Together - The Other Prophecy

by Novalian

When the record of the second wizarding war was realeased, they missed out an important detail. In this story, you are the protagonist, a good friend of Harry Potter that never made it into history. Become a student of Hogwarts and explore your own story in second person point of view, while being involved in a very dangerous mission. (First work, please read)

3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The First Trip

You feel your jaw drop open in awe. Professor Dumbledore chuckles besides you. "It has been a while since I've introduced a muggle-raised to the wizarding world." His eyes twinkled. "They don't ask me to do those things once I'm headmaster, thinking I couldn't be bothered. The truth is, I loved seeing their reactions." He turns his silver head to look at you. "Come, let's go. We don't have all day."

You nod, still speechless. The professor steps into the alley and you follow one step behind his long, swooping trench coat. The narrow alley was filled with small, dusty shops that make the street look like the street of a small, cozy, medieval village. Small kids and teenagers followed adults waving wands around, sometimes staring into a shop window, oohing and aahing. One small shop labeled Quality Quidditch Supplies. All around you witches and wizards in colorful robes walk past, and now you understand Dumbledore's bizarre appearance. Almost everyone that saw him greeted him enthusiastically, including a small, stuttering wizard wearing a turban that Dumbledore introduced as Professor Quirrel, the teacher of Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts this year. He was so nervous that you doubted he is a competent teacher, much less the teacher of Defense against the Dark Arts.

Walking on, you pull the long list of supplies from the envelope containing your invitation. It says:

First Year will require:

•Uniform

Three sets of plain black work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black for day wear)

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, silver, fastenings)

Please note that all students' clothes should carry a name tag at all times

•Books

Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A beginners Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A guide to protection by Quentin Trimble

•Other Equipments

A wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an owl, cat or a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS!

The list looks more bizarre than Dumbledore's outfit. You eye it suspiciously. "Can we find all of those things here, then?" You ask.

"If you know where to look." Dumbledore's reply was the same. "But first, you must get your money first. Here is the wizarding band of Gringotts, run by goblins." In front of them rose a gigantic, tall, white building with columns. It was so white you have to squint your eyes to look at the marble walls. You clenched your jaw, determined to keep them closed.

As you approach the door, you see a piece of parchment attached to it. Words were written in elegant cursive. It reads:

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.

You feel completely flabbergasted. Here you are, standing in a bizarre alley, holding a bizarre list, surrounded by bizarre people, following a bizarre man, reading a bizarre poem on a bank supposedly run by goblins and used by wizards. But yet, there's no way this is a prank. No one have the power to pull off a prank this grand, and when Dumbledore played your violin, it definitely was real magic. And the "skills" you have further proves that magic is real.

All these thoughts must have shown on your face, because Dumbledore chuckles besides you again. "All of these are very real, Amy. How else do you explain what you can do?"

(A moment later)

Inside Gringotts is a vast marble hall, full of little creatures with long nails and sharp teeth, dressed in tiny suits, which you assume are goblins. About a hundred goblins are sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There are too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins are showing people in and out of these. You and Dumbledore head for the counter.

"Good morning, Bodrod." The headmaster greets the creature as though he knows him. It's impossible, though: there are too many goblins and they all look alike.

"Headmaster." the goblin named Bodrod looks up from his mound of stacked paper taller than him, but stacked on a lower desk while he is sitting in a tall stool. "What brings you here?"

"We wish to open Amy Waldgrave here's vault." Says the headmaster.

The goblin looks like he has more questions, but did not ask them. "Keys?" He simply says.

Dumbledore draws from his pocket a small bronze key and places it on the counter.

Bodrod examines the key closely, and then peaks over the counter at you. "Yes, everything seems to be in order." He said slowly. "If you would just follow Hodreg here..." He points at something that you can't see because it was completely blocked from your view by the tall counter. You assume that it is another goblin.

Hodreg leads you towards a door at the back of the hall. You expected more marble, but walks into a dimly lit tunnel with tracks on the ground. The little goblin whistles, and a cart come towards the two of you. "Hop on," said the goblin. You and the professor climb into the small cart. The cart goes off again at an alarming speed.

You try to remember which way you've turned- left, right, right, left, right, left, left- but it was impossible. After a few turns, your head felt like it might fall off. Dumbledore next to you just hums to himself. All around you, stalactites and stalagmites spiked from the rocks of the cave. Finally, the cart starts to slow down. You stop at a vault numbered 182, its door covered by a layer of metal with complicated designs. You get a feeling that you shouldn't touch the door. You and Dumbledore climb out of the cart. The little goblin put your key into a hidden lock and the iron door opens, revealing multi-colored flashes of light. You couldn't control yourself this time and your jaw dropped, amusing the headmaster again.

"All yours," Says Dumbledore.

Inside were mounds of gold coins, columns of silver, heaps of little bronze ones about the size of a penny. "The gold ones are galleons." Dumbledore has stayed outside of the vault, behind you. "Seventeen of the silver sickles equal a galleon, and twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a sickle." He hands you small bag. "Fill this up and it should be enough."

Several moments later you and the headmaster reappear in the alley again, after another ride of the infernal cart. Your stomach felt queasy. Dumbledore, however, merely looks as him he just went on a carriage ride. His silver beard and hair does appear messier, being blown all over the place on the cart. He points at a nearby shop. "You can get your uniform over there. Do you mind if I meet you later? I have to take a visit to my own vault."

You nod and head into the small shop. The sign on top said "Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions".

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed in all mauve. "Hogwarts?" She said before you open your mouth. You nod. "Got the lot back here." She leads you to the back of the shop to be fitted. A long, black robe is thrown over you and she starts to pin it to the right length. It was wide sleeved and covered your hands when you stand straight. The robe flows after you when you walk. It was uneventful except for some awkward small talk, and you head out of the shop in five minutes. Professor Dumbledore was waiting outside.

The next step was to buy parchment and quills. You are greatly amused by a long purple quill that changed colors as it write. Another one automatically checks your spelling. But in the end, Professor Dumbledore only let you buy the normal ones.

On the way out of the shop, you were visited by an old friend. You feel a weight on your shoulder and look to your right. Sitting on your shoulder was Morrigan, with her sleek black feathers. "Hello, "she croaks to you. "So you're finally going to Hogwarts."

"You knew about Hogwarts? And you didn't tell me?" You feel slightly betrayed, and then feel slightly dramatic. Dumbledore next to you looks very interested, and for the first time on this trip, looks like he cared. Perhaps it's not normal that you can talk to ravens?

It simply shrugs, moving its gigantic wings in a quick gesture. "I've only know you for one year."

"That's one fifteenth of your life time!" You are outraged. Traitor! Secret keeper! Morrigan shrugs again.

Professor Dumbledore spoke. "It looks like you don't need another familiar." His eyes twinkle brightly. "You already have quite a friend here."

"Hello, professor." Morrigan Croaks.

"I'm sorry, I can't understand you. Few wizards can talk with ravens." He adds to your look of confusion. You feel increasingly awkward every moment.

"It says Owl, Cat, or Toad on my list though." Both of you turns to look at Dumbledore.

"Ah, I'll make an exception for you. I'm headmaster; I get to do what I want." He smiles mischievously.

"Well, at least now you have a friend at Hogwarts." Croaks Morrigan.

"Shut up."

Dumbledore simply laughed. So when you talk to ravens, you are still speaking English, but the ravens can understand you?

(A while later)

You brought books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Dumbledore had to lead you away from the stack of charms books. Morrigan had flown away with a "See you", but you would have liked to show her all this.

You walk with Dumbledore to an Apothecary. "I never had a chance to ask: what can you do with your magic? You seem to surprise me at every turn." He didn't slow his pace.

"Hmm..." You think for a while. "I can move stuff around, but you saw that already. I'm good at lighting things on fire, though. Every time an experiment goes wrong, something lights on fire." Dumbledore looks slightly amused. "Over the years, I've learned to do this:"

You hold out your hand, long fingers pointing up. At the tip of each finger a flame of a different color lights up. You feel no pain, only slight warmth where the fire comes from. Dumbledore raises his eyebrows. "Impressive," He says, impressed.

"I can also make force fields. Once a basket ball was flying towards my head but it just bounced off like it hit a wall. Sometimes I use it to block my door too." You add. You know you have a long list of "Skills" you now know as magic, but now that someone asks, you don't remember any.

"I think I'm good at controlling all elements. I mean like, earth, air, water and all that," You add to Dumbledore's confused look. "Not the periodic table." Seeing that it made him more confused, you continue on. "And this one time I slowed down everything around me, like watching a video in slow motion. It was an accident though; I never learned how to do it. I saved someone's life that time. He was going to fall." You have a flashback to that one field trip to a small town near a cliff. You and Georgie were playing around the drop to the rushing water when he suddenly tripped over a pebble. Time slowed and you were able to catch his hand. You two have been close friends since.

Dumbledore nods with understanding. "Sometimes when you have an adrenaline rush, your instincts in your heritage will kick in and you would usually do some magic. But I doubt you had many cases of that, you exercised great control over your magic."

You arrive at the Apothecary. It was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. Dumbledore won't let you buy a solid gold cauldron. "The school requires pewter," He said. But you got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. While the man behind the counter was preparing a package of "basic potion ingredients", you find yourself examining some silvery unicorn hair and small, glittery-black beetle eyes. You toy with the telescope on your entire way to your last stop- the wand shop, Ollivander's.

"There's only your wand left." Said Professor Dumbledore. "The wand maker here, Mr. Ollivander, is one of the best in the world. He comes form a whole line of experienced wand makers. In fact, his father made my wand when I attended Hogwarts."

A magic wand... That's really what you have been looking forward to. "Is it necessary? I mean, does every wizard have one?"

Dumbledore glanced sideways at you. "Every wizard except those who attended Uagadou, the official school of magic in Africa." He paused. "But since you attend Hogwarts, a wand is required. You are very talented bare handed, yes, but with a wand you will explore a world of much greater magic."

You nod. More magic: you like it! Ever since you discovered that you are a witch, you have wanted to know as much of magic as possible: To be different from everyone else- the muggles- is a fascinating experience, and you want to extend that distance. What a world it would be if it were without the ordinary! But if everyone was special, is anyone still special?

The last shop is narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lies on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. This shop must be ancient, like Dumbledore said.

The headmaster stops in front of the door. "You will be going in alone, Amy." He turns to face you as your head tilt in confusion. "Acquiring a wand is a very personal moment; I wouldn't want to interrupt your bonding with your wand. I will wait outside for you."

You nod your thanks and open the door, walking in and immediately smelling the musty odor of old wood and dust. A tinkling bell rang somewhere inside the depth of the ancient shop. It is a tiny place, almost empty except for a spindly and equally ancient chair. You feel like you have entered a very strict library- it is eerily quiet in here. You look up at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of your neck prickle. The very dust and silence in here seem to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon." A soft voice makes you jump. An old man is standing before you, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello." You say awkwardly, but as soon as you spoke, a loud "BANG" goes off somewhere deep in the shop.

"OOOoooOOOh," The old man you think is Ollivander widens his eyes in interest and amusement. He immediately goes into the stacks of boxes to look for the source of the noise. His voice drifted to you from what sounds like far away. "That doesn't happen very often. You are very lucky." there was a thump, and the voice suddenly sounded very strained, like when someone talking while stretching. "This symptom only happens when a very powerful wand meets its exact match." The voice sound normal again. "Ah, there we are."

Ollivander reappears from behind a far away shelf. In his hands is a box covered with dust and cobwebs. He hastily brushes them off.

"Try this. Red Oak and dragon heartstring, twelve and a half, unbending." The old silvery man hands a long stick to you, handle first. Upon closer inspection, it was polished shiny and red in color, and entwined in silver in vine patterns on the thicker parts, which you think is the handle. It made your grip easier, fitting exactly on your fingers. It was practical yet beautiful, with a slightly Victorian taste. It is used not unlike the lines on an American football, yet not straight, but curved like the ivy climbing the wall. You swooshed it around a little, testing its feel. You feel a slight prick on the back of your neck, and the area around you promptly burst into flames, surrounding you in some type of an inferno circle.

"Oh, bravo!" Ollivander shouts over the noises of the fire. Oddly, you don't feel any heat, only a slight warmth. Then as quickly as it had come, the flames vanishes, leaving only a slight smell of a crackling log fire, sweet to your nostril.

"Sorry, I think I burnt your floor a-" You look down, but there is no trace of blackness, and the dust that had been there before is still there. You cock an eyebrow.

"Don't worry, the store's enchanted. All things fix themselves." Ollivander explains. "The wand always chooses the wizard, yes, but often, it doesn't match themselves to the customer. I have to do the work myself. And if the wrong wand is in the hand of the wrong owner, things go wrong." He says as he packages your wand in a long, thin box. "But I haven't sold a red oak wand for many years, not since - Unless you're… But that's impossible, no."

"I'm sorry, what's impossible?" You ask, confused by the mumbling.

"Nothing, my dear girl, merely thinking aloud. That will be seven galleons." He hands the box to you.

You rummage through the small bag for seven of the large golden coins. "There we go," You say happily.

"Oh, and one more thing," Ollivander turns around as he puts the coins away. "Be careful with that wand. Red oak wands should not be in the hands of the weak willed, especially those matched with dragon heartstrings."

"Why not?" You turned around from the door. Curiosity was what gave you such control over your magic.

"Well... Red oak wands make great dueling wands, and the owners will turn out to be great duelers. And that's good. But," he paused. "Owners of dragon heartstring wands, statistically speaking, tend to go to the wrong side. Dragon Heartstrings chooses the ambitious, but sometimes in the wrong way." The old man says almost reluctantly. "But that is not necessarily true. Let's hope it does not become true in your case. We would be losing a lot if it does." He turns back around again. "Have a good day."

You took the cue and left.

(A moment later)

You are rejoined by Professor Dumbledore and Morrigan at the door. The sleek raven was perched on Dumbledore's shoulder, and the professor looked although he was speaking to it.

"A very intelligent bird you have here," Both heads turn to look at you as you exit the small shop. You squint at the sudden bright light- it was rather dim in the shop. "And certainly very polite. She hasn't bitten me yet."

"Ravens are very smart creatures. I like them." You say. Morrigan begin to croak at you.

"A very intelligent teacher you have here," Morrigan said mockingly. "And certainly very polite. He hasn't shooed me away yet."

"Learn to take a compliment, Morrigan." But you couldn't hide the grin in your voice.

"What did she say?"

Blushing a little, you translate in English. The professor only chuckles. "I think we should stop our shopping spree here. I do believe you have everything now."

(A moment later)

"Are you alright, Amy?" Dumbledore says on the walk back to Wool's Orphanage. "You seem very quiet."

Morrigan had flown ahead. You would have gotten looks if a bird was perched on your shoulder, if you had not already had enough because of Dumbledore's appearance. "I'm fine." Dumbledore does not seem convinced. "Back there in Ollivander's, he told me that my wand tends to belong to those on the wrong side." Pausing a little, you continue. "I'm a little concerned. I don't want to be a problem."

"Ahh," the exclamation was half a sigh. "Mr. Ollivander has probably told you his family's motto- the wand chooses the wizard." You nod. "Well, you should know that it is you, not your wand, who decides what you want to become. Mr. Ollivander thinks that a wand looks at someone's fate and chooses their owner according to it. But I want to tell you that it is wrong. There is no such thing as fate. It is each individual's choices that determine their turn out."

"I hope that is true. I want to have some control over my life." You say.

Dumbledore chuckles again. "A very strong willed young women. You will make a great witch some day. But yes, everyone has a choice, the exact amount of choices as anyone. Everyone has a choice, only some are more difficult than others. Don't choose the wrong one, and you'll be fine."

You nod and stay silent for the rest of the walk back.

(At the door of the orphanage)

"I think I'll leave you here, Amy." You are standing at the gate to the yard of Wool's Orphanage. The black iron doors gave the place a forbidding look. "In your enveloped you'll find a train ticket to Hogwarts Express at platform nine and three quarters at King's Cross Station." At your confused look, the headmaster gives a chuckle. "This may sound very bizarre. At the train station, you will see platform nine and ten. There is a brick wall between the two platforms that will only be solid for muggles. You must walk straight into the wall to reach the platform."

"I got it. Thank you, professor, for the trip. I assume I can't tell my muggle friends about this?" You question. Surely, no muggles would know about magic?

"That is correct. Well, I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts." Dumbledore turned around and walked a few steps, then paused. "I think we've come to rather friendly terms today. But at Hogwarts, you will be expected to address me as Professor, or Headmaster. No one knows I've taken it as a personal responsibility to meet this extraordinary young witch."

"But sir, why exactly did you come personally to see me?" Curiosity drove you to ask.

Dumbledore paused for a long time.

"I'm sorry sir; I didn't mean to pry..." Curiosity killed the cat.

"No, it's fine. I just wanted to see how the daughter of my dear friends Eleanor and Jonathan Waldgrave turned out. Quite the wizards they were." But satisfaction brought it back. You see Dumbledore's twinkling eyes suddenly turn dull. You look down. "Oh! But before I forget," His tone turned cheerful again. You found it safe to look up. "Happy birthday, Amy."

Out of thin air a paper box appears, floating slightly above his hand. He hands it to you, smiling kindly again. You feel you face turns red.

"Thank you, sir, you didn't have to…" You mutter.

"Oh, but it isn't every day your best friend's daughter turns eleven, is it?" He walks off, and with a loud pop, completely vanished. You gape at the spot where he disappeared, then shake your head. After what you've seen today, nothing should surprise you anymore. You turn and head back to the orphanage.

Author's Note: I would like to say a word of thanks to everyone that is reading this, because you have stuck with me or Amy until at least the third chapter. Please like or follow, I worked hard on this. Please review if you feel like I did a good job or if I need to fix something. I look forward to publishing more.