Diagon Alley was bustling with witches and wizards of all shapes and sizes wandering the winding streets. A horde of young children had gathered around a tall wizard wearing a beaver hat, who demonstrated a collection of self-playing instruments. Next to him, a red-faced witch argued with the owner of an apothecary over the price of dragon liver, and next to her a dumpy witch was near-buried under the weight of large, brass telescope she carried out of a shop.

Finnegan remembered the last time he'd been to Diagon Alley all too well, it had been the first time he'd seen magic at work. Even now, nothing quite compared to the bewildering charm of the shops and he caught himself looking wistfully at Olivander's when he passed it by. The day he'd gotten his wand was one he'd always remember.

A barny owl had nestled itself atop the sign that read Madam Malkin's Robes for All Ocassions, its head tucked under its feathers, yet Finnegan suspected it watched him somehow. The moment he entered the shop, jingling the bell over the door, Madam Malkin came up to him from behind the counter. "Hogwarts, darling?"

He nodded. She was a squat, smiling witch dressed in all mauve.

A pair of enchanted knitting needles zoomed over his head while she beckoned him to follow. She had several low stools prepared for her young customers to sit on and with a flick of her wand made a large, gold-rimmed mirror come down from the ceiling. "Still skinny, eh?" she smiled. She must've caught his suprised look. "Oh yes I remember you, I've got a knack for faces if I do say so myself. Now, I think a size 12..." Finnegan didn't really hear the rest of what she was saying while she moved his arms up and made a coil of measuring tape spring to live. He didn't think he'd grown much, but his mother begged to differ. When he tried to move his hand up to flatten his unruly hair, Madam Malkin swatted it down. "Hold still dear." She was nice but stern.

From the mirror he could see another young student standing outside the shop. The sunlight made her hair seem like a blaze of copper and though she entered with confidence, he guessed her to be younger than himself. "Hello darling, come right up," Madam Malkin greeted, pointing to the low stool next to him. "Hogwarts, yes?"

Finnegan turned his head to glance at the girl. "Hiya," he greeted, his voice caught ever so slightly in his throat. He offered a weak smile. "First time?"

─────Diagon Alley…was certainly a sight. As Calypso’s first experience of real magic, it was not overwhelming per se, but rather a healthy mix of wonder, intrigue, and having no idea what she was doing. Bizarre and fantastical things - at least to her, screamed out from all her surroundings. Instruments playing themselves, a mythical animal’s liver up for sale like bread at a grocery store, everything around her seemed to capture her attention until she realised she had probably been staring too long. But it wasn’t like she could help it, what else was she meant to do when faced with something so unfamiliar? The sights that were greeting her now were straight out of her childhood fairytales, so new and interesting that she couldn’t help but gawk.

Messy strands of hair floated into her face, which the girl annoyedly blew away. She could explore the place later, but right now what she needed was to get everything on her supply list that was currently crisply folded in her pocket. Fingers subconsciously grazing a faded bruise on her jaw, faint but noticeable if someone paid enough attention, Calypso began to make her way to the first shop in sight.

Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, she repeated in her head, the idea of wearing robes only seeming pretentious to the young witch. Though, she supposed, her own name was also particularly pretentious so she couldn’t say much.

The girl walked in with a confident gait, squinting as the sunlight shone into her eyes. Pausing somewhat awkwardly at the entrance, wondering if she should speak up or loiter around until she was noticed, Madam Malkin (or at least Calypso assumed it was Madam Malkin) saved her from that decision. The witch was dressed in mauve, smiling and beckoning at Calypso. “Yep, Hogwarts.” she nodded in response to the question, sitting down on a low stool next to another boy.

She raised her hand in a lazy imitation of a wave. “Hey. Uh, yeah, first year.” she replied with a noticeable German accent, humming in affirmation. Despite not having expected the boy to start talking to her, she easily slipped into the conversation. “Is it your first time as well?” she paused, scrutinising the boy with messy brown hair for a second “You seem a bit older than me, or maybe I’m not as good at judging people as I think I am,” Calypso added as an afterthought, a small smile playing on her lips.

"No, it's not my first time. I'll be in my is second year this year," He pushed back and squared his shoulders while Madam Malkin continued to adjust the robe on him. "Though, I'll take the compliment. Must be all the growth spurts I've been having," he chuckled and added a quick eyeroll for good measure. Evidently he'd grown enough to warrant new robes, but he doubted that people underestimating his age would end before he grew a beard.

Madam Malkin smiled warmly while she pinned up the hems. "Careful what you wish for darling, when you're all grown up you'll want nothing more than to be exactly as you are now."

Finnegan shrugged, then fell silent for a while. He was unsure if he agreed but decided not to argue. Several things had happened during his first year that he was glad to have behind him. One particularly awkward interaction with George Henry, the then fourth-year Hufflepuff, prime among them.


Having finished with Finnegan's fitting, Madam Malkin gave the robe one final tug to pull it straight. "There you go, dear. All set." She then turned her attention to Calypso and with a flick of her wand, the measuring tape whizzed past Finnegan's ear and began taking readings from the girl.

While the girl was getting measured, Finnegan took a moment to look around the shop. The sign above the shop had been right, there truly were robes for all ocassions. Everywhere he looked robes of different designs and colors lined the walls, shimmering in the morning light. There were robes with intricate patterns, some plain, and a few that even seemed to shift colors.

Madam Malkin noticed Finnegan's wandering gaze. "Looking for something special, dear?"

"Just admiring your handiwork," he replied, pointing to the color-shifting robes. "Those are fascinating, I have a friend who'd kill to have them."

Madam Malkin chuckled. "Ah, yes. They're made from Moonstone-thread. Very popular with the older students for Balls.'"

After a final look in the mirror, he approached the counter, pulled out a small leather pouch filled with coins and asked. "How much do I owe you, Madam Malkin?"

She calculated briefly. "With the special fabric adjustments, that'll be four Galleons, dear."

He put four of the golden coins down on the counter and turned to leave. But as he turned, his gaze drifted back to the girl. The sunlight streaming in from the shop window caught her face in an almost ethereal light and despite her self-assured he entry, he thought he recognized a hint of uncertainty just below the surface.

"Did you manage to get everything you need? Took me ages last year, didn't know where to find it all." He leaned against the counter and eyed the girl curiously. "I'm Finn," he gave a little mock salute and a wink, "I'll be your tour guide today! Uh... If you want," he made sure to add after Madam Malkin threw a look at him. "Did you get a cauldron yet?"

─────“Huh, okay,” Calypso answered, so she was right; he was older than her. “How tall are you?” she asked, a slight tilt to her head, the question fueled by the childish teasing she had always had with her friends about height. She had yet to receive a growth spurt, being on the shorter side, much to her annoyance.

As Madam Malkin was dealing with the boy’s robes, the girl took the chance to look around the shop. Different robes were lined around the walls, designs ranging from solid colours to filled with intricate embellishments. A part of Calypso’s mind compared it to the wizard’s version of a clothing shop though undoubtedly cooler; she would take colour-changing robes over her normal clothes any day even if it were only to boast and admire.

The girl’s attention returned back to the other boy in the shop, who just seemed to have finished being fitted. Her eyes followed the measuring tape with interest as it began to take readings from her, when would she learn to do spells like that?

She swung her legs on the stool, waiting silently but listening attentively to the conversation between the boy and Madam Malkin. Moonstone-threads, balls? It seemed like there was a whole heap of things that she needed to catch up on in the wizarding world, though that wasn’t exactly news to her. She had already experienced that culture shock a while ago, and the money (Galleons, was it? And something about Knots? She didn’t remember) she had exchanged for pounds clanking in one of her pockets only served as a reminder. It was also a few of these coins that the boy left on the counter as payment before turning to exit the shop, leaving Calypso to wonder if she would see him at Hogwarts.

Contrary to her expectations, the boy stayed. She hadn’t expected that the boy would stay for a while to talk to her, though the boy seemed friendly enough and she didn’t mind some company. Talking often kept her nerves in check as well for a reason she could never explain, so perhaps it could take the edge off this situation as well.

“Nah, this is the first shop I’ve gone to so far,” Calypso replied to the boy’s questions. “Don’t reckon I’ll do much better than you, I stepped into this place and I was already confused about where to go.” It was an exaggeration, but close enough to the truth considering the amount of time she had wasted looking at instances of magic like a curious kid in a candy shop.

About to say something else in response to the other boy, she reminded herself of the proper propriety and manners her mother had always insisted upon. “Nice to meet you,” she greeted instead before a smile tugged at her lips. “Calypso reporting for duty,” she introduced herself, mimicking the boy’s salute. The girl was pleasantly surprised by the offer and was quick to nod. “Yeah, sure! Wouldn’t say no to a tour guide. Your payment will be the amazing offer of my company,” she slipped into a joking tone that often came like second nature to the girl.

"One forty-three and a half," Finnegan said, a mock air of importance lacing his voice. That extra half centimeter was a point of pride, however small; but every little bit mattered at their age. In that regard, the muggle world wasn't all that different from the wizarding one. Age, height and year were the yard sticks by which one's standing were determined, magical prowess was more of an afterthought when all you could do was shoot some sparks and start small fires.

Finnegan smiled at the return salute. The girl had a sparkle in her eye, the kind that hinted at mischief and fun, but Finnegan couldn't quite guess what lay behind that. Something wild, something untamed, something reckless perhaps. "All right then, Calypso," Finnegan began, trying to get back to the task at hand. "Cauldrons are up first. Standard size two, made of pewter, if I remember my first year list correctly. I wish someone had told me to get the cauldron first," he said, "makes for a good shopping bag, see."

Once Calypso had her robes fitted and paid for them, Finnegan led the way out, back onto the winding street. Shop signs creaked as they swayed gently in a breeze while hazy golden light filtered through gaps between the towering, lopsided buildings. The aroma of fresh pastries from the nearby shop mixed with the peculiar scents of magical ingredients being unloaded next to a crooked apothecary. "This way," he said, pointing down the road.

He asked a few more questions along the way, like where she was from, if she'd come to Diagon Alley alone, and if she had already determined which house she'd like to be in. "I'm in Gryffindor," he told her, "though I wouldn't have minded being in Hufflepuff either, Slytherin's a mixed bag, Ravenclaws are insufferable snobs all of them, you really don't want to be in Ravenclaw, believe me..."

Soon enough they came upon a dark shop front with blackened windows. The cauldron shop's interior was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the vibrant alley outside. . Overhead, a wrought-iron sign shaped like a cauldron swayed, its silhouette gleaming in the soft light. There was no bell to greet them when they stepped inside, and unlike Madam Malkin's, they weren't alone either.

Stacks of cauldrons were piled on top of each other in defiance of natural law. There were tiny ones fit for a gnome but also massive ones that Finnegan imagined could easily fit a grown man inside. The acid, tangy smell of cold metal cloyed the air and a bald wizard wearing safety goggles was rummaging through some paperwork behind the counter.

A dark corner of the shop had a sign next to it reading "School Cauldrons - Standard Sizes". Finnegan came to a halt in front of them and crossed his arms. "Bit of advice, I'd take the one that comes with a protection charm, if I were you. Makes it a bit trickier to melt your cauldron if you don't have much of a knack for brewing." He gave her a pointed look at that. "It wasn't my fault, honestly," he added with a grin, "Jack put too many flubberworms in, the Professor said we got lucky that our potion hadn't exploded, thought that was a real shame to be honest, we never managed to reproduce it."