Alexandra Potter
Chapter Eleven: Firsts and Lasts
Scene 4/6
Christmas approached. The last opportunity to buy and send presents in Hogsmeade was the 23rd, so Alex got up bright and early to make her way down to the small town. As it was the holidays she was permitted to walk around Hogsmeade alone, but she still had to be escorted there by a prefect.
"Look, Potter, let's make a deal," said Egbert Lumpy, a sixth year Gryffindor prefect more commonly known as 'Eggs'. He was tall, pointy-nosed and inexplicably bald.
"What kind of deal?" said Alex, following Eggs out into the snow. Though it'd been falling for over a day now, the snow was only just beginning to settle, so the grass was still visible, pointing up through the thin layer of white. She cast a warming Charm on the both of them by reflex.
"I don't need to go to Hogsmeade," Eggs said, holding out his hand to let the snow melt on his palm. "I don't want to go to Hogsmeade. Nothing's going to happen to you if you go alone - so long as you don't tell anyone."
Alex considered. The way to Hogsmeade was pretty simple: you just followed the path. And it wasn't like it was a dangerous path.
"All right," she said, shrugging. She didn't particularly fancy hanging around with Eggs all day anyway, and if something did happen to her - well, it would be Eggs who got in trouble, not her.
Eggs grinned.
"Good on ya!" he said, and Alex dodged his hand as he went to ruffle her hair. She wasn't a dog. "You're a good sport. Have fun!"
So, two years before she was supposed to, Alex walked down to Hogsmeade alone. Without the distraction of conversation, it was a much longer walk than she remembered. As she walked she tried to think of what to buy Draco for Christmas. A book? No, he doesn't like reading much, and he's got the Malfoy library anyway. Jewellery? Too girly. Robes? I don't know his size. Stationary? Too boring. A gift card? Unimaginative. Chocolates? Yawn.
It was frustrating. It would be so easy to get something for herself. A book, or some nice robes, or Potions ingredients... but Draco was so much harder. Boys!
But there was something that she knew boys were interested in. If Daphne can do it, so can I - but she knew straight away it wasn't true. Just the idea made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. Something else... maybe something to do with Quidditch. But what? He already has a broom, and balls, and robes. Hell, he even has a half-pitch!
She decided to shop for the others first. They were easier. And Draco's parents would be easiest.
The door of Manor jingled when she entered, revealing a shop almost as large as a warehouse. A huge, high ceilinged room of grey stone, Alex could tell from the way her breath misted before her that it was just as cold inside as out. The air was fresh with the smell of plants, and the faint sound of trickling water mixed with the whisper of hushed voices. The front of the shop, where Alex had entered, was full of shelves and racks upon which small ornaments were displayed, like those in the windows, but beyond the stacks the shop opened up to display the larger pieces - the fountains, statues and so on. It was almost like an indoor garden.
She wandered deeper into the shop, looking around for a suitable gift. A garden table made entirely of moving water captured her attention. Several books, completely dry, sat on top, but when she pushed hard against the cool surface her hand went in. Though the water rushed and swirled around it, when she took her hand away it was completely dry.
Elemental Table, a card on top read, Will commune with any natural water source, such as a river or stream. Wildlife friendly. 100G.
Alex gasped at the price. It was far too expensive. Not only was it more than she could afford to be spending frivolously, it was also more than was appropriate for Draco's parents - even if they were the Malfoys. Reluctantly, Alex moved on, but it didn't take long for her to come across another wonder.
A few steps away stood a bronze statue of a naked man, life sized and muscled like an Olympic athlete. He posed with his weight on his back leg, as if poised to leap forward, and in one hand he held a torch filled with yellow-orange flame. It reminded Alex of the Statue of Liberty, the way he held it up.
The statue blinked, and Alex let out a squeak of surprise, jumping backwards, but it didn't move again. The detail on his face is amazing, she thought, leaning in for a look. She could make out the individual hairs of his eyebrows, the crinkles in his lips. Hovering to his side was the card.
Prometheus by Viola Merret. Mythological wizard who stole fire magic from the gods. One-of-a-kind piece, with Gubraithian Fire torch. Gubraithian Fire will never extinguish. Price on request.
Alex dreaded to think how much such an item cost, if this shop didn't want to show the price. Clearly she was in the wrong section.
"Can I help you?" said a girl's voice. Alex turned to face her - she was tall and willowy, almost unhealthily thin, with long brown hair and a long face. "Oh!" said the girl when she saw Alex's face. "Hi, Alexandra."
Oh crap, thought Alex. She had no idea who the girl was. I guess she goes to Hogwarts. This isn't awkward at all.
"Er - hi!" Alex said, trying to cover up her unfamiliarity with cheer. "Fancy seeing you here!"
"Well, you know, Professor McGonagall knows Mr Carver," the girl said, flicking her hair out of her eyes. It immediately slipped back.
"Oh, right," said Alex. She had no idea who Mr Carver was either.
"So after I got an O in my Transfiguration OWL last year, Professor McGonagall put in a good word for me, you know? It's boring work, to be honest. Mr Carver doesn't let me help with the pieces. But it's all experience, right?"
"Right," said Alex, truly lost. Mr Carver, she supposed, was the owner of Manor. "Um, I should look around more. I need to find a present for the Malfoys, but this stuff is all a bit..."
"Expensive?" said the girl, and Alex nodded. "Well, come on then! I'll help you."
The girl without a name led her back over to the entrance, where the smaller items were. She showed Alex a pair of miniature fighting knights, a cage of fairy lights, and a selection of scented never-melting candles. But Alex waved them all away. She had her eye on something else.
"How about one of these?" she said, pointing to a collection of robins made of living silver. They were still right now, but Alex knew they could move and even fly. She remembered there was a set of three in the window, but these were available as individuals.
"Ohh, very nice," said the girl. "I saw Mr Carver make a set last week - amazing stuff. It took all day. They're one of the more expensive ones, though. Two Galleons."
Alex bit her lip. Two Galleons was a lot. She only had five galleons on her - all the rest of her money was in London. But she couldn't get Mr and Mrs Malfoy a cheap present - they were the Malfoys. Draco's socks were worth a small fortune, never mind the rest of his wardrobe, and last year Mr Malfoy had dug into his apparently bottomless coffers to make a ten thousand Galleon donation to St. Mungo's Hospital.
"I'll take it," she said. Lily's present wouldn't cost much, so that meant she still had a couple of Galleons for Draco. That should be more than enough. Ten minutes later she left Manor with the robin in a small cage, wrapped in tissue paper and tied with ribbon. As she left, Obscurus Books caught her eye across the street. It can't hurt to have a quick look, can it? Maybe I'll find something for Lily.
She left the bookshop - which was actually a publishing house - an hour later, carrying a book on fairies for Lily and a book on Undoing for herself.
One Galleon and a handful of Sickles left. If she spent it all, she wouldn't have any money for the rest of the year. Hopefully I'll find something for one Galleon, she thought. Now that the Malfoys were out of the way, and Lily, she just had Draco to buy for.
She made her way down the street aimlessly, entering every shop in the vain hope that the perfect present would be sitting on a shelf, just waiting for her to buy it. But the joke shop Dervish and Bangs had nothing, nor did the games shop Follets. The toys inside Mr Zukel's Wonderous Workshop were interesting, but Draco was too old for that stuff now. She had to pull herself away from the robes in Fixworth's, painfully aware of her shortage of change. There was nothing for Draco there.
Alex entered the apothecary without much hope. It was run by a little old lady called Madam Scrone, and was much worse than the one in Diagon Alley. It had none of Diagon's exotic ingredients, nor its sense of fun. There was little chance she'd find something for Draco in there. But one ingredient did make her smile. They looked like small grey rocks, only hairy like a peach.
Bezoars, the glass tub was labelled, antidote to many poisons. 3S each.
Alex opened her distinctly Muggle purse and looked inside. She had one Galleon, four Sickles and a fistfull of Knuts. Oh, go on then. She bought a bezoar and had it jarred. It would make a perfect gift for Professor Dumbledore.
After a quick lunch at the Three Broomsticks - a bacon sandwich, with salad and a Butterbeer - she returned to her search for the perfect present. She was beginning to think that she'd have to get Draco chocolates from Honeydukes when she came across a Quidditch shop. It was a small one, with just one window and no name. A pair of broomsticks sat in the window display, and both of them looked rather old.
She entered holding her breath, hoping for a miracle. But one look around was enough to make her heart sink. Everything was old, worn. It was a second-hand shop.
An elderly man, bent over a cane, pottered out of the back room. "Can I help you, young miss?" he said. His balding head was covered in liver spots, but here and there a few strands of long white hair survived.
"I was just looking," she replied, though she'd had every intention of leaving. But now she'd said it she had to follow through, if only for politeness. So she wandered around, looking through baskets of cracked Beater's bats, cages of snitches whizzing around with half-broken wings, and a wide variety of brooms in various states of disrepair, mounted on the wall.
"I expect," said the man, walking slowly over to where she was looking at a bright red Cleansweep Three, "that you're doing some last minute Christmas shopping. Is that right?"
"Uh-huh," said Alex, still looking at the Cleansweep. Even second hand brooms were expensive, she realised - the Cleansweep was selling for nine Galleons.
The man chuckled, before his chuckles turned into a hacking cough. "Not the sort to think ahead, are you?" he said once he recovered, peering at the broom himself.
"Tell me about it," Alex muttered, wishing she'd got Draco's present long ago. I should've ordered something from Diagon Alley by owl a month ago.
The man gestured at the wall of brooms. "A discerning lady like yourself will find nothing of interest here," he said, "come, come." He walked back over towards the counter, next to which was a tall glass cabinet.
"What do you mean, a discerning lady?" said Alex, following him. And why not? It wasn't like she was going to find anything anywhere else.
The man snorted. "You are a Hogwarts student, are you not?"
"Well, yes," said Alex, "but that doesn't mean-"
"Oh, but I think it does," said the man, and he opened, with difficulty, a drawer under the counter. From it he withdrew a single key. "The fine cut of your robes, the way you speak, the way you carry yourself... Hogwarts."
Alex looked at her robes. She was wearing a warm black outer robe she'd bought in November, with a white under-robe with her green jumper underneath. They seemed pretty normal to her.
"And of course," the man continued, "even I, old as I am, can recognise Alexandra Potter."
"Oh," said Alex. I should've guessed. Apparently someone had taken her photo at the Sorting Feast, and it had made its way onto page two of the Daily Prophet. But this time, she'd actually thought he hadn't known her. Normally when people recognised her they greeted her like an old friend, calling her "Alexandra", like they'd known her all her life.
The old man finally stilled his shaking hands enough to unlock the cabinet door and open it up. "Ah, here we go," he said, and he carefully took out a pair of goggles. They looked like something a crazy Victorian inventor might wear. "These were the goggles worn by Wendel Cartwright of the Holyhead Harpies throughout the 1965 season," he said, holding them up to the light. "What do you think?"
That's more like it, Alex thought, and she smiled in relief. Something worn by a famous player - that was the kind of thing she could get Draco. "They're very nice," she said, "but Draco's favourite team is Puddlemere United. Do you...?"
The man smiled. Alex half expected him to be missing half his teeth, but he had a full set, pearly white. Such teeth looked strange on such an old man. "Heh," he coughed, "I have just the thing." He reached back into the cabinet and pulled out a pair of fingerless gloves, made of some kind of material like leather, black with red lines running through it like veins. "These were worn by one of the Puddlemere chasers in the 1979 cup final. A rather precious pair of gloves, given their owner."
"Their owner?" said Alex. The gloves were perfect - Draco would love them, she knew it.
The man looked at Alex in something like surprise.
"Why, James Potter, of course!"
Alex was stunned speechless.
I want them. But that created a problem - she still needed to get Draco a present. Could she give him something of her father's? She didn't even have anything that belonged to him. But it's not like Draco's going anywhere, she thought, he'll keep them safe. And maybe one day, we'll share everything anyway...
"I'll take them," she said, and the moment she made the decision she knew it was the right one. The thought of giving the gloves to Draco filled her with an unfamiliar warmth - she couldn't wait to see his reaction. She was looking forward to it more than seeing what he had got her! He would surely know how much the gift meant. It was perfect.
"Heh, I thought you might," said the man, and he put Wendel Cartwright's goggles back into the cabinet. "Normally these gloves would be three Galleons. But I think for the daughter of the man who wore them, I can bring it down to two, eh?"
Alex's heart sank. She only had one Galleon. If only I'd seen this before I'd bought those books!
"I, er, I only have one on me," she said, embarrassed. It was amazing how quickly she'd become accustomed to not having to think about money. But the man didn't seem to mind in the least.
"No matter!" he said, and he produced a heavy folder, bound with string, from under the counter. "We can draw a note up, quick as you please." He flipped it open and tore out one of the pieces of parchment. He passed it to Alex, along with a quill.
The parchment was some kind of legal document for transferring money. Most of it was written already, but blank spaces had been left for personal details.
"Now, let's see..." said the man, "you put my name in here. Mister Gerald Thomas Tarr, if it please you." Alex did as he said, the letters on the page shifting as she wrote to provide enough space. "And here you should write your name, in full." Alex signed it Alexandra Alice Potter and moved on to the next gap.
The sheet of paper burst into flame, incinerating itself to nothing in less than a second.
"Heh," said Mr Tarr, tearing another sheet out of the folder, "got your own name wrong. That's a new one. Let's try again."
Alex blushed and quickly scribbled his name into the first blank, before hovering over the second. Contrary to what he probably thought, Alex wasn't an idiot. She was pretty sure she'd spelled her name correctly. And then it clicked - it wanted her full name.
The Lady Alexandra Alice Potter, Countess of Shrewsbury.
"Better," said Mr Tarr, and they filled the rest out quickly. At the bottom there was a space for a signature. "That's for you," Tarr said, and she signed her name in the gap. "Very good," he said, and he placed the gloves into a box and bagged it. "Perhaps tell your friends about this place, eh?"
"I will!" she said, and she walked out.
Finished! Now all she had to do was send it all off. The Owl Office was a tall building not unlike a windmill, situated a way away from the high street. It was packed inside - though the building was large, most of it was for owls, not humans. They sold envelopes, cards and some stationary, but the big queues were for the wrapping service and the postowls.
Alex joined the wrapping queue first and, as she waited, she used some of their parchment to scribble quick notes to the recipients. After twenty minutes of waiting she got her presents wrapped, before moving over the to post queue.
"You want to send it to Dublin, you say?" said the young clerk from behind the glass.
"That's right," said the gruff man in front of her. He was wearing one of those pointy hats that old wizards wore sometimes. "What of it?"
"Well, let's see," said the clerk, and he pulled out a huge map, far too big to fit on the counter. He flattened a portion of it and weighed the corners down with stationary. "Here we are," he said, placing a pin somewhere in the Scottish highlands. He pulled out a strange metal contraption that looked something like a drawing compass. He placed one end on Hogsmeade and twirled it about, adjusting the length of the circle three times before he seemed to reach a decision.
"Here," he said, placing a pin further South, "we have an office in Durham, though you'll need a tawny to get there. And after Durham..." he repeated the process, before putting a pin in Wales. "Another tawny will get it to the Holyhead office, and from there it's simple," - he placed a pin in Dublin - "a pygmy will be enough to get it across the water. Once it's in Dublin a delivery owl will take it to the final destination."
"Two tawnies and a pygmy?" said the man, and he didn't sound happy, "how much will all that cost me?"
"Twenty Knuts, sir," said the clerk after cross-checking a few tables.
"Twenty Knuts!" the man replied, "back when the Ministry ran things, they'd do it with a single eagle for ten!"
"My apologies, sir, but twenty Knuts is the price," said the unfortunate clerk, and the grumbling man paid up. And then it was Alex's turn.
Her own parcels were significantly more complicated than the man before. She was sending three, for a start, and they were all quite heavy. But after a lot of playing around with the map, the clerk sorted everything out, and she paid for both the postowls and the wrapping.
"They'll definitely get there in time for Christmas?" said Alex as she handed over her two Sickles.
"Owl Office guarantee," said the clerk, and he passed her the change. "Thank you for using the Owl Office, and Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas!"