Chapter Text
Peering down at the crudely drawn map in my hands, I furrowed my brows and pushed my glasses firmly up the bridge of my nose for what must have been the hundredth time. There really wasn’t much to go on. A few uneven lines marking a street, with “Charing Cross” scribbled beside them. Several lopsided squares that were presumably buildings. And a large, emphatic X and "Leaky Cauldron" scrawled underneath to mark the place I was supposed to find.
It had taken me the better part of two hours just to get here from the station – most of it spent walking in the wrong direction – and my feet were beginning to arch. A thin drizzle had set in some time ago, soaking my clothes and blurring the ink on the map.
I looked up and regarded the building in front of me sceptically. Compared to the stylish bookshop and the slick record store on either sides, the structure appeared quite old fashioned and in a state of obvious disrepair. The brick wall might have once been bright red, but had turned nearly black over time, with large sections of mortar missing and deep cracks running through it. The roof was lacking quite a few tiles, while the crooked chimney looked as though it had been struck by lightning more than oonce. Small, stained windows with decrepit looking shutters made out of rotting wood faced the street, too dirty to see what was going on inside.
The heavy wooden door was adorned with once fanciful, but nowadays faded carvings and an ornamental doorknob in the shape of a boar’s head. A metal plate with "Leaky Cauldron" written in washed-out gilded letters, accompanied by the crude image of a peeing cauldron, was nailed next to it.
The whole building looked more like a shabby pub at the end of its lifespan than the entrance to a magical world. I was fairly certain my mother would never have allowed me within ten feet of a place like this - never mind actually going inside.
I nervously brushed back a strand of hair and adjusted the straps of my schoolbag while weighing my options. Maybe I should just turn around and head home? I could ask Mum to come here with me - if she ever managed to get time off from her job and her boyfriend.
Considering I had already been trying to convince her for the better part of a month without success, that didn't bode well for further attempts. She’d probably just delay it until the day right before school started or something.
I shook my head. Clearly, that wasn’t an option. It would mean I’d come here for nothing - and I didn’t really feel like giving up just yet when I was so close (and had sacrificed my piggy bank to pay for the train ticket to London).
Besides, what was the worst that could happen anyway?
Pushing aside thoughts of monsters, child-sacrificing cults, and drunken, middle-aged patrons, I touched the small golden cross around my neck for comfort, muttered a quick prayer, took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob-
WHAM!
I found myself sprawled on the ground, my glasses lopsided and a bump forming on my forehead as the door swung open and slammed into me. A large, beefy man with a bushy moustache, carrying several heavy-looking bags, stared down at me with narrowed eyes.
“Sorry ‘bout that”, he said gruffly before walked past.
A thin, blonde-haired woman with a long face followed, shaking her head disapprovingly - as if it somehow was my fault I had been hit by the door.
The stocky boy that followed them – presumably their son - hesitated for a moment, wringing his hands uncertainly, but then hurried after his parents.
A small, dark-haired girl shuffled behind them. She wore washed-out trousers and a worn jumper far too large for her skinny frame. A scar, bright red against her pale face, stretched from her right temple to the bridge of her nose, barely concealed by ill-fitting round glasses. I couldn't help staring at it, which she didn't seem to notice; she was burdened with half a dozen heavy shopping bags.
I watched them trudge down the street until they vanished around a corner. Clearly, London had its fair share of odd people.
Straightening my glasses I gently touched the bruise on my temple. No blood, so I figured I’d be alright.
I picked myself up and checked my skirt for any tears, but except a smidgen of dirt on the hem there wasn't anything wrong with it. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn’t have to explain to my mother how I had managed to damage my clothes while supposedly staying at home.
I took another deep breath and reached for the doorknob again, this time prepared to jump aside should there be another person waiting to slam the door into my face. Fortunately nothing happened and with some effortI managed to pull the heavy door open and slip inside.
The first thing I noticed was the smell of tobacco.
Dense translucent smoke drifted through the dim room, gathering at the ceiling and obscuring what little sunlight filtered through the greasy windows. A handful of candles - far too few to properly light the room - flickered unsteadily in an chandelier, casting long shadows that danced across the stained walls.
Several long tables stood haphazardly throughout the room, with crudely build benches beside them. The people seated there were dressed quite strangely. Most wore some kind of loosely fitting, dull-coloured robes and pointed hats, speaking in low voices while taking deep puffs from their softly glowing pipes.
Everyone seemed pretty engrossed in whatever they were discussing, as no one seemed to pay any attention to me.
Which I didn’t mind at all.
It was unnerving enough already, and the last thing I wanted was for these strange people to notice me.
Looking down, I realized my pink jumper, pink-patterned skirt and pink shoes weren’t exactly suited for blending in, clashing spectacularly with the drab, eccentric attire all around me.
So much for trying to be sneaky.
I could only make out fragments of the hushed conversations, none of which made much sense to me.
“… the girl who lived, here! Unbelievable! I’d never- “
“… shook her hand! Did you see? She even smiled at- “
“… seen the Muggles? Didn’ look best pleased, I tell yeh.”
I adjusted my glasses again, nervously scanning the room for some indication of where to go next. A huge, flashing sign reading THIS WAY, FUTURE STUDENTS! would have been perfect, but right now I’d settle for something less obvious as well.
“What yeh doin’ standin’ ‘round there, lass?”
Startled I stumbled backward until the door behind me hit my shoulder. A heavy hand gripped my shoulder, steadying me while I struggled for balance before letting go again.
“There, there, lass, no need ter be scared”, a deep, raspy voice said beside me.
The speaker was an old, portly man with a round face, his smile barely visible beneath an oily grey beard that hung from both side of his mouth, giving him the appearance of a wrinkly walrus. He wore a white, stained apron streched precariously over his belly.
“Sorry I startled yeh, wasn’ my intention.”
I just blinked at him, my heart hammering, unsure of what to say. He didn’t seem bothered by my silence though and just kept on talking after a few awkward moments.
“Here to buy yeh things for school, aren’t yeh? Don’ worry, come on in an’ we’ll get yeh all sorted. No need ter be shy, no one’s goin’ ter eat yeh jus' yet.”
He chuckled at his own joke.
At least I hoped it was just a joke.
“Name’s Tom, an’ I’m the innkeeper here. What ‘bout yeh, lass? Firs’ year, I reckon, by the looks of yeh. What school yeh goin’ ter?”
“H-Hogwarts, I think”, I muttered, fidgeting with the hem of my skirt and wishing he’d just leave me alone. All these people here seemed quite dodgy, including the innkeeper despite his friendly demeanour, and the place itself didn’t make me feel welcome at all.
“Ah, ‘tis a fine school, lemme tell yeh, lass”, the innkeeper said and nodded excited, oblivious to my uneasiness. “Went there meself back in the day. Ne’er regretted it a single day of me life. Best place if yeh want ter learn proper magic. May not be as glamorous as Liontail, but they sure teach yeh your magic without all that prancin' roun’ an’ useless wand wavin’ like a trained crup. An' yeh’ll have Dumbledore there as well.”
He looked at me expectantly, as if he wanted me to agree with him.
I just stared back, as I had no idea what made a good magical school in the first place.
And what exactly was a bumble door anyway?
The innkeeper cleared his throat. “Anyways, guess yeh better get goin’ then, lass. Ye have lots o’things ter buy.”
He looked around.
“Where’re yeh parents? Yeh here alone?”
My hands suddenly felt clammy. What if bringing a parent was required?
"Uhh, I- ..." I muttered and shrugged helplessly.
He studied me briefly, then shrugged as well. “Sorry, didn’ mean ter pry. Should be easy enough ter manage on yeh own, I s’pose. Come along, I’ll walk yeh there - entrance can be tricky' if yeh don’ know where ter look.” He waved me to follow him and started making his way through the pub.
I hesitated. I probably should just turn around and leave. Following a stranger further into a grimy pub wasn't exactly sensible life advice. Why would the entrance to a magical shopping centre – at least I assumed that’s where I was supposed to buy all those things necessary for visiting a magical school - be found in a dark, grubby-looking pub anyway? Of course, that would just take me back to square one, with no idea where to go or whom to contact.
I realized that I probably ought to have asked for a telephone number for situations like that.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t see a lot of other options available to me right now, so I hesitantly followed him, dodging the occasional patron while trying not to breath in the stale smell of cheap beer and dry tobacco.
We passed through a doorway into a long corridor lined while old black-and-white photographs. The innkeeper – Tom – pointed at a picture as we walked past.
“That's me an’ some o’ me mates at Hogwarts", he said and laughed loudly, his gruff voice sounding like the bark of a particular hoarse dog. “Young an' handsome back then. Slimmer, too.” He winked at me and patted his impressive belly.
I studied the photo. A group of boys in strange robes, maybe a few years older than me, stood smiling in front of what could only be a castle, its massive walls and high towers gleaming in the light of the setting sun.
I blinked.
A castle.
I had imagined a magical school as ... well, a school.
It had never even occurred to me that Hogwarts might actually be a castle.
A rush of excitement bubbled up inside me. Not only would I learn magic, but it would be at a place straight out of a fairy tale.
Dragons.
Did they have dragons? Because if magic was real, surely dragons must be real as well.
Would I get to see one? Ride one?
And what about-
“Yeh comin’?”
Startled I realized that right now wasn’t the best time for daydreaming. I made a mental note of trying to find out more about dragons later, cast one last longing glance at the picture and hurried after him.
We climbed a few stairs, past more pictures and turned a surprising number of corners, before finally stepping into a small walled courtyard containing nothing but an overflowing rubbish bin and a few stubborn weeds.
“Well, here we are”, Tom announced loudly. “The entrance ter Diagon Alley.”
I frowned. This certainly looked nothing like a magical mall.
“Oh, don’ look at me like that, lass”, he chuckled. “Jus’ wait a moment an’ yeh’ll see.”
He pulled a length of wood from his apron pocket.
“Let’s see. Three up … two across ...”,
He tapped one of the bricks above the rubbish bin with the stick.
The stone trembled, and slowly started to wiggle aside.
One by one, the surrounding bricks began to move as well, sliding apart and rearranging themselves. A small opening formed, widening steadily until it had shaped itself into an archway, big enough for even a tall person to comfortably walk through.
Beyond it I could make out a narrow cobblestone street lined with colourful houses and busy shopfronts.
“Welcome,” Tom said smugly, sounding quite pleased with himself, “Ter Diagon Alley.”
I suppose it wasn’t a magical mall after all.
“Not somethin’ yeh’ve seen before, I’m sure”, the Innkeeper said. “Don’ worry, yeh’ll get used ter it in no time.” He gave me a clap on the shoulder. “Well, go on in, lass. If yeh need help, jus’ ask someone. Decent enough people ‘roun here, most of ‘em.”
I nodded and walked towards the archway, then paused and turned around. “Thank you”, I said, my voice barely audible over the hum of the bustling street beyond. No need to be impolite if you can help it, as Mum always said.
Tom winked at me, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. ““No need ter thank me, ‘twas no trouble. When yeh’re done shopping, jus’ come back ‘ere if yehh need ter get home.”
I offered him what I hoped was a steady smile, though it probably looked more nervous than anything else.
Drawing a deep breath, I squared my shoulders, and stepped through the opening - making sure to scan the rooftops just in case dragons might actual be a thing here.