Off to Diagon
Draco Malfoy stood rooted in place, his polished boots sinking slightly into the damp sand. His gray eyes remained fixed on Orca, who moved with an effortless grace as the ocean responded to her every whim. Waves crashed and swirled, bending to her silent commands like loyal subjects before their queen.
Draco’s disbelief was almost comical. He had seen powerful magic in his lifetime—some of it dark, most of it wielded with the precision of a wand and the structure of spells. But this? This was wild, unrestrained, and terrifyingly beautiful.
“That... was the most insane thing I’ve ever seen,” Draco finally said, his voice breaking the silence. “You’ve got to be hiding a wand somewhere!”
Orca turned to face him again, her light brown hair clinging to her face in damp strands. A hint of amusement played at her lips. “You’re acting like I’ve done something impossible.”
“Well, haven’t you?” Draco countered, his voice rising slightly. “You can’t just summon water like that! Even the best witches and wizards need—”
“Wands, incantations, and rules,” Orca interrupted, her tone calm but dismissive. “I told you, land-dweller magic doesn’t apply to me.”
Draco opened his mouth to argue but hesitated. The term “land-dweller” caught his attention. “Alright, I have to know—who are you? Where did you even come from?”
Orca tilted her head, studying him with an unreadable expression. For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic crashing of waves behind her.
“Are you always this curious?” she asked.
“When a stranger appears out of nowhere and starts bending the ocean to her will? Yes,” Draco shot back.
Orca sighed, folding her arms. “Fine. But I have a condition.”
Draco blinked. “A condition?”
“You seem to know this world better than I do,” she said. “Show me around. Teach me what I need to know about land-dweller society. The magical kind.”
For a moment, Draco simply stared at her. Then he laughed, a short, sharp sound that seemed more at his own expense than hers.
“You want me to be your guide?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Orca said, tilting her head. “Why not?”
“Why not?” Draco repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. “Because if you want people to like you, I’m probably the worst choice you could make.”
Orca frowned. “Why?”
Draco hesitated. He didn’t like talking about it this much—his family, the war, the shadow of his father’s actions. But something about Orca, with her straightforward demeanor and complete lack of pretension, made him feel like she probably wouldn’t judge him.
“My family... we didn’t exactly end up on the winning side of the war,” he said finally. “My father’s in Azkaban. My mother’s doing her best to hold what’s left of our reputation together, but people don’t forget. They’ll see me, and they’ll see him.”
Orca stared at him, her expression unreadable. “And that’s supposed to matter to me?”
Draco blinked. “Well, yes, most people—”
“I’m not ‘most people,’” Orca said firmly. “And I don’t care about your family’s reputation or some war I wasn’t part of.”
Her bluntness left him momentarily speechless.
“Where do you even come from?” he asked, grasping for some sense of context. “You talk like none of this matters, like you’re completely separate from it all.”
Orca’s eyes flickered toward the ocean, and she was silent for a long moment.
“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to keep guessing?” Draco pressed, his curiosity outweighing his patience.
She sighed, clearly reluctant. “The ocean,” she said simply.
Draco frowned. “The... ocean?”
“Yes. The ocean,” Orca repeated, crossing her arms.
“As in the big, wet thing behind you?”
“Is there another kind of ocean I’m not aware of?”
Draco opened his mouth, then closed it again. For once in his life, he was at a complete loss for words.
“That’s ridiculous,” he said finally, though his tone lacked conviction.
Orca raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”
Draco stared at her, his mind racing. He had heard of strange magical creatures and ancient bloodlines, but someone claiming to come from the ocean itself? That was a new one.
Before he could respond, Orca turned back to the waves. “You land-dwellers think your world is the center of everything,” she said, her tone almost wistful. “But there’s so much more beyond what you see. The ocean is... different. It doesn’t play by your rules.”
Draco’s curiosity only deepened. “And you’re saying you’re part of that? The ‘ocean’s rules’?”
She glanced at him, her eyes sharp and distant at the same time. “Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly raised in a house that's safe with four walls.”
There was a pause, heavy with unspoken questions.
“Right,” Draco said finally, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, this is officially the strangest conversation I’ve ever had.”
“Good to know,” Orca said dryly.
He gave her a look, then decided to move on. “If you want to learn about magical society, there’s one place you need to go: Diagon Alley.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s where we get all our supplies—books, robes, potions ingredients, wands. Everything a witch or wizard needs.”
Orca considered this. “Then that’s where I need to go.”
Draco frowned. “Just like that?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
“You’re not even going to ask what it’s like or how to get there?”
“No.”
Draco shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You’re mad.”
Orca ignored him, her mind already made up. The siren leader’s instructions had been vague—leave the ocean, fulfill some crazy prophecy—but one thing was clear: staying here, aimlessly practicing magic on the beach, wasn’t going to accomplish anything.
Draco watched her, his confusion giving way to a grudging respect. Whoever Orca was, she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met.
“Alright,” he said. “If you’re serious about this, I’ll take you. But don’t blame me if people start staring.”
“They can stare all they want,” Orca said.
Draco smirked. “I think I’m going to regret this.”
But as they set off down the beach, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his life was about to change in ways he couldn’t begin to predict.
---------------------
The walk to Diagon Alley was more silent than Draco Malfoy would have preferred. Orca, with her effortless stride and unsettlingly calm demeanor, didn’t seem remotely fazed by the sheer weight of the magical world she was about to enter.
Draco, on the other hand, was keenly aware of what awaited them.
They stepped into the dimly lit Leaky Cauldron, the air thick with the scent of butterbeer and aged wood. As soon as Draco crossed the threshold, conversations hushed, heads turned, and the room grew uncomfortably quiet.
“Malfoy,” someone muttered under their breath, the tone laced with disdain.
A man near the bar openly scowled, his eyes narrowing as if Draco’s mere presence had soured his drink. A witch in the corner sniffed audibly, her gaze lingering on him with contempt before shifting curiously to Orca.
Draco’s jaw tightened. He’d grown used to these reactions in the years following the war, but it didn’t make them any easier to bear.
“Is it always like this?” Orca asked as they wove through the tables, her tone light and unaffected, as if commenting on the weather.
Draco forced a grin. “Oh, no. Sometimes they’re worse.”
Once outside, he tapped the bricks on the wall with his wand. The bricks shifted and folded away, revealing the bustling, colorful street of Diagon Alley. Orca’s gaze flicked over the scene, taking in the busy shops, the moving advertisements in the windows, and the wizards and witches milling about with arms full of parcels.
The magic of the place didn’t faze her—what did, however, were the eyes that turned to them.
First, there were curious stares aimed at Orca, her light brown hair catching the sunlight in soft waves and her expression a mix of curiosity and cool detachment. Then came the glares reserved for Draco, a lingering bitterness that no war trial or apology could erase.
“It seems your family really wasn’t liked,” Orca said, her tone almost amused.
Draco flinched. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“I wasn’t being rude,” Orca said simply, scanning a storefront where enchanted quills scribbled in mid-air. “It’s just obvious.”
“Appreciate your insight,” Draco muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
As they walked, Draco pointed out the various shops. “That’s Madam Malkin’s. Good for robes. Over there’s Quality Quidditch Supplies—though I doubt you’re interested in that unless you’ve got some secret knowledge about broomsticks, too. And Flourish and Blotts is up ahead. Best place for books.”
Orca took in his explanations with quiet interest, but her detached air didn’t waver. When they stopped in front of Ollivanders, Draco gestured toward the shop.
“That’s where you’d get a wand—though I doubt you even need one,” he said, a trace of sarcasm coloring his voice.
“True,” Orca said, nodding in agreement.
Draco blinked. “What?”
“I don’t need one,” she said, glancing at him as though his reaction was puzzling.
Draco stared at her, trying to reconcile her casual response with every magical rule he’d ever learned. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I get that a lot,” Orca replied with a shrug, already moving on.
Flourish and Blotts was crowded, shelves crammed with books of all sizes and colors. Draco trailed behind Orca, who wandered down an aisle with the same unhurried pace she’d displayed on the beach.
“Malfoy.”
The voice came from behind them, sharp and unmistakable. Draco turned to find Ron Weasley standing a few feet away, arms laden with books. His expression shifted from surprise to suspicion as his gaze darted between Draco and Orca.
“Lovely. Just who I wanted to see,” Draco said dryly.
“What are you doing here?” Ron asked, his tone accusatory.
“Shopping,” Draco replied, gesturing to the bookstore around them. “Not exactly a crime, Weasley.”
Ron’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s she?”
Hermione Granger appeared behind Ron, her gaze immediately locking onto Orca. Unlike Ron, she didn’t look angry—just curious. “I don't remember you from Hogwarts, what school did you attend?”
Orca, oblivious to the growing tension, turned to Hermione. “I’m from the ocean,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’d like to know why I’m human.”
Hermione blinked, momentarily thrown. “You’re... from the ocean?”
“Correct.”
Ron looked at Hermione, clearly baffled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Hermione ignored him, her expression thoughtful as she turned back to Orca. “Are you asking about your parents?”
Orca frowned. “Parents?”
“Yes,” Hermione said. “If you’re trying to figure out your family, you could go to Gringotts. The goblins can do an ancestry test.”
“Gringotts?” Orca repeated, tilting her head.
Hermione pointed out the window toward the towering white structure at the end of the street. “It’s the wizarding bank. They’ll be able to help.”
Ron, meanwhile, was glaring at Draco. “What are you up to, Malfoy?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not ‘up to’ anything, Weasley. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Ron shot back. “You’re probably dragging her into some scheme.”
“I’m not dragging her anywhere!” Draco snapped.
Orca watched the exchange with mild interest. “Are they always like this?” she asked Hermione.
“Unfortunately,” Hermione muttered.
“Fine,” Ron said suddenly. “We’ll go with you.”
Draco groaned. “That’s completely unnecessary.”
“Like I trust you,” Ron retorted.
“I don’t need you to trust me,” Draco shot back. “I’m perfectly capable of—”
“Enough,” Hermione said firmly, stepping between them. “We’re all going to Gringotts, and that’s final.”
Draco muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue further. As the group made their way toward the bank, Ron and Draco continued to bicker in hushed tones. Orca, unfazed by the tension, walked alongside Hermione, asking questions about the magical world with the same detached curiosity she’d shown all day.
By the time they reached Gringotts, Draco was already regretting his decision to leave the beach.