Molly
Molly stumbled out of the doors of the main entrance, still feeling slightly dizzy and nauseous but ultimately giddy from the ride. Once they had gotten back up, She had puked again despite her best efforts and Dumbledore calmly got off his one little cart. The old bore hadn’t even looked disturbed at the speed at which he had hurtled to a stop, and he had simply stepped off, and led them out. She rolled her eyes as she stepped into the sunlight and the Captain waved farewell to them, before retreating to do whatever captains do when they weren’t needed.
“I trust you got the money you needed?” asked Dumbledore as he led them down the steps.
“No, we just decided to ride that horrible death trap down and back for the fun of it,” said Mom, rolling her eyes.
“Good!” he said, completely ignoring the sarcasm, too busy with tucking his wand back into his hidden inner pocket. “Well, the first order of business is buying you each a trunk. You will need them to put all the school supplies in. So the first stop is Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment!”
He led them to an old looking-shop that had all sorts of equipment lining the windows, cluttering it. There were old brooms, pieces of smoky glass, and floating orbs. There were also trunks and other storage items like cabinets and wardrobes. Dumbledore pushed open the door, and they were greeted by the smell of old people and random, jarring, and clashing smells.
A younger man than she was expecting came across the counter, rubbing his hands and grinning widely. “Ah, Headmaster! What a rare and certainly welcome surprise! Are you showing these fine folks around, then?” he asked, looking each of them up and down.
“I certainly am, Wiseacre!” Dumbledore replied, shaking his hand. “I was wondering if we could have two of your Extended Trunks? With built in weightless charms of course, for ease of access.”
“I have two such trunks available for you right now! Would you like them able to fly, or just able to be pulled with no effort?” he asked, voice trailing as he entered a side door and began to bang things around.
“Just be able to be pulled please, my good man. And may we have specialized engraved nameplates, please? You know how the Hogwarts common rooms can be, especially on the first night. We don’t want any mix-ups,” Dumbledore called after him, raising his voice to be heard over the ruckus.
“Well, of course! What names would you like on them?”
“For the girl, her name is-“
“This girl can speak for herself, thank you very much,” she said, shooting a glare at Dumbledore who gave an apologetic dip of the head. She sniffed and then turned towards the door. “My name is Molly Carpenter! Spelled with two L’s. Not sure how you lot do it here in Bri‘ain.” She adopted a thick, and even by her own standards, atrocious attempt at the British accent.
Harry let out a chuckle as the shopkeeper grumbled to himself something about fat, culture-appropriating Americans, then shouted out, “What about you, young man?”
“My name is Harry Carpenter-Potter!” Harry shouted once he was done choking from stifling his laughs.
All noise went still in the back room, and the young man slowly poked his head out of the side room, eyes wide, though that could also have been from the magnifying goggles over them. “W-what did you say? THE Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived? Truly?! In my shop of all places?!”
Harry gave a long suffering sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Yes, that’s me. I suppose you wish to thank me for something or other? I’m getting quite used to this reception by now.”
“Well yes, of course! You stopped the worst dark lord of our century!” babbled the man.
“I didn't actually do anything, sir. All I did was kind of, survive. That’s all!” Harry protested half-heartedly, both of them knowing that his words wouldn’t make much difference to this man.
“Please, Mr. Wiseacre, the trunks? I have a baby to get back to, and time is wasting. The Lord only gives us a finite amount of time on this wonderful Earth,” Mom said, sensing Harry’s discomfort and stepping in to spare him more heaps of praise.
“Oh! Yes, yes, of course! Just give me one second!” the man said, flushing red in embarrassment and ducking back into the room. After a few seconds, he came out, holding a trunk in each hand by the handle. They were brown and wrapped in leather, with clasps on each end and a lock in the middle. Right under the lock was a golden nameplate, each engraved with their names in beautiful cursive. “Do you have your wands yet? No, no, of course not. These locks have preset combinations on them, each 000. You may choose your own individual combinations after you unlock them for the first time. And if you take these to Ollivander’s, he can key the locks further for them to only unlock from the locking charm when you use your wands on it, so no other wands can use the unlocking charm to open them for you.” All his nervousness instantly melted away as he gave this speech, one he instantly recited, clearly having done it many times. “And no charge for you, of course, Mr. Potter. Not for the Boy-Who-Lived!”
“Please, Mr. Wiseacre. We do not accept charity. Well, sometimes I do.” Dad cast a wink at Mom, and Molly faked a gagging motion towards Harry, who snickered to himself. “How much for the trunks? We will be paying full price for them.”
“Oh. I see. Yes, of course. That will be…” He looked down at the trunks and muttered some calculations under his breath. “Including the engraved nameplates, that will be 15 Galleons a piece. Are you sure I cannot give you these for free? It will not even begin to repay the debt the Wizarding World has to young Harry.”
Instead of responding, Dad just unzipped the bag and counted out 30 gold coins, and stacked them on the counter. “Thank you, that will be all. May the Lord bless you and your family.”
“Thank you!” said the man as he reluctantly let them leave.
Molly walked up to her brother, as they exited the shop, each carrying their own trunks behind them. They barely weighed anything and were as easy to pull around as a shovel, so to speak. They even had wheels on the bottom so they wouldn’t scrape against the ground. “Hey, you good, bro?” she asked quietly when she was near him.
“Yeah,” he said wearily, rubbing his face. “It’s just very tiring to have all these expectations and praises thrust on me. I’ve been in the wizarding world for a grand total of an hour and I’m already exhausted.”
“Ha! You should use this to your advantage! The teachers might let you get away with no homework since you're the Chosen One and all,” she said with forced cheeriness, jostling his shoulder.
He cracked a smile at that. “We don’t all detest homework like you, sis.”
“Ooh, you think I will get a pass since I’m the sister of the Death-Defying Harry Potter?” She asked, eyes widening at the idea.
He laughed at this, shaking his head in wonderment. “You will never stop trying to play things to your advantage, will you?” he asked, amusement in his voice.
“Why, brother! I am insulted! How could you ever say such a thing?!” she replied, grinning back.
“Oh, I know you better than that, Molls. Thanks for cheering me back up,” he said gratefully, tone implying he knew what she had been doing all along.
“Of course, bro. Now let’s find out where old Dumblebore wants us to go next.”
Dumbledore had already chosen, clearly, and stopped in front of a big shop called Flourish and Blotts, as announced on their huge sign. Books lined the windows, and moving people darted across the covers, sometimes from one book to the next! Dumbledore turned towards them and pulled out two sheets of paper, handing one to each of them. “These papers give you a list of every book you will need for your first year of schooling. When you find the book, simply pick it up and tap the name on the paper and it will immediately cross itself out. Here you go.” He leaned down and handed the papers to each of them and led them inside. He sat down at the sofa next to the doors, and Mom and Dad did as well.
“All right, you guys know how to shop. You can leave your trunks here with us, and when you have found all the books you need, come back here and we’ll go pay for them.” Dad said, sighing as he put down the heavy bag off his shoulders on the seat next to him.
“Michael, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. What if something happens? We need to be with them!” Mom protested.
“Charity, my dear. If they truly are to go to this Hogwarts school, then we must begin to let them explore on their own. We cannot be there for them all the time, you know that.” Dad spoke softly but firmly, laying a hand over Mom’s.
She sighed and closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. “You're right, Michael. It’s just hard.”
“I know it is. But God will watch over them for us when we cannot see them. He watches over all of us.” Dad said, patting her hand reassuringly.
“Go,” waved off her Mom, who had composed herself and was sitting straight up. “Just make sure to be careful when you are out.”
“Thanks, Mom!” said Molly, who had watched the whole exchange with fascinated interest. She almost never saw this side of her mother, the side that wasn’t always hard and strict. “We will be careful, right, Harry?”
“Always,” he responded and allowed himself to be dragged away by Molly before their parents could change their minds.
She and Harry found most of the books with no problem until they got to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander. It was in the back, near a claustrophobic corner where the huge piles of books tipped precariously. Due to that, when she went to grab the book on the shelf, she accidentally grabbed the one beside it instead. She looked down at the strange book. It was furry, and almost seemed to have eyes in it. Suddenly, the eyes opened and the book glared at her. She shrieked and dropped the book on the ground, and when it hit the ground the clasp holding it closed popped open with a click! The book gnashed its cover down–it had teeth!--and propelled itself across the floor at her, growling and foaming with…pieces of paper? Was it eating its own insides? She thought in horror as she backed against a wall, trying to climb on a tipped-over chair to avoid it.
“Molly!” shouted Harry as he too danced to avoid it. He tried to kick it back, and the thing sunk its teeth into his shoe. He let out a bellow and shook his leg, and the thing went flying back and hitting the bookshelf, but it didn’t even faze it. It just went back at Harry, who had successfully climbed onto a table.
“What the heck is that thing?!” Molly shrieked, staring at the book as it chewed on the table leg.
“How the heck would I know?!” Harry replied. He took off his shoe to assess the damage. “Okay, good, the teeth didn’t break the skin.”
They both stood and watched it for another few seconds before suddenly two hands were grabbing the book from behind and lifting it up, and another pair of hands was forcing it closed and re-doing the latch. Molly looked up in surprise. She had been so focused on the thing’s determined progress on the table leg she hadn’t even noticed two boys come up behind the book and grab it.
“Looks like we got a pair of first years here way above their heads, eh brother?” said the first as he put the book back on the shelf.
“Aye, you would be right about that, Fred! Looks like they climbed on that poor table to try and get their heads above the water. It doesn't look like it worked though!” said the second brother, running a hand through his mop of red hair.
“Good thing two such strapping lads such as ourselves came to save these damsels in distress, George. Who knows what might have happened if we hadn’t been here? Poor itty bitty babies” said the one called Fred.
Molly clambered down off the table, glaring up at the two clearly identical twins, who were grinning at each other. “We were handling things just fine, thank you very much!”
“Oh, I’m sure you were! Our deepest apologies then, Miss Independent,” said George.
“Guess that was some other pair of kids on a table we saw, shrieking like girls, eh George?”
George clapped a hand to his forehead in mock embarrassment. “Oh my. How embarrassing of us. Guess we shouldn’t have saved them from being devoured by that horrible book!”
Before Molly could reply, Harry stepped forward with a slight limp and put a hand out in front of her to silence her. “What my sister is trying to say is we humbly thank you for saving us from that… thing.”
“Well, whaddya know, brother? Someone actually knows how to be grateful to their heroic-”
“-and handsome!”
“Yes, of course, I nearly forgot that part, Fred! And handsome saviors. And what’s your name? Damsel in Distress One or Two?”
Harry rolled his eyes, but she could read the amusement in him as easy as it was creeping up into herself, though she was loath to admit it to these two hooligans. “My name is Harry Carpenter-Potter. What about you?”
The twins exchanged a glance with one another, and then both dropped to their knees in an exaggerated fashion, kissing his boots and weeping. “Oh forgive us, great one!” they said in unison, bowing up and down on the ground.
“We didn’t know! We are barely worthy to stand in your presence, us lowly peasants!”
“We aren’t even fit to kiss your boots, your highness.”
“You may smite us down with your epic thunderbolt, Lord of Death.”
“Please, to die by your hand would be the greatest gift!” they finished in unison.
Molly was doubled over laughing, and so was Harry. Eventually, he managed to wheeze out, “I forgive you. Now get up, you two idiots.”
Immediately both shot up to their feet. “Forgive us, eh? Seems this one’s fame has gone all to his head, George.”
“Well, you know what they say, Fred. Never meet your heroes. They always turn out shorter than you expect, and shriek like girls.”
“Ah, what a shame. Should have let the book devour them, I suppose.”
Before they could say more, a short woman with dark red hair marched up behind them and grabbed them both by the ear, dragging them down to her level. “What do the two of you think you're doing, harassing these first years like that? You think I didn’t see you on the ground kissing his feet like fools?”
“But Mum!” they protested in pain. “You don’t understand!”
“Oh, really boys? What exactly is it that I don't understand?” she said, anger still on her face. She then turned towards them and her face softened marginally. “I am truly sorry, dears, that these two were bothering you. I assure you, they know better.” She let go of their ears and they straightened back up, rubbing at the sides of their heads.
“But Mum!” said the one called Fred. “This is the great, long-missing Harry Potter!”
“Yes, he’s a hero! Hardly worthy to kiss his feet, we are. Was our honor that he allowed us to save him in the first place,” said George..
“You seriously expect me to believe that you two bumbling fools not only met but saved Harry Potter? In a bookstore? What’s there to rescue anyone from?” she snapped, raising her hands to yank on both their ears again. “I will not be lied to!”
“Ma’am, it is true,” Harry said with a grin, stepping forward. “My name is Harry James Carpenter-Potter. Adopted, yes. But officially I am Harry Potter.”
As she watched in amusement, the woman’s face tried to simultaneously get beet red and drained of all color. Her mouth gaped open and then she began babbling. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to insult you, Mr. Potter!”
“Carpenter-Potter please, ma’am. And it is quite alright. These two did actually help us. So their other shenanigans are amusing and fine,” he said in his best formal voice to keep the laughter out of it, channeling his mother as best as he could
She sighed and said once again, “I’m so sorry Harry dear. I hope you have a very good summer. Maybe you’ll even be friends with my son, Ron! He’s starting Hogwarts this year.”
“Oi, be friends with that little git?”
“Fat chance, Mum. Harry will be running in the other direction.”
“Shut up, both of you, right now. Truly sorry, Harry. Now let’s go.” And with that she dragged them away, leaving Molly and Harry to stand wondering about the strange situation that they had just participated in.
“Let’s just get the book and get back to Mom and Dad,” said Molly, plucking it from the shelves and putting it on top of the pile of her other books, scooping them back into her arms.
They made their way through the twisting labyrinth of books and shelves and deposited their stacks of books in front of Mom and Dad. They went and paid for all of them, and Harry and Molly opened their trunks. They were amazed at the amount of space that was inside it, enough to be its own bookshelf or several. They leaned inside and tucked their books away in a small shelf near the top and closed them.
Dumbledore then got up and motioned them out the doors, and brought them to a new shop. This one had large glass display cases displaying all sorts of different robes and dresses and cloaks. Some of them moved by themselves and others shifted colors and design seemingly at random.
“This,” Dumbledore announced, pride evident in his voice, “is the best shop in Wizarding Britain to buy robes, though it is a very small and cramped shop. I shall be remaining outside, so as to not cramp up the place. I would suggest that your parents do the same. You can call them in when you are done.”
Molly pursued her lips, divided. On one hand, she didn’t want to take orders from this stuffy old man. On the other, the more she was without her parents the better. She looked to Harry, who had already gone and grasped the handle of the door. Her decision was made, and she dashed after him and got inside before the door finished closing.
The moment she was in, a short little lady in purple robes came over to her. The lady’s hair was gray, just like her eyes. Molly blinked. The lady’s eyes were stern but kind. “Hello, dears. First years, are you? Come right on to the back. Already have another first year getting measured, you can join him.” Before they could even reply she was waving them into the back, around all the various pedestals with robes floating on them. She pushed open double doors and they were greeted with the sight of floating tape measures, and a pen writing down numbers on parchment by itself. The tape measure was hovering around a youth about their height, who was standing ramrod straight with a cold expression on his face. His eyes were gray and steely, and he had hair so blond it was nearly white.
“Wow! Have you ever gone outside? You're the palest person I’ve ever seen!” Molly burst out, as she came through the doors and clambered into a pedestal behind him.
The expression on the kid’s face was comical. He tried to look stern but it was evident he was flabbergasted as well. “Why, I have never been so insulted! It is just my natural complexion. Father and I go on trips outside all the time.”
“Mhm. I’m sure you and ‘Father’ do.” She stuck out her hand towards the youth. “My name is Molly Carpenter! Who are you?” She spared a quick glance for Harry, who had clambered onto the pedestal on the other side of the kid, and was just shaking his head exasperatedly.
The kid drew himself up, a smile forming on his lips, and reluctantly accepted the handshake. His skin was as cold as his demeanor and looks might suggest, icing her hand. “My name is Draco Malfoy. Heir to the Malfoy fortune. Pureblood.”
She cocked her head to the side in amusement and was quickly swatted by a tape measure that had been measuring her neck. She swore and straightened back up, glaring reproachfully at the offending tape measure. “Anyway, what's pureblood? I’m Irish and part Scottish if that’s what you’re wondering. I live in America, though. Ooh, does it mean that your family has always lived in Britain?”
Draco gave her a look like she had just grown several heads. “No? It means that our family has been pure and never mingled with Muggles.” He practically sneered at the last word.
“Oh! I guess I’m not a pureblood then, not that it really seems to matter! My Dad is a Muggle, as you put it! Though he does have this really awesome sword,” She said cheerily. She caught sight of Harry who was desperately shaking his head and doing the motion to stop talking. “Oh, yeah. I’m not supposed to mention that! I forgot. Uh, don’t tell anyone about my Dad’s cool sword?”
Draco just stood there blinking, not sure what to say. Finally, he managed to choke out, “I shook hands with a Mudblood?” He began to hurriedly wipe his hands on his robe and turned to Harry. “And you? Are you also half-muggle?” he said with distaste.
“Oh, well… it’s complicated. Apparently, my Mom and Dad were both magical, but I was adopted by Muggles when I was a baby.”
“Adopted? By Muggles? What a revolting concept!” The boy said, his expression growing more and more disdainful. “What happened to your true parents? The pure ones?”
Harry pressed his lips together. “Well, I consider the ones who adopted me, my real parents. But to answer your question, they died at the hands of someone named Voldemort.”
The moment he uttered the name, the short woman who had been checking the numbers on the papers shrieked and dropped everything in her hands. The boy went even paler, which she did not think was possible, and his mouth dropped open. Harry looked at the both of them in confusion and then to Molly, who just shrugged. “What’s wrong? What did I say?” he asked, perplexed.
“Y-You dare to utter the Dark Lord’s name?” Malfoy demanded, mouth agape. “How dare you! The audacity! Who exactly are you, to think you should say his name aloud?”
“Harry James Carpenter-Potter, thank you. What is so wrong with saying his name?” He asked as the woman leaned over and picked up her supplies, hands trembling.
“You’re Harry Potter?” Draco asked incredulously, all of his fake coldness and haughtiness gone.
“Yes, I am. And before you thank me for getting vengeance on one relative or another, just know that I didn’t really do anything, I was just kind of… there. But you're welcome if it helps you feel better.”
“Save a relative? Even if his methods were deplorable and I do not care for them in any way, as my father has often stated, he had the right idea. That fool Dumbledore wants to let in any old Mudbl- er, Muggle-born spawn, not caring at all about us Purebloods who have stayed true to our roots of wizardry since the beginning of our lines,” he said, ranting now, waving his arms dramatically.
Harry’s face grew hard, but before he could say anything else, he and Molly looked up to hear the tapping of a cane and steady, determined footsteps. They saw a tall slender man, with the same colored hair as their young, ranting peer in between them, and a cold expression that immediately became clear was genuine, and that Draco had merely been trying to copy.
“Wow!” said Molly, turning to Draco and cutting him off. “You weren’t lying! Paleness really does run very heavy in your family. You two are the whitest people I’ve ever seen!”
The man settled her with a cold stare, to which she stared steadily back. “Excuse me, young lady?” he said slowly, voice smooth and soothing, yet somehow snotty at the same time.
“Oh, I was just telling your son how pale you two are. Looks like you never go outside! Name’s Molly Carpenter, nice to meet you! Oooh, nice cane. Do you know where I can get one? And do you need one or do you just like it?”
Draco hurriedly got off his pedestal and went to the man. “Hello, Father. This,” he pointed to Molly in distaste, “is Dumbledore’s latest venture, an American transfer student from Chicago, who is also a Mud-Muggleborn. And this…” Here his voice got quieter and more nervous, twisting his hands together. “This is Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. My classmate.”
Mr. Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, and the corners of his mouth twitched. “Ah. So you are the boy who… vanquished the Dark Lord? With all your love?”
“Well, all I really did was sit there and survive. Didn’t really do anything important. And you’re the man who agreed with the madman’s policies?” Harry asked with distaste. Molly sighed. She didn’t want to see a fight between Mr. Malfoy and Harry right now! She wanted to know more about that awesome-looking cane!
“Well, I certainly don’t agree with his methods, no. But his core philosophy was true. Magic is waning, my dear Mr. Potter. And without keeping lines pure and clean of Muggles, I fear it might go out entirely. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall be collecting my son and leaving this place. It was certainly an… interesting conversation.” He turned and put a hand on his son’s shoulders, and began to guide him away. He turned his head back and said, “Madam Malkin, I trust you know where to send the robes?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, her voice rather tight while doing so.
They left the shop, father and son mirror images of each other. The rest of the measures passed without incident.
“I shall go and whip up one robe each for you to wear when you enter Hogwarts. The rest shall be waiting for you at Hogwarts, along with your cloaks, hats, and other orders.” She said when she was done jotting down numbers. She disappeared into a room further back still, and 5 minutes later emerged with two robes in her hands, handing them over to Molly and Harry respectively. “Here you go, dears. Have a good day, but shoo! I have other customers waiting also, orders to be done.” And with that she bustled them out the door, closing it behind her.
Molly strode over to Dad, his tall frame a standout even among the bustling crowd. She started opening her mouth to tell him all about her strange encounter, but before she did she noticed he was holding something in his hands. She squealed and dropped the robe on the ground, hands going to her mouth. Mom muttered and picked up the robe on the ground, putting it in her trunk. She didn’t even care or notice, as she was transfixed with the large eyes blinking back at her, head cocked to the side. It was a beautiful owl, white with black spots. It was large and had yellow, blinking eyes and a kind expression, at least for an owl, on its face.
“Dad, what’s this?!” Molly exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. Harry stood beside her now but was too shocked to say a single word. Thankfully, Molly never had that problem.
“This,” Dad said, “is a birthday gift of sorts for the both of you, from me and your mother. Dumbledore advised us that most kids bring a pet to help them at school, and owls are the most coveted and useful pets of them all. They are trained from birth to deliver letters long distances, and are more intelligent than your normal owl, due to their magical influences and heritage. They are also fierce protectors and loyal companions. The man we bought this from said she was a fast flier and fiercely loyal. He gave her the name Hedwig. This will be for both of you to share, as one pet. It was ridiculously expensive. Over the summer you will both be responsible for feeding, cleaning, and caring for it, making sure it gets plenty of exercise. Do I make myself clear?” said Dad, injecting sternness into his tone for the last part.
“Yes! I will keep care of it every day!” she said, petting the owl through the bars. The owl cooed and shuffled its feathers slightly.
“Good. Happy Birthday, you two,” Dad said, putting the cage in the trunk. “Let’s just let her rest in darkness for a little bit, shall we? Don’t want to hurt her eyes.”
“And we expect you to write letters for us and to see them from Hedwig often!” her mother said, crossing her arms, but with a smile on her face.
“Yes, of course, Mom,” said Harry, finally recovering his voice.
“Happy birthday, you two,” she said, giving them a hug.
“I’m glad you like the gift,” said Dumbledore, who had been standing there silently the whole time, watching them with a smile on his face. “Now let us go and finish shopping!”
* * *
Molly and Harry stood in front of the last shop they had to visit. Harry once again had to go through the ordeal of praise and shock mixed together when he was forced to give his name in the cauldron shop for the inscription. But he managed to avoid giving out his name at the equipment shop, where they bought measuring scales, potion equipment that would be needed, and beakers and stuff to store them in. He also didn’t give out his name when they stopped at the Quill shop, where they bought two standard Hogwarts first-year magical packs. They consisted of one Unbreakable Quill, one foot long scroll of parchment paper that once you finished filling it all up, would immediately duplicate a blank page for you, so you had an endless supply of paper. And lastly, the unending ink jar, which did exactly what it sounded like. Altogether, these enchantments lasted one year, and not a second more, as the sales lady made perfectly clear many times over.
But now, now they were at the shop, the shop she had eagerly been waiting for since they arrived in this strange wizarding world. Admittedly, the shop wasn’t as impressive as she had hoped. It had fading, peeling letters that read Ollivander’s right above the doorway, and a single wand sat on a purple cushion in the window. The window had a thin layer of grime, and as they opened the door dust puffed up into her face, making her eyes wander. There was nothing in the main area except a small chair, and everywhere else piles and piles of thin narrow boxes lay on shelves, stacked right up to the ceiling. From behind the counter cake a short spindly man, with white hair reaching his shoulders and sharp, intelligent eyes. He went up to grab Harry’s hand, turning it over and stroking the palm. “Hmm, hmm. Yes, welcome at long last to Ollivander’s, Mr. Potter. I knew you would be in soon indeed, indeed.”
Harry jerked his hand away, looking as creeped out as she felt. “Uh, how did you know that?” he asked hesitantly.
“Oh, that’s easy. You have your mother’s eyes. And your father’s jawline, of course. Yes, I remember them very well, standing in the same spot you are standing now.. Hmm… let’s see, let’s see.” He wandered off, muttering to himself and he came back a few seconds later with armfuls of boxes. “Yes, these should do for now. Which is your dominant hand, my dear boy?”
In answer, Harry held out his right hand, and Ollivander nodded to himself, pulling out a box from the pile he had deposited on the counter. “Here, try this one first. It might not work. The wand chooses the wizard, you know? Not the other way around.” He pulled out a wand and put it in Harry’s hand. “Just swish your arm up and down, that should do it, yes.” Harry swished his arm as instructed, but nothing happened. Ollivander snatched the want back, shaking his head, and handed him another wand. And another, and another. The longer and longer this went on, the more bored Molly got, and the more excited the man became. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, smiling madly to himself as he ran to the back again and again for more wands, the counter becoming a cluttered mess. Eventually, he came back with only one wand in his hand, and slowly opened the box. “I think we have finally found it, my dear boy. Take this, try it out.” Slowly, wearily, he pulled out the wand. It was the longest one she had seen yet, about a foot long and made up of a knobby dark brown wood handgrip and polished light brown wood as the rest of it. He swished his arm, and suddenly from the tip of it red and green sparks shot out, twinkling in the air before they each winked out individually.
Harry’s face lit up, and he grinned wildly, eyes wide with wonder. “Wow! I felt that all up my arm! A tingling sensation, like I had been shocked. Does that mean…?” He looked at Ollivander, who had a very happy but also serious expression on his face.
“Yes, hmm. I believe we have finally found the wand for you. Curious, very curious indeed.”
“Why? What’s so curious about it?” Harry demanded, exasperated by this weird man’s vagueness.
“Albus, would you like to explain or should I?” asked Ollivander, looking at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore stepped forward, face grave. “Harry, most wands are unique. The wand you possess in your hand right now is made of Hollywood and has a very rare core. A Phoenix feather. And that particular Phoenix only gave up one other feather in its lifetime to Mr. Ollivander here.”
“Come on, Dumbledore, to the point already!” said Molly, throwing her hands in the air.
Dumbledore pressed his lips together and sighed. “Harry, the one other feather is in a wand that was sold a long time ago. In fact, you’ve met the wand before. It is the one that gave you the scar you bear on your forehead.”
Harry gasped, and dropped the wand on the ground. Ollivander hurriedly snatched it back up, wiping it off with a coat sleeve, glaring at Harry. “You’re telling me the brother of my wand is the one wielded by Vo-“ he cast a glance at Ollivander. “You-Know-Who?”
“Yes, I am afraid that I do. Though it used different wood, the core is the same. I wish I could tell you that I know what this means but,” he spread his hands out in a useless gesture. “I do not.”
“We can expect great things from you, son of Lily and James. For even if Voldemort was evil, he did do great things. Terrible, horrible things, but great all the same. None can deny he was one of the most gifted wizards of the last century.”
Harry looked at the wand in disgust, but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder. “Harry. Just because a wand has an evil person wielding it, does not make the wand evil. Even more so for the brother of the said wand. There is good and there is bad in everything. He chose to use his wand for evil. You may choose whatever you like.”
Harry sighed, and took the wand back from Ollivander gingerly, laying it in the box and closing it. “Yes, God allows us free will for a reason, I suppose,” he said, stepping back and putting his wand in the trunk.
Ollivander’s creepy, piercing gaze settled on Molly, and she gulped, excited but also creeped out by this man. “It is your turn now, Miss Molly Carpenter.”
“Wait just one second. I sort of understand you know my brother’s name, but how the heck did you know mine?” she demanded as she hopped up from the chair and walked over to him.
“Oh, that’s easy. It was on your trunk over there,” he said nonchalantly, waving a hand toward where his and her brother’s trunks were sitting. She rolled her eyes, and he continued. “Now, which is your dominant hand, young lady?” He said, grabbing her hands with his cold skin.
“Neither,” she replied, jerking her hands out of his grasp. “I'm ambidextrous, always have been.”
“Hmm, a puzzle it seems. I feel potential for magic in both hands. No matter, I have come across this before.” He licked his lips, thinking, as he turned and grabbed one of the discarded boxes on the table. “Here, let us try with this one first. Not a high hope of a match, but we can try, just to get a feel. Just swish your wrist as your brother did.”
She took the wand from his grasp, and raised her arm slowly, then swished it down, flicking her wrist as she did so. She wasn't expecting sparks, because Harry hadn't gotten them his first time either. But as she swished the wand, she felt a shock travel down her arm in a ripple, and then the end of the wand suddenly burst into flames. She yelped and dropped it, and in less than a second the whole wand was aflame. Ollivander grabbed a towel from somewhere, she wasn't sure where and used it to beat away the flames.
“W-well,” he said with a shaky chuckle. “It seems that that particular wand was not a good fit for you. Maybe we need something a little stronger. There are some wizards who, uh, sometimes need something of a different… make…” He trailed off, unsure what to say.
Dumbledore stepped in to help them out. “It’s okay, Garrick. They know about the White Council. They know all of it.”
Ollivander sighed in relief and wiped his brow with his now singed towel. “Ah. That makes things much easier. So you know, then, that there are two types of magic pretty much. When wizards or witches of your caliber, who are naturally attuned to stronger and more ancient magic, use a wand, it sometimes is too much to put through the little wand. That is why they use bigger focus items. You simply overloaded the wand, that is all. Nothing that will not be easy to replace.” He kept speaking as he wandered into the back, and she couldn't hear him anymore. He came back after a few seconds with a long, thick stick in his hand. It was taller than her, about 6 feet in length. It was polished wood and seemed to gleam. He walked with it awkwardly, since it was so much taller than him, and then presented it to Molly. “Here you go, my dear girl. Try this one out.”
She grasped the staff and felt a tingling once again in her arm. She lifted the staff up and thumped it on the ground. From the top of it shot out one little spark, which quickly died with a pathetic whine. She slumped, disappointed. Ollivander took back the staff, stroking his chin in thought, his eyes alive with the prospect of a challenge. “Hmm, hmm. This is interesting, interesting indeed. It seems a wand is too weak for you, and yet a staff is too strong? This is certainly a puzzle. Let us see…”
After that, he brought the staff back into the room and brought out an array of different staffs and wands, all of which underperformed or burst into flame. Suddenly, after a good five minutes of this, he clapped his hands excitedly. “What if your brother has the solution? Brother wands, bonded by birth. Let me see if I can find it.” He ran into the back, smiling widely, and came back with two boxes. He held them both out to her, and she opened them. In each lay a black wand, with a hand grip carved into it. “Ebony wood, from the same tree. Six and a half inches. Wampus Cat hair as a core, from the same cat. The ebony is known for ease of transfiguration, and speed in combat magic. Wampus cats are known for their unusual ability to perform Legilimency, and can use hypnosis to make the person feel like the cat has disappeared right before their eyes. Others, however, believe that they can disappear entirely, becoming invisible and escaping. Now pick up both and try them at once!”
She reached in slowly and grasped both wands at once, picking them out of their boxes. She felt a tingle down both her arms, and she lifted the wands and swished them both down, flicking her wrists. From her left wand, red sparks shot out, and from her right came green sparks. Ollivander clapped his hands together in excitement, grinning widely. “Yes, yes. This is perfect. I’ve never had a case of this in all my long years running this shop, however. Two wands for one person. Very interesting.”
Molly smiled, feeling the warmth from her wands as she held them in her hands, not the painful ripples from before with the wands and staffs. She put them back in the boxes gently and took them from the old man, who was still staring into the distance with a preoccupied expression.
Dumbledore stepped forward, and tapped the short man on the shoulder, waking him from his stupor. He blinked slowly up at him. “Well, Albus. This has been a very interesting day in the shop. Please, come along more often. I fear my mind is growing stale from the lack of challenge. A welcome change, indeed.”
“Of course, my old friend. Now, how much for the wands?” Dumbledore said with a smile, stepping back as Ollivander went back behind the counter, counting on his fingers. He named a price, but Molly wasn’t listening, still thinking about her new wands. She sat down on her trunk, still deep in thought when Dad came back to her after paying and shook her shoulder. “Time to get going, Molls.”
She nodded, and smiled happily, grabbing the handle of her trunk and following him outside. The streets were still full, with the same grim atmosphere and Aurors patrolling in the background. But she didn’t care, as she finally had what she had been waiting for. Dumbledore led them back down the winding road and back to the brick wall they had entered from. He tapped the same brick and the gateway began to open up once again, and they dragged their trunks through the gaping archway and opened the back door to the pub once again. Instantly they were greeted by shouts and flashes that temporarily blinded her. When she recovered her eyesight she saw people crowding around her, cameras being shoved into her face, and floating quills and notebooks in front of shouting witches and wizards.
She stumbled back into Dad’s legs, and Harry didn’t even make it in the door. Dumbledore strode in angrily and thrust his wand into the air, blasting fireworks into the air like a gunshot. When everyone flinched and hushed for a moment, he put his wand to his throat, and suddenly his voice was amplified ten times and it boomed out. “What part of a neat, orderly line do you not understand? I made it very clear, if you wanted to speak to Harry Carpenter-Potter, you would all be neat and orderly. You have lost your chance, we will be departing now. Hagrid!”
A large man, taller than Dumbledore and wider than Dad, with a huge mane of hair that cascaded over his shoulders and a long brown beard that went down his chest pushed his way through to the front of the crowd. “Aye, Headmaster. Wha’ can I do fer ya?”
“Hagrid, my dear reliable man. Can you please clear us a path for these people here to the back room would be greatly appreciated.”
“Ya got it, sir.” The large man named Hagrid replied, his voice gruff and booming with a thick accent. He smiled and nodded down at her and Harry. “Nice ta’ meet yeh, Carpenters.” He said, and then turned and squared his shoulders, bowing his head like a linebacker, and began to push his way through the crowd. “All right, ya stinking lot of vultures ya ar’. Get out of these fine folks' way.” Slowly, he pushed people out of the way with his great girth, and in the opening, Dumbledore took up position behind them, and the two of them sandwiched in between Mom and Dad so they were protected on all sides. Molly hunched up her shoulders and walked through, trying to ignore the grasping hands and shouting questions of reporters. After what felt like an eternity, she went through the back door behind the bar, and the large man slammed the door behind them with a heavy sigh, moving a chair under the doorknob to keep them out.
“There ya go, Headmaster. Can I formally introduce meself befor’ you take ’em home?”
“Yes, of course, Hagrid. I owe you that much at least,” replied Dumbledore, and turned towards them. “Carpenter family, I would like you to meet Hagrid. He will be at Hogwarts as well. He is the Gamekeeper and the Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts. He is one of my most trusted staff members and I know he will watch out for your children.”
Hagrid held out his large hand, easily as big as her entire head, and Dad reached up and grabbed it, shaking it. “I’m glad to know my children are in your safe, and very large hands,” said Dad with a smile.
Hagrid let out a booming laugh, a grin spreading across his face. “Ah, thank ye kindly sir. I’m honored to meet the great Harry Carpenter-Potter and Miss Molly Carpenter.” He turned and bowed deeply to the two of them, his black eyes glittering with warmth and kindness. “Has anyone ever told you, Harry, ye have yer mother’s eyes?”
Harry smiled. “You knew my birth mother?”
“Aye, that I did. Was gamekeeper even back then when they went to Hogwarts. Some of the nicest folk I ever met, your mother was.” He wiped away a tear and straightened back up. “Well, dontcha listen to old me rambling. I’m sure you folks have things to do. But it was nice to meet ya, all the same.” He walked over and kissed Mom’s hand like a gentleman from old books. “You look lovely, Mrs. Carpenter. You have a very fine man for a husband. I got a sense about these sorta things, I do.”
Mom actually blushed and smiled up at him. “The Lord knows I certainly do. Thank you, Mr. Hagrid, sir. But you are right, we must be going. I have a baby to get back to. May God watch over you and your soul, kind man.”
Hagrid nodded and stepped back. “I’ll run some interference for ya, Headmaster. See you back in Hogwarts soon.” And with that he removed the chair, opened the door, and went through, slamming it behind him.
Dumbledore smiled. “Ah. Hagrid is a good man indeed.” Then he strode to the fireplace, using his wand to light it up, and pulled out the small bag of dust from earlier and put it on top of the fireplace. “Last person to come through, take the bag with you please.” He dropped some money in the jar, and then grabbed a pinch of dust and threw it into the fire, where it blazed green. He stepped inside, and yelled “Carpenter Family Home!” And the fire flared up and he was gone.
This time Harry went first, clutching his trunk to his chest, and disappeared successfully. Then it was Molly, Mom, and lastly Dad's turn to go. He grabbed the small bag as he left and left the last coin in the duffel bag as a thank you.
Molly watched as he finally appeared, stepping out of the fire into their living room and handing the bag to Dumbledore. “Here you go, Dumbledore.”
“Thank you,” replied Dumbledore before tucking the bag in his robe pocket. “Now, there is one thing I must inform you about a very important matter. Until you are 17, magic is strictly forbidden outside of Hogwarts. There is something called a magical trace on you. It means until you are 17, any magic you do outside the protective walls of Hogwarts will set off alarms and you will be arrested by the Aurors. Do you understand? It is the most serious crime you, at our young age, can commit.”
Harry nodded solemnly, but Molly pouted. “That’s not fair!! I want to learn all the fancy magic and use my wands! I don’t want to have to wait a stinking month and a half!”
Dad stepped up behind her. “Molly, watch your language. And don’t worry, we will make sure she will obey the laws, Headmaster.” She sighed, defeated, and stomped away. She bumped into Father Forthill coming down the stairs.
“Ah, young Molly! I trust you…” He saw the expression on her face and frowned. “Did the trip not go well?”
“No, it went fine, Father. I even got a wand! But now I’m told I can’t even use it until I get to school. For ‘safety reasons’ or whatever. Ughhhh!” She groaned in annoyance.
“Well, magic is a very dangerous tool, you know,” Father Forthill said gently. “As the Lord says, all things shall come in their due time.”
She nodded to placate him and then went past him to check up on Daniel in his room, mentally coming to terms that she was gonna be in for the long haul with her magic. Downstairs she heard Dumbledore depart, saying something about how he would be back to collect them for the first day of school. She finished her trek up the stairs and went quietly to Daniel’s nursery and peeked her head in. He was laying in twisting blankets and sleeping, sucking on his thumb softly with a smile on his face. She smiled back, even if he was asleep, and felt a warmth spread through her. Maybe this next month and a half wouldn’t be so bad after all. She would coddle Daniel as much as possible before she had to leave him for a few months. In fact, she thought with a grin as she closed the door softly and made her way downstairs to collect her trunk, they never did say anything about potions. That technically didn’t count as magic, right?