04 April 1983
Diagon Alley, London
It was nearly two months later when Sirius finally got around to dragging Jean off to Diagon Alley for that promised blood test and new wand. Jean was actually pretty excited about the prospect; it would be nice to put down some actual roots here and, of course, having her own wand was always an added bonus. Still, Jean wasn't really sure what to expect of the alley; mostly because in the few times that she had been back there since the end of the Second Wizarding War, it had been decrypt and desolate to the point where Knockturn Alley looked downright cheerful in comparison. What she did know was that she hadn't expected to be led through the twisting tables of The Leaky Cauldron—a place that was far more grimy than it had any right to be—and deposited in the backend of the pub's trash pile.
Stood in front of the moss-stained brick wall—the length of which, ran the entire backend of the pub—Jean watched as Sirius pulled out an oak wand that was about thirteen inches long, and rather sleek in nature. She shuffled on her feet as Sirius pointed his wand at the bricks above his head and began to start counting bricks in the wall, making sure not to knock over the line of trash cans beneath as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Three up…two across…" Sirius muttered under his breath as he counted the bricks, tapping each one individually. It had been a loooong time since he had come through the Leaky's entrance instead just flooing straight to the Ministry or wherever else in the alley he needed to be that day. Doing it this way with the young & anxious witch at his side, reminded him of his own very first trip to Diagon Alley. It had been his Uncle Alphard who had made the trip with him, his own parents deeming the act of shopping for school supplies to be something of the house-elves' calibre. He, himself, however had always loved coming here where the atmosphere was always so different from his dreary life at Grimmauld Place. "Right, stand back"
The tapped bricks quivered & wriggled of their own accord as Sirius shooed Jean away from the wall as much as possible and then like magic, the bricks began to shift & swivel on an axis that was not there. Swinging around on invisible hinges like the gauges on a vertical jump yardstick being flicked away, the bricks peeled back until a small hole began to appear. The gap grew wider & longer with each breath until a sizeable archway appeared in the previously blank brickwork.
It was here that Jean was confronted with her first official glimpse at the magical world hidden behind the wall. Between this blink and the next, Jean found herself gleefully staring up at the newly-formed archway that she knew was big enough to house the likes of Hagrid, and led the way out onto a cobblestoned street which twisted & turned out onto the horizon. "Welcome" Sirius grandly swept his arm out towards the street as he grinned at Jean's amazement, "To Diagon Alley!"
Together they stepped through the brickwork archway, where Jean quickly spun on her heel to glance back at the door which they had just passed through and watched as the archway began to shrink back into the brick wall of some old stone passageway. She'd forgotten how much she'd missed this place and they hadn't even gone anywhere yet! A gleeful grin spread across her lips as she hurried to catch up with Sirius, dodging through the crowds of magical folk that always seemed to clogged the alleyways.
Just like the first time, Jean wished that she had about eight more eyes so that she could take in everything in at once. Turning his head this way & that as they walked up the street, Jean's gaze jumped around the place so fast that she soon found herself becoming dizzy from all of the wonders abound. Up ahead, the sun glimmered behind a stack of cauldrons perched precariously outside of the closest shop—Callahan's Cauldrons (All Shapes & Sizes: Copper, Brass, Gold, Pewter, Silver, Self-Stirring & Collapsible) read the overhanging sign—To the right there stood a gaggle of witches going about their shopping outside of a store dedicated to nothing but stinking bags of manure and bulbous plants with pus-filled bulbs. Their chicken-like chatter were injected with things like "…Did you hear about that family over in Surrey…?" and "…Circe, these rationings are gonna be the end of me…!"
A pair of enormous violet toads sat in the cracked window of the Magical Menagerie, gulping wetly as their tongues darted out to ensnare any blowfly that was stupid enough to pass them by. A low soft purring came from a dark cage that kept the door propped open and a great & powerful odour that stank of manure wafted outwards onto the street. Serenaded by the squeaking, squawking, jabbering & hissing crowd inside, the pair passed them by and Jean was only just able to catch a glimpse of the weathered witch in thick black spectacles dancing past the window. She was hunched over a splintered broom (the sweeping kind) as she wove her way in & out of the cramped towers of animal cages that looked to be staying up by sheer willpower alone.
There were shops selling billowy robes of velvet, shops that sold golden telescopes and crystalline orbs. There lay windows stacked with barrels of newt eyes, tottering piles of grimoires, rolls of tea-stained scrolls, twisted potion vials and prank toys that sipped about the storefronts. A cold waft of air floated out of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour that brought goosebumps to her skin and the taste of chilled desserts lingered on the air. Over there was her favourite store in the alley, Flourish & Blotts, where she could often find herself lost between the twisting towers of books & tomes for hours on end. It was part of the reason why Mum & Dad always insisted on hitting that place last because it was like pulling teeth to get her out of there without a purchase of some kind.
And then they were stepping out of the Floo and passing through the even busier halls of the Ministry of Magic with her visitors pass sat snugly upon her breast, shining a matted silver as she followed after Sirius. Normally, they'd have gone through the visitor's entrance out in London, proper, but those entrances had been previously targeted by Death Eaters who had taken note of the "muggle-friendly" mages and then killed them upon their return, or waited until they had returned home to slaughter the entire family. So, the Diagon Alley fireplace entrance it was.
Trudging through the atrium hand-in-hand so as not to get lost in the crowd, Jean found her eyes jumping around the alcove as she tried to drink everything in—what had changed and what had stayed the same. The hall was still as long & splendid as ever with its highly polished dark wooden floor that Jean had often thought would be perfect for sliding down in her socks. There was the peacock-blue ceiling which hung overhead and was inlaid with the gleaming golden signals of runes that occasionally moved & changed like some enormous heavenly noticeboard.
Owls zipped by as they delivered messages to various departments and the faecal trails that they left behind were quickly cleaned up by the house-elves that moved about in the shadows. The walls on each side were panelled in shiny dark marble tiles and had many gilded fireplaces set into each of the mantelpieces. And every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the lefthand fireplaces with a soft whoosh. Equally, on the righthand side, short queues of mages were forming before each fireplace as they waited to depart.
Further into the alcove lay the beginnings of the offices, stacked atop of each other like apartment buildings. Serenaded by the newsboy in the corner trying to hawk scrolls of the Daily Prophet, they followed the flow of the crowd that wove around the golden fountains at the halfway point. They stood imposing and tall, heralded only by banners of the current Minister for Magic, — whose portrait moved in black and white, like a gif on a loop.
It was the fountain though, that was the most eye-catching. A group of golden statues that loomed larger than life, stood in the middle of two circular pools. Tallest of them were the all-important and noble-looking mages on the left, where the wizard had his wand pointed heavenwards and the witch sat regally at his side, her wand pointed towards the opposing fountain.
Across the way, in a much smaller pool opposing that one, gathered a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf with a little less grandeur, but no less gold. These three were all staring adoringly up at the mages, like they had put the stars in the sky, themselves. And this was all whilst glittering jets of water flew from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat and each of the house-elf's ears. And as they passed by the fountains, Jean caught glimpses of the silvery sickles and bronze knuts that glinted up at her from the bottom of the pool where well-wishers had thrown their coin in the hopes of granting wishes. Quietly, Jean promised herself to add her own two sickles should this genealogy test go well enough.
But as they boarded the elevators at the backend of the hall, where Jean found herself having to grip tight to Sirius' bent arm as she was far too short to hold the straps and the bellhop house-elf was directed to push which button, the brunette found her mind quickly drifting elsewhere. No sooner as she had stepped foot onto this hallowed land, did Jean feel the call of the Veil several floors below and the Old magicks that leaked from the foundations of this place. And it was evident that few others could feel it too, even if they didn't know it.
According to Lady Nimuë, the land where the Wizard's Council—and, in turn, its successor, the Ministry of Magic—had been built upon, was once known as the Isle of Nemeton. It was here, that priestesses & priests of the Old Religion would gather on occasion to release the dorocha upon ripping open the Veil, and to briefly cross over to the spirit world where those of the eldritch kind, resided. The Great Stones of Nemeton still resided in the basement, thanks to the building being built around both the Veil and the Stones. It was also part of the reason why people tended to flock to this place; even if you didn't know its origins, you could still feel the power that resonated here.
DING!
"Level Three" Grunted the house-elf as the doors of the elevator scrunched back and pulled Jean from her thoughts. "Department of Genealogy"
04 April 1983
Department of Genealogy, Ministry of Magic
Jean had visited the Muggle Liaison Office a few times over the years; mostly with her parents or a teacher. When she had first come here with her parents, way back when she had first been a twitchy eleven year old, it had been Professor McGonagall who had led the awestruck Grangers to the Muggle Liaison Office. There, her father had registered his muggleborn daughter and fully introduced her to the world of magic. Her mother, on the other hand, had refused to step foot in such a place with much the same reverence as the Purebloods held for the muggleborns, themselves.
But Jean had never been to this set of offices before; not even during that horrid decade when she had slaved away at a desk job that she'd hated and bounced between the departments like a pinball. Because there was never any real need to do so before the war; she had known of her extended family through her father & they had meet almost every year like clockwork. And then after the war, they had had their hands full with the incoming slew of muggleborns alongside the ones that had been "lost" during the Burning of the Pages. After that, she had been too consumed in her research for long-term time travel, to ever really consider going to make things official in the eyes of the law.
But here she was.