The Devil Wears White

The old witch had slapped him.
Never before had Jouno been slapped.
Not even by his own mother, she had other ways to show her dissatisfaction.
The old hag had never slapped him either. She much preferred using her cane or a whip against Jouno’s back. Never his face. The pleasure house’s madame would never have sullied her merchandise’s visage.

It all had begun unfortunately early in the morning, when Jouno had been called to the pleasure house’s lobby. It had only been a blissful week since the rather unappreciated visit of the other old goat.

“I must say… I’m quite grateful that you didn’t unleash your damned pack of birds on me
this time around.” Jouno had mused, instead of offering a proper greeting. He did not need to see to be able to tell the witch had been giving him a rather scorching glare.

“Young man,” she had begun curtly, her accent thick over her words, sharp enough to grate on his ears. “I am here to escort you and your fellow student to Diagon Alley for your school supplies.” There had been a grit to her voice, a slight roughness that hinted at her age. Younger than Dumbledore, no doubt, but no spring chicken either from the sound of her voice.

“Is that so?” Jouno’s had lips curled into a sly smile. “And here I thought the old hag had
finally decided to sell me off to another brothel down the street.” Jouno had not been lying in that moment, being called to the lobby by the madame herself only ever happened when someone was about to be sold off. “Pardon me, but I don’t believe you’ve told me your name, Madame,” He tilted his head artfully. “I don’t feel comfortable following a stranger to an unknown place.”

The air in the pleasure house had been positively thick, heavy with the smell of incense and cheap perfume. It burned at Jouno’s lungs, the oppressive heat making it feel as though the room itself was trying to suffocate him. Women loitered nearby, their whispers not nearly as quiet as they believed—perhaps they weren’t really trying to hide them—, punctuated by giggles as they led men toward other rooms. Jouno had always hated stepping into the main house.

“My name is Minerva McGonagall. I will be your teacher in the coming years, as such, you are to address me as Professor.”
“Of course, Professor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Good. Come now.” McGonagall instructed. Without another word, Jouno followed—annoyed to be treated like some dog.

The brothel’s madam’s gaze never left him as they exited the building. Most likely, she had been glaring at him again. Jouno would forever wonder what she looked like, but not enough to ask for a description. Who could he have asked, anyway? The prostitutes
treated him like a ghost, and as for his mother… She—-Jouno knew—had been on top of the stairs, like always. Her gaze following him. For the longest time, Jouno had believed her to be mute. He had been six, when she first made a sound. That day, he had brought her flowers.
Jouno couldn’t for the life of him remember what had set her off before she went into a frenzy. Like a broken record, she repeated herself again and again between wheezed cries. She never tried to say anything else. Jouno never bothered to have her talk more.
She was still there, though, watching from the stairs as he left the building.
He’d know, feeling her gaze on his back.
She never came down; her clients always went up.
Jouno knew the man who had helped in his conception—his father— had been one of
These pitiful sleeze-ball. Perhaps, he was still among them, walking up the stairwell, losing money on borrowed pleasures and false warmth. Whoever that man was, he too must be a fool.

The door closed on their backs with a mournful bang. Jouno left without looking back.
It would have been no use… For Jouno there was no ‘looking’. Though…he highly doubted there would have been anything worth gazing back to.

“Brace yourselves, boys.” McGonagall had said when she deemed them far enough of Jouno’s ‘home’. She grabbed their arms with surprising strength and then the sensation hit. Jouno had felt like his body was being twisted inside out, squeezed through a hole too tight for any human. The noise was deafening. He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. By the time they landed, his stomach revolted, Jouno had a second meeting with the apple he’d had for breakfast.

The other boy whom had been annoyingly silent knelt beside him, rubbing his back. Jouno
sneered and batted the hand away, though the boy did not move.
“Come boys.” McGonagall ordered as Jouno dusted the potential grime away from his coat. Apparently, the woman had been determined to see Jouno’s head burst. They were obviously in a street. Hustle and bustle alive and mighty. Everywhere people spoke, and animals cried. Jouno realised that after the week in hell he had lived, he’d forever be scarred by the screeching of owls, immediately recognising that sound even admits a hurricane.

The place held a thousand bodies and a thousand smells among a thousand noises. All echoing and lacing and layering in a horrible disconnected symphony that sounded like nothing and everything at the same time. Jouno hadn’t even registered he had pressed his palms to his ears until a new pair of warm hands covered his own.
He had nearly jumped out of his own skin, turning to the boy he had decided to dub ‘Silent’. “What in the world are you doing?” He demanded.
For an instant, Silent didn’t respond, perhaps he hummed, Jouno could not tell in the
surrounding noise. “You seemed in pain.”
“And it made you believe I needed YOUR help? Keep your disgusting hands to yourself. I do not know where your filthy paws have been and I do not wish to be infected.”
“Jouno ! Cease being rude this instant, lest you wish this trip to become much less
Enjoyable, young man.” Jouno had in all honestly forgotten that this old hag was still
hanging around.

With an insolent huff, he pushed Silent off.

Their first stop had wound up being a bookstore. The quiet place a welcomed respite from
the hellscape outside, and Jouno was fast on his feet to get away from the old bat named McGonagall. At last, he was freed from the two annoyances he had been stuck with.

Mindlessly, Jouno’s cold fingers brushed against rows and rows of books, feeling letters against the tip of his fingers in an attempt to make out their titles. Some were thicker than others, some were made out of fabric while others were hard covers. Jouno enjoyed the feeling of each of them, just like he enjoyed the faint scent of old parchment and dust that hung in the air. He hummed softly. Already, his head felt much less heavy, and the painful buzz in his frontal lobe dulled. Books always made him feel at ease. The knowledge they held made him feel strong, intelligent.

An old man had once told him that knowledge was the key to success. The same man had thaught him to understand and read English. Jouno knew neither his name, nor his face, but he knew he was an older guy who was most certainly an unlucky foreigner who had lost everything while travelling Japan.He disappeared one day. Most likely, he had kicked the bucket at last.

“Excuse me! Could you move aside? I need that book!” A shrill voice broke through the
muted tranquility. The girl’s tone was confident, almost too confident for Jouno’s liking.
He shifted just enough to let her pass, not bothering to hide the subtle scowl tugging at
his lips.
His ears pricked at the sound of a heavy book leaving the shelf. The girl let out a satisfied huff. He’d hoped it would be the end of it, but she seemed to have another idea as she swirled around to face him. “Hermione Granger.” She introduced herself extending a hande. “Isn’t it just fascinating?! Magic! I must admit that I did not immediately believe it when professor McGonagall came to my home, but then she showed us and…it was simply amazing! Even my parents who were very sceptical at first had to believe her! I’m the first witch in my family you see… So, I have so much I need catch up on to be on the same levels as the other magical children! I’ve been reading everything I can, ever since I got my Hogwards letter! There’s so much history—did you know Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by four of the greatest witches and wizards of their time? I read all about it in Hogwarts: A History.” To Jouno, the girl’s voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. How close he was to snap her neck…
“And the classes!” The girl continued “They all sound pationating! I am particularly interested in Charms!” Why would this girl not just leave? Jouno had barely just found an instance of respite. Were all eleven-year-old girls that chatty?

“Oh! You are afflicted with albinism!” The girl suddenly exclaimed. Though, she must have taken Jouno’s silence as confirmation as she rambled on.“It’s a condition where the affected person has a congenital absence of pigment in their body. Those who have it lack melanin which affects their colouring and their eyesight. Albinos—that’s what their called— often have white or very light blonde hair. The colour depends on how much melanin their body has. Their eye colour also depends on it! It’s very important for people with albinism to protect themself from the sun. Their skin is horribly sensible, which leads them to develop a lot of skin conditions and easily burn! Oh! You must make sure to correctly protect your skin and your eyes! Do you wear suncream? Do you have any protection for your eyes?”

Jouno’s jaw tightened. The sheer audacity of this girl! She talked on about Jouno as if he was afflicted by some desease. She even dared to assum he was too brainless to know why people seemed uncomfortable with him!
Finally. FINALLY. The girl had shut her trap. Oh, how he hoped to forever screw it
together. To cut those insulting little voice cords!
“How so very kind of you.” He began. “But do tell, as I am so very curious.
Do you go around handing unwarranted medical advice to each stranger you come
across? Or am I simply your special project of today?” He asked, his voice made of silk. “Perhaps you should read more about tact in those books you’re so eager to collect. It seems you’ve missed that chapter.” Jouno artfully tilted his head, smirking. He had won.
The girl’s bottom lip quivered as she tried to come up with a response. But nothing came. All she could muster were a string of restraint sanglots. She turned abruptly, hiccuping as she fled. Her rapid steps echoed loudly on the old floorboard of the store. Jouno couldn’t help the satisfied giggle that escape his throat, before turning back to the bookshelf. Skimming his fingers against carefully lined books once more, he hummed some tune.

“Jouno Saigiku!” McGonagall could have frozen fire. “What on earth do you think
you’re doing?” One pest gone and another came forth.
“She meant no harm, and yet you took it upon yourself to humiliate her! Is that how you
plan to treat your classmates?”
“I didn’t ask her to diagnose me, nor did volunteer myself as a specimen for her to dissect.” Jouno said, his voice still too sweet. “Perhaps next time she’ll learn when to keep that mouth of hers carefully shut.” McGonagall said nothing. “If this is how your kind behaves, then perhaps someone should reistate the burnings.” Jouno spat, keeping up his sweetest smile.

He didn’t even hear the woman lift her arm before his ears started ringing. It was so
swift, the stinging of his cheek swelled before the realisation of what had happened hit.
Not even his mother had ever slapped him.

An hour after the fact, his cheek had still ached, it burned with every beat of his hearth. Jouno knew the hit would leave a nasty bruise that would stay for the foreseeable days. The old hag would have a field day when she discovers this.

McGonagall, the harpy had dragged them out the store. She had tried—and obviously failed—to get him to apologies to the girl whose fragile sensibility had been wounded.
One day; he told himself. One day, he’ll shove that accursed hand in burning hot coal. He’d take pleasure hearing the flesh sizzle and cook. He’d relish in her pain. He’d make her beg.
He could not wait for that day to come.

She better mark his words; one day she would pay. She with the old coot Dumbledore will burn along their pathetic little school, and Jouno would take the utmost pleasure listening to their screams. It was, after all, only fitting for witches like them to wound up devoured by flames.
One day, Jouno told himself. One day. Sadly, not today.
Today, he was still stuck following the old witch, pretending she had not just hit him in and left a nasty bruise on his skin.

McGonagall had taken them past a building she had promptly called “Gringotts” which was apparently a bank. The existence of Goblins did distract from Jouno’s silent simmering and careful planning. Apparently, the creatures were rude, but terribly intelligent— as per McGonagall words—and took exclusive care of the wizarding money. Jouno wondered about the intelligence of wizards, or lack thereof. Wizards seemed to have left their entire monetary system to a group of creatures they considered openly discriminated against. It left Jouno to ponder if one day, the goblins would simply close the bank and take delight in the wizards’ misery.

McGonagall tensed as man with, what sounded like a cane marched passed in the opposite direction. Wizards and witches parted like the sea to let him through.
“Come boys. I do not wish to see you anywhere near that kind of filth.” Jouno made no
effort to move. “Come along Mr. Saigiku.
One day, people would part for him too.

Their next stop was at an overly loud place that stank of animal waste and blared with the
cursed noise of hooting and hissing; A pet menagerie. Jouno wrinkled his nose in disgust.
McGonagall’s jokes truly were of bad taste.
The blasted birds in cages kept screeching in his poor ears to an extend that his eardrums
might finally give out. It grated at his head painfully, yet covering his ears with his hands protected him of nothing. One persistent little devil nabbed at his vest, tearing a hole in the worn fabric. The place was simply dreadful. Jouno felt as if trapped in a sewer! Everything was burning and Jouno needed out. OUT. NOW. Out of this place before he actually got sick in the middle of the isle of caged creatures.

Jouno nearly fell over as a particularly strong wave of bile came rushing up his throat, his hand clamped onto bars and yet another bird came pecking at his fingers. He knew the blasted thing draw blood when pain and liquid warmth suddenly oozed onto his index and thumb. The gash was deep, Jouno knew, but it was grounding.
How could a place reek so?
Had something died in here?
It must be so. A cadaver or maybe two, must have been slowly rotting in some of the cages. He’d die in there like whatever miserable creature whose decomposing corpse had been forgotten. The pungent, horrid pestilence of the menagerie would suffocate him!

Jouno gagged a second time, nearly launching himself to the ground.
Another gash through Jouno’s flesh.
He rose and ran. The repercussions of running out without a word were nothing compared to the agony of the menagerie. Jouno would not stay caged in there.

Finally—Finally, Jouno could breathe. The air of the busy street, salty with the sweat of
passer-by’s and acrid from dried piss were almost blissful compared to the inside of the store. The people coming and going could be considered quiet. It was almost still.
He took a deep breath, one that felt like a gulp of fresh air after nearly drowning.

For an instant there was nothing, Jouno simply stood there, then the warmest of hands came resting on shoulder, gently laying without force. Feather-light yet hot as embers. Silent gave the slightest of pats, yet he did not say a word. Jouno would never say it, but he was grateful. The warmth on his cold shoulder was grounding. The pain in Jouno’s head didn’t leave, but like a creeping little eel, it retreated ever so slightly. “Don’t pity me.” Jouno growled.
“I don’t. You don’t deserve it.” Despite his words, he never removed his hand from Jouno’s
shoulder.
“Good.” Jouno sneered, deep down, he was satisfied.

Perhaps Sient’s cool was contagious, for Jouno suddenly felt calm and steady.

With a gunshot-like bang the door to the Menagerie flung open, the confident step and
flurry of long fabric indicating that McGonagall had come after both boys. She descended
upon them like an angry harpy, screeching her beckoning call of war as—Jouno had no
doubt—her eyes promised retribution for their disobedience.
“I must say I am profoundly disappointed.” She began, her voice cold and steely. “It seems some people simply can’t grasp the concept of following the simplest of instructions.” Jouno knew that comment was meant for him, still it was frustrating how she remained cold as ice, as if he wasn’t worth the energy to scream at. “I thought it would a simple matter to trust you to follow the most basic orders. Clearly, I overestimated your ability to do even that. Did I not make myself abundantly clear? You were to remain in the store, select a pet of the approved Hogwarts list and wait for me before stepping so much as a foot out of those doors. Was it simply too much for you?” She stopped her rant for a moment, maybe to let her gaze linger on Jouno’s and Silent’s figures. “Or perhaps you were under the impression that I gave you some option to go wandering about as you please? Perhaps you thought I was making a polite suggestion?” She sighed. “If this is how you behave, I dread in how you will act at Hogwarts.”

“Perhaps,” she began again. “Neither of you actually want a pet. Perhaps you would rather I simply escort you directly to the station, and we forgo this errand altogether? After all, if following simple rules is such an intolerable ordeal, I wonder if you’re prepared for the responsibilities of owning a living being” She straightened, her old spine cracking softly. “I’ll not tolerate another disruption.” She paused, perhaps expecting both boys to hold their breaths. “Now, if we are quite finished with this nonsense, I suggest you return to the store immediately. And this time, I trust you’ll conduct yourself properly, or you may as well forget a pet altogether Mr. Suehiro. Mr Saigiku will stay here with me, it is obvious he does not posses a modicum of the necessary responsibility to own a familiar.”
Jouno fought the growing urge to lunge at the woman and rip out her throat.
One day.
Still, Jouno smiled. “Thank you, professor” he pressed with mockery. “I was in fact,
uninterested in the rather…restricted list of allowed pets. Though, perhaps most wizards
might be satisfied with such limited options. May I assume that you are the proud owner
of a toad?”
“Mr Saigiku, my patience has long reached its limit.”
“Yes. I understand that you tend to respond with violence. Will you strike me a second
time?”

It did not take long for Silent to come back. Jouno knew the boy had chosen a pesky owl, the animal’s hooted and screeched like an angry banshee. If Silent himself had not much to say, he sure had chosen a pet that would compensate for the boy’s quiet nature. Hopefully, the bird’s furry would lessen before it destroyed the last of Jouno’s eardrums.

However, there seemed to be another creature in Silent’s arms. A cat. A bloody cat
yawned with lazy pride no caged animal was allowed to possess!
Silent marched up to Jouno without so much as a word, before shoving the cage in his
face. The blasted cat had the audacity to huff. “Here.” He said, before moving away to McGonagall’s side.
“Why in the world would you get me a bloody cat?”
“It looks like you.” Silent informed. Both Jouno and his new pet, hissed. “See. It’s white and grumpy.” The other informed in his monotone voice.
“Obviously, no. I do not see.”

McGonagall did not care for their squabbles and simply shepherded the boys away from the disgusting store. Jouno silently wondered what kind of disease he might have contracted by simply entering that place. Perhaps cholera... He’d have to hope the cat wasn’t sick.

The old woman pushed through crowds and skipped by storefronts. They walked for perhaps fifteen minutes, when McGonagall stopped near a crowd of excited children. Surely, McGonagall was not going to drag Jouno anywhere near those noisy brats?
The Harpy-like woman drew closer to the group of kids who cried about the new ‘Nimbus 2000’ as if it was the holy grail. Perhaps it was, Jouno had no idea what they were all looking at. He didn’t approach, refusing to get any closer to the little bags of germs. The devil in his grip purred in approval.
Silent oddly decided to stay near Jouno while McGonagall raved about this ‘Nimbus 2000’. “See this broom boys? This a work of art, truly made for the champions of Quidditch!” As if it was supposed to mean anything to them… At least Silent seemed just as clueless as Jouno, who felt the need to snap a witty “No, I don’t see a thing.” McGonagall’s way. He wasn’t about to stay around to listen to an old hag spin poetics about a bloody broom!

A too sharp smirk split across Jouno’s pale face. Silent had turned to him, but said nothing, not even when Jouno began to walk away. Though, he did follow, grabbing onto the hem of Jouno’s jacket as they ventured through the flow of moving crowds. Sometimes, people called them; “Boys! You alone?” And “Hey Hogwarts students! Come here I sell amazing Quills!”

At some point, they must have taken a rather unfortunate turn. Women giggled with high pitched squeals and man growled like rabid dogs. Sometimes it would change, and a man would sing while a lady cried or screamed. “Where are we?” Silent’s asked. The boy had crept closer, huddling so near their arms kept touching. Silent’s grip on his owl’s cage tightened. Jouno didn’t comment, his own palms ached around the cat’s carrier. He was about to sneer at Silent, tell him off for doubting him when a cold hand landed on his shoulder.
Long bony fingers curled around and gripped onto Jouno, squeezing softly to keep him in place. “Hello boys.” The stranger chriped, Jouno did not know if they were a man or a woman. “Your wands have been waiting boys, come along now.”
Silent tensed. “Who are you?”
“Hm? This one is the Wandmaker.” They sang. Silent, tried to break from the stranger’s grip, yet it did not matter how much he struggled; the stranger’s hold was of unbending iron.
“You said you were a wandmaker?” Jouno inquired.
“No. This one is The Wandmaker.” They said, guiding the boys away. Women’s laughter echoed from the right, accompanied by moans and gasps. The left building buzzed with insects and other animals. The stranger parted fabric that jingled with bells and beads, and they entered a shop. Suddenly, the world had gone mute. The store was devoid of the cacophony of the outside world, yet it sang like the walls of a church. The stranger hummed in harmony with the store. They sounded young, however something about them felt old and slow. Still, when smooth, ice-cold fingers brushed stray hair from Jouno’s cheek, the stranger did not feel any older than twenty.
They giggled softly before gliding deeper inside the store, the air smelled of heavy incense
and burning candles. Everywhere, small bells jingled, and little pearls collided with soft
clicks. The Wandmaker seemed to dance around, something long trailing behind them—their hair.
“It’s been so very long since This One had the pleasure of introducing young wizards to their wands! A true shame, alas This One has been busy, and none of This One’s creations called for their intended until today.” The stranger dragged out a ladder and climbed a wall. Whatever they grabbed they tossed it aside, before sliding down, silent like a spider, disappearing somewhere. Jouno assumed the back. It took a moment of utter confusion as he and Silent simply stood stunned, waiting for the nutcase that had lured them inside their shop.
“There they are!” The stranger was back, waving something in the air happily, but then
again, they tossed the thing away before leaning on their desk. “Come sit lads, come!”
Silent seemed to turn to Jouno, still holding onto the large cage of his owl, while Jouno held onto his own tense cat. Together, they came forth with a wary step. The wandmaker hummed, extending empty hands to each. “Go on.” They tempted and Jouno knew they were flashing all their teeth. He wondered if they were sharp…
He extended his fingers tentatively, expecting to find cold palms, yet he brushed against a hard box excluding a call for Jouno alone. Next to him, Silent gasped. “There you go lads. They have been waiting for quite some time. Don’t let This One’s children wait any longer.”

Jouno opened the box, half expecting whatever was singing bellow the lid to lunge. It didn’t. Below the carved lid, something cool hummed a lullaby. A carved stick waited for him—a wand. Jouno knew it was his. In his hand it just felt just right.
“There you go. Wisteria and Manchineel. Its core is kumiho’s hair and Will O wisps tears. This One had a great time making this little rascal. A beauty beyond words if This One may says so.”
Jouno realised too late, he had frozen over the shop. The air in his lungs were cold, his lips frozen, clouds puffed with his every breath. Small flowers of ice had bloomed in his hair and snow fell from the ceiling, coating everything in a cold blanket.

“As for you” the stranger continued. “Hornbeam and Linden wood, with a Griffin feather
and monitor’s horn as it’s core. This one hopes it may serve you well laddie.” The room’s temperature rose. The snow melted away in a wave.
The wandmaker laughed lightly. “Oh, dear children. How happy This One is to finally see you go. Alas it is time to part. Go now, you have your wands, now off you go.” With a burst, they were pushed out as if the air itself had become alive and wished them gone. Something bursted shut.

“It’s gone” Silent gawked as he regained his bearings and got himself off the grimy ground.
“Gone? What is gone?”
“The shop! It’s not there! Look, there’s nothing.” He seemed to wave somewhere in front of him. Jouno inhaled, fighting the urge to snap that he could not just ‘see’.

Perhaps one day Jouno would understand all this.
One day.
Not today.
“What’s your name?” The other boy asked quietly.
“Jouno. …What may I call you?”
“Tecchou… my name is Tecchou.”