Challenge Accepted
London was incredible! The city was a bustling hive of shiny new cars which zipped along roads of pure ashen-grey concrete. Not exactly in its finest condition, I could tell, but it was nothing like I had ever seen before. I had seen rolling hills, vast grasslands, dense jungles, Temples even! But never had I seen a city of iron.
Quite understandably, Harry was not as enthralled as I was by the towering city. In fact, he was presently engaged in reading his provided list of school supplies, most of which I already owned. I still needed a few things, though, my books, school robes, and a wand. Despite my previous schooling, I had yet to use a wand for my spellcasting. Wands were not common at Uagadou, and so I had to make do with my hands to direct my magic. Not that I minded; I found wandless magic to be quite instinctual after all. ‘I wonder what using a wand will be like.’ I thought to myself.
“Can we find all this in London?” Harry’s voice brought me out of my thoughts as we ambled along a quiet street that housed a couple of quaint-looking shops.
“If you know where to go,” Hagrid replied before guiding us towards one of the buildings, ushering us through the door and into what looked to be a dimly lit and quite grimy pub.
“Ah, Hagrid! The usual, I presume?”
Hagrid turned towards the cheery-looking bartender who had spoken, smiling as he puffed himself up in pride. “No thanks, Tom, I’m here on official Hogwarts business.” Patting Harry on the shoulder, he continued his palpably pre-prepared speech with pride. “Just helping the Potters here buy school supplies.”
“Bless my soul,” said Tom in awe. “It’s Harry Potter!”
In an instant, Harry was surrounded by all kinds of witches and wizards, all of them trying to shake his hand or receive some sort of acknowledgement from the Boy Who Lived. “Welcome back, Mr Potter, welcome back!” said one admirer.
I was a little surprised by the lack of attention that befell me; no one seemed to notice my presence at all. Even Hagrid wasn’t paying me any mind, attempting to guide Harry through the crowd of fans which threatened to overwhelm the poor boy. I admit, I was kind of glad. I had been quite anxious about meeting the witches and wizards of Britain. Those who would all know my name and my story. But I didn’t want to be remembered or even praised for something I couldn’t even remember myself. Nor did I want to be reminded of the future I lost; not that I would give up my African family for anything. So, I was happy to let Harry garner all the attention, even if it meant I was temporarily forgotten.
Deciding I should catch up to them before I lost them and got left behind, I began to make my way through the crowd. Pushing past thick, velvety robes and trying not to stumble over any of the goblins, whose small stature made them quite difficult to anticipate and spot in a crowd, I finally reached Harry and Hagrid, where they stood in front of a tall brick wall.
“See Harry? You’re famous,” Hagrid was explaining.
“But why am I famous? All those people, how is it they know who I am?”
“I’m not sure I’m the right person to tell you that, Harry. Ah, Astrid! Was just about to look for ya. Come on, time for the fun part.” Hagrid said, reaching into his large coat to retrieve a bright pink umbrella, which he pointed up at the brick wall, tapping certain bricks as if he was mapping something out in his mind. As he did so, the bricks began to rotate, shuffling to create an opening in the middle of the wall. Behind the wall was a bustling street filled with witches and wizards and shops of all kinds.
“Welcome Harry, Astrid, to Diagon Alley,” Hagrid proudly stated. He led us through the crowded street, pointing out shops and items as we walked past. “Here, you get your quills and ink. Over there, all your bits and bobs for doing wizardry.”
“But how are we to pay for all this?” asked Harry, looking up at Hagrid in despair. “I haven’t any money.”
“Well, there’s your money, Harry,” said Hagrid, pointing to a large, grey building that stood not very far in front of them. “Gringotts, the wizard bank. Ain’t no safer place, not one. Except perhaps Hogwarts,” he added. “That reminds me, Astrid, do you need to pick up anything from yer own vault?”
“No, I have enough with me. Thanks for asking, though,” I said, holding up a small sack of coins I had brought with me.
Entering the building, we were greeted with the sight of golden chandeliers and marbled tiles. Desks framed the sides of the room, creating a deceivably long hallway in the middle. At each desk, there sat a goblin, so engaged in their work that they didn’t so much as spare us a glance as we walked up to the goblin at the end of the hallway.
“Hagrid, what exactly are these things?” asked Harry, keeping close to Hagrid and looking especially nervous.
“Do not call them things!” I chastised, giving him a slight glare.
“They’re goblins. Clever as they come, but not the most friendly of beasts. Best stay close,” said Hagrid in warning, ignoring the sharp glare I sent towards him at the mention of goblins being beasts. Clearing his throat as we approached the goblin at the desk in front of us, he began to speak with the creature, fishing around in his pockets before handing him a key and exchanging a few muttered words that I could barely make out. “Professor Dumbledore gave me this,” he whispered as he brought out a letter from his coat. “It’s about you-know-what in vault you-know-which.
“Very well,” said the goblin before calling for one of the other employees to lead us towards the carts that would bring us to the vaults.
After a very long rollercoaster ride and several close calls with Hagrid’s stomach, we finally arrived at Harry’s vault.
“Vault 687,” announced our goblin guide. “Lamp, please.” Hagrid passed him the lamp. “Key, please.” Hagrid passed him Harry’s key.
As the vault swung open, Harry’s jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. ‘Our birth parents were very well off,’ I thought, recalling my vault being of a similar state. The vault in question contained piles of bronze, silver and golden coins. Knuts, Sickles, Galleons. More than enough to last us through our time at Hogwarts. Once Harry had collected enough money to last him through the school term, we returned to the cart. Instead of going back to the entrance, however, we went deeper into the tunnels, stopping at vault number 713.
“What’s in there, Hagrid?” asked Harry.
“Can’t tell you. Hogwarts business. Very secret.”
The goblin opened the vault. I could hear the clicking and grating sound of locks and bolts as they twisted to allow us entry to whatever was inside. As the door opened, I noticed it was void of any golden shimmer, which would generally be expected from within the bank's vaults. Instead, there was only a single brown paper package, tied up with string, sitting in the middle of the dark vault. Hagrid reached out his arm to grab the package, quickly stuffing it into his coat for safekeeping. “Best not to mention this to anyone,” he said. Harry and I nodded in response, holding our tongues despite the thousands of questions that ran through our minds.
Later//
“Hey, Hagrid?” I asked as we walked along Diagon Alley, looking for Harry’s school supplies.
“Yes, Astrid?”
“Do you mind if I went off on my own for a while? I still have to get a few things for school, and Harry has a lot on his list. It would be much quicker if I went and got my things whilst he gets his.”
Hagrid scrunched up his face in thought. “What if you get lost?” he worried. “Sure, it would be quicker for ya to get yer own things, but what if we can’t find ya?”
“I’ll be alright, Hagrid. I’ll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron when I’m done. If I get lost, I’ll just follow Kamaria,” I say, gesturing to the owl who was presently sitting on my shoulder, cleaning her cinnamon-brown feathers. Kamaria screeched in reply, nuzzling my cheek in agreement.
“Well,” Hagrid said, thinking as he scratched his beard in contemplation. “I suppose I can let ya off on yer own for a bit, as long as yer sure Kamaria can help ya find yer way back,” he finally relented, giving me a serious look.
“Do not worry, Hagrid; Kamaria has a wonderful sense of direction. I will see you back at the inn.” As I walk away from the two, I give a light wave of reassurance before disappearing into the crowd. I look at my own list, crinkled and handwritten but still legible. Reading through the list, I checked which stores I needed to visit for my supplies. I had to get robes from Madam Malkin’s, books from Flourish and Blotts, and a wand from Ollivanders. I decided on Madam Malkin’s first as I believed it would take the longest.
The fitting for my robes didn’t take nearly as long as I expected. Madam Malkin’s shop was quiet and didn’t have many customers inside, so the kind, squat woman was able to dedicate her efforts to finding a robe that would fit me. I found myself entranced by the measuring process. I had never seen a self-measuring tape measure before. I watched it as it flew back and forth around my slim figure, measuring the length of my arms and the width of my waist; even my shoulders were measured by the magical item.
Checking robes off my list, I decided to visit the bookstore next to get my textbooks – though the titles felt a little too basic for my liking. I hoped the classes would be a little more stimulating. Walking into the shop, I found it to be slightly more crowded than Madam Malkin’s. I could see several young witches and wizards, whom I assumed to be students. Two of them were standing over a book of dangerous beasts. They both wore Hogwarts robes decorated with their house colours, the boy in a dark shade of yellow and the girl in an azure blue.
“I told you it was a Fwooper!” said the girl blatantly.
“Hey! I was close enough!” puffed the boy next to her, pouting with his arms crossed. “Not my fault that Jobberknolls are also known for their songs.”
I couldn’t help but join their conversation, beasts being a favourite topic of mine. “That is correct,” I chimed. “However, Jobberknoll’s only sing before their death. Fwooper’s, on the other hand, can sing whenever they like. Though, if you listen to them for too long, you will be driven insane.”
The two turned around in surprise. Taking in my small frame, their eyes widened, probably realising I was much younger than them.
“You know about Fwoopers?” the girl said in disbelief, closing the book and walking up to where I stood next to a small bookshelf.
“My parents are Magizoologists,” I explained, leaning on the bookshelf as I spoke. I wasn’t very keen to give any more detail than that. I knew that I would be having this conversation many times over due to the strangeness of my situation, so I decided to limit what I told people, at least until I got to Hogwarts.
“Ahhh, that explains it,” said the boy, walking over as well with the book of beasts clutched in his hand. “I’m Cedric, by the way. Cedric Diggory, and this is Penelope Clearwater.” He offered out his hand for me to shake.
“It is nice to meet you, Cedric, Penelope,” I said as I shook their hands. “I’m Astrid.”
“Are you a first-year?” Penelope asked, her eyes drifting to the bag which held my new robes.
I nod, adjusting the bag so that it hung over my shoulder. “I am. What year are the two of you in?”
“I’m a third year; Penelope’s a fifth,” Cedric said, taking out a few galleons from his pocket and counting out enough for his book. “Say, you’re here for your books, right? If you like, the two of us could help you pick them out, and then we could get to know each other over ice cream at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour?” he then invited.
“That would be wonderful!” I exclaim, watching Cedric and Penelope’s eyes light up, but I immediately remember that I need to get back to Harry and Hagrid. The latter, who had already been showing immense worry at me being by myself. “I am really sorry, though, for I have to decline that offer. I am already meeting some people at the Leaky Cauldron, and they will worry if I take too long. But perhaps we could do it another time?” I suggest.
“We’ll hold you to that,” said Penelope. Turning to Cedric and pulling at his sleeve, she began to drag him to the counter. “Come on, Cedric, let’s get that book and head over to the quill store. I need some more ink. We’ll see you at Hogwarts, Astrid!”
“Bye, Astrid!” yelled Cedric, stumbling after the curly-haired girl and nearly dropping his book in the process. I waved at them as they paid and left the store. Now to find my books.
Running my fingers over the fresh spines, I quickly found the first-year section at the back of the store. Scanning the titles, I quickly began to pick out the ones from my list, though I found my eyes often drifting to the third-year books where I had found Cedric and Penelope.
Busy searching for my final book, a potions book, I didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching from behind me. Finally finding the book, I was about to grasp it when another hand came into contact with my own, brushing past it and claiming the book for itself. Turning around to give the book stealer a piece of my mind, I instead found myself staring into a pair of bright blue eyes.
Finally finding my voice, I decided not to yell at him and to simply ask for the book back. “Uh, sorry. I was actually about to grab that,” I said. The stack of books already in my arms began to slip, and I quickly used one hand to stabilise the small tower that I was struggling to hold.
“Grab another,” he returned coldly, shrugging his shoulders and gesturing to the bookcase behind me.
“I can’t reach another, it’s too high, and the books are too far back.”
“Too bad,” he teased, turning the book repeatedly in his hands. “Where are you from by the way, you sound different?”
Glancing at his bag, I saw a name inscribed on the front. Theodore Nott. I recognised that name. The Nott’s were a pureblood family that were close to the Malfoy’s. I was not completely oblivious to British wizarding society. “Africa,” I answered stiffly.
“Africa? And you’re starting at Hogwarts?”
“Transferring, actually. I began my studies at Uagadou when I was seven.”
His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped as he stared at me. “You’ve already started learning magic? Why are you transferring then?” His shock quickly turned into a wide smirk as he regarded me. “Uagadou isn’t as good as Hogwarts, is it?” he mocked.
“Quite the opposite, actually; Uagadou is a wonderful school.” I smirked back at him as his face quickly morphed into confusion. “I am actually transferring so that I can be with my brother. We were separated when we were young, but now that he is old enough to attend Hogwarts, I can finally join him again,” I explain.
“Oh,” he said. To his credit, he looked a little ashamed of himself, his head was slightly hanging, and the book had ceased turning in his hands. Collecting himself, his eyes steadied on mine, and he regained the haughty tone in his voice. “So, what’s your blood status,” he asked suddenly.
“Well, it is nice to meet you too, Pureblood,” I stated mockingly. “Let me guess, you come from a family that believes Muggle-borns cannot compare to the abilities of those who come from a long line of wizards?” I place my hands on my hips and stare at him accusingly, secretly hoping that his family has not yet completely corrupted his mind.
“Well, they don’t,” he said, though he now looked slightly wary of me.
“Challenge accepted then.”
“What?”
“Challenge accepted. You believe that Muggle-borns are not as good as Purebloods, so I will prove you wrong. I am going to befriend a Muggle-born and help them prove to you that they are just as good as, if not better than you!”
Theodore stared at me in shock. Taking his response as an answer I turned back to the bookshelf and held out my hand. “Accio,” I whispered. I winked at Theodore as the book flew into my hand. Walking towards the counter to pay for my books, I called back to him from over my shoulder, “I will see you around, Theodore Nott.”
Theodore was a puzzle, I decided as I left the store. Sure, he clearly had some issues, the major one being the influence of his parents, but there was something about him. Now I could not be sure if I liked him, of course. He was very arrogant, and I was sure that I could not trust him. But my intuition has never led me wrong before. Perhaps, one day we could be friends! But I would have to knock some sense into him first. Hopefully get him to renounce his prejudice. ‘Ha! Let’s see how he fares against the Muggle-borns’ I think as I make my way towards Ollivanders.
There was no one in the store as I entered, not even a shopkeeper. Slim, rectangular boxes filled the walls, their filing system indecipherable. I sneezed at the dustiness of the place, a cloud of tiny particles forming as I disturbed the store's peace. “Hello?” I called out, hoping that the shop wasn’t closed.
“Ah, Miss Potter,” came a voice from the back of the store. From behind a stack of boxes walked out an old man with wavy, silver hair. “I was wondering when you would come in. Your brother was here just a few moments ago. Here. Try this wand,” Mr Ollivander said, selecting a box from the pile next to him and handing me the wand that lay inside.
Holding it out in front of me, I gave the wand a light wave. Almost instantaneously, the ceiling lights shattered into a thousand pieces, sprinkling crystal clear glass all over the floor as I covered my head to protect myself. I quickly gave the wand back to Mr Ollivander.
“Clearly not this one,” he stated, rummaging through more boxes to see if he could figure out which one I should try next. “How about this,” he decided, handing me a long pitch-black wand with a curved handle.
I gave it a wave, and I blew a hole in the floor.
“Absolutely not!” cried Mr Ollivander, snatching the wand out of my hands and using his own to repair the damage I had unintentionally caused. Scratching his head as he looked at me, his eyes suddenly widened. He seemed to come to some sort of revelation as he began mumbling to himself. “I wonder…” Walking over to another shelf, he reached towards the very back of it and pulled out a long, turquoise-coloured box. “Try this one.”
I carefully took the wand from his hands, slightly worried about causing even more damage than before. I was not used to magic backfiring like this. Holding the wand far out in front of me, I decided to give it a more confident wave this time. But as I began to lift the wand, I felt a sudden warmth spreading between my fingers. Raising the wand above my head, a stream of golden sparks shot out from its tip like a firework, showering both me and Mr Ollivander with its light. “What does this mean?” I asked him.
“It means that this wand has chosen you, Miss Potter.”
“Chosen me?” I questioned, quite confused about the whole wand-choosing process.
“The wand chooses the witch, Miss Potter. It’s not always clear why, but like your brother, I think we can expect great things from you. The wand you have there is walnut wood with a dragon heartstring core; eleven inches, slightly springy.”
Taking the wand from my hands and wrapping it up for me, he continued, “Walnut wands are quite difficult to master, especially with a dragon heartstring core. It is quite an adaptable wand and quite eager to learn. Good for witches and wizards with a high level of intelligence and ingenuity.” He quirked an eyebrow, playfully smiling at me before turning back to the wand.
Tying string around the now paper-wrapped box, he handed it back to me with great care. “The core also makes it an extremely powerful tool. However, I must warn you that it is prone to accidents as it is quite temperamental. It is also regarded as being quite easy to turn to the dark arts.”
“I do not intend to use the dark arts,” I interrupted coldly.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that you would,” he said quickly. “However, you must be careful with this wand. You may find it quite difficult to master at first. But don’t worry, walnut wood wands only pick the brightest and most talented of owners. I’m sure you will bond well with it.
“I hope so.” Taking the box from Mr Ollivander, I thanked him before setting off to meet Harry and Hagrid.
Arriving at the Leaky Cauldron, I was met by an ear-piercing screech. I turned my head to look at Kamaria, who was sitting on my shoulder. She cocked her head in return, saying it wasn’t her that had made the noise.
“Astrid!” I heard Harry call from one of the tables. “Over here. Look, Hagrid got me an owl! I named her Hedwig.”
Walking over to where he sat, I could see he was right. Next to him was a large cage that housed a rather excited snowy owl. She was flapping about, her wings almost getting caught in the steel bars which kept her from flying around the room.
“Hagrid got her for my birthday,” Harry said proudly, taking a bit of his sandwich and feeding it to Hedwig, who quickly scoffed it down.
“That’s wonderful, Harry; perhaps Hedwig and Kamaria can be friends!”
“Yeah!” He turned back to his sandwich, but never took his eyes off the beautiful owl who was perched in front of him.
“Astrid, you found yer way after all.”
“I did, Hagrid,” I said as I turned to see the rugged man making his way into the room, carrying what looked to be a bundle of blankets.
“Don’t worry,” he said knowingly as he caught my not-so-subtle glance at Hedwig. “I got yer something too. Sorry ‘bout missing yer birthday; I hope this makes up fer it.” He placed the blankets he was holding gently on the table in front of me, unwrapping them to reveal a small, midnight-black cat sleeping soundly on the table.
I gasped, clasping my hands and beginning to coo over the dark beauty. “She is beautiful Hagrid! You did not have to get me a cat.” I said, stroking the cat’s silky coat. Kamaria let out a screech and pecked my cheek before hopping onto the table. I chuckled at her antics. “Don’t worry, Kamaria, you are still my favourite owl. I will love you just the same,” I reassured. Kamaria let out a squawk of approval, and the black cat woke up at this. She looked at Kamaria before standing up and stretching out her legs. Walking over to Kamaria, she nuzzled the owl’s chest before laying herself right on top of her feathered back, forcing the owl into a crouched position. Kamaria let out a shrill screech of protest but surprisingly did not shake the mischievous cat off. She glared at me accusingly as if it were my fault she was in this position.
Hagrid chuckled at my pet's antics. “Looks like they’re gonna get along jus’ fine,” he said, watching the two animals as they began to settle, cuddled together on the blankets which sat on the table.
Hagrid and I moved to sit at the table with Harry, grabbing sandwiches that were stacked on the plate in front of him.
“You all right, Harry?” asked Hagrid. “You seem very quiet.”
He was right. Harry hadn’t spoken a word since he introduced me to his owl. He hadn’t even paid any attention when Hagrid had unveiled my cat from the blanket cocoon. He just sat there, looking deep in thought.
“He killed our parents, didn’t he?” Harry finally asked. “The one who gave me this.” He pointed to his scar. Hagrid had a guilty look on his face, not wanting to be the one to tell him. “You know, Hagrid. I know you do.”
Hagrid sighed, his shoulders tense as he looked as if he were carrying some kind of weight. And I guess in that moment, he was. “First, and understand this because it’s very important,” he started looking with great seriousness at Harry. “Not all wizards are good. Some of them go bad. A few years ago… there was a wizard who went as bad as you can go. His name was V… His name was V…” Hagrid tried to say the wizard's name but couldn’t seem to summon the courage to say it.
“Maybe if you wrote it down?” suggested Harry, trying to be helpful.
“No, I can’t spell it,” he looked away, a little embarrassed of the fact.
“His name was Voldemort,” I stated simply. Hagrid looked at me in shock. “What? People are not afraid of him in Africa. He never left Britain so why would they fear his name?”
“Voldemort?” said Harry.
“Shh!” Hagrid looked around to see if anyone had heard them. “It was dark times Harry, dark times. Voldemort started to gather some followers. Brought them over to the dark side,” he whispered lowly. “Anyone that stood up to him ended up dead. Your parents fought against him. But nobody lived once he decided to kill them. Nobody, not one. Except you and your sister.
“Us? Voldemort tried to kill us?”
“Yes. That ain’t no ordinary cut on yer forehead, Harry. A mark like that only comes from being touched by a curse, and an evil curse at that.
“Is that where you got your scar?” Harry asked, gesturing to the jagged line that ran diagonally across my left eye.
“No,” I said coldly, looking away from his gaze. “I got this scar long after Voldemort killed our parents.” I didn’t offer any more information despite the long silence that followed, so Harry asked another question.
“What happened to V… To You-Know-Who?”
“Well, some say he died,” answered Hagrid. “Codswallop, in my opinion. Nope, I reckon he's out there still... too tired to carry on,” he suggested darkly. But one thing's certain. Something about you, Harry, stumped him that night. Something that saved both you, and your sister. That's why you're famous. That's why everybody knows your names. You're the boy who lived, and she is the girl who was saved.”