Diagon Alley
Corey woke early the next morning. He could tell it was daylight even with his eyes closed, he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, thinking over what happened the day before.
There was suddenly a loud tapping noise. He looked over to see an owl.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Corey 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. The owl at the window was rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.
Corey got to his feet quickly and quietly. 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 on to the floor and began to attack Hagrid’s coat. Corey watched in amused confusion. ‘Hagrid, there’s an owl-’ said Corey staring at the 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, mint humbugs, tea-bags… finally, Corey pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.
‘Give him five Knuts,’ said Hagrid sleepily.
‘Knuts?’
‘The little bronze ones.’ Corey counted out five little bronze coins and the owl held out its leg so he could put the money into a small leather punch tied to it. Then it flew off through the open window. Corey thought it was strange the owl wanted paying, maybe they just like the strange coins?
Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up and stretched. ‘Best be off, Corey, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an’ buy all yer stuff fer school.’
Corey was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had thought of something which made him feel as though all happiness inside his body was being swallowed in a blackhole. ‘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 didn’t leave yeh anything?’
‘But how would i get it? Where is it-‘
‘They didn’ keep their gold in a muggle bank, boy!-’ Corey flinched slightly . ‘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 their own banks?’
‘Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins.’
‘Goblins?’
‘Yeah - so yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it, I’ll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Corey. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe - ‘cept maybe Hogwarts. As 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.’ Corey followed Hagrid out on to 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?’ Corey asked, confused as there was no other boat. ‘Flew,’ said Hagrid. ‘Flew?’
‘Yeah - but we’ll go back on this. Not s’pposed ter use magic now I’ve got yeh.’
‘But how will the Dursleys get back?’ Corey asked, glancing back at the unstable shack behind them. Hagrid only gave him a short glance. Rude. They settled down in the boat, Corey stared at Hagrid, still not quite understanding what Hagrid meant by flying.
‘Seems a shame ter row, though,’ said Hagrid, giving Corey another of his sideways looks, that Corey didn’t really understand why he did. ‘If I was ter - er - speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin’ it at Hogwarts?’
‘Okay,’ said Corey, who liked to think himself as not a snitch. ‘But what would happen if people found out? What would they do?’ Corey felt a tiny bit confused, how could just getting expelled from a school make it so you couldn’t ever use magic again? It didn’t really make sense to Corey.
Hagrid looked offfended? Mad? Irritaded? Corey couldn’t tell what, it didn’t look like a good emotion that he was plastered on the mans face by his question.
Hagrid moved on and pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat and they sped off towards the land. ‘Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?’ Corey asked.
‘Spells - enchantments,’ said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. ‘They say there’s dragons guardin’ the high-security vaulta. 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.’
Corey sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Corey thought that if what Hagrid said was true, and Gringotts really does have a dragon locked in there, wouldn’t that be a type of animal abuse?
Corey frowned, looking out on the ocean around them. Corey then looked at the newspaper in Hagrids hand again. Corey had learnt 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?’ Corey asked, before he could stop himself.
‘’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, Corey, everyone’d be wantin’ magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we’re best left alone.’
Corey thought it was unfair to judge every Muggles from the ones that were bad and selfish. Corey didn’t really think he liked Hagrid all that much, he kept saying things that heavily hinted at bigotry and Corey didn’t like that.
Right after that thought the boat bumped gently into the harbour wall. Corey was again reminded that the Dursleys were still on the rock, but Corey concluded that he would probably be glad if they died.
Maybe Corey could actually get taken in by people who could see him as a child to care for and not just a burden?
Hagrid folded up his newspaper and they clambered up the stone steps on to the street. Passers-by a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Corey 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, Corey? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?’
‘Hagrid,’ said Corey, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, ‘are there really dragons at Gringotts?’
‘Well, so they say,’ said Hagrid . ‘Crikey, I’d like a dragon.’
‘What are they like?’
‘Their great, I’ve always wanted one 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 notes to Corey so he could buy their tickets.
People stared more than ever on the train. Corey thought that if wizards really didn’t want to be found out, that Hagrid was the wrong person to send to get him. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.
‘Still got yer letter, Corey?’ he asked as he counted stitches. Corey took the parchment envelope out of his pocket. ‘Good,’ said Hagrid. ‘There’s a list there of everything yeh need.’ Corey 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
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 Beginner’s 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
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
‘Can we buy all this in London?’ Corey wondered aloud. ‘If yeh know where to go,’ said Hagrid. Corey 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 which led up to a bustling road lined with shops. Corey was slightly flabbergasted at Hagrids words. Did he not think about how ‘Muggles’, as he liked to call them, didn’t know about magic.
Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Corey had to do was keep close behind him.
They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger bars 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 Corey hadn’t known that the Dursleys had no sense of humour, and that wouldn’t explain all the things he can do that’s apparently magic. Though all things like magic was unbelievable, but true, Corey didn’t trust Hagrid.
He felt that Hagrid was kind of a bigot and was racist (?) against Muggles in the way people say black people are ‘one of the good ones’ racist. Well, he wasn’t worse than the Dursleys.
‘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, Corey 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, Corey had a sneaking suspicion 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 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 barman, who was quite bald and looked like a gummy walnut.
The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid, they waved and smiled at him, and the barman reached for a glass, saying,
‘The usual, Hagrid?’
‘Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,’ said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Corey’s shoulder and making Corey’s knees buckle.
Corey didn’t like the touch at all, he wanted to get away from the hand on his shoulder, but it was so heavy he couldn’t move out of its grasp. It felt like his skin was burning and crawling at the same time.
‘Good Lord,’ said the barman, peering at Corey, ‘ is this - can this be -?’ The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.
‘Bless my soul,’ whispered the old barman. ‘Corey Potter… what an honour.’ He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed towards Corey and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.
‘Welcome back, Mr Potter, welcome back.’ Corey didn’t know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realising it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. Then there was a great scraping of chairs and, next moment, Corey found everyone grabbing his hand to shake it.
Corey hated it here. He wanted to be anywhere else. He hated everyones eyes on him, he hated everyone shaking his hand, he wanted to get out of here. He felt claustraphobic, he felt like he couldn’t breath.
‘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.’ Corey reconised him, but he couldn’t get himself to talk. It felt like his troat wouldn’t let words or any noise at all out. Corey had his hand shook 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. ‘Corey, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.’
‘P-P-Potter,’ stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Corey’s hand, while Corey felt like he wanted to scratch his eyeballs out, ‘c-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.’ Corey just nodded, that was the only thing he could get himself to do.
‘I am gonna be your D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts Professor,’ 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 equiptment, 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 Corey 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, Corey.’
Doris Crockford shook Corey’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 dustbin and a few weeds. Hagrid grinned at Corey, while Corey felt a sense of almost betrayal at Hagrid letting all of that happen.
How could he just anounce his presence like that without even preparing him? Or better asking him, so he had a chance to say no?
‘Told yeh, didn’t I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin’ ter meet yeh - mind you, he’s usually trembling.’
‘Is he always that nervous?’ Corey asked now that he finally felt like he could speak again.
‘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 first-hand experiance… 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?’
Corey frowned, he felt bad for Professor Quirrell and all, but if he was so afraid of his own subject why even teach it? While he was questioning this, Hagrid was counting bricks in the wall above the dustbin.
‘Three up… two across…’ he muttered. ‘Right, stand back, Corey.’ 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 on to a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight.
‘Welcome,’ said Hagrid, ‘to Diagon Alley.’ Corey felt amazed at how magical it was.
Hagrid looked confused (?) at Coreys minimal physical reaction. They stepped through the archway. Corey 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.’
Corey 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’s was shaking her head, 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 Corey’s age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. ‘Look,’ Corey heard one of them say, ‘the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever -‘
There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Corey 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 which 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 towards him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Corey. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Corey 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 on 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 Corey made for the counter.
‘Morning,’ said Hagrid to a free goblin. ‘We’ve come ter take some money outta Mr Potter’s safe.’
‘You have his key, sir?’
‘Got it here somewhere,’ said Hagrid, Corey looked at him confused on why would he have Coreys key? Hagrid had started emtying his pockets on to counter, scattering a handful of mouldy dog-biscuits over the goblin’s book of numbers.
The goblin wrinkled his nose, which Corey had to agree with because what the actual fuck was Hagrid doing? Corey 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, while Corey raised an eyebrow at the action. ‘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 another goblin.
Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog-biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Corey followed Griphook towards one of the doors leading off the hall. ‘What’s the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?’ Corey asked not able to stop his curiousity.
‘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.
Corey, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downwards and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them.
They climbed in - Hagrid with some difficulty - and were off. At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Corey 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. Corey’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,’ Corey 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.’ Corey was annoyed by Hagrid not answering his question as he would have liked.
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 trembling.
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Corey was amazed. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.
‘All yours,’ smiled Hagrid. All Corey’s - it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn’t have known about this or they’d had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Corey cost them to keep?
And all the time there had been thisl fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London. Hagrid helped Corey 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. Corey got the feeling he was lying, they were probably still mad about the mouldy dog-biscuits, which was valid. 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, Corey leant over the side, he wanted to see what was down at the bottom. Or maybe he wanted to fall down and die, he couldn’t really tell anymore. 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?’ Corey asked.
‘About once every ten years,’ said Griphook, with a rather uncanny grin. Something really important had to be inside this top-security vault, Corey was sure, and he leant forward eagerly, expecting to see something big or a lot of stuff like jewels a 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. Corey really wanted to know what it was, but knew better than to ask and it wasn’t really his business.
‘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. So Corey kept quiet the whole ride. One wild cart-ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts.
Corey didn’t know where to go to now that he actually had 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 towards Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. ‘Listen, Corey, 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, but Corey didn’t want him to go, just to what go out and drink?. Corey might not especially like Hagrid but he didn’t want to be all alone.
But Corey still entered Madam Malkin’s shop alone, feeling like he would rather be set on fire. Madam Malkin was a short, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.
‘Hogwarts, dear?’ she said, Corey just nodded. ‘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 Corey on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.
‘Hullo,’ said the boy, ‘Hogwarts too?’
‘Yes,’ said Corey, feeling a little nauseous by speaking.
‘My father and mother are next door buying my books,’ said the boy. He 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.’
Corey was strongly reminded of Dudley. ‘Have you got your own brooms?’ the boy went on. ‘No,’ said Corey shortly, hoping to be done soon.
‘Play Quidditch at all?’
‘No,’ Corey 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 Corey only getting more confused the longer this conversation continued.
‘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 Corey, not knowing what to say. ‘I say, look at that man!’ said the boy suddenly, nodding towards the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Corey and pointing at two large ice-creams to show he couldn’t come in.
‘That’s Hagrid,’ said Corey, plainly. ‘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 Corey. He didn’t know how to feel about the boy.
‘Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage - lives in a hut in the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed.’
‘If he sets fire to his bed so often, how come his hut is still standing?’ asked Corey confused.
‘I guess the headmaster keeps rebuilding it with magic or something.’ said the boy, with a slight sneer. ‘Why is he with you? Where are your parents?’
‘They’re dead,’ said Corey shortly. He didn’t really feel anything towards his parents since he’s never met them, so why the fuck should he even care?
‘Oh, sorry,’ said the other, Corey didn’t really know if the boy actually felt sorry, because he couldn’t exactly tell. ‘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 Corey could even maticulate what to answer, Madam Malkin said, ‘That’s you done my dear,’ and Corey, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the, apparently bigoted, boy, hopped down from the footstool.
‘Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,’ said the drawling boy.
Corey ate his ice-cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts) and felt at peace. ‘What’s up?’ said Hagrid.
‘Nothing,’ Corey said confused, he thought they were just in a peaceful silence. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Corey was amazed by a bottle of ink that changed colour as you wrote.
When they had left the shop, he asked, ‘Hagrid, what’s Quidditch?’
‘Blimey, Corey, I keep forgettin’ how little yeh know - not knowin’ about Quidditch?’
‘No, how could i?’ asked Corey, what the hell does he mean? ‘Well, I met a boy in Madam Malkins and he mentioned it.’
‘Right, it’s our sport. Wizard sport. It’s like - like football 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.’ Hagrid tried to explain.
‘And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?’
‘School houses. There’s four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o’ duffers, but it’s really about loyalty.’
‘Oh, well that great,’ Corey said, that house sounded nice. A whole school house where they were loyal to each other? Sounded amazing, how could anyone think that was stupid?
‘Yeah, but not all houses are great, any other house is better 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.’
‘How come you can say that about a whole school house of students, when some of them are only eleven years old? Isn’t that just a harmful assumtion?’ Corey asked, not all of the Slytherins could be all that bad.
‘Well, uh, I guess, uhm,’ Hagrid didn’t seem to be able to answer that.
They bought Corey’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 pequliar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all.
Even Dudley, who didn’t really like to read, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Corey 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.
Corey loved the idea of cursing his Aunt or Uncle. ‘Yeh couldn’ work any of them curses yet, yeh’ll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level.’ Is what Hagrid said.
They got Coreys pewter cauldron, and a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope.
Then they visited the apothecary’s, 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 Corey, Corey himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).
Outside the apothecary’s, Hagrid checked Corey’s list again. ‘Just yer wand left - oh yeah, an’ I still haven’t got yeh a birthday present.’
‘How would you know what to get me?’ Corey asked, since he hasn’t even shown Hagrid any of his interests.
‘I think I’ll get yer animal. N-‘
Corey gasped in excitement. ‘What animals are there? Can i get a snake? Can I choose? Or I guess that’s not how birthday presents work.’ Corey said extremelly fast and excited.
‘Uh, yeh can bring a cat or a toad or a owl to Hogwarts,’ said Hagrid a little nervous (?). ‘And, uh, I guess yeh could choose.’
‘And there’s no way I could get a snake? Or a lizard? Uuuh or maybe a gecko?’
‘Yeh know lets jus’ get goin’ to see what yeh want.’
Twenty minutes later Corey had finally convinced Hagrid to just wait outside while he chose something. Corey didn’t really think he needed Hagrids money and if it was only between a cat, toad or an owl Corey didn’t really want any of them.
Corey had looked around for a little while and was prepared to just leave when something caught his eye. A snake, specifically a white and green Emerald Tree Boa. Corey went up to it.
‘Hullo,’ Corey was a bit surprised at the hiss that escaped him that he fully understood, but Corey supposed it made sense that when he tried to talk to snakes he talked like a snake.
‘Hullo?’ The Snake said, Corey saw written on the sign that The Snake was a male snake.
‘How’s it going?’ Corey didn’t exactly know what to talk to the snake about, he wasn’t even good with humans.
‘A speaker? I haven’t talked to one of those before.’ The Snake hissed intrigued. ‘Are there not many of those?’ Corey asked, maybe he should have asked Hagrid about some of this?
‘No, their very rare.’
‘Oh, well my name is Corey, do you have something I can call you?’
‘Hmm, I do not, I guess you could name me something.’ Corey was surprised by this, this was definetely a big thing, he had to chose wisely.
‘How about Rex? It means king in latin.’
‘Yes, that is perfect.’ The snake hissed happily.
Ten minutes later Corey was hiding Rex in his pocket and his supplies for Rex in his three other. He had convinced Hagrid that he didn’t really want any animal that they had, Corey had used his own money on the snake so he could give Hagrid all his money back to sell the illusion better.
Hagrid seemed dissapointed? Corey didn’t really know why. ‘Well, just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Olivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand.’
A magic wand… Corey thought he was excited(?) maybe, but he already thought his magic was good so he would probably going to be better with a wand. That’s how it works, right?
The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders:
Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.
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 which Hagrid sat on to wait. Corey felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swalloweda lot of new questions which 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. Corey flinched.
Hagrid must have jumped out of shock, 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.
‘Hullo,’ said Corey awkward and quiet.
‘Ah yes,’ said the man. ‘Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Corey Potter.’ It wasn’t a question, and it unnerved Corey. ‘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 Corey. Corey wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit uncanny. ‘Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it - it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.’
Mr Ollivander had come so close that he and Corey were almost nose to nose. Corey took a step back, he was uncomfortable with how close he was. Corey could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.
‘And that’s where…’ Mr Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Corey’s forehead with a long, white finger, which Corey flinched away from. ‘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 Corey’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. Corey noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke, he was hiding a broken wand in his umbrella? That just sounded dangerous.
Maybe when he gets to Hogwarts he should inform someone about that, but then he thought “snitches get stitches” so maybe he’ll let it be.
‘Hmmm,’ said Mr Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look, Corey wasn’t quite sure why Mr Ollivander felt the need to do this infront of him. ‘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 Corey, not sure if it was the same thing. ‘Hold out your arm. That’s it.’
He measured Corey 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.’
Corey wasn’t quite sure what the tape measure, that was measuring by its self, was for, maybe it was to measure which length would be best?
‘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.’
Corey took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr Ollivander snatched it out of his hands almost at once.
‘Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -‘ Corey 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.’ Corey 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.’
Corey 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 green, red, gold and blue 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 Corey’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, ‘Curious… curious…’
‘Sorry,’ said Corey, ‘but what do you mean by curious?’ Mr Ollivander fixed Corey 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.’ Corey didn’t see why that mattered, all he thought about was “wow this guys got a great memory”.
‘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 No Be Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great.’
‘Okay.’ Was all Corey answered, since Corey didn’t see anything significant from his wand having a feather from the same phoenix as Voldemort. It was just a litteral feather.
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 Corey and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now thankfully empty.
Corey didn’t speak at all as they walked down the road, he felt like he was walking on autopilot not noticing anything around him, just going where Hagrid was going, feeling almost as if the world around him was too real for his eyes to see fully.
They were walking on the Underground, then they went up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Corey only realised where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder, which he flinched at, but Hagrid didn’t seem to notice.
‘Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves,’ he said. He bought Corey a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Corey kept looking around.
Everything looked strange, somehow. ‘You all right, Corey? Yer very quiet,’ said Hagrid. Corey wasn’t sure what he meant he was always this quiet. And Corey wasn’t about to share his feelings with someone who he almost just met.
So all he said was; ‘I’m fine,’ Corey might have followed him here, but he’ll save himself the embarresment of trying to explain something he’s feeling, since Corey doesn’t even know what he really is feeling. Everyone thinks he’s special, well, in the magical world, but he doesn’t know anything about magic at all.
He doesn’t know what they expect from him when they say, they can “expect great things from him” because what does that even mean? What because he’s famous for something he can’t even remember? He doesn’t know what happened when Voldemort attacked and killed his parents.
So why would that make him such a great wizard? Hagrid didn’t really seem to buy that he was all that fine, but he thankfully let it go. Hagrid helped Corey 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… See yeh soon, Corey.’ The train pulled out of the station, Corey took Rex out of his pocket, and put him on his lap. Corey watched as Hagrid left curious on how he would get back to Hogwarts, but he blinked and Hagrid was gone, only then did he remember that he still had Coreys key to Gringotts.