Order of the Sphinx... Why should HP get to have all the fun?

Chapter 3: Diagon Alley

Chapter 3: Diagon Alley

Dumbledore was true to his word, and at 12 o’clock on the dot that day, there was a loud rap on our front door. I, who had actually decided to relent and read the damn Harry Potter series to give myself an Idea of what to expect, almost jumped out of my skin when the knock came. I was just up to the bit in Harry Potter and the Goblet of fire where Voldermort was emerging from the cauldron, when it came. I almost crapped my pants.

I ran to the door, ignoring Roxie who had appeared on the top landing, trying to stickybeak in on what was happening. Typical. Flinging open the door, I felt my mouth pop open, almost as wide as the door. Oh My Chocolate Chip Flying Monkeys! There were literally no words to describe my visitor.

Tall, was a severe understatement; the guy had to be at least 3 meters tall. Okay, I was maybe exaggerating tad. But he was freakishly tall. A wild mane of brown waves came down to his mid biceps, and his beard was the same length. He had a very rounded face, with rosy cheeks and small, chocolate button eyes. Suffocating smells of pine and something cross between mud and animal droppings engulfed the room. His clothing reminded me of something of a gnome from the delicious vintage book of fairy tales which I had adored as a child. His overcoat appeared to be different sorts of animal fur all pieced together by crude, yet efficient stitching. Dirty and clearly fatigued from his journey, the motorbike glasses were the only indication as to how he actually came.

Peering around his massive form, my suspicions were confirmed; what appeared to be a vintage Harley Davidson sat with a miss-matching sidecar in the front drive. My inner autofile squealed. I was tempted to ask him what model it was, but he held out his beefy hand in greeting. Reluctantly tearing my eyes away from the beautiful bike, I looked him straight in the eyes.

Okay. Let’s address this right here and now. I am a major car/bike person. Odd, I know, especially since I am a girl. It was sad when I could have conversations with any male enthusiast and was able to quote makes, models and colours and recognise them in return. My dad took me to the vintage car swap meets he was always going to, and we would analyse the perfect set of rims for his baby; a ’26 Holden Chevy. He had been doing it up since I was six years old, and still, was nowhere near finished. Every Tuesday night, dad and I would sit in the lounge room, hogging the 62 inch Plasma and watch ‘Top Gear’ and would cackle at everything. Hey! Have you ever given that show a chance? They are truly funny guys!  The stig was my favourite.

Taking the visitors hand and giving it a hearty shake, I surprised at the strength there when he happily shook my hand in return, I couldn’t help but giggle at his introduction. “Me nam’s Rubeus Hagrid. But you can call me Hagrid.” I felt like my head was about to pop off my shoulders because he was shaking my hand so hard; my whole body was pulled into the movement and I felt rather like a bubble head dog. Woof Woof. “Hey Hagrid,” I said with a chuckle, ”My names-“ I began, but the he cut me off. “Anna! Yea’ Dumbledore told me about ya!” his voice boomed around the hallway, managing to alert Alfred that something was up. The pig came trotting in, looking up at Hagrid curiously. Hagrid didn’t seem to notice him, in fact, he was still grinning at me. Friendly bloke. I thought to myself with a returning smile spreading across my face.

“Well I don’ mean to rush ya, but we best be goin’. We have a lot to get through thi’ morin’.” He said with a smile, nodding in greeting to mum, who had appeared at the end of the hall. She gave him a polite smile and mumbled a greeting. I looked back at mum and gave her a soft smile. Leaning over, I picked up the brown leather messenger bag, which I had prepacked earlier that morning.