstring, and dropped it into her shoulder bag.
"Have a nice day," the goblin said absently, already busy in his next task.
"We should have enough," Mrs. Ward scanned both the list of needed supplies and Professor Atramor's instructions, and then handed the list to her son. "But that doesn't mean we can't do a little bargain hunting."
Ambrose lagged behind his parents for a moment looking towards the back of the bank where Lovelyn and her mother had disappeared. With a shrug, he reread the the supply list before he noticed his parents were already outside waiting for him. Upon exiting the bank, Ambrose spotted a group of four coming up and promptly held the door for them.
He noticed something different about this family. They were the only people Ambrose had seen in Diagon alley wearing normal clothing so far. Well, three of them were; one of the men, a woman, and a boy. The brown haired boy looked a little taller than Ambrose and maybe the same age as him. He wondered if the kid was like him; from a normal life and having just recently found out he's going to be a wizard. The final member of the group wore long, flowing wizard robes and blended with the rest of the populace much better.
"Thank you, young man. Very nice of you," the 'normally' dressed man smiled at Ambrose and passed by. The woman, whom Ambrose assumed was his wife, repeated her husband's sentiments warmly.
"Thanks," the boy nodded lightly. Before Ambrose could say anything, the last man, the wizard of their group, hurried the boy along. The man ignored Ambrose completely, walking at a brisk enough of a pace that his cloak wiped out and smacked Ambrose in the face.
"That guy needs a good punch in the head," Ambrose's normally very peaceful father grumbled when his son finally joined them. "Do you think all wizards are that rude?"
"Nonsense," Ambrose's mother spoke up, "That Mrs. Fox was a lovely woman. Helpful too. There are all kinds of people, dear. Rude or not. Wizard or not."
"I guess," Ambrose's father glared at the bank for another moment before letting the situation wash off his shoulders.
"Let's get the uniform out of the way first!" Mrs. Ward exclaimed, "since I know clothes shopping is your favorite," she winked at Ambrose. Ambrose rolled his eyes and sarcastically agreed with his mother. To be truthful though, this was the first time he was looking forward to buying clothes. Shopping for normal clothing was dreadfully boring, and he rarely cared about what he wore. But he wasn't shopping for normal clothes this time. They were going robe shopping. Ambrose was going to buy wizard robes!
Ambrose spotted the shop first. Madam Malkin's Robes, it was called and it was fairly nice inside. There he held up one of the Hogwart's black uniforms while his mom talked with the owner. Ambrose wasn't used to holding new clothings like this, let alone robes and wondered how much they cost. He heard a few kids talking about him. He didn't catch the details but was sure it wasn't flattering. It took his mother less than three minutes to find out the owner of the shop was not willing to haggle over prices. However the Secondhand robe shop down the alley might be more flexible. If anything else they would be cheaper as long as Ambrose didn't mind his robes being "slightly used." He didn't mind one bit, he was used to his stuff being pre-owned. They thanked the shop owner for her time and the directions.
Diagon Alley was getting busier and it was getting harder to move through the crowd. Ambrose had started to notice a lot more kids walking either with friends or their families. He wondered how many of them would be classmates or would be upperclassmen. He wondered how many of them would be as lost as him at the school.
The Secondhand robe shop was much smaller and there was only one other student and parent pair looking through the robes. Most importantly the shopkeeper was willing to haggle. Ambrose spent the next forty or so minutes trying robe after robe on. Some were way too big. Some were too tight. Some looked like they only had a year's worth of use left in them before they'd fall apart.
When Ambrose came out of the dressing room wearing the first good robe that fit him, his mother squealed in delight and called her husband who had been browsing the adult robes. Ambrose looks at himself in the mirror and could hardly believe what he was seeing. It was like dressing up on halloween. Except this was a thousand times better because it wasn't makebelieve!
"So handsome," his mother said before hugging him. His father gave him a grin and a thumbs up.
The time they spent in the shop was worth it. They eventually found three more robes, one more than what was needed. Two were probably a tad on the large side but that meant he could wear them for longer as he grew into them. Mr. Ward found a nice wizard's hat that his wife could fix up to look as good as new. Ambrose found the gloves he needed, which to his surprise were made of actual dragon hide and not just something called "dragon hide". Even the shopkeeper lent a hand, retrieving an old winter coat that needed a few cleanings but was otherwise in good condition.
It was a little scary seeing his mom haggle with someone, Ambrose knew, and this shopkeeper was a master at it. The shopkeeper probably expected the muggle woman to be a pushover, but they back and forth for a while before finally settling on a price and started laughing about it. Ambrose looked to his dad for an answer but all he did was shrug in response.
"That was fun," Ambrose's mother stated outside the shop. "I am liking some of these magic folk." Ambrose was looking as his list.
"I want to get my wand next," he grinned. Maybe it was seeing himself in wizard robes had really set a fire under his seat or maybe his whole situation was finally sinking it but he was really excited!
"While you two do that," Ambrose's father got some coins from his wife, "I'll head the other way and see if I can find anything on the list."
The Ward family went their separate ways, and Ambrose was too excited to care if his dad did something embarrassing while away.
"Ollivanders. Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." the sign said. The inside was rather on the dinky side and small, but the shop seemed impossibly tall when Ambrose looked up. The moment the door was closed, all sound from outside was cut off, and the silence was deafening. The walls were nothing more than shelves with a countless number of thin boxes of different colors, and most had writing on them. Two men were inside. The elder, sitting behind the counter, looked up from his newspaper and grunted a greeting. Oddly enough, Ambrose couldn't tell if it was a friendly grunt or not. He stared at Ambrose with wide, silvery eyes.
"Welcome, welcome," greeted the younger man from the stairs that spiraled around the inside of the building.
"Good morning," Ambrose said, attempting to keep both his excitement and awkwardness down.
"Here for your wand, I assume," the younger man stated as he descended the staircase.
"Yes, sir," Ambrose answered as he stepped closer. His mother stayed in the back, choosing to let her son take the lead on this with a grin.
"Excellent. My name is Geraint Ollivander, and this is my father. Let me see your wand arm?" Garriant asked, holding out measuring tape.
"My what?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Muggleborn or Halfblood?" the man paused to consider his next words, "No matter. The hand you hold a quill with." Ambrose was able to connect quill with pen and held up his right hand. "Excellent," Geraint cheered before going into a flurry of measurement taking up and down Ambrose's right side and arm, and even around his head. "Wait right here," he said before running up the stairs.
"Actually," Ambrose tried to say but went unheard.
"Found it! Ten and a half inches, oak with unicorn hair," Geraint slapped the wand into Ambrose's hand. "Go ahead, give it a try." Ambrose repeatedly waved the wand in the air in a small figure eight in the air. The old man shook his head, and the younger took the wand away, tossed it in the box to the side, and went up the stairs again, "Let's try again."
"Actually," Ambrose repeated as Geraint went up the stairs, listening but not stopping. "I was wondering if you could look at an old wand and maybe tell me if I could use that." he said, retrieving his great grandmother's box from his bag.
"I'm sorry. I'm afraid it doesn't work like that," Geraint informed him, finding a whole batch of wands this time and descending. "You see, wizards doesn't pick their wand. They are much more special than that. A wand chooses it's own owner. Some are pickier than others," he explain. Ambrose had already opened the box and pulled the old wand out. The older Ollivander rose from his seat.
"Let me see that wand," he reached out and took it with surprising speed for his age. "Ah yes. Yes, yes," the old man held the wand close to his eyes. Twelve inches. Larch. Dragon heartstring core. Special order decor. I remember every wand I've ever sold, you see." He almost seemed to smile. "Every single one. This one is from early in my career. Very early. A Pureblood paid for its construction for his son. The wand had other plans. That boy walked out with a nine and a half inch wand. Willow and phoenix feather. This wand," he held up the wand and gave it to Ambrose, "Chose a young witch named Lysandra Catsith. Rude girl but good intent. Try it out."
Ambrose waved the wand and pretended to cast some random spell. The old man nodded his approval.
"Interesting," Geraint rubbed his chin and looked closer, "It's a perfect match. I've never seen a dragon heartstring wand bond with a second owner so effortlessly."
"That wand will serve you well, boy," the old man retook his seat. "What is your name?"
"Ambrose Ward," he replied with a sudden spot of shyness.
"Take care of that wand, Ambrose Ward. It is powerful. Do not let it push you around. Put those wands away," the older Ollivander told the younger, who quickly gathered the armful of boxes he had brought down moments ago thinking a wand inside might suit Ambrose.
"Thank you, very much," Ambrose smiled. Ambrose and his mother left the shop, and Ambrose was on cloud nine. He had bought his wizard robes, and now he had his wand safely tucked away in his great grandma's box. Ambrose was so excited and pleased that he failed to see the other boy before it was too late, and they collided.
"Ow," Ambrose sat up on the ground, rubbing the spot his head hit something hard. "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Are you alright?" He looked to the person he had knocked over.
"Oh no, no, it's fine. I was in a little bit of a hurry," the boy said very quickly, "I'm excited to get my wand. First year at Hogwards coming up!" Ambrose thought the boy looked familiar and it seems the sentiment was mutual. "You're the boy from before, right? The one at Gringotts? I didn't hurt your head too badly did I?"
"No, I'm alright," Ambrose said automatically as he picked himself off the ground. He finally recognized the boy as the one from earlier; the first and only normally dressed kid Ambrose had seen at Diagon Alley. "Oh, yeah. Gringotts the bank, right?" He offered the boy his hand. "I'm Ambrose."
The rather lanky boy took Ambrose's hand and together they pulled him to his feet.
"My name's Tyler. Are you new to Hogwarts this year too?," the boy, Tyler, asked.
"Uh, yeah," Ambrose was hit with a slight case of bashfulness. "Yeah. It's my first year," he said, slowly gaining a little more confidence. He knew he needed to be less shy around new people. "I just got my wand." Ambrose said before giving a small chuckle at his own words. "Sorry. Yesterday I didn't even know magic existed and now I have a magic wand."
"Oh your parents must be muggles too!" Tyler said. It was true and probably clear before Ambrose had said anything. They were both wearing what wizards would probably call muggle-clothing, but Tyler's was clearly in better condition. "Isn't this place something else?" he exclaimed, breaking Ambrose from his thought, "That brick wall separating all this from the rest of London is bloody awesome! And then the Goblins! have you ever seen something like that?!" Tyler beamed, seemingly overjoyed to find someone to share in the craziness that passed for normal at Diagon Alley.
"Yeah," Ambrose couldn't help but grin. Maybe Tyler's energy was infectious or maybe it was more of a relief that he wasn't the only kid who was completely new to the idea that magic was real and there were wizards in the world. Either way, the bashful Ambrose was shrinking. "It's crazy here, isn't it?!" he said, sharing in Tyler's excitement. "I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw those bricks move! And the bending building and all the people in wizard robes! It's so cool! Like something straight out of comic book!"
"I was going to say out of a Tolken novel but yeah!" Tyler exclaimed again just before a familiar man stepped from the crowd and placed his large hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Glad to have caught up with you; your mom went with your uncle," the man said, saying the last word with a touch of venom. He was one of the men Ambrose had seen with Tyler outside the bank, the friendly one.
"At least you aren't related to him," Tyler muttered. Ambrose wondered if his uncle was the rude wizard in their group. "Ambrose, this is my dad, Dylan Hale."
"Very nice to meet you, young man," the man, Mr. Hale, said with a smile. "And also thank you again for holding the door at that bank. Your parents clearly raised you well."
"Oh, hello," Ambrose shifted, a little uncomfortable at being put on the spot, even if it was for a good thing. "It was no problem, sir." He felt his mother's hand on his shoulder.
"Why, thank you for the compliment, Mr. Hale. The trick was to always have a bag full of treats," Ambrose's mother grinned at her own joke and reached out for a handshake. Ambrose rolled his eyes. "Karen Ward. Pleasure to meet you. Lovely boy you have there."
"Hi Mrs. Ward! I'm Tyl-" Tyler started before his father placed his hand over the boy's mouth, cutting him off.
"Why, thank you. He's been a bit excited since arriving. Especially after the BOOKSTORE," Mr. Hale blurted out the last word and started tickling his son relentlessly. Ambrose smiled. He and his dad would horse around on occasion, and it was nice to see that Tyler shared the same close bond with his own father. Quickly, Tyler escaped and grinned from ear to ear.
"And I'm Tyler," he introduced himself again. Mr. Hale ruffled his son's hair.
"How are you taking this whole thing?" the man asked, gesturing to everything around them.
"In strides," Ambrose's mother thoughtfully. "I had heard stories as a girl but had no idea all this was real 'til-"
"He turned a chair red!" Ambrose piped in without thinking and quickly regretted the attention. "The professor who came to our house… He turned our old, blue chair bright red."
"Yes, it was something else." Ambrose's mother said thoughtfully, "Met a few nice people here. Some… not so much. But live and let live"
"The one that came to my house turned a lamp into a bloody bird, and then it bit me!" Tyler exclaimed. "Almost took my finger off!"
"Language! And the way your mother told it you got bit by the 'lamp-bird' because you were poking it," Mr. Hale looked at his son. Speaking to Ambrose's mother then, "Ah! Well, you've fared a slight better than us then. So far, our day has been directed by one rather demanding wizard, Tyler's uncle." Ambrose was a little more sure, now, that they were talking about the rude man they were with at the bank.
"A right ponce he is." Tyler added.
"Language!" Mr. Hale said, giving Tyler a light smack upside the head. "Although, you're right. But it seems we have had a change of luck. It was a pleasure to meet you, Karen, and you as well, Ambrose, but I think we need to get someone his wand before aforementioned wizard shows up."
"Here dad, give me your mobile, I want to get Ambrose's number before we go," Tyler said looking at his father expectantly until he hesitated and looked to Ambrose, "That is, if you'd like to swap them. I didn't mean to be so forward, you just seemed…" Tyler paused, as if not sure what to say. "Cool," he ended with, which surprised Ambrose a little. He had never been called cool in his whole life.
"Can I, Mom?" Ambrose asked. She smiled and nodded. Ambrose gave Tyler their house number and even had him repeat it to make sure it was right. "I hope we have class together." Their parents had already said their goodbyes and were moving to part ways. "Talk to you later then."
"Awesome! I'll be sure to give you a ring in the next few days; I want to have time to look over our new texts so we can talk about them!" Tyler said, waving. Ambrose waved back before he followed his mother away from the wand shop.
"Where would you like to go next, honey?" Ambrose's mother asked. It took the boy a moment to think about it but not long.
"The bookstore," Ambrose decided, scanning the crowd. There was no doubt that a lot of the people were here for same reason he and his family were: shopping for supplies for the upcoming school year. With normal schools, students needed a new set of textbooks each year, and Ambrose assumed Hogwarts was no different. That meant every single student or family would be going through the bookstore at some point today, and it was only going to get worse as the day went on.
It sucked being right. The bookstore was packed full of people. Mostly were students probably, Ambrose's age and up. There were a few parents but not Ambrose's since she decided it would be better to wait outside. There was one odd customer that caught Ambrose's eye. A pale, sickly thin looking creature wearing a tunic made out of a rag. Ambrose didn't stare. The store staff, however, were well prepared for the rush of purchases. They had stacks upon stacks of the same books they kept drawing from as they helped each customer. The process moved faster than Ambrose thought it would but more people still piled in behind him.
"How can I help you, sir?" the one of the men behind the counter asked as Ambrose stepped up. "Hogwarts, second year?" Ambrose shook his head.
"No. First year books. Please." The man smiled and shrugged.
"A little tall for a first year but not tall enough for a second. So I took a guess," he said as if it was supposed to be a joke. If it was, Ambrose didn't get it. "Any preference on pre-owned books? You get a nice discount on them." Ambrose couldn't help but think of the comic book sitting in the trash at home, and thought it over..
"No preference as long as all the pages are still readable," he said finally.
"Of course, my good sir," the man pulled out the list and set it on the table. "All our pre-owned books have been checked thoroughly and any severe damage is repaired. The most you'll have to deal with is some doodles, writing or folded pages. Maybe some water damage. And you'll get a decent discount."
"Sounds good to me," Ambrose smiled at the word discount. He felt good saving money so far. First on the robes, then the wand and now the books. Maybe he could give his folks back some of their savings.
"Excellent. Stay right there." the shop assistant went to several piles of books, looking near the bottom of each one. With a wave of his wand the pile would levitate so he could reach one particular book. He returned with a stack of eight thick books and set them down on the counter with a chain of thuds. "Standard Book of Spells. History of Magic. Magical Theory," the more the man read titles, the more theatrical he became, and Ambrose wasn't sure if he had taken a breath since he started. "Beginners Guide to Transfiguration. One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Magical Drafts and Potions, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. AND The Dark Forces: A Guide To Self Protection!" the man struggled with the last word before gasping.
Ambrose couldn't help but stare at the books. That was a lot of info. The bookseller pulled himself together.
"Let see. We had used copies of most of your books. However, we only have new copies of three of them," He smiled brightly at Ambrose. "Is there anything else you are interested in, young man?" Ambrose couldn't answer that if he wanted to. If the shop hadn't been so busy he might of looked around a bit, but he declined. "Excellent. If you bring these book back in similar or better condition after the school year, we can give you credit for next year. Have a nice day!"
Ambrose paid for the required books, stuffing half of them into his bag and carried the rest out in his arms.
"Get enough books?" his mother teased, taking the books from her son and noticing the volume of his bag had doubled. Ambrose just rolled his eyes.
"Hello Family!" John Ward appeared out of a passing crowd next to Ambrose and his mother, making Ambrose jump a little. "I had a productive venture. I found a junk shop that sold the a few Telescopes and the scales but I didn't like the condition they were in. So I found the shop that sold new ones and got them there." Ambrose flinched at his father's brashness to buy brand new items when cheaper was available. How bad could the used one's be? But he shook it off.
"Ok, so," he read off the list of things they had to his parents and even checked the items his father acquired to make sure they were all there. "All I need are the phials and the caldron." Wow, that felt weird to say. Ambrose tried to wrap his brain around the fact he would soon own a caldron.
"I think I saw those places where we first came in," his father pointed. "We can get them on our way out."
So the Ward family did. They moved through the crowd and Ambrose tried to take it all in one last time. It was his first experience amongst the magical community, and he was sure he wouldn't be returning to Diagon Alley till next year. There was one side track before they reached the apothecary supplies.
"John," Ambrose's mother had stopped them, "Go buy some paper and a quil. I think that's what wizards use to write with." Mr. Ward nodded and walked over to the shop with the giant quill on the sign. "Ambrose," his mother put her hand on his shoulder. "The list said you were allowed to bring a pet to school with you. Remember how the Professor said wizards use owls like postmen? Maybe you should get one. I bet not every kid in school has their own owl."
Ambrose tried to keep as neutral of a face as possible as he looked at the owls outside the shopped that sold them. It was that he didn't like his mother's idea. It sounded so cool to own his own mail carrying owl. However there were two things weighing heavily on the boy's mind. The only reason they had as many galleons left as they did was because of luck and buying used items. He really didn't want to blow the rest of his money away on something he didn't need. The other thing was that Ambrose had every intention of bring Mera to school with him. He was sure she'd be fine there, and it would be great not having to hide her from everyone. He could even return home claiming she was a wizard cat he was awarded for doing something. But he couldn't tell his mother that now.
"I don't know," Ambrose squirmed a little. He had to tread carefully not to lie. His mother could smell lies a mile away. "I bet they are expensive and I don't know the first thing about taking care for an owl." She gave him a funny look. "I just don't want to spend all our money," he said finally.
"Ok, baby," his mother replied but Ambrose was sure she didn't buy his reasoning completely. "Maybe next year." Ambrose signed in relief.
Mr. Ward returned with a number of different scrolls and parchment, all kinds the shopkeeper claimed a first year student would need. This included a few inkwells and quills. Together they bought the phiels and the caldron which was actually smaller than Ambrose had thought it would be, smell enough for him to carry with one hand. Neither items could be purchased used and the sellers weren't willing to bargain. No matter. They had enough galleons to spare.
Before the Ward family could leave through the gateway a very crafty salesman spotted the family. He spoke of potions and all the amazing things they could do. Ambrose's imagination was set ablaze. He was excited about the potion's he was going to learn to make. That's when the salesman struck. While a set of potion ingredients were required, he said having one's own stock would give Ambrose a massive leg up in the class. In the end, neither Ambrose nor his mother could say no.
Ambrose followed his parents out of the Leaky Caldron. His mom said there were sandwiches with their names on them at home. Ambrose counted six galleons, thirteen sickles, and four knuts in the bag they had gotten from the bank. It was all that was left.
I'll need more before next year, Ambrose sighed to himself Looking back at the broken looking building they exited from, he smiled suddenly with all his excitement coming to the surface. I'm going to be a wizard!
It's a lot of fun bringing RP/story to life with my two friends. I hope whoever reads our tale enjoys it because we enjoy crafting it. It's sad we can't go any faster! The biggest challenge for me is to let others read my writing. I've posted stories in the past but quickly retracted them. Heh. For this story I can't do that because GrumpyGirl has control. Someday I'll post some of my other work and KEEP it up. Someday.
-The Mad Warlock
This chapter was written by Niros The Mad Warlock
u/826340/