Thursday: April 26, 2018
4:00 pm

Great, his parents had paid good money for those, Andrew grumbled silently to himself, after his eyes fell on the shattered glass lying strewn across the hardwood floor. He had left his desk for a few moments, neglecting to close his bedroom door, which had evidently allowed one of the Vance family cats to slip in – judging from the purring, snow-white Princess that sat prim and proper atop Andrew’s desk – whose guilty paws had swiped several loose, crystal phials onto the floor. Thanks to his inattentiveness, Andrew would have to buy new phials to replace the ones that had been broken, before his first year term at Hogwarts began.

Now that he had his wand on him and the passcode of bricks dedicated to memory, Andrew could easily access Diagon Alley by transporting himself to the Leaky Cauldron through the Floo Network, which had been hooked to the fireplace of his family’s home in London. Such a manner of traveling was convenient for Andrew, so his Muggle parents wouldn’t have to drive him back and forth between his house and Diagon Alley. After his very first visit to the wizarding alley, with his family to accompany him, Andrew could be entrusted to make subsequent trips there alone. Throwing down a handful of Floo Powder into the living room fireplace, Andrew stepped into the emerald green flames, uttered the name of his destination, and soon stepped out of another fireplace, into the familiar inn of the Leaky Cauldron.

He shortly made his way into Diagon Alley and its bustling streets, heading towards the location of Potage’s Cauldron Shop, where Andrew had bought his first set of phials a little more than three weeks ago. He didn’t plan on lingering around, and once he had paid for the number of phials he needed, he would leave the shop with his purchase (a brown paper-wrapped bundle) in hand, intending to make his way home.

Heather followed uncertainty as Grandpa Bob and her parents entered the Leaky Cauldron pub, noticing that she and the old man seemed the be the only ones who could see it. Even after Grandpa Bob had displayed several simple wand tricks for them while explaining things, she still wasn't entirely convinced about the whole "secret magical world" matter.

Her parents were thrilled of course, and she had a sneaking suspicion that they were both wearing their "Middle-Earth" clothes, complete with elven-style cloaks, underneath their jackets. Now, though, they looked confused, staring at the doorway as if they couldn’t see it until Grandpa Bob opened it and ushered the family inside. The place was tiny and dark with a low buzz of voices and a multitude of smells. The chatter died down a little as they entered, but then picked right back up as the newcomers were soon ignored. Heather guessed that they weren’t the first family to come through here.

Grandpa Bob hurried them along through the pub and out the backdoor into a courtyard with nothing but a trashcan and a brick wall. “Come here, Heather,” he said, gesturing towards the wall, “What can you feel?”

She edged closer, tapping the wall with her white cane and feeling the cold, rough bricks with a hand. It felt solid enough. “Just a brick wall. Why? It looks and feels normal.” She tapped it again, harder. It didn’t sound hollow either.

He grinned slyly at Heather’s raised eyebrow and the returned confusion on Mr. and Mrs. Ruby’s faces, before gently nudging her back behind him. Pulling out his wand, he tapped a specific brick above the trashcan three times. The tapped block wriggled, and a hole soon appeared in the wall, growing wider and taller until a grand archway stood open before them.

Heather blinked, took off her glasses and cleaned them on her shirt. The archway was still there, a long winding street crowded with buildings and even more people. Hesitantly, she reached out her hand, which passed through the air where the wall had been. Her ears rang with the hustle and bustle of voices and movement from beyond, and a new wave of scents was tickling her nose. Grandpa Bob chuckled softly, gently pushing her through the archway and waving for her parents to hurry after them. As soon as they cleared the arch, it shrank behind them, forming a solid wall again.

“Welcome, to Diagon Alley!” came Grandpa Bob’s voice as he gestured up ahead.

Looking around, Heather realized that the buildings closest to them were shops, or so she could guess by the jumbles and stacks of things outside them and people moving to and fro through their doors, exciting with packages and bags. It stood to reason than that the buildings, further along, were shops too, though they were too far away for her weak eyes to see what they offered. At the far end of the street stood a towering white shape, but she was unable to tell what it was. She stood there for several moments, overwhelmed and trying to let everything soak in. Hearing sudden rattling of bricks behind her, she was shoved aside, and heard Grandpa Bob’s gentle growling voice, “You can’t just stand here, cub. You’ll get stepped on.”

Staggering, Heather righted herself with her cane, taking a moment to feel the cobblestones around her feet with its plastic tip. There was a stack of cauldrons beside her with a sign hanging above them. Looking back, she saw that the archway in the wall had opened again. Grandpa Bob had moved her out of the path of another group of people entering the alleyway.

“Now, come along, we just need to get your--” Grandpa Bob muttered something under his breath that she didn’t catch, but it sounded unpleasant. “Where did those two go?!”

Heather quickly realized that both of her parents were missing. She sighed, not surprised that they would wander off like two kids in a candy store. She probably would have too, given enough time to absorb the shock of it all.

Grandpa Bob looked around the street and shops, then back at her, coming to a decision. “Wait here. Go inside if you want, but don’t go too far. I’ll go track down your folks.”

Heather nodded and decided to wait next to the cauldron stack as Grandpa Bob vanished into the crowd. A tiny bell rang behind her, and Heather turned, noticed that she was blocking the doorway. “Sorry,” she said, moving aside. The person coming out seemed to be a boy about her age holding a brown paper wrapped bundle.

Reaching for the door handle to exit the shop, Andrew swung the door open and barely took a step forward, to find that his path was being partially blocked by a girl standing in front of the entryway. He didn’t need to say anything that would make his presence known to her, when the girl realized his approach and where she was standing, and moved aside to let him pass – not holding Andrew up any, if only halting him for a brief second.

“It’s alright,” Andrew responded cheerily as he stepped out of the shop, shutting the door behind him with another tingle of the bell. His mood wasn’t affected at all. Such an incident of a person blocking his path wasn’t uncommon for Andrew, whenever he had to maneuver his way through the crowds of Diagon Alley. Judging from the girl’s apologetic reaction, he knew she didn’t mean to block his way.

Normally, Andrew would have brushed off the incident and continued on his merry way without paying a second thought of who the girl was. But there was one thing about her, that instantly attracted Andrew’s gaze. She was wearing Muggle clothing. Andrew himself, had put on a casual pair of blue jeans, gray-and-white sneakers, and a two-toned sage green sweatshirt—with a darker ombre effect on the top half and lighter tone on the bottom—which he would proudly sport during this particular trip to Diagon Alley. He also wore a brown crossbody bag that was slung over his right shoulder, which carried a small amount of wizarding coin inside one of its zipped pockets, as well as a disposable plastic water bottle in the outside pocket. Clearly, Andrew didn’t abide by the wizarding manner of dress, whenever it wasn’t required of him. His Muggle clothes were far more comfortable than the long school robes that had been fitted on him at Madam Malkin’s, which he would be forced to wear when his first year term began.

With a fleeting scan of his eyes, Andrew gleaned the obvious information from the girl: Muggle clothing, she was alone, and she looked to be about the same age as him. No stray Muggle could ever wander into Diagon Alley, Andrew assumed. Only Muggles connected to Muggle-borns would be capable of entering this place. If this girl wasn’t a Muggle-born herself, then she must be in some way related or connected to a Muggle-born, and all Muggle-borns here were likely to be students enrolled at Hogwarts.

Stepping onto the side of the street as he advanced a couple more steps from the entryway, Andrew threw a second glance over his shoulder at the girl. He was already aiming to pass by her as he prepared to turn down the street, towards the route that would take him home, but with the impression that he ought to say something more to the girl, Andrew paused in his tracks beside her, turning his posture towards the girl to direct a question and friendly smile at her. “Hogwarts?”

It was the shortest conversation starter he could think of that popped out of his mouth. Even if it only turned out to be brief small-talk, Andrew figured that this girl would have something to say about Hogwarts, whether it was concerning herself or someone else she knew of.

The white cane in her hand and pair of glasses on her face, Andrew didn’t think to pry about them or pay any attention to, at first, but he recognized what the aiding tools might signify, and only hoped that it wouldn’t complicate the process of being able to communicate with her. Was the girl blind? The thought didn’t make him feel uncomfortable at this point, as Andrew maintained his easygoing outward disposition, waiting for the girl’s response.

"Huh?" She had expected him to walk past her, with one ear turned his way, but her eyes were scanning the crowd as he cheerfully accepted her apology. Looking back at him, however, Heather started, noticing that there was another person not wearing robes. She was in blue jeans, sneakers, and a blue turtleneck. “Hogwarts? Wait, so you got that letter too? I gotta say, this is going kind of far for a prank, even for Grandpa Bob...” Then she blushed, realizing that she had said the last part out loud. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m Heather. Who are you?”

She turned back to the crowd, keeping an ear towards him to show that she was still listening, but at the same type searching for any sign of her parents or Grandpa Bob. She would not be able to recognize them through the sea of people until they came close enough, but still, any movement towards her was worth paying attention.

With no sign of them yet, she sighed, pulling out her letter and supply list. Even with her glasses, she had to hold the parchment close to read it. Glancing at the boy, she shrugged and showed him the letters. “So you got these too? Might as well go along with this I guess... I am curious to see where this all goes, even if it is just a big joke. So this where to get that cauldron? But what about this other stuff? And how do we pay for all this? Do the stores here even take dollars, or.. what’s the money here in the UK, pounds?”

“Hogwarts? Wait, so you got that letter too?”

“Sure did. First year, student,” Andrew announced, referring to himself. “I just got mine a few weeks ago. April first, actually,” he pointed out, realizing all too soon how the correlation of the date might be interpreted by Heather, as she continued to speak…

“I gotta say, this is going kind of far for a prank, even for Grandpa Bob..."

He gave a little laugh when Heather brought up the word “prank”, knowing exactly what she meant by it, and how she must feel. It wasn’t too long ago that Andrew stood in Heather’s metaphorical shoes, wondering whether the Hills were pranking him on the evening he had received his Hogwarts letter. “I know what you mean,” he said with a chuckle.

“Sorry, that was rude. I’m Heather. Who are you?”

“Andrew,” he introduced himself, “But you can call me Andy, if you want.”

He watched as Heather took out her letter and Supply List, bringing them close to her face as she began to read them, and then showed the papers to him. Scanning them briefly, it was only to confirm that those were the same pieces of parchment that he had found in his Hogwarts envelope. If anything blared out to Andrew that Heather was a bumbling first year, those were the articles that did it.

“So you got these too?”

“I did, but they’re at my house, right now,” Andrew informed her. Everything in his Hogwarts envelope was safely tucked away inside one of his bedroom desk drawers, back home. “Don’t really need ‘em anymore, since I’ve already got my stuff. Need any help with yours?” He extended the offer to Heather, reckoning she might need any assistance, if she were new around here. He had certainly needed all the help he could get, back when it was his first visit to Diagon Alley. Thank goodness he had the Hills with him then.

“Might as well go along with this I guess... I am curious to see where this all goes, even if it is just a big joke.”

Andrew could empathize with Heather’s reasons for doubting whether all “this” was actually real, and he wasn’t about to argue against them. In this case, showing might be better than telling. Eventually, she would be convinced about the wizarding world’s existence. Just like him. Otherwise, they’d both be fools…

“So this where to get that cauldron? But what about this other stuff?”

Hovering over Heather’s supply list, Andrew took a moment to collect his train of thought. Being thrust into the position of a “tour guide” was a big responsibility. He wanted to formulate his words properly, simplifying the details and emphasizing the main points, so Heather wouldn’t be confused.

“All right, there’s four stops you need to go to: Flourish and Blotts, Madam Malkin’s, Potage’s Cauldron Shop, and Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Books are at Flourish and Blotts. Clothing is at Madam Malkin’s. Everything else is at the Cauldron Shop over there, behind you—”He pointed to the shop he had just exited from “—phials, scales, and cauldron. And the Remembrall is at the ‘joke shop’, that’s the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes place.” Bit of a tongue-twister with the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes; Andrew made sure to enunciate the name clearly.

“We’re at North Side right now,” Andrew said, pinpointing where he and Heather were standing. He began pointing his hand towards different signs and storefronts along the cobbled street. “Flourish and Blotts is a little ways over there, on the left. Madam Malkin’s is across, over there. And the joke shop is the one with the big head on top of the doorway – you’ll see it – it’s a man’s head with a big ol’ arm and top hat in one hand.” Mimicking the mannequin’s gesture, Andrew held an invisible hat over his head, making an up-and-down tipping motion with it so Heather would get the idea. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to be as illustrative as possible.

“Too bad they don’t have any maps with the letter,” he commented about the Hogwarts letter’s lack of specific directions about where to find all the school items. “Would make it a whole lot easier for us first years. You’re new here, right?” Andrew asked Heather, mainly wondering if she was new to visiting Diagon Alley. He then pried on a hunch. “I’m just curious, are you…Muggle-born?. . . If you know what that means. Non-magic parents?” He explained, if anything to make Heather feel more comfortable by letting her know she wasn’t alone. Not that he was ashamed about it – “‘Cause, I am. I’m the only magic one in my family.”

“And how do we pay for all this? Do the stores here even take dollars, or.. what’s the money here in the UK, pounds?”

“Well there’s no pounds here,” Andrew went on, more focused on explaining what the wizarding currency was in Diagon Alley, than paying attention to what else was being hinted at, by Heather’s confusion. “We use coins.” Remembering the wizarding money he had on him, Andrew slipped his bag off his shoulder and unzipped one of the small pockets. Fishing out a palmful of shiny, metallic coins, he held them out for Heather to see (or touch, if she wanted to examine them closely). “There’s three different kinds,” he explained, singling out each one, respectfully. “Galleon, sickle, and knut. Galleons are the gold ones, sickles are silver, and knuts are bronze. I remember it like – galleon, “g” for gold; sickle, “s” for silver; and knuts, like acorn nuts, which are brown, like bronze.” Of course, the conversions were more complicated – 29 knuts to a sickle, 17 sickles to a galleon – but deciding that he would skip over those for now, Andrew continued, “Don’t worry about it though, you just pay for things like normal and ask if you don’t know the price.”

He was quick to follow up with – “You can get all your coins at the bank. It’s called Gringotts. It’s the big white building you see at the intersection, right when you enter Diagon Alley. They’ll convert whatever money you have and give you wizard coins, like mine.” Remembering the underground maze of caverns and rows of vaults that he had seen, Andrew considered about dropping a spoiler, but decided that some surprises were best left untold. Heather would experience it, for herself.

Andrew stopped for a breather. He was proud of himself, about the amount of knowledge he had learned within the past few weeks, and he was happy to finally be able to share it with someone else who was learning the ropes about the wizarding world. He still had much to discover, though. . . He hadn’t even made it to Hogwarts yet!

“Are you by yourself?” He asked Heather, curious as to why she was standing alone; whether she had any parents or relatives accompanying her, in Diagon Alley.

Heather raised an eyebrow at the date he claimed to have gotten his letter, mentally adding one point towards her “this is all a giant prank” tally. But she gave a friendly smile as the boy introduced himself, “Nice to meet you, Andy. I don’t really have a nickname; folks just call me Heather.”

As his offer of help, she couldn’t help but blush a little. Wanting to prove herself independent was all well and good, and she could manage in public well enough in most cases, but she was well out of her depth here, and she knew it. “Uh... Yeah, I could use the help. Thanks. This is all pretty overwhelming...”

She listened carefully and looked to where he pointed as he named the shops she needed to get to, nodding to show she understood his directions. Heather chuckled at his complaint about not having a map, agreeing with him on that point. His question about her being “muggle-born” surprised her, and she had to think for a moment or two, “I guess so...?” she began slowly, “I mean, that’s what Grandpa Bob told me anyway. He’s the one who gave me my letter. He’s not really my grandpa, but that’s what everybody in the neighborhood called him...” She trailed off, not sure what else to say.

When he explained about the money, she looked at the coins with surprise, picking them up to look at them closer. The coins were metal and thick, weighty in her hand. She had to resist an urge to bite the gold one. Were the coins pure bronze, silver, and gold all the way through, or plated over different metal cores? Either way, these were no play money, and she doubted Grandpa Bob would use any prized collectible coins in a prank, even an elaborate one. She filed this new info away under her mental “this might be real” tally.

When he pointed down the street at the enormous white shape, she blinked in confusion. “That’s the bank? It looks like a big blur from here. But then again, my eyesight isn’t that good...” At his question of if she was alone, she shook her head, turning to scan the crowd again. “No, I’m here with my parents and Grandpa Bob. But my folks wandered off somewhere, and Grandpa Bob went looking for them. I don’t think they’ll be too hard to miss in this crowd, what with everybody wearing robes and stuff like that. But knowing them, they might be, if they’re wearing their Lord of the Rings costumes like I think they are...” She sighed, shaking her head with a crooked smile at her parents’ antics at a time like this. Not that she could blame them. Given a chance, she would probably have done the same thing.

“Heather.” Andrew processed the name. “Nice to meet you.”

Her answer confirmed that she was a Muggle-born. The bit about Grandpa Bob was interesting. Andrew himself knew of a “Poppa Joe” down the street (where he lived, in London) that had babysat him and his siblings when they were little. They still called him that, whenever they passed by, even though Poppa Joe wasn’t a biological relative of theirs.

Andrew could see the Gringotts bank clearly, from where he stood, so when Heather mentioned to him about her poor eyesight, his suspicions were confirmed. The girl was visually impaired. Fortunately not completely blind, but if she needed a cane to get around, well…. Andrew couldn’t help but worry about her safety, leaving her alone until her guardians arrived. In fact, why would Grandpa Bob leave her alone in the first place? Seemed a bit irresponsible of Grandpa Bob not to take Heather along…

“Costumes?” Andrew blinked bewilderedly, a little amused by it. “Are your parents fans or something?”

Andrew knew about The Lord of the Rings trilogy. The films more than the books. He could see why a Muggle might don on some Middle-earth clothes to blend in with the wizarding crowd. Even if Heather’s parents didn’t know better about the wizarding world, it was probably a good disguise for them, to avoid any stares from wizard folk.

“I know,” Andrew voiced an idea, “How ‘bout we go over to Gringotts? We can get all the money you need and get your account set up, and then we can start on your list and get all the supplies you need for school.” If Heather was concerned about leaving her spot, in case her folks might come back and panic to find her “missing”, Andrew had just the solution for that. He knew of a post office just a little ways down the street. “We can go to the post office and send an owl to your folks and they can meet us at Gringotts. Don’t ask me about how owls work,” he chuckled. “Magic is all beyond me.”

Heather rolled her eyes at the “fans” question, “More like super fans! They always wore the things to conventions and fairs, and even our house is--was like a hobbit hole. Our new house is getting fixed up the same way. They’d bury it into the side of a hill like a proper hobbit hole if they could afford it. I used to love all that stuff as a little kid, but after a while...” she trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to burden her new acquaintance--new friend?--with her life’s backstory.

Clearing her throat, she listened to his suggestion and nodded, though still looked uncertain. “You sure it’s alright? I don’t want my folks or Grandpa Bob to freak out if I’m not here. He ran off in a hurry after my parents wandered away, and I can only guess they got lost. One minute they were right behind us and the next, they weren’t.”

Andrew’s reassurances only confused her when he mentioned the owls, but she nodded when he said he couldn’t explain how it worked. “Okay... If you say so. I guess we’ll learn about it at magic school? Huh... Now that I think about it, I’ve never gotten to see an owl up close before. Do you think they’ll let me pet one? I never get to feel live birds.” She gestured for him to lead the way, following just behind and off to one side, so as not to accidentally trip him, with her cane held close in the grip used for crowded areas.

“More like super fans! They always wore the things to conventions and fairs, and even our house is--was like a hobbit hole. Our new house is getting fixed up the same way. They’d bury it into the side of a hill like a proper hobbit hole if they could afford it. I used to love all that stuff as a little kid, but after a while...” 

"That sounds pretty cool, actually." Andrew was amused. Heather's parents sounded pretty cool and hip, in his opinion. He imagined it must be fun to live inside a Middle-earth styled house. "I've seen all the movies, but I've only read 'The Hobbit' one. Do your parents do everything like hobbits? Do they eat 'second breakfast'? Can they speak Elvish?"

Once those little sidetracked curiosities of his were satisfied, he'd then turn the conversation back to Heather. "New house? Did you move from somewhere?" He had an inkling suspicion that Heather wasn't from England, considering that her accent sounded more American.

"You sure it’s alright? I don’t want my folks or Grandpa Bob to freak out if I’m not here. He ran off in a hurry after my parents wandered away, and I can only guess they got lost. One minute they were right behind us and the next, they weren’t."

She did have a point, Andrew realized. It'd be rude of him to steal Heather away and be hopscotching with her around Diagon Alley, leaving Heather's folks out on such an important day like this.

"Hmm…Yeah, you're probably right." Pausing to consider which places might be better suited for them to wait at, a thought struck him. "Actually, if you really want to pet some owls, we could go to the pet shop instead. It's not that far from here. We can send an owl to your folks first and let them know we're waiting for them at the pet shop, and then they can meet us there." His excitement arose. "You know you can bring a pet with you to school, right? My parents said they'd let me get one, maybe, when I come back for Christmas. If everything goes well for me at Hogwarts."

With that, Andrew would take a few steps down the street, towards the post office. He’d start out slowly, making sure Heather was beside him as he kept a sharp eye on her progress. He didn’t want to lose his blind ward in the crowds. Seeing Heather grip her cane in front of her, as she prepared to follow after him, Andrew barely took a few inching steps forward before turning around to address his concern.

"Are you…blind? Just wondering. If you need any help…" 

Not that he was going to force a helping hand on the girl, if he could help it. Andrew hoped he wasn't being rude or offensive by directly asking Heather about the extent of her eyesight. The street was quite flocked with people, so if the need for her cane was anything for him to go by, the likelihood of Heather being pushed or tripped by the crowds was what had Andrew worried, as the two of them prepared to cross the street.

Heather couldn’t help but smile a little at Andrew’s questions. And here she’d been worried he would think her family was weird. “Yeah... I guess it is kind of cool when you look at it from a certain way. Um... They can speak Elvish, but the accent needs work. As for second breakfast, we don’t do that, but they do love to cook and go for walks. There’s also this thing hobbits do where they give away small gifts on their own birthdays. My parents do that, but I never really got into it.”

Her smile vanished again as he asked about her move. “Yup. Moved here all the way from America. It’s... still taking some getting used to.” She perked up as he mentioned the owls, looking both confused and impressed. “Wait a minute--they let you guy have owls as pets here?! Back home you need special permits for any type of wildlife as a pet, and even then it depends on which state you live in. Some states just tell you flat out no for certain animals. And they let you bring pets to magic school? Cool!” His excitement about the pets was contagious, and Heater added, “I hope you get one, and sure, I’d love to see them.”

As they readied to cross the street, she wasn’t surprised at his question about her eyesight. “Not completely. There are different levels of blindness. Mine is what they called ‘legally blind’, meaning I’ll probably never be able to drive a car. I can still see shapes and colors, but everything past a certain distance is a giant blur.” She squinted at the packed street, a worried frown on her face at all the movement, though it was impossible to pick out individual people. “As for help... Yeah, I could probably use it. Just hold out your arm. It’s easiest if I hang on to your elbow while we walk. There’s a term for that, actually, it’s called having a sighted guide.” As she reached out, waiting to take his arm, she added, “Thanks for asking, by the way. It gets really annoying when people just assume you need help--or worse, talk to you like you’re deaf or a baby instead. I mean I know some blind also have learning disablities, but still--” Realizing that she was rambling, she blushed, and muttered, “Sorry... Anyway, thanks.”