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marumafan · 8 years

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Yuuram in Novel 1

Because yuuram is life, I will make a megapost that will include every yuuram moment in every novel and extra story we have available in English so far.

I’ll make a post per novel and then make the megapost that will link to them when I have them all. They’ll be long but who doesn’t need a reminder of these wonderful moments in their lives?

To make it fun, I challenge you to count the times that Yuuri calls Wolfram beautiful.

Let’s begin!

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Novel 1. ch.3 -The first time Yuuri sees Wolfram-

"As for the super beautiful shape of the fourth person, even I might be able to match his physique physically. It can't be helped because characteristics like the length of the legs is a racial feature, like height and shoulder width and body weight. Since when did I become someone who only worries about body build. Maybe, because of that day when the second pitcher said, "You, since you're a small target, it'll be hard to throw a ball into you".

Even if our bodies are evenly matched, when I just glanced up, I've already been defeated. How can he be this beautiful! Because of them, his face emits an aura. Although it's likely to seem that way because of his dazzling blond hair. His looks and voice are like an older Vienna chorus boy. His white skin seems transparent, and his irises are an emerald green that make me think of the bottom of a lake, and furthermore he doesn't have a split chin. He's an angel, definitely an angry angel. However, being in this place, he's also probably a beautiful Mazoku."

------------------------------------------------------------------ Novel 1. ch.3 -Gunter talking about Shinou and Daikenja - cuz it applies

"Shinou is the darkness, and the Daikenja is the light. They yearn for each other, love each other, and are born bearing each other's colors in body. In short, darkness is light, and light is darkness!"

------------------------------------------------------------------ Novel 1. ch.4 -Yuuri slapping Wolfram-

It seemed like he wasn't going to stop attacking under any circumstances. Wolfram gulps down his glass, and because he's beautiful the way he glares this way is all the more fierce. (...)

There are moments when my small-town sense of justice can't be suppressed. As a catcher, that's a fatal flaw. It's very disadvantageous in life.

Right in front of me I had slapped that beautiful face.

------------------------------------------------------------------ Novel 1. ch.6 -The reason why Yuuri chose sumo for the duel-

The common people wear trunks, while the rich people or nobles generally wear panties with ties on the side. As a gung-ho noble, Wolfram would almost positively be wearing the panties. I don't want to see him in his underwear, but he has a figure that looks like it'd come off easily during the match. If that happens then the match is mine. You're immediately defeated if it falls off. There is a rule for that.

(..) From the start I take a low position, and with a quick forward movement I struck Wolfram's waist while he was unprepared for a lunge. Instead of a loin cloth I took hold of his belt. It was an instant victory.

------------------------------------------------------------------ Novel 1. ch.7

-Wofram pov: sort of good-looking brat-

If he was going to kill him, then kill him. Although it was humiliating that this sort of good-looking brat had him by the neck, it was much more honorable to die like a warrior, than kneel and beg for his life.

------------------------------------------------------------------ Novel 1. ch.8

-Wolfram accepting the proposal-

He looked away from me oddly, lifting his chin diagonally in an unnatural way.

"And so young partners..."

Leaving behind a meaningful phrase, the aged one left the room.

------------------------------------------------------------------ Novel 1. ch.8

-Wolfram being cute-

"Are 'grip' and 'bat' the names of the weapons you're used to using?"

"No no. On of the pieces of gear you use for baseball is like a stick, as well as a glove and ball, and the pitcher throws and the batter tries to hit it, and if he does the batter becomes a runner, and the catcher takes out the runner."

"As I thought, a life and death match."

------------------------------------------------------------------

Novel 1. ch.8 -First time he calls Yuuri henachoko-

"At any rate a worthless maou like you can't even ride a horse by himself! I can gallop with extra luggage on my horse without any trouble, even if you seem uncertain. You're the first maou to be such a henchoko, so it can't be helped!"

"D-don't call me a henachoko!"

------------------------------------------------------------------ Novel 1. ch.9 -Second time he calls Yuuri henachoko -

"My older brother should have arrived there by now, so everything might already be under control. It isn't that dangerous, but since you're a henachoko don't go where I can't see you."

"Don't call me a henachoko."

------------------------------------------------------------------ Novel 1. ch.9 - When they meet Adalbert-

"Don't listen to him!"

Wolfram's voice sounded hoarse as he shouted. The uneasiness made my shoulders tremble.

"Ah, huh, you could talk?!"

"Don't listen to that guy! He's..."

It wasn't just my shoulders, but my arms were wrapped around his waist and his entire body was trembling. As he turned his head to face forward I could see beads of perspiration forming at the nape of his neck.

"That man, he betrayed us... He'll try, to bring you, into his group, too."

"Wolfram, if it hurts then don't talk."

(....)

"From the looks of it, they're not planning on killing you. It'll be troublesome if you get hurt trying to resist. Go with Adelbert for now."

"But, you and everyone..."

"Don't worry about us."

I take in his words. If I leave them behind, what will happen to them?

Wolfram whispers briefly again.

"Hurry and go, Yuuri!"

------------------------------------------------------------------

Novel 1. ch.9 -Interesting foreshadowing-

"No, I'll shout, I'm allowed to shout! I'll be Japanese until I'm twenty, even if I have the soul of the maou, I'll be Japanese until I come of age. I think Japan is more peaceful that this country, so even if you tell me to stop I'll continue talking! I oppose war, completely oppose, I'll oppose it my whole life, even if in death I'll oppose it!"

------------------------------------------------------------------

Novel 1. ch.10 General knowledge -Gunter

"As I explained to you, majutsu is a quality of the soul. Your majesty, having the soul of the maou, can make the four elements obey you gladly, without going through the trouble of taking the oath and such things."

------------------------------------------------------------------ Novel 1. ch.10

-Are you seeing this, Gyun-gyun!?-

From the far side of the corridor, the blond with wavy hair comes running. The intense navy blue uniform suits him; the mazoku Prince Wolfram. 'Although he's a man he's this beautiful, Günter' I muttered in a sigh.

------------------------------------------------------------------ Novel 1. ch.10

--- Golden wings---

"Appearing without any treasure, don't embarrass my older brother and me!"

Before I could open my mouth to respond, Wolfram grabbed my chest and fastened a shiny golden decoration to me.

"Hey..."

"My uncle Bielefeld gave this to me when I was a child. It doesn't have any special origin, but it suits someone who hasn't gone out on the battlefield, let alone military merit. Anyway, considering Yuuri can't even ride a horse, he's the most henachoko king in history."

"Don't call me a henachoko~."

"All right, settle down."

When he says all that in unnaturally fast speech, Wolfram half-runs away.

The present fastened to the left side of my chest is a gold bird with both wings spread. Conrad smugly gazes after his little brother's back.

"It seems Wolfram has taken a liking to Your Majesty."

"Eeeeeh?! That Haughty-Whatever-Sama Royal Highness!?"

Yuuram in Novel : 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11|12|13|14|15|16|17

#kyou kara maou #kkm #maruma #yuuram

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readbookywooks · 8 years

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Diagon Alley

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.　　

"It was a dream, he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard."　　

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.　　

And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.　　Tap. Tap. Tap.　　

"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."　　

He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.　

Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.　　

"Don't do that."　　

Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.　　

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl”　　

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.　　

"What?"　　

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets." Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets -- bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags... finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.　　

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.　　

"Knuts?"　　

"The little bronze ones."　　

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.　　

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.　　

"Best be Off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."　　

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.　　

"Um -- Hagrid?"　　

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.　　

"I haven't got any money -- and you heard Uncle Vernon last night ... he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."　　

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"　　

"But if their house was destroyed --"　　

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold -- an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."　　

"Wizards have banks?"　　

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."　　

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.　　

"Goblins?"　　

"Yeah -- so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe -- 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you gettin' things from Gringotts -- knows he can trust me, see.　　

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."　　

Harry followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.　　

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat. "Flew," said Hagrid.　　

"Flew?"　　

"Yeah -- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."　　

They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.　　

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter -- er -- speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"　　

"Of course not," said Harry, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.　　

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked.　　

"Spells -- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the highsecurity vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way -- Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."　　

Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he'd never had so many questions in his life.　　

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.　　

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.　　

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, 0 ' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."　　

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"　　

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."　　

"Why?"　　

"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."　　

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.　　Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"　　

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"　　

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."　　

"You'd like one?"　　

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid -- here we go."　　

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets.　　

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.　　

"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches. Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.　　

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."　　

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read:　　

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY　　

UNIFORM　　

First-year students will require:　　

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)　　

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear　　

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)　　

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)　　

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags　　

COURSE BOOKS　　

All students should have a copy of each of the following:　　

The 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 Emetic 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 Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble　　

OTHER EQUIPMENT　　

Wand

Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set　　

Glass or crystal phials　　

Telescope set　　

Brass scales　　

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad　　

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

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.　　

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.　　

Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.　　

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.　　

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Harry hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn't help trusting him.　　

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."　　

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside.　　

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"　　

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.　　

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this -- can this be --?"　　

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.　　

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honor."　　

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.　　

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."　　

Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.　　

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.　　

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."　　

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."　　

"Always wanted to shake your hand -- I'm all of a flutter."　　

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."　　

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."　　

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!" Harry shook hands again and again -- Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.　　

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.　　

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."　　

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."　　

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"　　

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.　　

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.　　

"Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."　　

Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.　　

Hagrid grinned at Harry.　　

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- mind you, he's usually tremblin'."　　

"Is he always that nervous?"　　

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience.... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"　　

Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.　　"Three up... two across he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."　　

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.　　

The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.　　

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."　　

He grinned at Harry's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.　　

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons -- All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.　　

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."　　

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad...."　　

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand -- fastest ever --" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon....　　

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.　　

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -　　

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:　　

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.　　

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.　　

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.　　

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."　　

"You have his key, Sir?"　　

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.　　

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.　　

The goblin looked at it closely.　　

"That seems to be in order."　　

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the YouKnow-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."　　

The goblin read the letter carefully.　　

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have Someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"　　

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.　　

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.　　

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."　　

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in -- Hagrid with some difficulty -- and were off.　　

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.　　

Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.　　

I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"　　

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."　　He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.　　

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.　　

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.　　

All Harry's -- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.　　

Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.　　

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"　　

"One speed only," said Griphook.　　

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.　　

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.　　

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.　　

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.　　

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.　　

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.　　

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least -- but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.　　

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.　　

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life -- more money than even Dudley had ever had.　　

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.　　

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.　　

"Hogwarts, clear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact. "　　

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him) slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.　　

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"　　

"Yes," said Harry.　　

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."　　

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.　　

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.　　

"No," said Harry.　　

"Play Quidditch at all?"　　

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.　　

"I do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"　　

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.　　

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been -- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" "Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.　　

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.　　

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."　　

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"　　

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.　　

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage -- lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."　　

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.　　

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"　　

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.　　

"Oh, sorry," said the other,. not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"　　

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."　　

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"　　

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.　　

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.　　

Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).　　

"What's up?" said Hagrid.　　

"Nothing," Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"　　

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know -- not knowin' about Quidditch!"　　

"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry. He told Hagrid about the pate boy in Madam Malkin's.　　

"--and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in."　　

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were -- he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line 0' Muggles -- look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"　　

"So what is Quidditch?"　　

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like -- like soccer in the Muggle world -- everyone follows Quidditch -- played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls -- sorta hard ter explain the rules." "And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"　　

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but --"　　

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff" said Harry gloomily.　　

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."　　

"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"　　

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.　　

They bought Harry's school 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. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.　　

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."　　

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."　　

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which 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. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).　　

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.　　

"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."　　Harry felt himself go red.　　

"You don't have to --"　　

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."　　

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.　　

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."　　

A magic wand... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.　　The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.　　

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.　　

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.　　

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.　　

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.　　

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."　　

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.　　

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it -- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."　　Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.　　

"And that's where..."　　

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.　　

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...."　　

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.　　

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again.... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"　　

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.　　

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.　　

"Er -- yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.　　

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.　　

"Oh, no, sit," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.　　

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now -- Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"　　

"Er -- well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.　　

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."　　

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.　　

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."　　

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.　　

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try --"　　

Harry tried -- but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.　　

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."　　

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.　　

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -- I wonder, now - - yes, why not -- unusual combination -- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."　　

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "　　

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..　　

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"　　

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.　　

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather -- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."　　

Harry swallowed.　　

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember.... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter.... After all, He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great."　　

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.　　

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.　　

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.　　

He bought Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.　　

"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.　　

Harry wasn't sure he could explain. He'd just had the best birthday of his life -- and yet -- he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words.　　

"Everyone thinks I'm special," he said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry -- I mean, the night my parents died."　　

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.　　

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts -- I did -- still do, 'smatter of fact."　　

Hagrid helped Harry on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.　　

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September -- King's Cross -- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me.... See yeh soon, Harry."　　

The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.

#PhilosophersStone #HarryPotter #SorcerersStone #books

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lesbianrewrites · 8 years

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Sorcerer’s Stone Chapter 05

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of Harry Potter by J.K Rowling.

Chapters will be posted every other day around 9-10pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

Diagon Alley

Hayley woke early the next morning. Although she could tell it was daylight, she kept her eyes shut tight.

“It was a dream,” she told herself firmly. “I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I’ll be at home in my cupboard.”

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

And there’s Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Hayley thought, her heart sinking. But she still didn’t open her eyes. It had been such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“All right,” Hayley mumbled, “I’m getting up.”

She sat up and Hagrid’s heavy coat fell off her. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Hayley scrambled to her feet, so happy she felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside her. She went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn’t wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid’s coat.

“Don’t do that.”

Hayley tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at her and carried on savaging the coat.

“Hagrid!” said Hayley loudly. “There’s an owl —”

“Pay him,” Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

“What?”

“He wants payin’ fer deliverin’ the paper. Look in the pockets.”

Hagrid’s coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets — bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags … finally, Hayley pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

“Give him five Knuts,” said Hagrid sleepily.

“Knuts?”

“The little bronze ones.”

Hayley counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Hayley could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

“Best be off, Hayley, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an’ buy all yer stuff fer school.”

Hayley was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. She had just thought of something that made her feel as though the happy balloon inside her had got a puncture.

“Um — Hagrid?”

“Mm?” said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

“I haven’t got any money — and you heard Uncle Vernon last night … he won’t pay for me to go and learn magic.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. “D’yeh think yer parents didn’t leave yeh anything?”

“But if their house was destroyed —”

“They didn’ keep their gold in the house, girl! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards’ bank. Have a sausage, they’re not bad cold — an’ I wouldn’ say no teh a bit o’ yer birthday cake, neither.”

“Wizards have banks?”

“Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins.”

Hayley dropped the bit of sausage she was holding.

“Goblins?”

“Yeah — so yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it, I’ll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Hayley. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe — ’cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o’ fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business.” Hagrid drew himself up proudly. “He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin’ you — gettin’ things from Gringotts — knows he can trust me, see.”

“Got everythin’? Come on, then.”

Hayley followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

“How did you get here?” Hayley asked, looking around for another boat.

“Flew,” said Hagrid.

“Flew?”

“Yeah — but we’ll go back in this. Not s’pposed ter use magic now I’ve got yeh.”

They settled down in the boat, Hayley still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.

“Seems a shame ter row, though,” said Hagrid, giving Hayley another of his sideways looks. “If I was ter — er — speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin’ it at Hogwarts?”

“Of course not,” said Hayley, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

“Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?” Hayley asked.

“Spells — enchantments,” said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. “They say there’s dragons guardin’ the high-security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way — Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh’d die of hunger tryin’ ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat.”

Hayley sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Hayley had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, she’d never had so many questions in her life.

“Ministry o’ Magic messin’ things up as usual,” Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

“There’s a Ministry of Magic?” Hayley asked, before she could stop herself.

“ ’Course,” said Hagrid. “They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o’ course, but he’d never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin’ fer advice.”

“But what does a Ministry of Magic do?”

“Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there’s still witches an’ wizards up an’ down the country.”

“Why?”

“Why? Blimey, Hayley, everyone’d be wantin’ magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we’re best left alone.”

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Hayley couldn’t blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, “See that, Hayley? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?”

“Hagrid,” said Hayley, panting a bit as she ran to keep up, “did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?”

“Well, so they say,” said Hagrid. “Crikey, I’d like a dragon.”

“You’d like one?”

“Wanted one ever since I was a kid — here we go.”

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes’ time. Hagrid, who didn’t understand “Muggle money,” as he called it, gave the bills to Hayley so she could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

“Still got yer letter, Hayley?” he asked as he counted stitches.

Hayley took the parchment envelope out of her pocket.

“Good,” said Hagrid. “There’s a list there of everything yeh need.”

Hayley unfolded a second piece of paper she hadn’t noticed the night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

3. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The 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 Self-Protection

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad OR a rat

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

“Can we buy all this in London?” Hayley wondered aloud.

“If yeh know where to go,” said Hagrid.

Hayley had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

“I don’t know how the Muggles manage without magic,” he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Hayley had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Hayley hadn’t known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, she might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told her so far was unbelievable, Hayley couldn’t help trusting him.

“This is it,” said Hagrid, coming to a halt, “the Leaky Cauldron. It’s a famous place.”

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn’t pointed it out, Hayley wouldn’t have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn’t glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn’t see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Hayley had the most peculiar feeling that only she and Hagrid could see it. Before she could mention this, Hagrid had steered her inside.

“Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,” said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Hayley’s shoulder and making Hayley’s knees buckle.

“Good Lord,” said the bartender, peering at Hayley, “is this — can this be — ?”

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

“Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Hayley Potter … what an honor.”

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Hayley and seized her hand, tears in his eyes.

“Welcome back, Ms. Potter, welcome back.”

Hayley didn’t know what to say. Everyone was looking at her. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Hayley found herself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

“Doris Crockford, Ms. Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.”

“So proud, Ms. Potter, I’m just so proud.”

“Always wanted to shake your hand — I’m all of a flutter.”

“Delighted, Ms. Potter, just can’t tell you, Diggle’s the name, Dedalus Diggle.”

“I’ve seen you before!” said Hayley, as Dedalus Diggle’s top hat fell off in his excitement. “You bowed to me once in a shop.”

“She remembers!” cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. “Did you hear that? She remembers me!”

Hayley shook hands again and again — Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young woman made her way forward, very nervously. One of her eyes was twitching.

“Professor Quirrell!” said Hagrid. “Hayley, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”

“P-P-Potter,” stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Hayley’s hand, “c-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.”

“What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?”

“D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts,” muttered Professor Quirrell, as though she’d rather not think about it. “N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?” She laughed nervously. “You’ll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.” She looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn’t let Professor Quirrell keep Hayley to herself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

“Must get on — lots ter buy. Come on, Hayley.”

Doris Crockford shook Hayley’s hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Hayley.

“Told yeh, didn’t I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin’ ter meet yeh — mind you, she’s usually tremblin’.”

“Is she always that nervous?”

“Oh, yeah. Poor woman. Brilliant mind. She was fine while she was studyin’ outta books but then she took a year off ter get some firsthand experience. … They say she met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o’ trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of her own subject — now, where’s me umbrella?”

Vampires? Hags? Hayley’s head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

“Three up … two across …” he muttered. “Right, stand back, Hayley.”

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

“Welcome,” said Hagrid, “to Diagon Alley.”

He grinned at Hayley’s amazement. They stepped through the archway. Hayley looked quickly over her shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

“Yeah, you’ll be needin’ one,” said Hagrid, “but we gotta get yer money first.”

Hayley wished she had about eight more eyes. She turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they’re mad.

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Hayley’s age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. “Look,” Hayley heard one of them say, “the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —” There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Hayley had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon. …

“Gringotts,” said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was —

“Yeah, that’s a goblin,” said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Hayley. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Hayley noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

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.

“Like I said, yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it,” said Hagrid.

“Morning,” said Hagrid to a free goblin. “We’ve come ter take some money outta Ms. Hayley Potter’s safe.”

“You have her key, sir?”

“Got it here somewhere,” said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblins book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Hayley watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

“Got it,” said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

“That seems to be in order.”

“An’ I’ve also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore,” said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. “It’s about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.”

The goblin read the letter carefully.

“Very well,” he said, handing it back to Hagrid, “I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!”

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Hayley followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

“What’s the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?” Hayley asked.

“Can’t tell yeh that,” said Hagrid mysteriously. “Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore’s trusted me. More’n my job’s worth ter tell yeh that.”

Griphook held the door open for them. Hayley, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in — Hagrid with some difficulty — and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Hayley tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn’t steering.

Hayley’s eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late — they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

“I never know,” Hayley called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, “what’s the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?”

“Stalagmite’s got an ‘m’ in it,” said Hagrid. “An’ don’ ask me questions just now, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Hayley gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

“All yours,” smiled Hagrid.

All Hayley’s — it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn’t have known about this or they’d have had it from her faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Hayley cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to her, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped Hayley pile some of it into a bag.

“The gold ones are Galleons,” he explained. “Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it’s easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o’ terms, we’ll keep the rest safe for yeh.” He turned to Griphook. “Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?”

“One speed only,” said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Hayley leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled her back by the scruff of her neck.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

“Stand back,” said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

“If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they’d be sucked through the door and trapped in there,” said Griphook.

“How often do you check to see if anyone’s inside?” Hayley asked.

“About once every ten years,” said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Hayley was sure, and she leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least — but at first she thought it was empty. Then she noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Hayley longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

“Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don’t talk to me on the way back, it’s best if I keep me mouth shut,” said Hagrid.

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Hayley didn’t know where to run first now that she had a bag full of money. She didn’t have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that she was holding more money than she’d had in her whole life — more money than even Dudley had ever had.

“Might as well get yer uniform,” said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. “Listen, Hayley, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.” He did still look a bit sick, so Hayley entered Madam Malkin’s shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

“Hogwarts, dear?” she said, when Hayley started to speak. “Got the lot here — another young woman being fitted up just now, in fact.”

In the back of the shop, a girl with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up her long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Hayley on a stool next to her, held up long robes for Hayley to slide her arms into, and began to pin it to the right length.

“Hello,” said the girl, “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” said Hayley.

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said the girl. She had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

Hayley was strongly reminded of Dudley.

“Have you got your own broom?” the girl went on.

“No,” said Hayley.

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“No,” Hayley said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

“I do — Mother says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you’ll be in yet?”

“No,” said Hayley, feeling more stupid by the minute.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmm,” said Hayley, wishing she could say something a bit more interesting.

“I say, look at that man!” said the girl suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Hayley and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn’t come in.

“That’s Hagrid,” said Hayley, pleased to know something the girl didn’t. “He works at Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” said the girl, “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?”

“He’s the gamekeeper,” said Hayley. She was liking the girl less and less every second.

“Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage — lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.”

“I think he’s brilliant,” said Hayley coldly.

“Do you?” said the girl, with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” said Hayley shortly. She didn’t feel much like going into the matter with this girl.

“Oh, sorry,” said the other, not sounding sorry at all. “But they were our kind, weren’t they?”

“They were witches, if that’s what you mean.”

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

But before Hayley could answer, Madam Malkin said, “That’s you done, my dear,” and Hayley, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the girl, hopped down from the footstool.

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” said the drawling girl.

Hayley was rather quiet as she ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought her (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

“What’s up?” said Hagrid.

“Nothing,” Hayley lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Hayley cheered up a bit when she found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, she said, “Hagrid, what’s Quidditch?”

“Blimey, Hayley, I keep forgettin’ how little yeh know — not knowin’ about Quidditch!”

“Don’t make me feel worse,” said Hayley. She told Hagrid about the pale girl in Madam Malkin’s.

“— and she said people from Muggle families shouldn’t even be allowed in —”

“Yer not from a Muggle family. If she’d known who yeh were — she’s grown up knowin’ yer name if her parents are wizardin’ folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does she know about it, some o’ the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in ’em in a long line o’ Muggles — look at yer mum Lily! Look what she had fer a sister!”

“So what is Quidditch?”

“It’s our sport. Wizard sport. It’s like — like soccer in the Muggle world — everyone follows Quidditch — played up in the air on broomsticks and there’s four balls — sorta hard ter explain the rules.”

“And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?”

“School Houses. There’s four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o’ duffers, but —”

“I bet I’m in Hufflepuff,” said Hayley gloomily.

“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” said Hagrid darkly. “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one.”

“Vol-, sorry — You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?”

“Years an’ years ago,” said Hagrid.

They bought Hayley’s school 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. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Hayley away from Curses and Counter-curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

“I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley.”

“I’m not sayin’ that’s not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances,” said Hagrid. “An’ anyway, yeh couldn’ work any of them curses yet, yeh’ll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level.”

Hagrid wouldn’t let Hayley buy a solid gold cauldron, either (“It says pewter on yer list”), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which 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. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Hayley, Hayley herself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Hayley’s list again.

“Just yer wand left — oh yeah, an’ I still haven’t got yeh a birthday present.”

Hayley felt herself go red.

“You don’t have to —”

“I know I don’t have to. Tell yeh what, I’ll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh’d be laughed at — an’ I don’ like cats, they make me sneeze. Rats are pretty much useless yer ask me. I’ll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they’re dead useful, carry yer mail an’ everythin’.”

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Hayley now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. She couldn’t stop stammering her thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

“Don’ mention it,” said Hagrid gruffly. “Don’ expect you’ve had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now — only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand.”

A magic wand … this was what Hayley had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382b.c. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Hayley felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library; she swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to her and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Hayley jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

“Hello,” said Hayley awkwardly.

“Ah yes,” said the man. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Hayley Potter.” It wasn’t a question. “You have Lily’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Hayley. Hayley wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

“Jamie, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say Jamie favored it — it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Hayley were almost nose to nose. Hayley could see herself reflected in those misty eyes.

“And that’s where …”

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Hayley’s forehead with a long, white finger.

“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands … well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do. …”

He shook his head and then, to Hayley’s relief, spotted Hagrid.

“Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again. … Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn’t it?”

“It was, sir, yes,” said Hagrid.

“Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?” said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

“Er — yes, they did, yes,” said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. “I’ve still got the pieces, though,” he added brightly.

“But you don’t use them?” said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

“Oh, no, sir,” said Hagrid quickly. Hayley noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

“Hmmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. “Well, now — Ms. Potter. Let me see.” He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?”

“Er — well, I’m right-handed,” said Hayley.

“Hold out your arm. That’s it.” He measured Hayley from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”

Hayley suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between her nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

“That will do,” he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. “Right then, Ms. Potter. Try this one. Beech-wood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”

Hayley took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once.

“Maple and phoenix feather.Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —”

Hayley tried — but she had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

“No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.”

Hayley tried. And tried. She had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Hayley took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well … how curious … how very curious …”

He put Hayley’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, “Curious … curious …”

“Sorry,” said Hayley, “but what’s curious?”

Mr. Ollivander fixed Hayley with his pale stare.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Ms. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar.”

Hayley swallowed.

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. … I think we must expect great things from you, Ms. Potter. … After all, She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great.”

Hayley shivered. She wasn’t sure she liked Mr. Ollivander too much. She paid seven gold Galleons for her wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Hayley and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Hayley didn’t speak at all as they walked down the road; she didn’t even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Hayley’s lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Hayley only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped her on the shoulder.

“Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves,” he said.

He bought Hayley a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Hayley kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

“You all right, Hayley? Yer very quiet,” said Hagrid.

Hayley wasn’t sure she could explain. She’d just had the best birthday of her life — and yet — she chewed her hamburger, trying to find the words.

“Everyone thinks I’m special,” she said at last. “All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander … but I don’t know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I’m famous and I can’t even remember what I’m famous for. I don’t know what happened when Vol-, sorry — I mean, the night my parents died.”

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

“Don’ you worry, Hayley. You’ll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you’ll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it’s hard. Yeh’ve been singled out, an’ that’s always hard. But yeh’ll have a great time at Hogwarts — I did — still do, ’smatter of fact.”

Hagrid helped Hayley on to the train that would take her back to the Dursleys, then handed her an envelope.

“Yer ticket fer Hogwarts,” he said. “First o’ September — King’s Cross — it’s all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she’ll know where to find me. … See yeh soon, Hayley.”

The train pulled out of the station. Hayley wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; she rose in her seat and pressed her nose against the window, but she blinked and Hagrid had gone.

#Harry Potter #Hayley Potter #Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone #hayley potter and the sorcerer's stone #Sorcerer's Stone #HPatSS #Lesbiansafe #Lesbian Rewrite #Lesbian Rewrite Project #Lesbian Rewrites #Lesbian Rewrites Project #Lesbian #Gay #wlw #LGBT #LGBTQ #LGBTQA #LGBTQAP

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thestoryofsylviafemlock · 8 years

Text

Year 1, Chapter 1: The Letter

“Mama do it again, do it again!”

A smiling lady dressed in all black pulls out her wand and makes a motion with her hand while saying a few magic words. After doing this, a large crow appears and soars around the room, disappearing after swooping over young Sylvia’s head.

“Again, again, again!”

The lady goes to wave her wand once more, but before she is able to say the words, a tall, dark man kicks down the door, followed by several other men. The lady from before quickly stands in front of Sylvia, and another man comes running in from the other room wondering what all the fuss is about. Before Sylvia even knows what’s going on, there is a flash of blue light, and the man falls to the floor. The lady starts crying and holds on to Sylvia, before she is taken away and Sylvia is left crying, while being dragged to a black car.

*Gasp* Sylvia wakes from her nightmare with a jump. She has had this nightmare for years, but she has no idea why. Sylvia is almost 11 years old, with thick, black hair, and ghostly white skin. She looks over at her clock and sees that it is 4:30 AM. Knowing that she’ll never get back to sleep, she gets out of bed and starts getting dressed. Her bedroom is quite small, with only a bed, table, and a large black wardrobe, where she has only a few outfits and the one piece she has from her family: a silver necklace with a black triangle charm. Sylvia goes to get her clothes when the small box containing the necklace falls off the shelf in the cabinet. She picks it up off the floor and takes out the necklace. Every time she looks at it she tries to remember where it came from, but her past is only a blur. She puts it back in the wardrobe and goes to grab her clothes when she hears a scream from down the hallway coming from Miss Blackridge. Sylvia opens the door and looks down the hall to see Miss Blackridge dancing in fear next to a spider on the floor

“SPIDER! SPIDER ON THE FLOOR! I TOLD YOU THIS FLOOR WASN’T CLEAN! KILL IT!”

Sylvia walks up to Miss Blackridge and the spider and kneels down to pick up the spider. Carefully, she puts her hand next to the spider and directs it toward her hand.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? YOU CHILDREN ARE DISGUSTING! YOU ARE ALL CLEANING THESE FLOORS RIGHT NOW!”

Miss Blackridge was never very nice. She would always call them pests, and yell at them to clean up even when the place was spotless. Sylvia had always found it odd that someone who hates children could take the job of caring for children. By now, the other children had woken up from all the shouting, and had started cleaning the floors. Sylvia opened up the window and gently set the spider down. She has always had a connection with the “strange” creatures. She cares for all the insects, rats, and reptiles, especially snakes. One time she could have sworn the snake in the back garden was talking to her.

“Did you hear that Harry Potter is turning 11 this year? I hope he’ll go to Griffinmoth with the rest of us!” said the large-mouthed Harriet Elwood, who loved Harry and would talk about him every day.

“Don’t be silly, He’s famous, he’ll probably go to one of those posh schools, like Hogwarts or Durmstang.” Remarked Romilda Pluck, the bossy, pointed nose girl who always felt the need to put people in their place.

Sylvia never understood why people love Harry Potter so much. She thought of him as just a boy who got lucky. Although, with all the stories she’s heard about You-Know-Who, she is a bit curious. After scrubbing ALL the floors, the children were finally allowed to get breakfast. Miss Blackridge never bought the good food, it was always grey porridge or old meatloaf, but they would eat it anyway. After breakfast, Sylvia went to the doorstep to collect the mail. All they ever received were newspapers and strange love letters for Miss Blackridge, but this time something caught her eye. Sylvia pulled the envelope out of the pile of love letters and read the shining emerald ink. It said:

Miss S. Femlock

Room at the end of the hall

Blackridge Orphanage

Windsor

She couldn’t believe it! No one ever gets letters, and here it was, a letter just for her! She quickly turns it over to open it when she sees the big, purple seal. Sylvia could have never imagined it. The seal had a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake all surrounding a large letter ‘H’ And that’s when she knew. This letter could only come from one place: Hogwarts. Sylvia ran inside, threw the rest of the mail on the table, and sat down to rip open her letter. Everyone crowded around her to see what was in the envelope when Miss Blackridge pushed through the crowd and snatched the letter out of her hand.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Sylvia shouted.

Miss Blackridge ignored her as she took out the letter and began reading.

“Impossible…” She said. “How could they want you?”

She stood there in confusion when Sylvia walked up and took her letter back. All the children of the orphanage were crowding around her by now as she took out her letter and attempted to read without the rest of the children shouting at her.

“What does it say?” Asked Romilda.

“Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!” Shouted another little girl in the back of the crowd.

Sylvia wanted to read this letter by herself, so she pushed through the crowd and made her way to her room, her hand still clutching the letter.

“What are you doing? We wanna see! Come back!” the children shouted at her. Sylvia didn’t respond. She was too excited to read her letter that she just ignored all the children coming after her. Finally, Sylvia was sitting on her bed, away from all the nosy children. She unfolded her letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Uniform

First year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

Set Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The 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 Beats and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

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

Sylvia was overcome with joy, and her mind was racing with thoughts about her new life at Hogwarts. There was one thing that confused her, why would they want her? She’s just a loney child who lives in an orphanage. If anyone, Romilda should get accepted, at least she has good grades. But no matter, all Sylvia could think about now is all the magical adventures she’ll be having. She then flopped over onto her bed and stared at the ceiling when she realised, she doesn’t have any money to pay for all these supplies, and she was almost certain Miss Blackridge wouldn’t pay for it. ‘Maybe I could get a job’ Sylvia thought. No, that’s not possible at her age. ‘Or start a fundraiser’ But who would pay for her to go to school? About a million ideas came to her head, but none of them were possible at this point. Sylvia sunk into her bed, her once joyous mood fading away.

Sylvia spent the rest the day with her head hung low and had begged Miss Blackridge for the money over 20 times, but with no success. By now it was dinner time, and the rest of the children had forgotten about Sylvia’s letter. Sylvia, however, couldn’t stop thinking about it. This was her chance to go to the best wizarding school in the world, there had to be another way. Just as William Bothby was telling another one of his outrageous stories, there was a knock on the front door. Miss Blackridge hurried to the door, as the children peered over to see who it was. Miss Blackridge casually opened to door to see a stiff, tall gentleman with long blond hair looking at her.

“Why, hello there sir, what brings you here on this, fine evening,” Miss Blackridge flirted, while grazing her hand against the opening of his coat. The man quickly brushed Miss Blackridge’s hand away and peered inside the room.

“I am here to speak to Miss L- Femlock, Miss Femlock” he spoke, quickly correcting himself.

“Well she is right over there; may I take your coat.?” Asked Miss Blackridge, hoping to talk to him more.

“No thank you,” replied the man, as he made his way over to Sylvia. The children stared as he walked past, Miss Blackridge following behind him. As he sat down across from Sylvia, the children listened in eagerly, careful not to get too close. After Miss Blackridge sat down next to him, he was clearly very annoyed, but carefully said:

“I would like to speak to her alone.”

“Sorry,” whispered Miss Blackridge, “Would you like some tea?”

“NO!” He shouted looking as if he was ready to implode. Sylvia could feel her heart pounding in her chest as Miss Blackridge nervously led the children up the stairs.

“Lucius Malfoy,” the man said, shaking Sylvia’s hand. “I have been told that you were accepted into Hogwarts.”

“Uh, yes, I got my letter this morning,” she spoke, still anxiously waiting to find out why this man had come.

“Good, good. Hogwarts is a great school. My wife and I have decided to pay for your supplies, your mother being a good friend of ours.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a large sack.

“Wait- you know my mother?” Sylvia was curious about her mother, but she knew she wouldn’t want to speak to her, even if she managed to find her.

“Yes, I know your mother. Here is your money, spend it wisely.” He plopped the bag on the table in front of Sylvia and quickly left without another word. She couldn’t help to think the mention of her mother somehow made him leave. She slowly pulled open the bag to see it filled with sparkling golden galleons, and shining silver sickles. Sylvia was surprised to see that a stranger could give her so much, and she was very excited to go to Hogwarts.

I hope you like this story as I have been working very hard on it! This is just the beginning so there won’t be many twists and turns, but as the plot goes on... oh just you wait >:)

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