*What a wild week* Oliver thought to himself, his footsteps echoing across the pavement. Scrunching up his face, he peered at a piece of paper held stretched between his hands. "I think it's right up here!" he said excitedly. Beside the 11 year old boy stood another. A man with similarly brown hair and fair skin, the resemblance between the two obvious. "All right Ollie, just slow down a second." A gentle hand on Oliver's shoulder paused his forward steps just short of the curb. "Oh!" Oliver exclaimed, letting the hand holding the map fall to his side. *That was close* he mused. A quick glance right, left, then back right revealed the road to be safe, the pair's footsteps resuming towards what would hopefully lead them to where Oliver could purchase his First Year supplies. It wasn't like he could pick up a cauldron at the local corner store. If the boy had read the map correctly, it was called Diagon Alley.

It was there Oliver and his father would find all the oddities and ends he would need for his coming year at Hogwarts. Thankfully for them both the list of required supplies was clear and the directions on how to locate Diagon Alley were easy to follow. As they approached the alleyway it was Bram's turn to wrinkle his features. Slowing to a stop, the elder Caldwell raised an eyebrow at the signage above the building before them. The Leaky Cauldron. *That can't be right, why's it led us to a pub?,* thought Bram. Before he could further contemplate it Oliver's voice piped up again, oblivious to the public house beside them. Instead, his attention was focused on the map. "In there dad!" Stepping up to the door, Oliver headed inside.

With a quick step Bram followed, almost shocked. How many times had he come down this street and never seen this place? Why could he see it now? No doubt some small part due to magic. In truth, it was exactly that - it was because Oliver was accompanied that his father could now see the Leaky Cauldron. Under normal circumstances an 11 year old waltzing up the steps of a pub would promptly be turned around but everyone reacted as if it were the most normal thing in the world. A few even stopped mid sip to put their eye on the new boy-wizard, a knowing smirk stretching across their faces. Proceeding past the high bar top and into a rear courtyard where more patrons of the establishment drank and socialized, Oliver and Bram's eyes landed on a rather ordinary and worn brick wall. Narrowing his eyes and scrunching up his face as he read the instructions, the boy took note of an errant garbage bin near the wall. Oliver stepped towards the wall and began looking at each brick. To Bram it almost looked like he was counting each brick.

Opal had been looking for a book on dragons, having already found all the others she'd need. She half-skipped, half dragged her mother through the various aisles, searching until she found an aisle titled 'Magical Creatures'. She beamed and bolted inside, her mother teetering from all the books she was carrying.
Opal proceeded down the aisle, looking at the titles carefully until she saw a sign overhead that read 'Dragons'.
"Here they are, 'mum!" Opal cheered, inspecting the titles. "From Egg to Inferno: A Dragon-Keeper's Guide, Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit, Animal Ghosts of Britain.. Oh, what was Mopsy Fleabert thinking?!" Opal thought aloud. She looked at the next shelf down, and smiled when she saw Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland.
"Isn't that the one you wanted for Christmas, but I couldn't get you because of all the other books you wanted had filled the budget?" Opal's mother asked. She was speaking sternly, but Opal knew a smile was playing with her lips, even without looking at her.
"Yes, 'mum." Opal replied, taking the book off the shelves. She stood up straight, placed the book delicately onto the growing pile in her mother's arms, and started to walk towards the end of the aisle when her mother stopped her.
"Nuh-uh, missy. Your books, you're carrying." Opal's mom said, putting the books in Opal's arms, making her nearly stumble. "Besides, I'm the one paying." She said, fishing a few Galleons out of her robe pocket. Opal sighed dramatically, and reluctantly followed her mother toward the check-out line.
"Oh, look at the poor Muggles!" Opal's mom said, pointing delicately at the confused-but-intrigued looking man and his son, smiling sympathetically. Opal would look at them curiously, having never seen any Muggles in Diagon Alley before.
"Quit staring, Opal!" Opal's mom scolded, although she was looking on rather intently as well. "Go on, go introduce yourself. Perhaps your extensive knowledge about this store could help them out a bit." She suggested, smiling. Opal nodded swiftly, straightening her posture.
She walked over to the man and his son, smiling.
"Hello, I'm Opal. Can I help you navigate by any means?" she asked.

The number of books and book shelves was astounding, never in his life had he seen a place so filled to the brim. Chaotic and yet it still had an order to things, signs above sections indicating roughly what the shelves below contained. Now inside the shops walls, Oliver was content to watch the other people walking and milling about, perusing shelves and removing books. It was the names of the books that caught his eye, each one stamped or written in a different text, a different font, some didn't even appear English. As strange as it was for the boy, his father was experiencing something even more foreign, things that began to escape his comprehension - children had the benefit of imagination.

Running his finger along the spine of a book, Oliver wondered how many there were. Certainly hundreds, maybe thousands? With a concerned frown, the boy's eyes traced down the list of school supplies he'd need to gather. How were they ever going to find these few books amidst all the shelves? Maybe there was a section for them, it wouldn't make sense to have them all scattered around the shop would it? Another glance around the shop's interior did little to alleviate his nerves. Was there anyone he could follow, maybe there were other First Years here collecting their supplies, or he could certainly look for Flourish, or Blott, or whomever operated the book store. Scrunching up his face in determination Oliver made a step forward, intent on marching up to the counter and asking - but before he could, he was interrupted.