In which a shattered soul finds friendship-and a bit more-in a temperamental, red-haired Gryffindor.
Delilah Harrington considered herself a living cliché. She loved dancing around in the early mornings, listening to her favorite vinyl's while sp...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Diagon Alley was a crowded mess, people gathered in front of shops, random items spilling from fresh cauldrons onto the cobblestone. Delilah's head was down as she navigated through the path, a beige bag strapped around her shoulder, her emerald eyes scanning the supply list. She could barely remember having one of her classmates pick her up from her house and take her to a nearby hotel, so that she could walk into the pub and through the Diagon Alley entrance.
She faintly remembered scoffing at the personalized instructions given to her in her letter, telling her where to go. She recalled being completely confused and wondering if it was a trick but going along anyways for the sake of having nothing else to do.
But as she explored Diagon Alley's depths and witnessed the magic around her, she couldn't have been more pleasantly surprised. She queried whether everyone was just given a letter like her, or if others had someone sent to help them steer through it. A guide would have been quite helpful to Delilah.
She kept her eyes to the ground, noticing her completely incongruous attire compared to the others' robes and cloaks. She shifted uncomfortably in her beige pullover, loose jeans, and black Doc Martens.
Spotting a large structure at the end of the walkway, she sped her steps up to get out of sight. As soon as she opened the door, she froze, gaping at the numerous creatures staring at her. She gulped uneasily, recollecting what the letter said about there being goblins, and for her not to worry. Bullshit.
She strolled down the aisle, grimacing at the loud squeaking of her leather shoes rubbing against each other as she walked. She halted in front of a high pedestal, her gaze traveling up to meet one of a scowling goblin.
"Greetings, I'm a...um...muggleborn," Delilah faltered, still baffled about what the letter had called her.
"Follow me," the goblin replied in a monotone, not helping to relieve her discomfort. She followed the goblin to a cart that looked much too old and rusted to be considered safe. But she threw caution to the wind and hopped on, nervous energy bubbling up inside her.
The perilous trip was pretty fast, but it left her once-neat, dark curls in a tangled mess. The goblin stepped out of the cart easily and walked towards a large, rusted door, carrying a glowing lamp. Delilah trailed after him, the sound of her boots against the concrete echoing throughout the cavern.
The goblin just handed her the lamp and took out a key, oblivious to the brunette's fumbling behind him. He placed the key in the lock and turned it, opening the door to show a giant mound of gold. Delilah's eyes widened in disbelief, her hands gripping the lamp handle so tight that her knuckles began to turn white.
The goblin stepped forward, scooping a specific amount of money into a leather pouch before handing it to the frozen girl. "The bronze ones are Knuts, the silver are Sickles, and the gold are Galleons. 17 Sickles to a Galleon, 29 Knuts to a Sickle."
Delilah tried to consider what he said, but it was hard when everything was so fuzzy, and time was moving too quick to catch up. But Delilah nodded in false understanding, looking down at the coins in the small bag.
They rode the cart back, the young girl's brown ringlets whipping in her face again and getting tangled once more.
Once she was out of the wizarding bank and back into the open air, Delilah began to head towards where she assumed, she could buy her supplies. Looking back down at her supply list, she noticed the same man was the author of most of her textbooks and coming to see that same name printed under a photo of the five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, she couldn't help but believe whatever the books said to be phony.
She quickly entered Flourish and Blotts, her eyes widening as she took in the stacked shelves overflowing with books. She saw the man in the moving photo just outside, standing at the front of the shop, signing copies of his book, Magical Me, with a disturbingly wide smile. She wanted to get her supplies as quickly as possible, avoiding any type of confrontation with the man.
She scanned the shelves, using the large books as hiding places as she scavenged. After finally finding all of her textbooks, she quickly paid and escaped the shop, letting out the breath she had been unconsciously holding. Once all of her things were tucked away into her bag, she set off in the direction of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
After a little while, Delilah's bag became weighed down with school supplies, and the brunette's legs felt numb from all of the walking; she supposed she should work out more. All she had left to buy was her wand, and that fact sent a giddy thrill through Delilah. She had seen more magic in the past hours than she had in her entire life, but it never really occurred to her that she was part of it too.
She continued to make her way through the alley until she found the shop labeled "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.". The shabby-looking shop's display consisted of a solitary wand lying on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. Opening the door, she could see thousands of narrow boxes containing wands, piled right up to the ceiling, and the whole place seemed to be covered in a thin layer of dust.
She crept in silently, not wanting to intrude on anything or anyone who may be lurking in the eerie store. But her efforts were pointless as a man with startling eyes and wispy hair, emerged from behind the shelves. Delilah blushed crimson in embarrassment.
"Hello, dear," he greeted in a whimsical tone, his eyes slightly dazed. Delilah gulped uneasily.
"Hello, Mr. Ollivander," she replied softly, shuffling her feet around on the wooden floorboards.
"Let's get started, shall we?" Ollivander began to measure Delilah, or more so, his floating tape measure did. Once finished, he returned to behind the shelves, piling a few boxes of wands in his arms. He strolled back over to Delilah, setting the boxes on the front counter, and eyeing each one with curiosity and fascination.
"Here, try this one." A pale white wand was shoved into the girl's hands, but she felt nothing in particular from the touch. Ollivander hummed in creepy contempt, before replacing the white wand with a deep brown one, one that felt slightly better but not quite ideal.
Delilah tried out a few more wands, almost giving up hope, until Ollivander placed a deep beige wand with intricate carvings wrapped around it, in her delicate palms. As soon as Delilah held it, the room was bathed in a warm glow and magic seemed to seep into her veins, the alluring feeling astonishing her.
"River Serpent Horn core and Ebony wood. Quite flexible. 12 inches. I've only ever sold one with this core, so you'd be the second." Ollivander continued to peer at the wand, his eyes glowing with strange pride.
"Thank you." Delilah smiled sincerely, putting the wand back on the counter so she could reach for her money. Ollivander placed the wand back in its box and handed it to her, and Delilah placed the correct amount of galleons upon the counter in exchange. Smiling one last time in appreciation, Delilah headed back out into the hectic street that was overflowing with magic and life.
She breathed in deeply, wondering how her years in the new world would treat her. She could only imagine what attending Hogwarts would bring.
