LITTLE MISS MUDBLOOD – ACT 1 : SCENE 1 : CHAPTER 3
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Monica Grace arrived to number eight, Heathgate the next day at exactly eight a.m., while Y/N was tending to the garden with her mother and Hermione was sitting on the bench, reading. Anyone who came through the front door could clearly see them through the wide, door-shaped space, and Y/N had just finished transferring roses from the planter to the ground when Monica Grace cleared her throat loudly.
Y/N looked up sharply and smiled once she saw Mrs. Grace. "Hullo, Mrs. Grace. Is it eight o'clock already?"
Mrs. Grace nodded and tilted her head. It was unusual for a Muggle-born to actually believe they were magical (they usually thought it was a dream), but Mrs. Grace knew Y/N wasn't a, well, ordinary Muggle-born.
"I'll just get changed, now," said Y/N, standing and wiping her soil-covered hands on her trousers.
"No need for that," said Mrs. Grace. She pulled out a thin, dark brown stick – Y/N assumed it was a wand, and she couldn't be more correct. With a wave of her wand, Mrs. Grace muttered under her breath and a dim white light hit Y/N's clothes. A flowery sundress replaced her dirty clothes, and Y/N looked down, amazed.
"Woah!" she exclaimed. "How'd you do that?"
Mrs. Grace smiled.
"It's called the Switching Spell. You think about the two things you want to swap, picture them being in the place of one another, and say the incantation. Now, we ought to get going to London, shall we?" she said, putting away her wand. "I brought a car along with me, one that'll fit us all."
She turned and walked briskly through the house, black heels clicking, with Mrs. Granger, Hermione, and Y/N following her closely. Mr. Granger didn't know what to do, per usual, so he stuck to following his girls. She led the family out to a silver car and took the front seat, urging Mrs. Granger to take the passenger's seat as Mr. Granger sat in the – surprisingly large – backseats with his daughters. Mrs. Grace gave Y/N and Hermione their letters before starting the car and driving off.
"There is a list of everything you need for Hogwarts enclosed in your envelopes," she said to the girls, who opened their envelopes and unfolded a second piece of paper. Y/N read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Draughts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
"And this is all in London?" said Mr. Granger, who was looking over Y/N's shoulder.
Mrs. Grace, who had turned on the motorway to London, slightly smiled and said, "If you know where to look. But we'll stop at your bank first to get money for your daughter's Gringotts vault."
"Gringotts?" questioned Mrs. Granger, reading Hermione's list.
"A wizard bank," said Mrs. Grace, "which is run by goblins. You'd have to be a bloody tosser to try and rob it."
Silence followed her statement and they arrived to the bank half an hour later. Y/N and Hermione stayed in the car as the adults went inside; they had nothing to do except talk, and that they did. They didn't talk about anything in particular, but Hogwarts had come up in almost every topic.
Finally, Mrs. Grace and Mr. and Mrs. Granger exited the bank, rejoining Y/N and Hermione in the car. An awkward silence returned to the car as Mrs. Grace drove to the nearest car park and parked, waiting for the Grangers to get out so she could lead them through the streets of London.
"Where are we going?" asked Y/N after ten minutes of what seemed like aimless walking. She'd been to London before and had never seen any shop that looked odd or unusual, so why would she now?
"The Leaky Cauldron," said Mrs. Grace, walking briskly. She came to a sudden halt. "We're here."
What Mrs. Grace pointed out was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If she hadn't pointed it out, Y/N wouldn't have noticed it was there, just like the people hurrying by. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side (which Y/N and Hermione desperately wanted to go to) to the record shop on the other, as if the Leaky Cauldron weren't there at all. But perhaps they couldn't see it. Perhaps it was only visible to those of magical descent, or those who had magic in their bloodline.
Y/N couldn't dwell on this any longer, because Mrs. Grace had steered the Grangers inside. She led them through the pub and approached a stern-looking woman who had pitch black hair (which was drawn back into a tight bun) and pale skin, and she looked like someone Y/N didn't want to cross. She did look like, however, someone who could put even Dudley Dursley in line.
"Hullo, Professor McGonagall," said Mrs. Grace happily. "I hope you're doing alright, yes?"
"Minerva, and yes, I am, thank you," said the woman shortly. Y/N thought Mrs. Grace was a sharp person, but then she met Professor McGonagall. "I take it these are the Grangers?"
Mrs. Grace nodded and said to the Grangers, "This is Professor McGonagall. She'll be Y/N and Hermione's Transfiguration Professor while they're at Hogwarts."
Professor McGonagall tensely shook hands with the Grangers and stood straight with a hand over the other. She analyzed Y/N and Hermione with narrowed eyes and seemingly smiled before saying, "I hope you both stay attentive and focused in my class. There will be no room for troublemakers or silly jokesters like those wretched Weasley twins –"
"Minerva will be joining us in Diagon Alley," Mrs. Grace quickly interrupted, which was wise of her. Y/N thought Professor McGonagall would go on a rant about the Weasley Twins and their troublesome ways – at least that's what Y/N thought the Weasley Twins' were notorious for. It seemed like it, as Professor McGonagall seemed to be disgusted by the mere thought of jokes and pranks and the way she spat 'Weasley Twins' with such annoyance and exasperation. "Come on."
Mrs. Grace led the Grangers and Professor McGonagall through the Leaky Cauldron and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. Professor McGonagall curled her lip, pulled out her wand, pointed it at the weeds and said, "Evanesco." The clutter disappeared and Professor McGonagall nodded in approval.
"What was it, Minerva?" smirked Mrs. Grace. "Three, two, three? Three up, two across, three taps?"
Professor McGonagall nodded and turned to Y/N and Hermione and said, "I was the one who accompanied Mrs. Grace here to Diagon Alley when she was eleven-years-old. She's a Half-blood raised in America."
Y/N tilted her head in confusion and asked, "What's a Half-blood?"
"A Half-blood is a witch or wizard whose blood purity is not completely pure, or has some muggle – non-magic folk – heritage," said Mrs. Grace, looking down at Y/N with an unreadable expression. "A Muggle-born, like yourselves, are witches or wizards who have Muggle parents, and Pure-bloods, such as the Malfoys, have very little to no Muggle blood in their bloodline." She smiled and stepped to the side, saying, "Welcome to Diagon Alley."
Y/N's eyes widened in amazement as she looked at the now-formed archway, which opened up to a world with a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. People – or rather, witches and wizards – filled the street, dressed in robes and hats of all different colors. They were shopping, carrying parcels around like shopping bags. Kids Y/N's age and older were out with parents to get early shopping done (term started in a little over a month) since everyone had just gotten their letters, and some parents were eager to get shopping over and done with.
"Follow me," said Mrs. Grace. She navigated her way through the crowd and Y/N couldn't help but look around at the barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, and the tottering piles of spell books, quills, the rolls of parchment, and the potion bottles, and the globes of the moon. She gazed through the shops with keen eyes, which were selling robes, others selling telescopes and stranger silver instruments she had never set eyes on before. Professor McGonagall had to pull Y/N away from the crowd of boys, who had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it.
"Gringotts," said Professor McGonagall.
They had reached a snowy white building that towered over all the little shops. It was a gorgeous building, and standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was –
"A goblin," said Mrs. Grace, interrupting Y/N's thoughts. The goblin was a little less than a head shorter than Y/N, and had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and unusually long fingers and feet. He bowed to each of them as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver, with words engraved upon them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
Y/N looked apprehensively at the words and followed Mrs. Grace through the doors and down a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. The Grangers, Mrs. Grace, and Professor McGonagall made for the counter.
"Good morning," said Professor McGonagall to a free goblin. "We've come to open a vault for Miss Hermione Granger and take some money out of Miss Y/N Granger's vault. And exchange Muggle money for wizarding money, regarding Miss Hermione Granger."
Y/N already had a vault?
"Bogrod will attend to Miss Y/N Granger," said the goblin, gesturing to the goblin sitting next to him. "I will assist Miss Hermione Granger."
Mrs. Grace led Y/N to neighboring counter and cleared her throat. The goblin looked down at Mrs. Grace and Y/N and said,
"You have her key, ma'am?"
"I do," said Mrs. Grace, and she pulled out a tiny golden key from her trouser pocket. She handed it to the goblin, who examined the key closely before nodding.
"That seems to be in order," he said. "I will have someone to take you down to Miss Y/N Granger's vault. Ragnok!"
Ragnok was yet another goblin. Y/N and Mrs. Grace followed him toward one of the doors leading off the hall.
"I didn't know I already had a vault," said Y/N, curiously. "Why do I have a vault and not Hermione?"
"Don't ask me," Mrs. Grace said, almost nervously. "Come on, I think your vault is in the deeper parts of Gringotts."
Ragnok held the door open for Y/N and Mrs. Grace. Y/N, who'd expected something to match the exterior of the bank, was quite surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Ragnok whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in – Mrs. Grace with some, well, grace – and were off.
At first there were no twists or turns. The cart shot downward, in a steep slope, for a few seconds before sharply taking a right turn. Y/N thought she would hurl but kept it to herself as they hurtled left, right, right, left, left, right, and anywhere and everywhere. She swore they passed a huge dragon and looked behind her, but she could only see darkness.
Y/N held on to the woman next to her tightly as the cart plummeted straight down. It sloped into level grounds, and they soon passed under a waterfall. Y/N gasped and looked at her drenched clothes, feeling water drip down her neck from her hair. Mrs. Grace laughed; she was completely dry and had her wand out, a sort of bubble around her.
She put down her wand and the invisible bubble disappeared. The cart was still moving and cold air rushed past them, chilling Y/N to the bone. Mrs. Grace apologized and swished her wand and, in a blink of an eye, Y/N was warm as a Christmas fire. She went to thank Mrs. Grace when –
Screech!
The cart came to a halt. Mrs. Grace looked as if she hadn't just gone on a rollercoaster of a ride, while Y/N felt like she was going to throw up.
A creature with the front legs, wings, and head of a giant eagle and the body, hind legs, and tail of a lion guarded the vault that said Vault 932. Ragnok showed it the key and it examined it, nodded, and returned to its stiff post. He proceeded to the door and waved his hand; a golden keypad was revealed and Ragnok typed a series of numbers before the doors opened. Y/N went to peer forward but Mrs. Grace held her back – Y/N couldn't believe it! Yet another set of doors hid behind the first, but this time Ragnok unlocked it with the key. A cloud of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Y/N gaped. Mountains of gold, silver, and bronze coins stood three times her height and were at least twelve times her width!
Mrs. Grace helped Y/N pile at least hundreds of pounds' worth of wizarding money into a palm-sized pouch. Y/N looked up and – she couldn't believe it! She hadn't even made the slightest dent in any of the mounds!
"The gold coins are Galleons," Mrs. Grace explained, pulling the strings of the bag closed and giving it to Y/N. "There are seventeen silver Sickles to a golden Galleon and twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a silver Sickle. Simple enough. Let's go."
The ride back wasn't as bad as the ride to. They didn't have to plummet straight down, and it seemed less wild (but still pretty crazy) as Y/N clutched her money close to her. They met Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and Professor McGonagall in the vast marble hall, and standing with them was a tall man with a powerful aura.
Mrs. Grace embraced the man and kissed him (ew!) once they joined everyone. Hermione asked how Y/N already had a vault – she told her she didn't know and when she asked Mrs. Grace, she hadn't known either.
"I think we ought to split up," said Professor McGonagall. "Mr. and Mrs. Grace will go with Miss Y/N Granger, and I, along with Mr. and Mrs. Granger will go with Miss Hermione Granger. Objections?"
Nobody dared to protest as Professor McGonagall stared at each of them with a stern demeanor. Y/N sent Hermione a departing smile and followed Mr. and Mrs. Grace into the alley.
"The wand is the most fundamental instrument a witch or wizard needs," said the man, who Y/N supposed was Mr. Grace. "Hello. Alexander Grace, husband to Mrs. Monica Grace."
"Y/N Granger," said Y/N, shaking Mr. Grace's outstretched hand. "Pleasure."
Mr. Grace smiled. "The pleasure is mine. Shall we get going?"
Y/N nodded and followed him through the bustling crowd with Mrs. Grace behind her. He tried talking over the chitter-chatter of the folk around them, but Y/N could hardly hear him. Mr. Grace stopped at a narrow and shabby shop a few stores from the bank. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion on the dusty window.
Mr. Grace held the door open for Y/N. She offered a small smile and stepped through, looking around at the dim building. It was a tiny place, as big as a cottage kitchen, and nothing occupied it except for a single, spindly chair that nobody cared to sit on as they waited. An odd tingle tickled the back of Y/N's neck and she shivered, despite the warm air that blew on her shoulders.
"Good morning," said a soft voice. Y/N tensed.
An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
"Morning," said Y/N shortly. She stuck out a hand. "Y/N Granger."
The man stared at her for a few, pregnant seconds, before saying, "Odd."
Y/N didn't want to ask what was so odd about her. It was like this man could see right through her soul, and it felt somewhat rude to ask questions – and there was the fact that whatever though passed her mind, Y/N believed Mr. Ollivander could hear it.
He stopped staring at her and spotted Mr. and Mrs. Grace.
"Monica and Alexander! How nice to see you again. . . . Ebony, dragon heartstring, eleven inches, springy, I believe, for Mrs. Monica? And. . . let's see. . . Apple, thunderbird tail feather, twelve inches, and nice and supple for Mr. Alexander, wasn't it?"
Mr. and Mrs. Grace must've nodded because they didn't speak. Mr. Ollivander, instead, gave them a thin smile and turned back to Y/N.
"Well, now – Miss Granger, let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
"I'm, uh – well, I'm left-handed," said Y/N, nerves shaking her voice.
"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Y/N from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Granger. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons – rarely will we ever use anything else, except for a few exceptions such as Mr. Alexander behind you. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes –"
"– or thunderbirds," commented Mr. Grace to his wife.
"– are quite the same," continued Mr. Ollivander. "And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
Y/N realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between her eyes, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander flitted around the shelves, taking down boxes.
"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Miss Granger. Try this one. Alderwood and unicorn hair. Ten inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a swish."
Y/N took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once.
"Dogwood and phoenix feather. Fourteen inches. Quite whippy. Try –"
He hadn't even given it to Y/N when he snatched it away.
"No, no, no. . . too loud, dogwood. . ." he muttered to himself. "Here. Hornbeam and dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches, stiff. Go on, try it out."
Y/N tried. And tried, and tried. She didn't dare ask what Mr. Ollivander was looking for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher and higher and higher, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become – or frustrated. The man was a man of odd expressions.
"Tricky. . . hmmm. . ." he mumbled under his breath. "These cores just aren't cutting it. . . ."
He disappeared behind shelves of wands and came back exactly fifteen seconds (Y/N counted) later with a velvet box with silver linings. He carefully pulled the wand from it and handed it to Y/N; she took it and felt a familiar warmth in her fingers. She raised the wand, flicked her wrist and a stream of green and silver sparks shot from the end like a firework, bouncing around her head and forming shapes. Mr. and Mrs. Grace cheered and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo, my dear! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. I knew it was the core that was a bit iffy. Just like Mr. Alexander over here you require a Thunderbird Tail Feather core, but oddly enough, like Mrs. Monica, Ebony wood is attracted to your being. Eleven and a half inches, and Reasonably Supple, yes, odd combination, but suited for you."
The Graces and Y/N thanked him and Y/N paid seven gold Galleons for her wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.
"Let's get your uniform, yes?" said Mrs. Grace.
Y/N wasn't listening; she was marvelling at her very own wand, which felt like the rightest thing in the world. She examined it closely – it was dark brown and had ivy vines etched into its flat sides. In the middle of the wand were rune-like symbols written in silver, and Y/N read 'Protect and Survive', as if being able to decipher symbols was second-nature to her. Sure, Y/N used to study different languages, but that had only narrowed down to French, Spanish, and, for some odd reason, Russian. Runes, on the other hand, were nothing Y/N's ever seen before.
She didn't have the chance to ask Mr. or Mrs. Grace about it as the reached a shop called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Mrs. Grace instructed Mr. Grace to get Y/N a pet (she asked for a cat, though she wished she could have a dog) before entering the shop with Y/N.
"Narcissa Malfoy!" exclaimed Mrs. Grace upon entering. A beautiful witch turned around and smiled once she saw Mrs. Grace. She was tall, slim, and very pale, and had bright blue eyes and long blonde hair. She was very pretty, and had the sophisticated, but not uptight, eloquence like Mrs. Grace had.
"Monica!" said Mrs. Malfoy, flashing a charming smile. "So nice to see you again!"
They embraced and Mrs. Grace introduced Y/N. Mrs. Malfoy was nice and polite – she also had an airiness of richness and superiority, but other than that, she regarded them with kindness.
"It was nice to see you again!" said Mrs. Grace as she and Y/N made way for Madam Malkin.
"Who was that?" asked Y/N once they were out of hearing-range.
"An old-friend of mine," said Mrs. Grace, waving it off. "Shall we get your robes, then?"
Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. She seemingly recognized Mrs. Grace and ushered them to the back of the shop, where a girl with a pale, pug-like face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up her long black robes. She looked familiar to Y/N, but didn't think much of it when Madam Malkin stood Y/N on a stool next to her, slipped a long robe over her head, and began to pin it to the right length. Mrs. Grace sat in the spare seat next to another squashy-faced woman, who smacked her gum and watched the second witch pin up the pug-faced girls' robes.
"Hello," said the girl next to Y/N, "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes," said Y/N, nicely.
"That's my mother right there –" the girl nodded toward her mother, who had taken it upon herself to talk to Mrs. Grace, "– and father's probably out with some whore. Of course, mother doesn't know, so I'll probably just blackmail father for money. My future mother-in-law, Mrs. Malfoy, is somewhere in the shop," she smirked, "I'm gonna marry her son, Draco Malfoy. Anyway, where are your parents?"
A pit in Y/N's stomach discomforted her. She hated lying, but she disliked this girl very much, so she didn't mind lying to her as much.
"My mummy's right there, talking to your mummy," said Y/N in a smooth voice. "And my daddy's out buying me a pet."
The girl hummed. "Ew, you still call your parents those babyish pet names? Blah. Anyway, I would feel sorry for you if he got you a toad. Toads are for the poor, and I surely won't be friends with a poor person. But you know who I really wouldn't want to be friends with?"
Y/N really disliked this girl now. She was stuck-up and snobby, and based her friendships on wealth. That was shallow, and Y/N didn't like shallow people.
"Who?" said Y/N, almost snapping at the girl.
"Mudbloods!" exclaimed the girl. "Ugh, they're so gross. And they're –"
"I think you're shallow," Y/N snarled.
"What?" said the girl, raising a brow.
"You're shallower than a kiddie pool and I really don't think we can be friends, sorry," said Y/N, curling her lip. She didn't feel sorry at all, to be honest.
"I bet you're a Mudblood, aren't you?" said the girl accusingly. "You're one of those jumped-up Muggle-borns, aren't you?"
"I may be but at least I'm not a pug-faced bitch," Y/N said coldly. The curse felt foreign on her tongue, and Y/N couldn't help but feel dirty. But heck did it feel good to get that off her chest. "No wonder your father –"
"Surprise!" exclaimed Mr. Grace, coming through the curtains. A fluffy puppy hung in his arms, panting as he bounced it. "His name is Goldfish."
"Daddy!" said Y/N. Mr. Grace gave her a confused look and she nodded over to the still-angry girl standing next to her. His eyebrows shot up. "I thought we could only have an owl or a cat or a toad? And why'd you name him Goldfish?"
"I had a dog when I went to Hogwarts, they surely have to allow them now," he said. "And isn't he so adorable? He's just the cutest wittle puppy –"
"Get that thing out of here," growled the girl angrily. "I'm allergic to dogs."
"Ironic, seeing as you look like one," spat Y/N. "Specifically a pug."
The girl sneered at Y/N and before she could do anything, the witch who was tending to her finished up. She left with her mother, nose in the air, and glared at Y/N one last time before disappearing.
"I don't like her mother," said Mrs. Grace angrily. She crossed her arms.
"I don't like her daughter," said Y/N, careful not to move as Madam Malkin worked. "She called me a Mudblood, and I know it means something bad, I just don't know what."
The room gasped.
Mr. Grace spoke up, setting Goldfish in his wife's lap. "That term is a derogatory term for. . . Muggle-borns. It implies that you have dirty-blood, or, like the term states, muddy blood. It is extremely offensive and I won't allow you to take it to heart."
He now stood in front of Y/N, arms crossed and looking furious. Y/N smiled gratefully, a little confused, and he nodded as if his life's work was done and pulled her into an awkward side-hug once Madam Malkin was finished. Something about him made Y/N trust him - even if he was somewhat of a stranger.
"I believe this is yours," said Mrs. Grace, dropping Goldfish into Y/N's arms. Y/N smiled down at the puppy as he licked her face, wiping off leftover remnants of breakfast.
They paid and left and entered the shop next door - Scribbulus Writing Implements. Mr. and Mrs. Grace followed Y/N around as she browsed, pulling out her list with one arm (holding Goldfish in the other) and finding loads of parchment, quills, and ink. Mr. Grace held Y/N's parcels and Mrs. Grace ended up paying – with Y/N's money, of course – seeing as Y/N had her hands full. It would've been more convenient, though, if Y/N could use regular Muggle stationery, but Mr. Grace told her she had to fit the aesthetic of Hogwarts.
Down the street, they bought Y/N's 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. Y/N found her school books first before finding other, unrequired books like The Book of Charms by Samuel Journeux, Curses and Counter-curses by Professor Vindictus Viridian, Quidditch Through the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp, and the Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk – the same author of one of her textbooks for school. Of course, she bought many more books, but she felt bad because Mr. Grace had to carry them all.
"Simple fix," heaved Mr. Grace once Y/N had voiced her concerns. He put the parcels on the register and pointed his wand at it, saying, "Reducio!"
The parcels shrunk to pocket-size figure and Y/N's eyes widened. Mr. and Mrs. Grace chuckled at her heightenedly concerned face and Mrs. Grace said,
"It's a Shrinking Charm. Once we finish up we'll put it back to it's normal size."
Y/N hummed in relief and followed Mr. and Mrs. Grace out the store. They bought a standard-size two pewter cauldron and a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope for astronomy. Then they visited the Apothecary, which looked fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell. Y/N, however, chose to stay outside with Goldfish while Mr. and Mrs. Grace went inside.
A familiar face passed Y/N. She realized it was Mrs. Malfoy, who had backtracked and smiled at Y/N.
"Hullo," she said, smiling. "Narcissa –"
"Malfoy," said Y/N, finishing her sentence. "Madam Malkin's."
Mrs. Malfoy nodded. "What are you doing out here, alone with this cute puppy?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Grace are inside, buying me a supply of potion ingredients," said Y/N. "It smelt horribly inside so I'm waiting out here with Goldfish."
"Goldfish?" said Mrs. Malfoy, startled.
Y/N laughed. "Yeah, Mr. Grace named him."
Mrs. Malfoy hummed and checked her diamond-encrusted watch. "Well, I ought to be going. It was nice meeting you, Miss Granger."
"Likewise," said Y/N politely, smiling.
Mrs. Malfoy headed off just as Mr. and Mrs. Grace came out of the shop, ready to hurl.
"I think we should go find your sister," said Mrs. Grace, a hand over her mouth. She swallowed deeply. "Okay, let's go."
Mr. Grace still looked ready to vomit but he shook it off, shrinking Y/N's ingredients and smelling the fresh air. He weakly smiled as Goldfish started licking his cheek, and took Y/N's outstretched arm.
They found Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Everyone but Professor McGonagall enjoyed an ice cream, and Mr. and Mrs. Grace took Y/N inside to buy her favorite ice cream. They joined everybody outside and ate slowly; Y/N looked around, heart light as she witnessed the magic all around her. Goldfish stole the rest of her cone as she finished her ice cream and Y/N finally tuned back into the conversation:
"Y/N and Hermione's tickets for Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall, handing Mr. and Mrs. Granger two envelopes. "The first of September, King's Cross – it's all on the tickets. Run straight through the barrier dividing platforms nine and ten and you'll find Platform 9 3⁄4."
Y/N and Hermione exchanged confused looks. How they were going to do that they didn't know, but they would figure something out.
They always did.