All the Young Girls

August 30, 1971

When Professor McGonagall returned to retrieve Mary, her mother was on the verge of death.

She’d eaten porridge that morning that must have had peanuts in it, for there were nurses all about the house when Mary got back from her trip to the grocers. Her father said she wasn’t going anywhere today, but when the Professor showed up and whispered something into his ear, he relented. 

Mary didn’t want to go herself, anymore. She knew Lulu would be worried sick over Mama, and she wanted to see Mama herself. And then there was the problem of the other parents.

All the other children had their parents with them, at least one. Neither of Mary’s had been able to go, and that’s what she told them, even though she knew that even on the healthiest and sunniest of days, neither of them would have gone anyways.

There were four other children on the trip. A pale red headed girl named Lily Evans, a girl with dark skin and dark curly hair named Dorcas Meadowes, a boy with blond curls named Alex McLaggen, and a boy with thick brown hair and olive skin named Rajesh Patil. Lily was the first to approach Mary.

“How do you like being a witch?” she asked with all the enthusiasm of a cartoon character.

“Not a big fan, but not much experience.”

“Do your parents not like it? Is that why you’re here without them?”

“They’re working,” Mary said through clenched teeth. This girl asked way too many questions. 

“Oh, cool. My mom is a secretary at the precinct, and my dad is a police officer there. Their boss let them have the day off because they asked really early, like, as soon as Professor showed up at our door and told them we’d be shopping. What do your parents do?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“What part of town are you in? You’re from London, right? I’m from Surrey.”

“You’ve probably never been to my part of London.”

“Oh, but I’ve been everywhere! Well, almost everywhere. Mum won’t let us anywhere near the East End. Says it’s full of communists and not a suitable place for young ladies. But I don’t know about all that. It’s just people, after all.”

Mary wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she thanked the Lord that at that moment, McGonagall ushered them into the Leaky Cauldron and near straight into a brick wall. The children looked on in wonder and their parents in skepticism as she tapped the wall with her wand in a seemingly random pattern. There was a moment where Mary was convinced that she’d lost it. She was being kidnapped and this was a ruse, she wasn’t a witch, she was just an idiot–

And then the wall opened. Mary could think of no other way to describe it. It morphed and molded into a humongous doorway, but there was no point in stopping to look at that with the magic that lay beyond it. Enormous shops of every color. She could see a candy shop in the corner, and bookstores– she hadn’t had a new book since Christmas– and clothing shops and a place to buy your wand! 

In all the beautiful things before her, she’d forgotten to actually move through the doorway. Her and Rajesh were both shuffled through, eyes wider than fifty pence pieces. She realized, tearing her eyes away from the incredible sight before her, that she’d seen Rajesh before. 

His family had lived a block from hers a few years back. She thought his dad might work in the factory, but she felt like there was something else. He wasn’t here, and Rajesh’s mother kept whispering in Hindi, as if she was ashamed to let anyone know English wasn’t her first language. It was common at home to hear seven languages in one building. But here, with all these suburban children with police officers for fathers, she knew why Rajesh hadn’t talked to anyone yet. And even though she wasn’t much of a talker herself, she braved it. Besides, Lily might come back if she didn’t find someone new to talk to.

“I think I’ve seen you before,” she said without really thinking. Way to go, Mary, talking like one of those comic book supervillains. Brilliant.

But to her surprise, Raj looked at her and said “Mary, yes! My older sister used to watch you after school! I was hoping I recognized you.”

“Rajesh! Your mum was always so sweet to me, I was so glad to see you all again!”

“You can call me Raj. But yeah, we had to move to a smaller flat after the accident.”

That’s what Mary had forgotten. It had been all over the building, how his dad had lost his leg in a factory accident. No papers bothered to cover it, of course, and Raj’s dad hadn’t ever recovered. Mary wasn’t even sure he was still alive.

“I was so sorry to hear about your dad, Raj. He seemed nice enough.”

“Honestly, it’s better than before. He weren’t very nice to us ‘fore the accident, but he’s calmed down.

“Yeah, my da’s always extra nice when my mum gets super sick. Think he feels bad.”

“Maybe we’ll be able to fix ‘em with this wizard stuff.”

“Remember when we used to make the leaves on the street float? I’d forgotten about it until Lulu reminded me last week.”

“Lulu! How is Lulu?”

“As pretty as she was when you were desperately in love with her.”

“Was not!”

“You were too. Always running after her. Why do you think I spent so much time with Devi?”

“You loved Devi.”

“Devi was in A-levels! She hadn’t time for me.”

“Ain’t we supposed to be gettin’ wands or summin’?”

“Oh, right! You got money?”

“No, Professor has it all.”

They looked at each other and ran off after Professor McGonagall, who was explaining to Lily and Dorcas how they were to find wands. Alex wasn’t listening, his eyes near completely glazed over. Mary and Raj tried to join subtly, but McGonagall had obviously noticed as she clicked her tongue at them.

“Children, let’s try to stay with the group! If I wanted to babysit, I’d take a job at the Ministry. Now, when you go into Mr Ollivander’s shop, he is going to have you try your wands. Take what he gives you, and I will settle the payment. We are going to go in one at a time. Please be respectful, and don’t waste Mr Ollivander’s time. He’s very busy.”

One at a time turned out to be quite a wait. Mary and Raj busied themself playing with the pebbles on the side of the road. Lily and Dorcas were somehow still talking. Where did they find the energy? Alex had gone first, and when he emerged with a thick chestnut wand, all the children crowded around it.

“He said it was chestnut wood and string heart dragon.” Alex said proudly, clutching it with all the grace of a kindergartener with their first pencil.

“You mean dragon heartstring?” Lily piped up. “You know, it’s rumored that chestnut paired with dragon heartstring tends to select wizards who overindulge in the material. Is your family well off?”

Mary sent up a prayer that Lily would learn social graces as Alex stuttered. But her prayer went unanswered.

“You know, Alex, your mum has a really pretty watch on. Does your dad work in the government? Or is he a doctor, or something?”

“Your dad obviously isn’t a doctor.” Alex grumbled.

“Sorry?”

“Your dad obviously isn’t a doctor. Look at those shoes, nearly worn through to the soles. My mum would never let me go out in those.”

“I wasn’t trying to be mean, I was just asking–”

“Nobody has ever asked you anything, have they? That why you talk so much?”

Lily looked like she was about to cry. And as much as the girl had been driving Mary crazy, she felt she should probably draw a line at tears.

“Hey, Alex,” she said, already regretting it.

“You want in on this, you Soviet freak? Don’t think we want to talk about the state of your shoes, or your family.”

“At least my family chose to bring me with them when they traveled here. I hear your da has a new family in Edinburgh. Seems to be sending good enough child support though, since your mum has that watch. Do you ever get sad, though, that he didn’t love you enough to take you?”

Mary had made a lot of people cry before. She was brash and blunt and unforgiving with her words, but she usually felt solidly bad about it. Not this time. She felt vindicated as tears rolled down the boy’s face. Maybe that made her evil, but Lily was smiling, and that was all she cared about.

She walked over to Lily, who’d stood by the door as she waited for Dorcas to come outside. “You alright?”

“I shouldn’t be happy that he was crying. It’s not right.”

“He made you cry. That wasn’t right either.”

“Didn’t your parents ever say that two wrongs don't make a right?”

“My da always said that if someone hits you, make sure you hit back harder.”

“Your da sounds mean.”

“He was right. Now Alex won’t bother either of us anymore. And he was wrong, you know.”

“What?”

“I like to hear you talk. Better than quiet, anyways.”

Even if it wasn’t totally true, it seemed to do the trick. Maybe a little too much of the trick, though, because Lily wrapped her arms around her. Mary, not expecting this, stiffened in her arms, and Lily let go.

“Sorry, I like to hug people, I know not everyone–”

“It’s fine.”

Raj had come over at this point, and they played stones together until Lily went in, and then Raj, and then, it was Mary’s turn.

It was warm inside the shop, cozier than Mary was expecting. There were candles, which seemed unadvised for a hop full of wooden wands, but what did she know? And boxes. Stacks, piles, shelves, drawers, countertops, everything was covered in thin, meticulously labeled boxes. Ollivander himself was in the corner, humming some folk song as he rearranged boxes. Mary thought he looked a little like the scientist everyone loved. Einstein, was it?

“Hello Miss MacDonald. Although that isn’t your real name, is it?”

“Sir?”

“You’ve got that Eastern look about you. My mother, she was Ukrainian. I think it’s the cheekbones. So what is your name, girl?”

Mary didn’t know how to answer that. She should probably just repeat the name he’d been given. But she hadn’t said her real name in so long. Lulu called her Majka when Tata wasn’t listening, and the young ones did whether Tata was listening or not. But nobody had called her by the name she’d used to have in forever. And she felt like Albert Einstein could know.

“Maria Moravec, sir.”

“Beautiful. Alright, Miss Moravec. I’ve got here a 12 inch hornbeam, unicorn hair, quite popular at Durmstrang, which is in–”

“Eastern Europe?”

“Allegedly, although nobody knows where exactly.”

He handed her the wand, and Mary stood still, feeling quite stupid. “What do I do with it?”

“Wave it around a bit, dear.”

So she did. She imagined she was in one of those telly pageants, one of the girls with a ribbon on a stick, and waved it with every bit of grace she had in her. Which must have been very little, because with a loud crack, one of the candle holders exploded. Mary jumped back as Ollivander waved his wand, snuffing out the flames. They both stood, panicked, until Ollivander seemed to remember that he was the adult.

“Not to worry, I’ve got another right here. Rowan, nine and a half inches, dragon heartstring, flexible. Go again, my dear.”

She waved it again, with just as much gusto, and unlike the sharp crack of the first wand, there was just… nothing. She waved it a second time, and the wand sputtered limply before going out again.

“Silver lime, phoenix feather, ten inches, softly swishy.”

This wand jumped out of her hand, literally jumped. “Curious,” Ollivander said, as if she hadn’t just gathered more proof that she didn’t belong here.

“Yew, dragon heartstring, seven inches, supple.”

Nothing.

“Acacia, phoenix feather, eleven inches, rigid.”

Another broken candleholder. Mary wondered what the record was, and how long it would take her to break it. 

“Well, dear, looks like you might be a trickier guess. Not often I go through this many, not often. I find myself quite a good guesser. Not today though, dearie, unless…” 

He trailed off as he stepped behind a shelf where Mary couldn’t see him. All she knew was that those were some very loud crashing noises, and that there were people waiting for her outside.

“Fir, dragon heartstring, thirteen inches, pleasantly whippy.”

For what felt like the hundredth time, Mary waved the stick around. At first, nothing happened. But then, in an almost cruel twist of fate, pink ribbons began to extend from the tip of the wand, spiraling around Mary as she stood there, dancing above her head.

“Thinking of rhythmic gymnastics, I see.”

Mary’s eyes widened. How did this man know about rhythmic gymnastics? Wasn’t he always whittling away at his little sticks? “How did you–”

“Wizards have hobbies too, you know. I’m also a fan of knitting.”

Lily and her compared wands when she got out. Raj too. Lily’s was willow and phoenix feather, ten and a quarter, described as “springy”, whatever that meant. Mary thought that Ollivander just picked a random adjective to give it flair, but Lily said it meant something. 

“Rigidity of a wand is a mimicry of the rigidity of the owner. Your flexibility is your wand’s flexibility.”

Raj had a cedar wand with unicorn hair, nine inches. He kept waving it around until his mother came up and grabbed it from him, whispering curses in Hindi.

Next up was the robe shop. They all went in at once to “Madame Malkin’s”, and there were quite a few more children inside. A boy with messy dark hair was arguing with a blonde girl around the same age. Mary could catch snippets of their conversation as she pretended to care about tie fabrics.

“Sirius, you can’t pick those two fabrics. They don’t match. You’re going to look like a– like a–”

“Oh come off it, Cissy, you haven’t the balls to say it. And I’ll look however I like, no thanks to you.”

“If you want to look like a prat, far be it from me to stop you.”

“No, thanks. You’re far too good at that look, I could never top what you have going on here.”

“At least I know what color this fabric is.”

“It’s black, you stupid–”

“Mary!” Lily called from across the shop. “Come get in line for a fitting!”

Mary was not a fan of fitting. Even though Lily talked and talked about wizarding history, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the fabrics, either. They were softer than anything Mary had ever worn. It was the way Madame Malkin was poking and prodding at her.

“You are very thin, yes?”

“I don’t really think so–”

“School will fatten you up. Don’t want to look like communists, ah?”

“I’m not a communist.”

“Miss Maria Moravec. Not a communist?”

“It’s Mary MacDonald. And no, I’m not a communist.”

“Then stop eating like one.”

“I’m poor, Madame.”

“Tsk, tsk,” she clucked. “Those are inside thoughts, my love. Poverty is an idea. Simply expand your horizons and you will find riches everywhere.”

Right as Mary was about to tell her where she could go looking for riches, Madame Malkin swished her tape measure and beckoned her off the stand.

“Here, Professor. One set for now, and one for when she gets fat. Around November. It is evident in her bone structure.”

Usually, Mary would be offended at unwarranted comments on her body. But honestly, being fat sounded great right now. Fat people ate. She’d had Weetabix for lunch, and unless they were feeding her here, she probably wouldn’t have dinner. Breakfast was for the financially stable. She couldn’t even imagine the food she’d get to try at Hogwarts.

Of all the shops, Flourish and Blotts was Mary’s favorite. She spent at least thirty minutes with Lily perusing the shelves. Lily was desperate for a copy of “Hogwarts: A History”. Mary wanted to run away with a copy of “The Practical Potioneer, Volume 7428”. Lily’s mum slipped her book into their basket, pulling a few of the wizard coins out of her pocket to pay for it. Mary put her book back on the shelf.

“Alright, children,” McGonagall called for the hundredth time that day, her voice worn from wrangling everyone. “You’ll all be escorted home by your families. Mary, you’ll come with me.”

“Yeah, cause she doesn't have a family,” Alex yelled, clearly bitter about the morning.

“At least I have a brain!” Mary, against her better judgment, called out, turning around to look at him.

“You ain’t got enough money to eat, either. I heard the lady talking about how you were a communist–”

“I’m not a communist!”

“Where you from then, Maria?”

Mary mentally prepared himself to punch him in the face. She didn’t like hitting people. It reminded her of Tata. But there was a time and a place for violence, and this seemed to be it. She wasn’t the only one that thought that, apparently, because right as she was about to swing, Dorcas tackled him to the ground. They were all fists and legs as they tussled, but Dorcas came out on top. She stared at him for a moment before she spoke.

“Say sorry, please. That wasn’t very nice.”

Alex spat his apology into the dirt, and Dorcas let him go. Ignoring her parents, who were not fans of her sudden violent outburst, she extended her hand to Mary. 

“I’m Dorcas. Everyone says I’m a communist too, because my Dad’s from Cuba. I think we should be friends.”

Mary held hands with Dorcas and Lily all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron, since Lily insisted “that’s what friends do”. Just before leaving, Lily’s mum beckoned to her. Was she about to be shamed for polluting the girl with her communist ideals? Mary hoped not. Lily seemed sweet, and she wanted a friend to start school with.

“Mary, honey, I just wanted to give you this. Lily said you were looking at it the whole time, and she wanted to get it for you.” And in her hands was Volume 7428 of The Practical Potioneer. 

At first, Mary didn’t believe it was there. But when Mrs Evans set it in her hands and squeezed her shoulder, she thumbed through the pages, and she understood that she got to have it.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“If you need anything, Mary, our house is always open.”

“You don’t know me,” Mary said.

“You were kind when it was necessary and firm when it was important. And Lily likes you, which means that we do too.”

“I can’t take this, Mrs Evans–”

“You have to. You have two whole days before Hogwarts. What will you read?”

When Mary finally stepped on the Tube back home, she didn’t feel quite so alone anymore. She had made an enemy, sure. But through two violent outbursts, Mary had approached genuine friendship with someone other than a stray cat or her twin sister. Hogwarts was certainly going to be interesting.