To Be Luminous || HP [REVIVAL 2021]

Chapter Four

Superstring Some Along

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-PAST KIARA, 12 YEARS OLD-

Kiara had become very lost.

When she'd tried to get her parents inside Diagon Alley they'd been held back by some invisible force. Her mother had teared up and her father was stone-faced as they'd said their final goodbyes, but Kiara—who had become heartless after her recent accident—only gave a thin-lipped smile that she'd hoped looked genuine. Then she'd stepped through the brick wall that Headmistress McGonagall had explained to her in a letter, and disappeared without a trace.

Immediately she'd confused Ollivander's with Eeylops Owl Emporium, and her and Basil had been chased out. The students inside had screamed, hiding behind birds who'd spread their wings wide to appear as a threat to the timid snake. She had been turned around twice by bustling crowds of wizards and witches, not even able to ask for help in English and burdened by her small, but clunky suitcase.

"Excuse me, miss," a gentle voice had said beside her, and she'd smiled reflexively at him—just as she'd practiced. "Are you lost?"

She'd heard the word 'lost' and nodded, then added a feeble, "English . . ." Her Belgian accent had shrouded her speech. Except the man with black hair and round glasses, dressed casually in Muggle clothes, had appeared to perfectly understand her situation.

"Bonjour," a young boy had greeted, whose hair hadn't quite seemed to have decided if it wanted to curl or stick straight up. He then said something rapidly in English to his father and grinned back at Kiara. "Je m'apelle Albus."

"Bonjour. Al-bus."

Though the man (who had introduced himself as Harry) couldn't speak French, they had been generous enough to stick by her side and help out. Harry had helped her choose a few standard black robes in her size at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. She'd opened her bag and pulled out a wad of pound sterling that her parents had exchanged for her. Harry and Albus had glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.

In order of explanation, Harry had taken out a small leather pouch with a tie and showed her three different types of coins: "Galleons," he'd explained, a coin between each knuckle. "Knuts, Sickles . . ." By the expression on her face, it had been clear that she had no idea what he was talking about. He'd said something slowly in English, pointing to the cashier, her robes, then himself.

Kiara's eyes had widened, and she'd objected immediately. "I can't let you pay for this, sir," she'd said quickly, in french. The man had given her an apologetic look, helpless to the language barrier.

Albus had caught her eye and nodded. "S'il vous plaît?" he insisted.

Such formal french for little old me! She had laughed to herself and at last she had relaxed, smiled genuinely, and said another familiar English phrase: "Thank you, Harry. Thank you, Albus."