The Founders Four

Muggle London

"Mum, I'm going out!" Rowena yelled, clutching the flimsy rope handle of the water bucket. "Be back before the sun comes down if ye know what's best for ye!", her mother, Laurel, called after her. Rowena rolled her eyes. "Have I ever not been?" She muttered to herself. Once she was safely out of sight of her family's cottage, she ran to the top of the lush green hill, covered in blossoming purple petals and brown earthy patches. A runt of a girl is perched on an old stump on the edge of the woods, patiently awaiting Rowena's arrival. "Took you long enough." She said, a light Welsh accent coating her words in the chilled evening air. "Well, I apologize for having household duties." Rowena replied in her Scottish brogue, setting down her pail. The other girl shrugged. "It's quite alright. I've brought you some bread and elderflower from my garden," she reached into her own basket and pulled out a plump loaf of bread and a small bundle of herbs,"Should still be fresh. Apparition doesn't normally mess with it." Rowena smiled at her. "You didn't have to do that, Helga." Helga smiled back, showing off slightly crooked teeth. "You know me. Of course I do. Now, we don't want to waste any of this time. After all, we only see each other once a month." Rowena rolled her eyes with a slight smile. "Because to see each other more than that would be impractical, and cause both of our duties to be interrupted far too often." Helga took Rowena's arm. "You're too smart for your own good. And that's exactly why I know I've picked the perfect place to spend today!" With one last slightly concerned, slightly intrigued look towards Helga, Rowena clutched her arm as the two were sucked through oblivion, traveling to Lord knows where this time.

The girls landed with a crack on a cobblestone street in a small town. "You know where we are?" Helga asked, almost rhetorically. Rowena surveyed the surrounding area, the analytical wheels whirring inside her head. "Judging by the size of the village, the accents of the people around us, and my general knowledge of you, I'm going to have to say London, England." Helga nodded, a giant grin adorning her face. "I figured, what better way to relax than an evening in the city? I can find some nicer clothes, you can maybe, I don't know, get a wand?" Rowena jumped, in disbelief at the mere prospect. "Helga Prewett! You and I both know I don't have that kind of gold! Also, I've got one that works just fine." She pointed towards a fold in her fabric, not wanting to expose themselves in front of Muggles. The fold contained her pride and joy: a whittled stick with a silky white hair slightly poking through the end. Helga sighed. "Look, I know you love that thing, but I'm willing to bet a shilling that you've got potential. And you can't reach it using a stick you found in the creek." Rowena rolled her eyes. That was the kind of thing she was supposed to say! But her own logic felt perfectly reasonable to her, seeing as she barely had enough money to buy a drink, which she certainly would not be doing. "Will you at least visit the shop? Maybe find one you like?" "I barely do magic as it is, Helga. What is the point of spending gold on something you won't use?" Helga stepped up, for they had arrived at a small, rickety shack. She opened the door gently to reveal a run-down pub, looking as though it had been here for ages, even though it really couldn't have been. "Welcum to tuh Leekey Cauldrun, misses. Wut can I do fur ye today?" A wheezy old man exclaimed from behind a bar. "Nothing for us, sir. We're just passing through." Helga said, her radiant charm nearly adding an extra flame to the candlelit room. The old man smiled a toothless grin back at her. "Well, I hup ye fand whut yer lookin fur." Rowena attempted a weak smile, feeling as though she came across as fake. But the old man gave her an even wider smile, almost as if he were enlarging his smile to deem her efforts worthwhile. Helga tapped a few loose boards in a sequential order, and they readjusted themselves to Rowena's height, seeing as she was quite a few inches taller than Helga, who smiled. "Come on, then!" She ducked through the hole, and Rowena, with one last worried glance back, followed her through the bright opening.

Rowena's eyes immediately snapped shut upon the contact of bright sunlight. The smell of sugar wafted through the air, making her mouth water. She held her hand up over her eyes to see a small, crooked alleyway of colorful shops, each one boasting something magical. "Welcome to Diagon Alley. Ooh, look here, Rowena, I rather like those robes." Helga pointed at some brown cloth robes with a little bit of golden embroidery along the hems. "They look like the ones you have on now." Rowena pointed out, seeing as they were both wearing plain wool shirts and brown burlap robes. "Yes, but these are a lot nicer. And they're only a few gold bits!" The other girl exclaimed, looking to Rowena as if to receive consent. "It's your money, I suppose." She sat down with a sigh on a barrel outside the shop as Helga ducked inside the shop. Why did the blonde always feel the need to always be prepared to have fun? Rowena believed in practicality, planning, and strategy, while Helga believed in spontaneity, compassion, and excitement. And that was one of the ways that, from an outsider, made their friendship appear antonymous. But in reality, they were a great match for each other, assisting one another in emotional areas that they lack. That was the whole reason that she was stuck here right now. Sighing, she resolved that the bookseller's may be a good place to visit while she waited on Helga. Crossing the street, she entered a small shop that appeared nearly deserted, but when she walked inside, there were string bound journals and books strewn everywhere, creating a sort of amiable atmosphere. A snoring man was sitting behind a plank of wood, his head on a book. Rowena smiled to herself at the sight, scanning the bookshelves for something interesting. She was taught to read by her mother, who believed that girls should be just as educated as men. "We're as capable as those there men. We do their work, we bear their children, and we can do everythin' they can." Laurel would say. Her father left them when she was three, but it didn't seem to bother either girl. They just kept working and made their money. How else would you get things done? Pulling a book about magical creatures and another about potions off the shelves, she examined them before tucking them both under her arm. She her mother was a Squib, and according to her, her father was a pure-blooded wizard. He had left a few old books behind, which of course Rowena had perused multiple times, but otherwise she was taught very little magic from her mother. Therefore, when she happened upon a basic spellbook, she tucked it beneath her arm as well. Counting the pieces of gold in her pouch, she decided that this was a good use of a few coins. She would still have some money left over, and these would enrich her knowledge, unlike a pair of robes. She walked up to the counter and waited a few seconds before slamming her books on the counter rather violently when the snoozing man did not move. He started, his black hair flying out everywhere, head nearly hitting the already low ceiling. "Will that be all?" He asked, a wheezy undertone to his middle-aged voice. Rowena nodded. She handed him the correct amount of coins, and gathered her books hurriedly, rushing into the cool evening air. Muggle London had appeared cloudy, by the sun seemed to be enchanted to shine today in the alley. Although it was still blindingly bright, it was beginning to take on vibrant orange and vermillion hues. Helga was still the shop, chatting with a girl around their age about clothes, which Rowena had no interest in. Scanning the alley for something to do before she had to drag Helga away, her eyes settled on the wand shop. Maybe one look couldn't hurt? That way she'd have a basis on whether or not she should save up for one. She decidedly marched up to the small store, its hand painted sign reading Ollivander's: makers of fine wands since 382 B.C. Pushing open the door, she was almost shocked, but remembering it was a wizarding alleyway, to see a nearly endless ceiling, stacked with boxes upon boxes of scarlet and navy boxes, each with a tiny golden label. Before she could even get out of the door frame, a man who appeared 40 rolled over on a ladder from the back of the shop. "Ah, hello there, Miss Glenlark. I was wondering when you'd decide to drop by." He said, his eyes smiling. "How do you know my name?" Rowena asked, suspicious of the man. "I've been at this business since 382 B.C. When I craft a wand, it wants one person. And I think I know just the wand that's been calling your name." Rowena was slightly perplexed. "Should I not be the one choosing the wand?" The man, who she could only assume was Mr. Ollivander, smiled even wider. "The wand chooses the wizard, Miss Glenlark." With that, he rolled off into the back, returning with a box. "I've got a wand for you, but I sense that you may want to build your own. It is possible, and many wizards in this age do. Especially those of you who I believe will go on to do great things." Rowena looked up at him, and then at the wand in his hand. "Here, try it." He said, handing it to her. As she took it, a small tingling sensation spread through her body, and though there was no wind that day, the door flew open and both Rowena's was ruffled. "No... like I suspected, you'd be better off making your own. I'm sure you'll go on to do great things with it." He winked and walked into the back of his shop. Rowena set the wand back down into the box, looking down on it. She loved the feeling of magic in her veins, but was the wand worth it? No, she decided, I can make my own. The wandmaker from 382 B.C. said I'd be better off making my own, so that's what I'll do, she reasoned determinedly. The sky had faded into brilliant scarlet and pink as Rowena raced off to find Helga. "Helga, we've got to get going! Mum's going to have my head." Helga nodded absentmindedly towards Rowena as she waved goodbye to her new friend. "I was in the middle of a conversation." She said sadly. "Well, talk later. Apparate now." She took Helga's arm and Disapparated. Reappearing on the hill, she gave Helga a hasty goodbye and a hug. "Don't Spinch yourself." Rowena warned. "I won't." Helga said, turning on the spot and Disapparating with a crack. Rowena raced down the hill, taking her water pail, bread, and elderflower with her. She dunked the pail into the well on the way down, filling it to the brim with icy water and slamming the cottage door shut behind her just as the sun disappeared over the hills. "That you, Rowen?" "Yes, mum." She plunked down the pail and set down her things. "What did ye do for the past hour or so?" Laurel asked. "Not much. I just ran around, enjoyin' the day." Rowena lied. She was adept at the skill after years of practice. "That sounds like fun. Here's somethin' for dinner." She tossed the younger girl a piece of meat. "Thanks, mum." Retreating quietly into her own room, which had been a rather large chicken coop but made a rather small room for a teenager, she curled up on the mass of woolen blankets that was her bed and cracked open the book on magical creatures. Reading until her eyes could stay open no longer, she retreated into peaceful sleep.
Little did she know, that would be her last for a long time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N- hello! I hope you liked it. Please comment and vote if you did. If you didn't, well, whatever. It's not for everyone. It'll get interesting probably in the next chapter, and I'd like to apologize for historical inconsistencies because I know London was not a big city in the tenth century. But Ollivander's did exist (I checked) so I made there be a Diagon Alley as well.
Anyways.
Enjoy!!!!
-hannahsparklezzzz