❝ diagon alley  ❞

Euphemia and Harry both shared one brain cell.

Hagrid realised it soon enough after they boarded the train and burst out with questions. They both were so much like their parents and they didn't even know it.

     "Will I be getting a wand?"
"How can we find everything in the London market?"
     "Is Hogwarts an Island?"
"Will they give us food or do we have to buy it?"
     "Is there a flying carpet?"

Hagrid of course happily answered. During the train ride, Harry and Euphemia opened up a bit to each other.

They walked amongst the crowd in London shops, passing book shops, cinema's and restaurants.

"This is it," Hagrid halted, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

For a famous place, the Leaky Cauldron was dark and shabby. A few old women sat in a corner, drinking Sherry. One of them smoking a pipe. A little man was talking to the bartender. They greeted or waved at Hagrid. Everyone seemed to know him.

The bartender reached for a glass, "the usual Hagrid?"

"Can't Tom. I'm on Hogwarts business."

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "Is this— can it be—"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter. . . what an honour."

"You're really famous huh," Euphemia whispered in Harry's ear.

As everyone looked towards Harry and started talking to him, Euphemia started to look around where she found a man with baby blue eyes wearing a trench coat sitting in a bar seat staring at her. All he did was look in shock. She gave him a crooked smile as she looked around. Hagrid called out Mia, and they stood in front of the wall.

"Three up. . . two across. . . " he muttered. "Right, stand back," He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The bricks he touched quivered— it wriggle— 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 onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

Hagrid grinned widely. "Welcome to Diagon Alley!"

Euphemia looked over her shoulder and saw the archway shrink into a solid wall.

As they walked up to the street, Euphemia tried to turn her head in every direction. The old woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, "dragon liver! Seventeen sickles an ounce!"

She could hear the hoots of owls from the Eeylops Owl Emporium. A few children her age chattered about the New Nimbus Two Thousand. A crowd had been formed in front of Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. There was a shop only dedicated to quills. There were shops selling robes, telescopes, spell books, potion bottles and so much more!

"Gringotts."

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over little shops. Standing beside its burnish doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a goblin. The goblin had a swarthy, clever face and a pointed beard. Harry and Euphemia bowed as they walked inside.

They faced a second pair of doors, 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 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," Hagrid scoffed, "yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it."

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors. Entering, they saw about a hundred more goblins sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in 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.

"Morning," said Hagrid, "we've come ter take some money outta Mr 'arry Potter and Ms Eup'mia Potter's safe."

"You have their key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of mouldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Both the twins 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. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully and nodded.

"Very well," he handed it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits inside his pocket, they followed Griphook towards one of the doors leading off the hall.

Harry glanced at Hagrid and asked, "what's you-know-what in vault 713?"

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them. They were now in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistles 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 hurtle through a maze of twisted passages. The rattling cart seemed to know its way because Griphook wasn't steering. Euphemia held onto the handles and squealed as they went downwards. The cold air stung her eyes as she shut them.

The Potter's vault. As the cart stopped beside a small door, in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and leaned against the wall, trying to keep his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry and Euphemia gasped. Inside were mounts of gold and silver coins.

"All yours."

All theirs. Euphemia found that incredible. She opened her bag and put a pile of money in it.

"The gold ones are galleons," Hagrid explained, "seventeen silver sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine knuts to a sickle. It's easy enough." Hagrid turned to Griphook, "vault seven hundred and thirteen now. Can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only."

They were going deeper and deeper. The air became cooler as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side, trying to see what was down at the darkroom but Euphemia pulled him towards her. Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Vault 713 had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook impatiently. 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."

Hagrid picked up a grubby little package and tucked it deep inside his coat.

"C'mon, back in the infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back," said Hagrid, "it's best if I keep my mouth shut."

Before leaving Gringotts, Euphemia asked for an extra key from the Goblin. Another wild cart ride later, they stood blinking in the sunlight.

"Euphemia, might as well get yeh wand from Ollivanders," said Hagrid, " 'arry yeh go get your uniform from Madam Malkins."

Hagrid sat on the bench near both the shops. They were in the corner, opposite each other. The wand shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read, Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a purple cushion in the dusty window. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as she stepped aside.

Euphemia felt as if she was in a school library.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice.

An old man stood before her, his eyes wide and pale, shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello!"

"Ah yes," said the man, "yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Euphemia Potter. You look much like your grandmother. It seems only yesterday when your father was in here, buying his first wand. Eleven Inches, Mahogany wand. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration."

He moved closer to Euphemia. She could see herself refelted in those misty eyes.

"Well now— Ms Potter, let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er— I'm left-handed."

"Hold out your arms dear. That's it." He measured Euphemia from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head.

As he measured, he stated, "every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, heartstrings of dragons."

Euphemia frowned, "they don't get hurt, do they?"

"Oh not at all," Olliver responded, "it doesn't hurt them a bit. No two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same you know. No Ollivander wands are the same as well. And of course, you will never get good results with another wizard's wand."

As the tape measured on its own, Mr Ollivander flitted around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Ms Potter. Try this one. Dogwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Euphemia took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once.

"Maple and unicorn feather. Seven inches. Try—"

Euphemia tried, but she hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched by Ollivander.

"No, no— here, Mahogany and dragon string, ten and a quarter, nice and supple."

Euphemia took the wand and felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework.

Ollivander cried, "Oh bravo! Yes indeed, oh very good! Mahogany and dragon string— excellent for transfiguration!"

Thanking him, Euphemia paid Mr Ollicander 7 galleons and went out of the shop, only to bump into someone.

"I'm sorry!"

"No, it's my fault," the boy looked about her age, "Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, first year."

"Mine as well!" He grinned. "Hope to see you soon!"

"Yeah, I'll see you later—"

"Reggie."

"I'll see you later Reggie," she grinned.

"And you are?"

"Euphemia Potter."

A dirty blonde man called him from afar. Reggie looked back at her apologetically, "Goodbye Euphemia."

"Wait," she blurted, "where did you get those balls?"

"Gambol and Hapes of course!"

Nodding, she went back to Hagrid. He had already bought her a small owl.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you Hagrid!" She beamed, "Oh, she's so sweet."

"No problem Mia," said Hagrid, "why don't yeh go to Madam Malkin eh?"

Nodding, she rushed off as Harry went to buy a wand. Madam Malkin was a swat, smiling witch, dressed in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked when Euphemia started to speak. "Got a lot here— a young man being fitted just up now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a pale half blonde half brunet stood on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his black robes. Malkin stood Euphemia on a stool next to her, slipped a robe above her head, and began to pin the right length.

"Hogwarts too?" He asked quietly.

Euphemia nodded.

"Me too," he muttered, "father's buying books next door. My mother and twin are looking at wands at the moment."

"I didn't know there were more wand shops."

"There are some in Knockturn Alley as well," said the boy, "so, which house do you want to get in?"

"Could you please explain," Euphemia gave him a small grin, "I have no idea what you're talking about?"

"You a mudblood?"

Malkin gasped, "oh you nasty boy! Foul!"

He looked at her confused. Malkin interrupted him, "that's you done, my dear."

She gave the boy another smile and hopped out of the stool. At the end of the street, she could see Gambol and Japes.

Entering the shop, she was fascinated. It was filled with colours and joy. Euphemia felt like a kid walking into a candy store. She bought a few of those balls, known as dung balls and fart balls.

Going out of the shop, she saw Harry and Hagrid looking around frantically.

"Mia," Hagrid grunted, "yeh can't go off alone without telling meh!"

She looked at him guiltily, "I'm so sorry Hagrid."

Hagrid sighed, "it's okay. C'mon, let's go buy you both your books."

They went to Flourish and Blotts. Looking around, she noticed shelves stacked up 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 peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing at all.

The next shop they visited was the Apothecary, which smelled like a mixture of bad eggs and rotten cabbages. She bought the things needed and headed out with Hagrid and Harry to boy cauldrons, scales for weighing potion ingredients and a telescope.

After Harry and Euphemia finished shopping, they made their way back to Diagon Alley. It was early evening, and the Leaky Cauldron was now empty.

Euphemia noticed Harry didn't talk much at all. He didn't even notice how many people gawked at them.

Hagrid bought Harry a hamburger and Euphemia a wrap from the cafe near the platform.

"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," he said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr Ollivander. . . but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry— I mean, the night our parents died."

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows, he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts— I did— still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid helped them get on the train and handed both of them envelopes.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September— King's Cross— it's all on yer ticket... See yeh soon, Harry, Mia."

The train pulled out of the station as the twins sat on the train. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone. He sat back down and looked at Euphemia. She gave him a soft smile as she pets her owl. They sat in comforting silence.

"Harry," Euphemia broke the silence between them "How come I never really see you outside or even in school?"

"Well, the Dursleys are— er, not really nice— not really good people. They always felt the need to make me feel invisible. I never really see you outside as well you know.  I'm sorry we never got to know each other."

"Don't apologise, Harry," she smiled softly, "my mother," she coughed, "adopted mother— sorry— I don't know— " she laughed nervously, "God this is confusing—"

"I think we both need to stop apologising," Harry grinned, "honestly, I think it could get annoying for the both of us after a point— anyways, I think it's fine y'know," Harry shrugged, "that you have a parent, be it adoptive or not. Doesn't really matter. I'm sorry the Dursleys gave you away."

"Harry— I— you just said no more sorries!"

They both burst out laughing.

"I'm really glad I have a sister," said Harry, smiling ear to ear.

"I'm happy I have a brother."

As the train pulled, the twins took their stuff and went to Private Drive.

They hugged each other, for the first time, in happiness and comfort, and bid goodbye.

Euphemia opened the door with the key and went straight to her room, putting her luggage in the corner and went downstairs to greet her mother in their living room.

She sat right in front of her silently watching her flip pages, ignoring her.

"Mother—"

Bethany raised her hand to stop her from speaking.

"I'm really s— "

Bethany slammed the book shut and slammed it on the table.

"You're let me guess— sorry! Do you even know the definition of the word,"

"I'm sorry mother," Bethany mimicked, "it won't happen again— bla bla, that's all you keep saying— and every time you mess up!" She glared, "honestly, Euphemia even if you do go to that school, do you really think you belong there! You're noisy, dishonest— so disorganised! I saw your notes and flashcards just on the floor— thrown away— chemistry experiment all over the place! You ever thought how your biological parents must be so disappointed with you—"

Mia shut her eyes. Maybe, mother was just drinking bourbon instead of tea. She wouldn't say that to you.

"All you've ever done is disappoint me!" Bethany continued, "ever since your dad died— oh I'm sorry," she mocked, "adopted dad— you've been nothing but a menace— you really think you belong anywhere Mia— newsflash child, you don't belong between those people!"

Tears filled her eyes. Mia knew her mother would never do that to her, but why was she shouting? Why did it feel so real?

Bethany took a deep breath, calming herself down. She took Mia's hands in her's and looked into her eyes, "if you don't go to Hogwarts, I'll make sure you go where you belong— "

"And where do I—" said Euphemia, furrowing her brows, "where do you think I belong mother— in a normal school, or a university— I'm sorry, but I can't. You know I love you and dad, but, my biological parents, they went to Hogwarts for a reason. And I'll be good, I'll improve. Please don't make me choose."

Bethany clenched her jaw and said, "very well then. Euphemia, if you go to Hogwash, I cannot support you. But I will let you go." She pressed her lips and said, "I know you want to be closer to your parents. I love you, and I don't want you to keep you from something you certainly want to go to," she paused, "but I think— it's best if you don't call me your 'mother' anymore."

"What!"

"Dearie, if you want to be close to your parents, so be it— you can call Mrs Williams now," she caressed her hair, "I love you dearie but I don't think you should call me mother in private anymore. It's not right. Besides, you're going to Hogwarts. You're not going to need it anyway."

Euphemia remained silent. No words could come out of her mouth. It was as if she was paralysed.

"Now, why don't you go cook dinner tonight. I'm too tired to cook."

────────── notes ──────────

hello!
i'm sorry, i know this was kind of a boring chapter. it was more for background purposes. 

20. 01. 22