It turns out, Luna was the only one from the group who wasn't staying at the Burrow. She was a neighbor, and she went home before dinner. Which really sucked, because she was the only person I felt like I really hit it off with.
I sat at the corner of that crazy long dining room table with all its mismatching chairs. Mrs. Weasley was bringing food to the table. When I first saw half of the dishes floating six feet in the air, I thought I was about to get a faceful of mashed potatoes. But she hadn't tripped and lost control. The food was levitating.
I watched plates of roast beef and vegetables land like helicopters— hovering right above the table, then descending straight down. It reminded me of Camp Jupiter's air spirit servants. Except here, it was all that strange magic Hecate's legacies wielded.
I was starting to see why the goddess called them were formidable. Even annoying chores could be handled with a flick of the wrist and a few words. It was enough to make a guy jealous. I wondered if even I could manipulate the Mist like they did, with the right tools.
The food was amazing. Dinner atmosphere was… okay. Fortunately, the tension wasn't my fault.
In addition to Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, Ron's older brother was staying there with his fiance. Bill had the same red hair as the rest of his family, but his was long, tied back in a ponytail. He was a handsome guy, and friendly too. When we met, he slapped my back and told me not to hesitate if I needed anything.
His fiance was named Fleur, and her looks could've made some minor goddesses jealous. Just like with immortals, there was something supernatural about her looks, giving me this urge to pay attention to her. She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek even though it was the first time she met. When I felt her touch, my heart tried to start beating like crazy. I told it to take a hike.
Compared to Aphrodite herself, it was easy not to turn into a drooling idiot. I introduced myself normally, and by not turning stuttery, I got the feeling that Fleur took a liking to me.
That made me one of four things she liked in the Burrow.
The first was Bill. I could see she was head over heels for him, although the Weasleys (particularly Molly) clearly didn't think the same. Fleur liked Harry, speaking highly of him. Harry blushed whenever she complimented him, and I smiled. It was good to see he could still live like a normal bashful teen, even with the life he'd had.
Finally, the last thing Fleur liked was to complain.
She stirred the onion soup in front of her listlessly, staring down at the brown liquid.
"Is this a personal recipe?" she asked in her husky French accent. To my right, Ron shivered slightly at the sound of her voice, sighing.
"It is," said Mrs. Weasley. "It's been in my family for generations."
"That makes sense. It would take a secret art to something so unbelievably dense." As Mrs. Weasley bristled, Fleur paused just long enough for it to seem like she was done, before adding, "As thick as mud."
"You'd know about mud, wouldn't you?" Ginny snapped. "You're always talking like you've got some lodged in your throat!"
"And you are always rolling in it outside in the garden," Fleur said. "Ginny, you are never going to find a nice man if your habits are so dirty."
"I've got a boyfriend!" Ginny spat.
Bill quieted his fiance by pulling pleadingly on her arm, while Mr. Weasley did his best to do the same for Ginny while keeping his wife calm at the same time. I leaned over to Harry, who was sitting to my left.
"Is it always like this?" I whispered.
He was the only other person at the table who didn't seem like he had a side in the fight.
"I've only been here for a few weeks," he whispered back. "It's… not always this bad."
It sounded not even he really believed that. I sighed and returned to my meal. At least the food was good.
"Does everyone remember what tomorrow is?" Mrs. Weasley asked, making an effort to move the conversation along.
"School shopping," chimed a few voices around the table.
"That's right." It was Mr. Weasley who took over now. "I have rides arranged for all of us. Dumbledore offered to cover your expenses, Percy, so don't worry about that. We'll be going as one big group. Safety in numbers, especially now."
"And in the evening, we'll be having a special guest!" Mrs. Weasley announced.
"Let me guess. Tonks?" said Ron.
"No, Tonks couldn't make it this time," Mrs. Weasley said. "Instead, Penny Clearwater will be visiting! You all remember her, right?"
There were nods and mumbled agreements from around the table.
"Visiting for what?" I asked.
The way Mrs. Weasley phrased it made it seem like this Penny girl was a substitute for Tonks, which implied there was something they wanted Tonks to do. Nobody answered, and Mrs. Weasley tried to backtrack.
"Just to give us a little bit more company!" she said with a nervous laugh.
It was Harry's turn to lean over to me first.
"They're trying to tempt Bill," he whispered. "They think if they invite over other girls, he'll eventually fall for one of them and leave Fleur."
I looked at Fleur— one of the most beautiful mortal girls I'd ever seen. Then I looked back at Harry.
"I know," he whispered. "I think it's optimistic too."
Fleur did a good job keeping quiet for the rest of the meal, and for a while I forgot about the tension. As Mrs. Weasley started to collect dirty dishes, it finally flared up again after an innocent question.
"Where's Percy going to sleep?" Ron asked.
There was a moment of silence as everyone considered the question.
"He can take Percival's room," Fleur said.
"But that's where you're staying!" Ginny said.
"It would be rude to make a guest share a room with someone else," Fleur said. "I do not mind moving. Bill has plenty of room—"
"No!" said Ginny and Mrs. Weasley at once.
"Please," Fleur sniffed. "We're not children."
Bill stopped his fiance before she could make things worse, possibly by explaining the details of what non-children should be allowed to do together in greater detail.
"I do have plenty of space," Bill said. "And I don't mind sharing if Percy doesn't."
Fleur was shortly overruled. Which was how I ended up sleeping on a mattress on Bill's floor. I wasn't complaining, considering some of the places I'd slept in the past. I went to bed feeling a little bit excited. I wanted to see what wizarding shopping was like. I fell asleep fast and slept well, curious what the next day would bring.
O-O-O
We took a government car into London. Only Bill and Fleur stayed behind. Fleur was absolutely, definitely not going to take advantage of that by doing the things she wanted to share a room with him for in the first place. Not that I cared what they got up to personally.
When we all piled out of the car at the end of the trip, I thought a Laistrygonian was waiting for us, but it turned out to be a friendly mountain of a man named Hagrid. He wrapped Harry in a hug, squeezing him and shaking him back and forth. He kind of reminded me of Tyson. Apparently, he was there for extra security, arranged by Dumbledore himself. We entered Diagon Alley as soon as greetings were done.
It wasn't all that magical to have their secret entrance inside of a pub, but it was very British. I watched Mr. Weasley tap his wand tip against a brick wall, and then we were in.
I thought it would be more exciting.
Diagon Alley looked like an ordinary shopping center. The businesses had magic-themed names and logos, but otherwise looked like normal shops. Everyone other than me was wearing robes. When they saw me in Muggle clothing, many of them did double-takes, then hurried by faster than before.
"They're scared," Hermione said, watching the people pass us.
"'Course they are!" Hagrid said. "Now that You-Know-Who is out there lookin' for victims ter attack, they don' wanna draw attention ter themselves."
"I take it the alley isn't always like this?" I asked.
"No." Harry was looking around like he'd seen a ghost. He must've been picturing how he knew it before— with more color, more faces, and a whimsical atmosphere.
After a short argument between the adults, they decided to have us split up. Half would go to get robes while the others went to the bookstore. I was in the first group with Harry, which I was glad about. I didn't know if we were in real danger here, but I figured it was best not to let Harry out of my sight.
The group was us, Hermione, and Ron with Hagrid. The shop we headed to was bright purple on the outside. Above the glass, I read the name: Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
The outside was bright, but the interior was dim. Hagrid kept guard on the street while the rest of us filed inside. Racks of robes blocked our view, a couple voices coming from the other side of them. I heard a boy's voices; a nasally one that kind of sounded like Prometheus if the sleazy Titan was still going through puberty.
"This one's not right either, Mother. Doesn't this shop have anything high quality?"
A blond boy stepped into sight, studying himself in a mirror wearing silky green robes. He turned back and forth, admiring his pale face until he noticed us over his shoulder.
He turned to face us as two women appeared beside him.
"Madam Malkin, you ought to invest in better cleaning charms," he said. "Your customers are tracking in mud… bloods."
"I won't have language like that out of you, Draco Malfoy!" squawked a short, squat woman I guessed was Madam Malkin. "And no wands!"
This was shouted at Ron and Harry, who had drawn their wands despite Hermione doing her best to calm them down. The other woman had her wand out too. She was pretty, but I didn't like the sneer on her lips. It was obvious who bargain-bin-Prometheus had been calling mother. She looked at the four of us, took in my Muggle clothing, and discarded me as a threat to focus on the other three.
"How disappointed Dumbledore would be," she said, "to know that his favorite protege was nothing but a common bully threatening innocents."
"Sod off!" Ron said wittily.
"You'd know about bullies, wouldn't you Mrs. Malfoy?" Harry said. "Your son's the biggest one at Hogwarts. He's pretty bad at it, though. Did he tell you about the time he tried to attack me, but ended up as a slug hoisted on top of the luggage racks on the Hogwarts Express—"
"Quiet!" Draco roared. His own wand was out now.
I still hadn't seen what magic could do in a fight, but in here, that didn't matter. I judged the distance to him and his mother. I could get to them faster than they could say a single spell. I hoped it wouldn't come to that… but if it did, I was ready.
"No! Wands!"
Madam Malkin did something, and the bobby pins in Draco's robes poked his skin, making him drop his wand. She then glared at Harry and Ron, who reluctantly allowed Hermione to push their arms down. Draco tore the robes off of his body, bending to snatch his wand up.
"Let's go, Mother," he said. "This shop needs to fix its vermin problem before it will be worth our patronage."
"Good thing the rat is leaving!" Ron shouted after them on their way out.
Draco didn't stop, but his mother paused in the doorway. She tilted her head, her blue eyes full of malice.
"I'd rather be a rat than a dog," she said. "I know which lives longer."
Hermione had to nearly tackle Harry to keep him from cursing her. With a nasty smirk, the woman followed her son, swinging the door shut behind them. I didn't understand what she meant, but I could tell it really bothered Harry. Madam Malkin was fuming.
"In my shop!" she said. "As if I'm not dealing with enough already…" Her eyes locked onto us. "You all are buying at least, I hope?"
I got the feeling she would have a breakdown if we said no. Luckily, we were the best customers she was likely to see all day.
Hermione needed a few nicer robes, and Ron needed some bigger ones. I needed everything. I wondered if Hecate would reimburse Dumbledore for my school shopping, because even I could tell that by the end, the total was high.
By the time we walked out, I was buried under heaps of robes. I couldn't even see where I was going until we met back up with the others, and Mr. Weasley shrunk the robes until they could fit in your palm. We stashed them in a shopping bag, and I found myself amazed again at how useful magic could be.
"Where to next?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"Let's go see Fred and George!" Ron said eagerly.
I'd heard about his older brothers. Twin pranksters, apparently. It made me want to ask if they had any Hermes blood in them.
Ron's idea was accepted and the whole group went together to their prank shop. From the way people were talking, the others had never been there either. It was impossible to miss it when it came into sight.
The whole alley was kind of dim. Everyone was dressed in dark clothes and moving quickly, like they were scared to be looked at. The windows and walls of shops were totally buried under seas of purple posters that gave out safety tips or showed mugshots of criminals. The shops, like their customers, lacked color like they were trying to avoid notice. But not this one.
A spinning carousel in its window shot off sparks and live fireworks, so bright it was blinding to look at. Screams, shrieks, and giggles were coming from the store— some of them from customers, and some of them from the merchandise itself. The other window was covered by a parody of the Ministry posters that were everywhere. Instead of telling me how to stay alive, it bragged about "U-No-Poo, the constipation sensation gripping the nation!"
While Mrs. Weasley moaned that her sons were going to be killed in their sleep, Ginny rolled her eyes and strolled into the shop. I followed her, eager to see what the shop had to offer.
It took me thirty seconds to realize that my first impression had been wrong. I thought it would be like the things Travis and Conner sold other campers on the down-low— itching powder and magic whoopie cushions as loud a Minotaur having bowel trouble. But this shop was on a completely different level.
I didn't even understand what half the things did, but the ones I did understand made my jaw drop. Some were downright evil, like a jawbreaker that got bigger as you sucked on it. Before the victim knew it, it would be too big for them to spit out, forcing them to walk around like a pig with an apple stuffed in its mouth.
They had cloaks that acted like x-ray vision, turning your clothes invisible as soon as you put it on. I watched someone open a book and have the letters peel off the page to jump at them, getting temporary ink in their eyes. A boy two years younger than me was bawling his eyes out after blowing his nose with a handkerchief. The label behind it said: Don't give a damn? Now you can still look like you do, with Wet-Your-Eyes Wipes! Perfect for weddings, goodbyes with the inlaws, and the birth of your least favorite child!
"Neat, right?"
Ginny appeared next to me, admiring the selection. As the first two to enter the store, we were deeper in than the rest of the group, just the two of us around.
"Fred and George have always been brilliant," she said. "A little off their rocker, sure. Obnoxious as hell some of the time. But you can't say they haven't got style."
She picked up what looked like a handheld eraser and rubbed it over the shelf it was on, smearing a line of pink ink that would destroy any writing you used it on.
"It's amazing," I said. "I'm surprised you're so into it, though. I assumed half the prototypes for these were tested on you."
Ginny laughed. "One-fifth at the most," she said. "After that, they realized I hexed back, and moved on to terrorizing Ron and Percy."
"Good life experience," I said. I didn't have any brothers, but bouncing around boarding schools for troubled kids taught me a lot about how to handle myself.
"Older brothers will get you ready to face anything in life," Ginny said. "It's doubly true when you've got six of them running around."
Without warning, her eyes widened and she said, "Look out!"
It was too late, even for my reflexes. The object flying at me — a cloak that had taken on a life of its own — wrapped around me in a rush of fabric. I fought down the urge to draw Riptide and slash through it. At the last second, I reminded myself we were in a prank shop. There was no need to react like my life was in danger.
I looked down, but could only see an ordinary-looking cloak around my body. Then I twisted and spotted where it came from. One was missing off of the rack of see-through cloaks.
That explained why even though it looked like a normal cloak to me, I was drawing a whole lot of stares. A few younger boys laughed and pointed, but Ginny certainly wasn't laughing. Her eyes were wide as she stared at my body, able to see everything down to my boxers.
I tugged on the collar of the cloak, finding it tighter than expected. "Can you help me get this thing off? Ginny?"
"I'm just… looking out," she dreamily, her eyes drinking in my muscles in as much detail as she could manage.
The cloak jumped off of me as fast as it arrived, flying back to its spot on the rack. A gangly redhead a little bit shorter and older than Ron arrived, his wand out. It was pretty clear who he was— the perpetrator of that prank, one of the store's proprietors, and Ginny's older brother.
"Who's this?" he asked his sister.
"This is Percy," I said pointedly.
He only looked at me for a second.
"Percy?" he said to Ginny. "I heard your boyfriend was called Dean."
Without my body distracting her, Ginny recovered enough to shove her brother in the chest. "That's because Dean is my boyfriend. Percy's a friend Dumbledore's has staying with us. And who's talking to you about my love life? If it's Ron again I swear to Merlin—"
"A good entrepreneur never gives away his suppliers." The boy turned to me, sticking out his hand. "Sorry about that… although it hasn't seemed to do you any harm. The name's Fred— humble proprietor of this small business!"
I accepted his hand. When I did, some kind of electric current zapped me. It stung… a little. Compared to the kind of blast Thalia and Jason could dish out, it didn't feel like anything. Since it was only returning the favor, I squeezed his hand back until it popped. I watched Fred do his best not to wince, then give in and do it anyway.
"Merlin," he said, rubbing his sore wrist once I let go. "Did you nab one of our Out-Gripper Gloves from the other side of the shop? It appears I've been outdone. This time."
I was fine with never having a rematch, but it was pretty clear that nothing I could say would convince him to drop this. While he and Ginny got absorbed in an argument (the word 'two-timing' being tossed back and forth in low, angry tones) I moved away through the store. The merchandise was still just as fantastic as before, but after having two examples used on me I wasn't in the mood to admire it.
It's a good thing I wasn't, too. Harry was huddled with Ron and Hermione, looking out the window. On the other side, Draco jogged by, his mother nowhere in sight. Harry scanned his surroundings, saw no one nearby was paying attention, and pulled his friends close. They grabbed a cloak. Instead of turning their clothes see-through, this one did it to every part of them. I watched the door swing open while no one was around. They snuck out, leaving behind all the adults meant to protect them.
Now, I'd be a bigger hypocrite than Zeus if I stopped them from sneaking away. Some of the best decisions I ever made came from taking risks without permission. But then, the last time I snuck away a god nearly dropped me off a skyscraper. I was supposed to be guarding Harry, and whatever they were up to, there was a good chance that it was risky.
I walked out the door, hearing it chime above me. Outside, Hagrid looked at me.
"Percy, right?" he said in his jolly voice. "Where are yeh off teh?"
"Working," I said. "I've got a mission from Dumbledore. He sent you, right? I assume he mentioned me?"
Hagrid scratched his mighty beard. "'e might've said a thing or two. But are yeh sure that yeh don't need any help?"
Harry and the others were still completely invisible. I could barely see Draco further down the street. The only way to keep up with them was to follow the person that they were following and go from there— meaning I had to leave fast.
"I can handle it!" I promised. "Don't let Mrs. Weasley worry!"
"That's somethin' not even I can manage!" he yelled after me.
Draco had slowed down, trying to move inconspicuously. I followed from far enough back to draw his attention. Eventually he reached another alley that teed in from the side, much darker and grimmer than the rest of Diagon. When I entered, still following Draco, it felt like the sky actually got darker. Nico would have loved this place. More of it was hidden in the shadows than was illuminated by lights.
The locals definitely noticed me. Here, people weren't running around like in the rest of Diagon. They didn't look scared of my Muggle clothes, they looked excited. I took Riptide out of my pocket, holding the pen. Just in case.
Draco ducked inside of a shop. When I got close to its glass display, someone grabbed my arm. A cloak was thrown over me, and I found myself staring at the trio who started all of this.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione whispered urgently.
"Saw you, followed you," I said, shrugging. "It looked like you were having all the fun by yourselves."
"Fun?" Hermione looked aghast. "This is Knockturn alley! Walking around in Muggle clothing… Especially these days… You could have been killed!"
"I'm harder to kill than I look," I said.
"You're not taking this seriously—"
"Quiet!" Harry urged. "He's talking!"
He had a long flesh-covered string pressed to his ear, the other end sticking under the door. Through it, we could hear Draco's voice, and another one that belonged to Borgin, the guy who owned this shop.
I had a hard time keeping up with the conversation. The other three weren't much better. Draco was telling Borgin not to sell an item, and threatening him to get his way. He showed Borgin something that changed the man's tune pretty fast, but none of us could see what it was. Then he name-dropped someone called Fenrir Greyback.
"Who's that?" I asked.
"Werewolf," Ron grunted. "Worst one out there."
I was pretty sure the worst was Lyacon, the first ever werewolf, but I didn't want to start an argument.
"What's he trying to reserve, though?" Ron asked.
"Can't see," Harry grunted. "There's a cabinet in the way—"
The door swung open, fluttering our cloak. Draco Malfoy walked out with the proudest damn smirk I'd ever seen. I'd only met the guy once, and even I could tell that anything that made him this happy couldn't be good.
"None of you know what he was doing here?" I asked.
"We can make some guesses…" Harry said unconvincingly.
"Got it. Be right back."
They scrambled back in surprise as I hauled off the cloak, jogging into the street. "Hey there!"
Draco spun around. His self-satisfied look turned to shock, then to suspicion.
"You," he said. "I recognize you. You were with that prat Potter!"
"Oh, no, I'm not with them!" I said "We just went into Madame Malkin's at the same time. You would've recognized me otherwise, right? From that fight you had, it sounded like you guys go to school together."
Draco realized that I had a good point. He looked me over, noting my clothing.
"What are you, then?" he asked.
What, not who, just because I was in jeans. What a winning personality.
"I'm Percy!" I said. "I'm American. I just moved, and I got a little lost while doing my shopping."
"American…" Draco sighed deeply. "Better than a Mudblood, I suppose. Unless you're both. Now, is there a reason that you're stopping me, or can I get on with my day?"
I inclined my head at Borgin and Burke's. "I saw you coming out of that store. You look about my age, so I wondered if that was part of your school shopping, and if I should duck in—"
"It's not," Draco said coldly. I had his full attention now. "Forget all about that store for your own good. If you go in, you're liable not to come out. Diagon is that way." He pointed toward the exit. "Get back to it and stop wasting my time."
"If it's so dangerous, then how come you're fine?"
"The two of us are different," Draco said. "If you can't see how, I don't have high hopes for your life expectancy. I won't entertain this conversation any further!"
His neck was twitching as he urgently glanced at our surroundings, scared that he was being watched. Which he was. But no amount of looking would help him see them.
"Draco," I said, and despite everything, he listened. "You aren't scary."
"You have no idea what I'm capable of," he growled.
Looking at him brought back memories of wild-eyed demigods who marching on Manhattan with Kronos' army. Basically, he looked out of his depth. It seemed like he was trying to throw his weight around, but if you asked me he just looked like a frightened kid. Even if we were the same age.
All I said was, "If you say so."
I let him leave. No matter who he reminded me of, it was clear that I wasn't going to get what I wanted out of him. "Didn't work," I announced once Draco was a good distance away.
Almost immediately, the cloak was thrown back over me.
"Did you see his face? 'You're not scary…'" Ron was snickering hard enough to make our invisibility nearly useless. "Oh, man, that was a good one!"
"We still don't know what he was here for," Hermione said. "Why don't I slip into Borgin and Burke's quickly—"
"No time," Harry said. "Mrs. Weasley is already going to be pitching a fit."
With four of us underneath the cloak, moving was a challenge. Our ankles kept flashing into sight. When we got close to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, I stepped into sight so that they could stay hidden. Hagrid was still waiting by the door, now looking a lot more panicked than when I left.
"Percy!" he greeted. "Yeh… Yeh didn' happen ter see Harry and the others out there, did yeh?"
"Hmm. No, not once," I said. Hagrid's beefy shoulders sagged.
"Can't seem ter find them anywhere," he said. "Poor Molly's goin' mad! We've torn the whole store apart, but there ain't no sign of 'em—"
"Isn't that them?"
I pointed behind Hagrid into the middle of the store. Harry and the others had appeared from nowhere, doing their best to look inconspicuous, which lasted until Molly Weasley fell on them like a category five hurricane. They insisted they were just getting a tour of the backroom. Fred backed them up, claiming he let them in. I was pretty sure nobody bought it.
"And where were you during all of this?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, turning on me.
It had been a while since I'd had anyone worry about me like this. Well, I was pretty sure my mom did, but she stopped saying it out loud a while back when she realized it wouldn't change anything.
"Dumbledore wanted me to grab him something," I said.
"And what was so important that you had to do it alone?"
"He wanted me to mail him a cone of his favorite ice cream," I said, remembering one of the businesses we passed on the way in. "The store was all boarded up, though."
"Wouldn't it melt?" Ron couldn't resist putting in.
"Normally," I said. "But not if you magicked it."
"Charmed it," Hermione corrected reflexively.
"You all aren't taking this seriously!" Mrs. Weasley said. "Wandering around backrooms, going out alone… It's like you're begging to get yourselves murdered!"
Briefly, I wondered if we should've had Dumbledore tell the Weasleys I was more than just a student. Thinking about it for a second, I doubted it would have made a difference. Mrs. Weasley seemed like the type to treat anyone like a kid. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, just that it came with its own downsides.
Luckily, Mr. Weasley stepped in.
"It's all in the past now, Dear," he said. "I'm sure the kids know they should've thought things through better. For now, let's finish up. We're making a scene."
There was only one thing left. I hoped it would be fast and not take the rest of the day. It was time to get me a wand.
I assumed I would be able to use one. Even if I didn't usually have the ability naturally, Hecate must have blessed me so that I could use their magic. Otherwise, I didn't see how I was supposed to fit in at this school I was headed to.
When we got close to the wand shop, the others started to feel somber. Almost everyone elected to wait outside, leaving just me and Hagrid to go in. The windows had been boarded up, but the door was unlocked. Hagrid had to bend forward to fit inside.
"I 'aven't been 'ere in six years!" Hagrid said. "No' since I brought Harry when he was only up to meh hip. Time flies!"
I almost pointed out that Harry was barely past Hagrid's hip now, but I held back.
"O' course, back then Garrick was still workin'," Hagrid said. "Good man, that. A real shame teh hear how he was dragged off. But 'is son is runnin' the businesses now. He'll get yeh what yeh need."
"Wait, sorry, what happened here?"
But it was too late. We were inside the store now, standing amidst dusty shelves full of boxes. A man was sitting by himself in a wooden chair, looking down at his own feet. It took him a long time to notice us.
"Oh, yes!" he said when he finally looked up, standing and prancing forward. "I remember you! It was… Burgin Patchett, right? Thirteen inches with a holly base?"
Hagrid cleared his throat apologetically. "Er, no. No' at all."
"Terry Minishent? Eleven inches with dragon heartstring?"
"Still no' right."
The shopkeeper clutched the bottom of Hagrid's huge shirt, twisting it up in his hands. "Fifteen inches! Yew! Michael Babarian! That's it, right? Right?!"
"Meh name's Hagrid. And I don' got me wand anymore, but it was sixteen inches of oak."
The man burst into tears. Hagrid looked at me, startled, and I shrugged, just as lost. He patted the man's back with a hand as big as a trash can lid.
"Oh I can't do this!" the man wailed. "Father is gone, and I didn't want to close his store, but I'm useless! He knew every wand he ever sold! I don't even remember what I sold yesterday… I'm so useless Mich— Hagrid! Useless!"
"I'm sure yer doin' yer best," Hagrid soothed. "There there. But, listen. This boy needs a new wand. His old one…?"
He looked over to me.
"I burned it," I said.
Still sniffling, the shop owner stepped away from Hagrid, wiping his face and trying to look professional. "Burned it?"
"Yeah," I said. "I was camping, see, and we had a big fire going and a whole bag of marshmallows. I knew I had to have one, but I didn't have a skewer, and there were no sticks around. So I stuck it on the end of my wand and got to toasting. The first one was so good that I knew I needed to have another, and then I had another after that… My fingers got sticky. Eventually, the wand slipped straight out of them and burned up."
The longer I talked, the more horrified Hagrid and the shop owner became. "That's horrible!" said the wand salesman.
"I know." I nodded sadly. "The last marshmallow burned so much it wasn't even edible."
The owner, who finally introduced himself as Gerwin Ollivander (son of the usual store owner) had serious second thoughts about selling me any of his stock. Then he heard from Hagrid how much I had to spend and gave in.
Testing wands to find the right match was surprisingly similar to trying on shoes… If those shoes sometimes caused medium-sized explosions or fired a barrage of sparks. Hagrid and Ollivander didn't seem surprised, so I assumed the reactions weren't because I had no aptitude. I just kept trying them, one after the other, hoping for better results.
They didn't all fizz or cause fires. One spewed wilted roses, making Ollivander shake his head. Another conjured a live worm out of thin air. Finally, as I walked the shelves behind Ollivander, a box called out to me.
"What's that one?"
I pointed at a box that was the same shade of sea-green as my eyes. Ollivander paused, looking at it curiously. He lifted the lid, peering at the wand inside.
"Alder wood. Fourteen inches. A particularly flexible wand with a mermaid-hair core."
Not a mermaid— a Nereid hair, a nymph of the sea. I could hear her voice, faintly, calling to me. It didn't speak in words, but the sound of waves striking a sandy beach. Before I knew what I was doing, I reached out for it.
Ollivander humored me, handing it over. The moment my fingers closed around the handle, I knew.
Water poured from the tip like a hose. It would've sprayed all over Ollivander, but I subtly diverted the path back toward me. It splattered against my body, and I was too distracted to allow myself to get wet. My clothes stayed perfectly dry until the stream shut off, and I looked at the wand in wonder. Erwin Ollivander was clapping.
"Excellent. Excellent!" he said, and just for a second, he looked like a true wandmaker. "I've seen streams of water before, but never such a peculiar trick as keeping the user dry! You'll never go thirsty with a wand like that at your side!"
"It was saltwater," I corrected him absently.
I was going through something I never thought I'd feel ever again. Just like when I was standing on Half-Blood Hill holding Riptide, it was like I'd found a new part of my body. I never missed it before I knew it, but if I lost it now, I'd carry the ache with me for the rest of my life. I totally understood why Hagrid and Ollivander thought I was crazy for what I said about my 'old wand'. I'd shove my hand into an open flame before I let this wand burn in front of me.
"How much?" I asked.
Ollivander smiled. A tear was forming in the corner of his eye as he watched the beautiful moment of an owner and their new wand connecting.
"Son, the true payment for any wandmaker isn't in gold, it's in the feeling of knowing that I helped change a life. That, more than anything, is what makes this profession so worth it."
"Ollivander…" I said, genuinely touched.
He cleared his throat.
"Of course, I've also got a family to feed, and business is slow these days so… nine galleons."
The magic broken, I handed over the money and left the shop. Sure, I might not have known a single spell yet, but you know what?
I was starting to feel a little like a real wizard.