When two letters arrive in the post for the Potters inviting them to a school for wizards Pippa is beyond excited. She was ready to start fresh somewhere new where she could actually be someone, where she could be special.
However, Hogwarts was not...
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We bought school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all.
I wanted to buy them all but Hagrid wouldn't let me. He almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Counter curses by Professor Vindictus Viridian.
"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."
"Good plan." Harry grinned at me.
"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."
Hagrid wouldn't let us buy solid gold cauldrons, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but we got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope.
Then we visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling.
While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for us, Harry dragged me to examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).
"Creepy." I said staring at everything in the Apothecary with wonder. It was probably my favourite shop out of all of them (even if they made me leave Socrates outside).
Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list.
"Just yer wand left -- A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."
Harry went bright red.
"You don't have to--"
"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at -- an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze."
Socrates hissed at him like she'd understood everything he'd said.
"I know, bloody rude." I said stroking him.
"I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."
I felt slightly awkward, like I did back in the pub. It was as if I was third wheeling Harry's experience, like I wasn't meant to be here but Harry was happy so it was fine.
Twenty minutes later, I was waiting outside Eeylops Owl Emporium (They had a strict no cats allowed policy).
Harry carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He kept stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.
