Chapter Two: Diagon Alley

Despite the fact that it was mid August, the day was grey and blustery. Remus didn't care, however, no amount of bad weather would be able to dampen his spirits. His father was taking him to Diagon Alley to get his school supplies, and the young werewolf had to keep pinching himself to check he wasn't dreaming. He was really going to Hogwarts! They were really going to let him go to school!

A letter had arrived the previous week, written in green ink on creamy parchment, detailing all the books he would need for his classes, along with a telescope, a pewter cauldron and his school robes. Lyall already had most of the books - they had been on the book list back when he had attended Hogwarts, and he was the type that liked to keep old things "just in case". He also had a standard sized cauldron and a battered telescope he could give to the boy. This was just as well, as money was tight, and the school supply list was extensive. They would have to get his robes second hand - rather than go to Madam Malkin's for new - and he wouldn't be able to take an animal to school. But Lyall had promised that he would buy his son some fresh parchment, a new quill and - best of all - a brand new wand, all of his own.

Hope was still worrying. She hadn't gone to Hogwarts, of course, and she hadn't gone to a muggle boarding school, either. Sending her beloved son away for weeks at a time was an upsetting idea for her. And that was before she factored in Remus's condition. She was suspicious of the Wizarding World now, and wary of how the magic community would treat her son. She hated the thought of sending him into that world as - having no magic of her own - she couldn't follow him there to protect him. But she put her fussing to one side and tried to smile brightly, as her son climbed onto the back of his father's rather beaten up broom. She waved, as the men in her family flew up into the sky, until they were out of sight. Then she went back inside and stoked up the fire. Even though it was August, it was damp inside their little cottage, and she had a slight cough…

...

It was cold, up on the broom, they had to fly high enough that the muggles couldn't see them and, because of the cloud cover, they were soon soaked through. Lyall had one hand on the handle of the broom - steering - and the other clutching onto his wizard's hat, keeping it clamped around his ears for warmth. But Remus had no hat - and his muggle jeans and thin sweater clung to his skin. His hair was plastered against his head, the wind whistled in his ears, and droplets of water dribbled down his back. But even this wasn't enough to dampen his spirits.

Nevertheless, it was with a feeling of immense relief that they made their descent down into the street below and entered the Leaky Cauldron. There was a warm fire blazing in the hearth of the tap room, and the soaking Remus scurried over to it - and felt his whole body relax, as the heat washed over him. His father went to the bar, and ordered two bottles of butterbeer. 'Lyall!' Tom the toothless barman greeted him, 'haven't seen you around in an age!'

Lyall smiled uncomfortably, 'Ha-haven't had much need for Diagon Alley in a while now,' he answered. 'My wife's a muggle - you know how it is.'

Tom nodded. Many who married outside of the magical community seemed to fall by the wayside - moving to live amongst their new family and putting their wands away. It was why so many wizards feared their children marrying muggles. 'So what brings you here now?' he asked.

This time, Lyall's smile was proud, 'my boy got his letter to Hogwarts.' He nodded in the direction of the fire and Tom looked across at the young boy that sat there.

Even though he was only just starting out in life, the lad already had a world weary look in his eyes - and a pinched expression that suggested he was used to pain. The barman sucked his gums… the lad's clothes were shabby, and he looked ill - and Lyall looked little better. He grinned at his customer, 'well - congratulations! Drinks on the house!'

'Oh, I couldn't possibly….'

'No, no I insist - it's not everyday your boy gets his Hogwarts letter. That's cause to celebrate.'

Lyall thanked him, and took the drinks over to the fire - handing one to his son. 'Here, this should warm you up.' Remus took the bottle gratefully, and took a swig. The creamy, frothy liquid was warm in his throat, and it slid down smoothly and sat in his belly - like someone had lit a fire there, as well. He grinned at his father, 'so where do we go first?' he asked, eagerly, 'to get my wand?'

Lyall chuckled - no, their first stop would have to be Gringotts of course. Once they had got some wizarding money out of the bank, then they could pick up his robes, the few books he still needed, his parchment, ink and quill: 'and then we'll get your wand last of all,' he told his son. 'Always save the best 'til last, Remus. Gives you something to look forward to.'

Remus glugged away at his butterbeer. 'Well - can we get going, then - can we, dad?'

Lyall laughed again. 'You'll make yourself sick, drinking it in one go like that… we've plenty of time.'

The young werewolf looked at his watch, 'what time does everything shut?'

'Not for hours - relax - get warm. We've got all day to shop.'

But Remus kept on checking his watch until, finally, Lyall gave in. 'You need to learn some patience,' he told his son, but his eyes were twinkling as he said it. 'Come on then,' and he took him out to the yard behind the pub. He took out his wand and then counted the bricks. 'Three up, two across,' he muttered to himself and tapped the brick he came to. The wall then seemed to pull apart, changing shape until a large archway stood in front of the pair of them. Lyall glanced down at his son, the boy's face was gleaming with excitement, 'welcome to Diagon Alley,' Lyall said.

...

They walked down the cobbled street, Remus's eyes were popping, as he took in the ancient buildings all sloped and huddled against each other - and the exciting things they were all selling. There was a large barrel of newt eyes outside one shop, and another of dragon livers. "15 sickles" the sign read. 'We'll need to get you some potions ingredients,' Lyall told his son, as they passed by, 'but all in good time.'

They passed "Flourish and Blotts" the bookstore, and "Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour." There was a low, hooting sound coming from "Eeylops Owl Emporium" and there was a large crowd gathered outside "Quality Quidditch Supplies"; all admiring the brand new model of Silver Arrows that had recently hit the market.

And then - up ahead - by far the largest and grandest building on the street, was Gringott's wizarding bank. Run by goblins, and guarded by dragons, it was where the whole British wizarding community kept their gold. It was a palace of white, shining marble and it gleamed, even in the murkiness of the weak, summer sun. The large, burnished bronze doors were flanked by two goblins in red and gold uniforms. The creatures were small, and had long noses and glinting black eyes. They looked very carefully at Remus, as he walked past them, and he had the strangest sensation that they could see right through him - and knew exactly what he was.

Inside the entrance hall were yet more doors - silver this time - and a warning was engraved on them. Remus read it, and shivered. 'What do they do with bank robbers, dad?' he asked.

Hope sometimes took him to the pictures, and he'd seen films about bank robberies and train robberies and they were always exciting adventure movies. They'd recently gone to see "Butch Cassidy and The Sundance kid", and whilst his mum had smiled dreamily up at Paul Newman, Remus had imagined himself as a daring outlaw… he just needed a partner. But on reading the unsettling words the goblins had etched into the metal of the doors, he suddenly found the idea of theft and plunder had rather lost its shine.

'I don't know,' Lyall whispered to his son, as they passed the next set of goblins, 'but I do know that in 500 years - no one has ever successfully broken in - and got back out again.'

'We'll be careful not to take anything that's not ours - won't we, dad?' Remus asked. Lyall nodded.

They went into the main hall of the bank, and went up to the first available counter. 'I'd like to visit my vault please,' Lyall said to the goblin who peered down at him, 'number 437,'

'Key,' the goblin said, holding out a long fingered claw. Lyall handed the small, gold key over, and the goblin examined it. 'Hmm - this seems to be all in order - Gurnak!' another goblin came hurrying over, 'take Mr Lupin and his…' the goblin eyed Remus very carefully, '... son down to vault 437.'

Gurnak nodded, 'this way, please,' and he led the two wizards through the hall. He opened a door and they stepped through. The marble vanished and was replaced by stone. The whole chamber was lit by torches held in brackets, and the light flickered eerily, casting shadows against the rough hewn walls. A cart clattered up to them, running on rails, and they all clambered in.

Remus had to grip onto the edge tightly, as it shot off with break-neck speed; rattling down canyons, and up hills, swerving round corners and jolting over bumps. He ducked his head to avoid a low hanging stalactite. As they shot around a corner, Remus caught sight of a blast of fire out of the corner of his eye. 'What was that, dad?' he asked.

'Dragon,' Lyall replied, matter of factly.

'Wow,' he breathed to himself.

The cart screeched to a halt. 'Vault 437,' Gurnak said to them, and they all tumbled out. Lyall used the key to open the door, and then they went inside. The vault had been carved out of the stone, and was like a great, rugged cave. It could clearly hold a great deal of gold. But there was only a small pile of galleons, sickles and knuts inside. Lyall counted some out and put them inside a bag, 'I don't think we need all of them,' he muttered, 'need to save something for next year.'

And then it was back into the cart, and another exhilarating ride back up to ground level.

'So where first?' Remus asked as they left the bank. Even though it was a murky day, he still blinked in the sunlight after the deep gloom of the underground caverns.

'Potion supplies?' Lyall suggested, and they went off to the apothecary to buy beetles eyes and porcupine quills and crushed spine of lionfish.

Inside the shop smelled terrible - like a combination of rotten eggs and cabbages, and there were slimy things in jars lining the walls. There was another family in there, looking at all the ingredients like they were rather bemused by the whole thing. One little girl, with large, pale eyes had her hand clamped firmly over her nose and mouth - and a look of utter revulsion on her face.

'It says I need beetle eyes, mum,' her sister - a little redheaded girl said, brandishing her Hogwarts list.

Her mother went to look at the beetle eyes, '5 knuts a scoop?' she muttered, 'what does that mean in real money?'

The pale eyed girl peered into a barrel of dragon's spleens - and then backed away hastily, as the smell hit her. But she backed into the dangling display of severed bats wings - and screamed loudly, as the leathery appendages slapped her about the head. 'I'm going outside, mum,' she declared - and ran for the door. Once outside, she took several deep lungfuls of fresh air… and then watched all the witches and wizards pass by, a mixture of fear and longing playing on her face.

Lyall expertly selected the things Remus would need and then paid for them. As they left, the little girl and her mum were still wondering about the beetle eyes. 'It must be hard for the muggleborns,' Lyall commented, he smiled kindly at the pale eyed girl as they passed her. 'Their world is just so different from ours.'

From the apothecaries, they went on to the second hand bookstore, to pick up a copy of The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1 and A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. All the other books on the list were needed throughout all seven years at Hogwarts, and Lyall still had his copies. But beginner's magic books had long since been lost.

After the bookshop, they went to Scribbulus Writing Instruments, and bought Remus a couple of quills, a few bottles of ink and some reams of parchment. Then they went to the second hand robe store, and the saleswitch was able to find them three sets of plain work robes, which fit reasonably well and weren't too shabby. She also located a pointed hat, which he would have to grow into, and a winter cloak. The silver fastenings on this were a little scraped, and there was a patch sewn into it, where it had had to be repaired… but it would keep him warm. He also bought a pair of protective gloves, and then they were on their way.

'Is it my wand now, dad? Can I get my wand now?' Remus asked.

Lyall checked the list. 'Yes, alright - wand it is… now there's only one place for that - Ollivander's.' He led his son further down the street until they came to a narrow and shabby shop, with peeling gold letters above the door.

'Is this it?' Remus asked, incredulously.

'Finest wands in the world - only place to go,' Lyall smiled and opened the door.

...

Inside it was cramped and dusty. There was a counter and, behind that, shelves upon shelves of boxes - thousands of them, piled right to the ceiling. There was a small, three legged stool and a sallow-faced witch with a hooked nose already sat upon it. A small boy, with a very similar nose - and the same unhealthy pallor - stood beside her. She raised an eyebrow when she saw Lyall Lupin walk in. 'Lyall?' she said, 'I haven't seen you around since…. The unpleasantness with the Wizengamot.'

Lyall smiled the same uncomfortable smile he had worn when Tom had also mentioned his absence from the wizarding world. 'Well, my wife is a muggle…' he tried to use the same excuse.

'My husband is also a muggle,' the witch replied, 'I see that as no reason to cut myself off from the wizarding world… that would be unfair on my son,' she indicated the boy stood next to her.

'First time at Hogwarts, too?' Lyall asked, trying to sound jovial. 'Remus is about to start, we're very excited. You must have been very proud when you got the letter, Eileen.'

'I always knew what my son was,' she replied, coldly.

'Yes, well,' Lyall coughed uncomfortably, 'so did we… but still… Hogwarts…'

For all that Eileen seemed unimpressed, her son certainly looked very pleased with the prospect.

'Of course, now Dumbledore is the headmaster… things will be different,' the witch said, she sounded sour about it. She glanced at her son, 'was that the Evans family I saw out in the street earlier? Their youngest has magic - I take it?' She shook her head, 'shouldn't be allowed. What do you think?' She turned back to Mr. Lupin.

'Dumbledore is a great man,' Lyall said to her, 'he has already helped out our family so much.' He smiled down at his son.

'Is that so?' Another sardonically raised eyebrow. 'Tell me, Lyall - just what was the nature of that unpleasantness with the Wizengamot? I can't quite recall.'

But Lyall was saved from answering by the arrival of Ollivander, bearing a stack of wands. 'Let's try these ones, let's try these ones,' he said, and then noticed Remus and Lyall. 'Lyall!' he sounded delighted , 'cherry and unicorn hair, eleven inches - swishy - good for charms.'

'That's right.'

'And this is your boy?' the wand maker turned his large, grey eyes on Remus - and just like the Goblin's had - seemed to stare straight through him. 'Well, dear me - dear me - most irregular.'

Eileen raised yet another eyebrow.

'Well, we'll see what the boy takes once I've sorted out this young man,' he nodded to the sallow, hook-nosed boy who stood by his mother. 'Try this one first, Larch and phoenix feather, 9 3/4 inches - durable - excellent for transfiguration, here give it a wave.' He handed the wand to the sallow boy, and they all watched as he waved it - nothing happened. 'Never mind, never mind,' Ollivander said, 'we'll find the right fit - I've never failed yet - how about this one, Hawthorne and dragon heart-string, 11 inches; rigid but powerful.'

Again, the boy waved the wand and nothing happened, he looked a little downhearted about it. Ollivander on the other hand seemed to enjoy himself all the more, 'tricky customer, eh, good good. The wand chooses the wizard, young man - the wand chooses the wizard, the right one is here for you somewhere… Now what about this… yes, Elm and dragon heart-string. Of course there are those who claim that Elm wands are for purebloods only… but the truth is they simply prefer owners with a native dexterity. They make very few foolish errors do Elm wands, and produce elegant and sophisticated magic. Eleven and ¼ inches, firm but springy - very good for hexes, give this a try.'

The whole boy's face had lit up, Remus could tell he liked the sound of this wand. And the young werewolf held his breath, as the other boy tried it, hoping it would work out for him. The boy waved his arm and, as the wand travelled through the air, silver sparks flew out of the tip. Everyone applauded and the boy flushed with pleasure. 'Excellent, excellent,' Ollivander smiled. He sold the wand and turned to Remus… 'Now what to do with you?'

Lyall sat down on the stool Eileen had just vacated, and Remus was pulled over to the window so Ollivander could scrutinise him in the light. 'Which is your wand arm?' the wand maker asked.

Remus glanced at his dad, 'Er - I'm right handed,' he said.

'Very good, very good,' Ollivander nodded, still peering into him. A tape measure was measuring the boy all by itself - across his chest, from shoulder to foot, the span of his arms, even the width between his nostrils. It was most disconcerting. 'You have the mark of suffering on you, boy,' Ollivander said to him. 'You have known pain - you carry it with you.'

Lyall cleared his throat, glad Eileen and her questions were no longer in the shop to hear this. 'He has been ill,' he told the wandmaker.

'For years now - with no hope of reprieve,' Ollivander nodded, sadly. 'A shame in one so young, but pain forges strength. Oh yes, to have borne this burden - at such a young age - and to still be standing. There is fight in the child, fire in his belly - but fear as well, fear that can drive him on - or hold him back. Yes, I think something very special is in order for this young man; let me see, let me see.'

He climbed a ladder and took down a long, thin box. 'Let's try this one, Holly and phoenix feather, an unusual combination. 11 inches - nice and supple.' Remus took hold of the wand, eagerly, but nothing happened - it just felt like dead wood in his hand - and like the boy before him, he struggled to hide his disappointment.

'Never mind, never mind,' Ollivander said again, 'clearly this wand is destined for another - but that does not mean yours will not be equally special. Remember, it is the wand who chooses the wizard and not the wizard who chooses the wand. It starts as an initial attraction - a recognition of a kindred spirit, and then it becomes a quest for mutual experience… Here, try this: Fir and dragon heart-string, good for defensive spells, 12 and ¾ inches.' But again nothing happened.

'Hmmm,' mused Ollivander, 'for an unusual boy an unusual wood, perhaps?' He scuttled off to the back of his store.

Remus gave his father an alarmed glance, 'do you think he knows?' he asked.

'If he does, he is not holding it against you. Ollivander is an unusual wizard, like Dumbledore. He is not subject to the prejudices of lesser minds.'

Ollivander returned then, smiling, 'here we go, here we go - try this on for size, 10 and ¼ inches, Cypress wood, unicorn hair - strong yet springy. Pliable - give it a wave.'

The moment Remus held the wand in his hand, he knew it was right. His right arm went all warm and tingly and, as he waved the wand, red sparks flew from the end of it. His father and Ollivander applauded, and Lyall had to take out a handkerchief and dab at his eyes. 'Is this it?' Remus asked, his eyes shining with delight, 'is this my wand?'

'You have been chosen, my boy,' Ollivander told him. Remus swelled with pride. 'And it's a good wand too - show's strength of character. Cypress wood - now they say those with wands of Cypress show great nobility. My great great great great grandfather, Geraint Ollivander, wrote that it was always an honour to match a Cypress wand - as he knew he was meeting a witch or wizard who would die a heroic death.'

The old man caught sight of the boy's suddenly paled face, and smiled, 'of course - in these less blood thirsty times the possessors of a Cypress wand are rarely called upon to lay down their lives. But nevertheless, a Cypress finds its soulmate among the brave, the bold and the self sacrificing. Paired with a unicorn hair… that's quite a wand you have there, my boy… And that's quite a boy you have there, Lyall.'

Lyall smiled, proudly, 'there's no need to tell me that.'

They paid, and left the wand shop. Remus' face was creased into a frown. 'Do you really believe all that stuff about me being noble and bold?' he asked his father.

'I don't see why it wouldn't be true,' Lyall told him. 'I don't tell you this enough, but you are a remarkable boy. All you've been through - all you've suffered. I think you have learned great patience and tolerance and compassion. You've an old head on your shoulders, wise beyond your years. It makes me proud … and a little sad.'

'Why sad?'

'Because you've been robbed of a childhood,' his father told him, shortly. 'Because you are the way you are because you have suffered too much too young.'

'Do you really think I'll die a heroic death?' the boy asked sceptically.

'I hope not,' Lyall smiled. 'I hope you die old and peaceful, warm in your bed. These are peaceful times, my boy… I doubt you'll ever get much of a chance to prove your bravery and nobility. It just won't be called upon.'

'Well I'm glad about that!' Remus declared, as they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron. 'I prefer the quiet life.' And they tied their packages onto their broom and then climbed on board, flying the long journey back to Hope and home.