Chapter 13. Diagon Alley

August 31, 1938.

Wednesday

I spent the rest of the evening anxiously pacing my room. There were too many thoughts running through my head, and I tried to organize them. Dumbledore was obviously an important professor. I was well aware that it was worth listening to him and complying with his demands in order to hold on to a promising new position.

The thought that the school was probably much better than here made me perk up. Then a smile flashed across my face, I got excited. The fact that we were wizards meant an irrevocable fate: I would be powerful, and she would be there for me. I would become as strong as Dumbledore! No. Even stronger than him!

I spent the evening thinking like that, impatiently awaiting that sweet tomorrow. Tomorrow was the day Irene and I would go to the Leaky Cauldron, and from there we would go to the Diagon Alley, where we would buy whatever we needed. The day after tomorrow we will leave this place, and it will all be over. Eleven cursed years will be over.

After exhausting myself by wondering what would happen next, I collapsed exhausted on the bed, but my mind kept conjuring up images of anticipation of what was to come. In the end, I fell into a deep sleep, surrendering to fatigue.

I did not want to open my eyes at all, but feeling the sun's rays tickling my sunken cheeks, I involuntarily smiled. Still asleep, I muttered hoarsely under my breath, "It's a beautiful day."

"Yes," the familiar voice snapped me out of the state between dream and reality.

Well, of course! The sun was physically incapable of shining a single beam into my room because of the damn wall. But this person is capable of walking as through walls at any time of the day and treading on my territory with her foxy paws.

I reluctantly opened my eyes and saw the familiar face hovering above me. Irene was sitting on the edge of the bed, bent over. How had she not already fallen to the floor? The hair wasn't braided, and the tar curls tickled my cheekbones, sending shivers down my body.

Or was it the scent of black rose and jasmine? Something definitely tart.

"I thought it was the sun," I wheezed indifferently in my still-dormant voice, "and it's just you."

A small, pale finger poked me through the blanket and into my side – it hurt. I groaned, mentally spitting out, 'I'm going to pull your hair, you fool!'

"I haven't slept in a long time," Irene chirped. If you put her in a cage, she could pass for a bird. More like a magpie, though. "I couldn't wait for you to wake up, so I came."

"To stab me with your finger?" I indifferently voiced what I believed, and grabbed her thin forefinger. "I'll disappoint you, Irene, but you didn't succeed." I moved back against the wall, giving way.

"What do you think will happen next?" Irene immediately lay down next to me and asked the question, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"I don't know." I ran a hand through her thick locks of hair. "Though... I know. Our plans would begin to materialize."

A smile touched her face, and it turned into a laugh.

"Quiet," I hissed, covering her mouth with my palm. Irene twitched like she was having a fit.

"I'm ticklish, Tom," she mumbled faintly, slobbering on my palm.

The early morning was tangled in the shadow of her lashes. Her eyes burned with emeralds. Some hitherto unknown feeling stirred within me that made me feel uncomfortable. It must have been the drool. I hurriedly removed my hands from the frail figure stretched beside me and wiped my palm on the blanket.

"Breakfast in forty minutes," I spoke sternly, giving orders. "Get yourself cleaned up. Then we'll go to Mrs. Cole, and then we'll head for the Diagon Alley."

Irene nodded obediently. She stared at me for a fraction of a second before she ran her little fingers through my hair and mussed it defiantly.

"I like your curls," she smiled. Then she jumped off the bed and ran for the exit.

I made an effort to get out of bed to make sure that Irene was barefoot again. I rolled my eyes involuntarily. The next second there was the muffled stomping of small feet in the hallway.

After breakfast in the common dining room, we went at once to Mrs. Cole's office, who seemed very cheerful. The reason for her incredible joy must have been that she was counting the hours until our departure. Incidentally, she could not accuse me of any part in hanging the rabbit. The fact that Miss Blair had seen my confrontation with Stubbs that ill-fated evening did not explain how I could have climbed to the ceiling of the mop closet and hung the animal from the rafters. But to be fair, no one would have believed the truth, and I was perfectly honest in saying that the rabbit had hanged itself. Irene never once mentioned that situation. Why couldn't everyone around me be as smart as she was and keep their mouths shut? I think I have an explanation: they're only Muggles – the second-rate.

"I was warned by Dumbledore that you would be going into town today to buy all the textbooks you need." Look at that! She's going to burst with joy! "He also informed me that you will both be leaving for your school tomorrow," Mrs. Cole gave us an affectionate look with her head bowed sideways at the last phrase, anticipating the peaceful everyday life of Wool's orphanage.

"Yes, Mrs. Cole, but I have a favor to ask of you," I had never tried so politely before. "The thing is, Irene never remembered her last name, but she'll need it for any paperwork. What can we do about it?"

Mrs. Cole raised her eyebrows in surprise, but was in no hurry to answer.

"Well, Tom, I confess I thought about it yesterday. What would Irene say?"

Well, why ask her when I've already said everything?

"I didn't remember the last name," she admitted somewhat sadly, and shrugged her shoulders languidly.

"In any case, I filed a missing children's inquiry with the police back at the beginning of summer... There was still no answer. As for the relatives: you still don't remember anyone?"

"No, ma'am," I smiled feignedly, but so truthfully, as if I were being asked. For someone would come and take her away when things were beginning to get better? Just be quiet, you damned woman!

Mrs. Cole shot me a disgruntled look.

"I suppose Irene can answer for herself, Tom. Then I'll put in another request as a matter of urgency."

"That won't be necessary."

"Tom, it's a rule."

There was a feeling of intense irritation and rejection of the situation within me. Fucking laws! Fucking muggles! I nodded feignedly. Frankly, the only thing that kept me from waving my hand, which led to the Cole's unfortunate fall out of the window, was obviously the fact that she was willing to do anything to make me disappear from the orphanage, along with the unsociable girl who was always crawling on all fours in the darkest corners and wasting water every other day to wash her socks and dresses. Well, it was mutual.

With a deep sigh, Mrs. Cole looked thoughtfully first at me and then at Irene, obviously making some decision.

"Actually, I have a right to give unnamed children a last name," she finally voiced the thought that had been wandering in her head.

"That's fine!" I smiled politely and mechanically held up my hands.

You could have done it earlier, you idiot. Even I had figured it out, and that was the reason I'd dragged myself into that disgusting office.

"What if my parents come for me?" Irene blurted out.

And I felt my heart go right through my feet.

Again. There she goes again, clinging to something that isn't there! It's time to admit that they could have come for her a long time ago, just like they did for me. Not once in all these eleven years has a relative shown up on the doorstep of this shitty place! It was all because of my mother... She couldn't have been a wizard, she wouldn't have left me in that Muggle orphanage if she'd been like me! That's probably why my father didn't come... He thinks I'm a pathetic Muggle who can do nothing but pick his nose and sandbox and shoot a slingshot.

I grasped the maiden's thin wrist, squeezing it tightly. Immediately I felt Irene freeze, taking a deep breath.

"If they come, I will, of course, report you. After all, your name is known to all," Mrs. Cole smiled. I read in her eyes exactly the same thoughts that were going through my head: They would have come for her a long time ago. Apparently, in all the years she'd worked in this place, she'd kept the false hope alive in the children many times that they would come for them someday. That's so... Stupid.

"Okay. How will you sign me up?" Irene asked quietly.

I let go of my palm, glancing at the thin, bruised wrist. Irene didn't give a gasp of pain or even try to wrench her hand from mine, but it was so obvious that I hadn't calculated my strength.

"There are many options," Mrs. Cole smiled. "Irene Cole, at least!" Her friendly, sincere laugh had never sounded so vile before.

That's the last thing I need! Then I'll throw Irene off the moving train myself!

"Write it down, like Riddle," I said in a commanding tone, and I turned a hundred and eighty degrees and walked away. I didn't have the energy to be here anymore.

I don't know how the dialogue between Irene and Mrs. Cole turned out, but the former caught up with me rather quickly in the corridor. By lunchtime, which was an incredibly slow time, we were on our way to London. The walk to the bridge and back clearly did us good, for the road did not wear us out one bit. Irene unfolded the scroll that Dumbledore had left.

"We can get to the Diagon Alley through the wall in the archway, but first... There's a pub around here somewhere.

"Yes, the Leaky Cauldron... I think that's it." Irene nodded toward the inconspicuous building.

Between a large bookstore and a building there was a nondescript pub with a sign. It was as if all the people around didn't notice it. The surprised look in the green eyes met mine. I couldn't stand the lingering frenzy, so I grabbed Irene's hand and hurried over there. For once she could keep up with me, and at times she even tried to outrun me. So glad she was!

The pub was very dingy and shabby, but obviously popular. As soon as we were inside, Irene gave a silent gasp. I, on the other hand, remained more calm, at least outwardly. The man behind the bar turned to us, "Other young wizards!"

"Sir!" I smiled cheerfully, and Irene did the same. "You are, I presume, Tom. We need to get to the Diagon Alley. How can we do that?"

"You've come to the right place!" The man winked. "The easiest way is through the back of the bar." He nodded toward the other door. "Count the bricks over the dustbin, three up and two to the side, and then just knock."

"Thank you, sir!" the answer in unison.

When we stepped through the door, we found a dead end of brick walls. Immediately the main question arose, on which all life seemed to depend: how to reach the coveted brick in the wall? But the answer came in the familiar voice behind me, "I'd forgotten you were without parents... You have to touch it with your wand, and you obviously don't have one yet."

With these words, the bartender Tom touched three times with his wand to the right part of the wall. I eagerly watched the process. I can't wait to get my own! The next moment, all the bricks began to magically move aside to form an arch, and a cobblestone road appeared in front of us.

"Good luck, and I have work to do," he smiled at me with a friendly pat on the shoulder and disappeared behind a rickety old door.

It was as if we were on the threshold of a new world. Of course, for that wizard everything was somewhat ordinary, but for us... It made our hearts beat faster. I could feel it physically! Irene clutched excitedly at the sleeve of my jacket. I nodded encouragingly, not showing my true emotions.

"Let's go," I smiled.

"Let's go," the happy voice echoed.

The Diagon Alley had consumed my head. Eyes ran up. Every inch of it was extraordinary... Magical! There were windows and people walking around dressed differently than we were. There were even owls and toads! We also saw brooms that looked nothing like the ones in our orphanage. My excitement was boundless. Finally, everything was the way it should be. Everything was in its proper place.

"What shall we begin with?"

I looked into Irene's pale face, and she excitedly threw back her braids and, taking a deep breath, reported, "With the books!"

Sparks flashed in the fox's eyes. I couldn't take away her love of books, for even in our little arsenal there was one that adorned my desk in the room.

It wasn't hard to find the bookstore, and a kind lady came up to us and asked if we were lost. When she found out we were from an orphanage, she pointed out with a sad smile where we should go. The books had been bought second-hand, in order to save the galleons allotted to us. Even money has its own special name in this world! Cauldrons, telescopes, crystal vials and copper scales were next in line, but buying school uniforms took longer. In all this abundance of stores, it didn't take long to find the right one. The list said there had to be a winter robe, too. That was the stumbling block between Irene and me.

"Why don't we buy you a winter one, and me one closer to the case?" counting the galleons, Irene said.

Did she concede to her detriment? I gave her a hard look.

"No. It's easier to buy a non-new one."

"Yes."

"I said no, don't argue."

"I'm not arguing, I just want to save some money. I think it's wise to keep some money for emergencies... And we'll get you a nice, new robe."

Stubborn girl. I wasn't ready to spoil the big day with petty squabbles, so I just nodded indifferently.

When we left the store with large bundles of robes, we went in search of Ollivanders, because, as one wizard had said, it sold the best wands in the world. Fortunately, it wasn't hard to find. My heart fluttered in excitement: I was about to hold my own wand! I was only a few feet from the entrance when Irene stopped abruptly.

"What is it?" I questioned, for no logical explanation for what was going on had emerged in my mind. We were only a few steps from the wand shop, and she suddenly froze! As I followed her gaze, I realized that she was looking somewhere in the crowd, intently, without blinking. I waved my palm desperately in front of her face, but she didn't react. What the hell!

"I know him," Irene muttered under her breath and dashed off in the opposite direction of the alley.

"Who?" I threw the question back.

Where do you think you're going again, you silly girl? I sighed grudgingly and followed her. I would catch up with her and drag her by the hair to the store.

At such moments it seemed that her movements became a bit zigzag-like – a surprising resemblance to a shark. I had once read in a book about the way their tails moved, not at all like those of a whale or a dolphin.

The narrow street was crowded with wizards. I bumped into some man's arm, apologizing politely as I made my way through the crowd of moving bodies, but that moment was enough to lose Irene from sight. I looked around, noting that the only way forward was to the crooked, darkened alley where she'd probably gone. My instincts sharpened: hearing, smelling, seeing. It wasn't safe here. There were shops all around, but they looked grim, even frightening. There were a few wizards standing outside a small shop with large glass doors, and a sign on the brick wall that read 'Borgin & Burkes'. They looked suspicious and unkempt, and one of them was smoking a cigar, which made the air around them unpleasantly stinky.

Where was she? Damn it. I had to walk to the back of the alley, where I saw a cracked dark green sign that read 'E.L.M and Wizards Undertakers & Embalmers'. An oppressive feeling of sickness took hold of my whole body. I suddenly imagined myself being embalmed, and could hardly stop myself from clutching at my stomach. The next thing I saw was 'Markus Scarr's Indelible Tattoos'. Holy crap! They even do tattoos here!

My neck was all froze because I kept looking up, reading the unusual signs. Yeah, you don't see that in the Muggle world! Soon I stumbled up the steep staircase that led to the White Wyvern pub, where Irene was sitting on the steps. I moved off, hastily climbing up.

"Irene! What on earth are you doing?" I yanked on her arm.

She flinched, and her eyes widened. Her voice and all her movements were distracted, as if she'd been knocked on the head.

"What?"

"Who did you go after?"

"It seemed to me that..." She looked around confusedly. "Where am I?"

"What do you mean, where am I? You were the one who Ran away for no reason. I had to come looking for you!"

Irene was strange, inattentive. Even her eyes were unfocused, which wasn't her usual thing.

"We were going for wands." She got up from the steps.

I nodded, confirming her words, and held her hand tightly in case she decided to get lost again. By the time we reached Ollivander's shop, she'd finally come to her senses. No wonder she was lost at the beginning of summer...

When a neat young man saw us at the entrance, he said hello. It turned out to be the owner of the store. Next came the amazing process of measuring the length of our arms, wrists, and forearms. Irene and I stood at the counter, mesmerized. She stared without blinking and even opened her mouth a little, and at one point I thought she wasn't breathing at all. At last Mr. Ollivander offered me a white, beautiful wand that fit in the palm of my hand! It was 13½" long, crafted from yew, and affixed with a phoenix feather core. I immediately remembered how Irene was always talking about the various mythical creatures that had just turned out to actually exist all along.

"Wave your wand, Tom," Ollivander said.

I did it, and a wave of sensation rippled through my body that was unfamiliar but surprisingly pleasant. The tightly braided hair unraveled in an instant, and dark curls flowed over her shoulders. Irene was not enraged, but merely opened her mouth silently, like a fish that had just been thrown ashore.

At last! A sense of triumph filled every cell of my body. My magic wand!

"It's beautiful," Irene whispered, fascinated, ignoring the ruined hair.

"Surprisingly," Ollivander said thoughtfully, "is this the first time you've ever held a wand in your hands?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you already have a little spell! You are undoubtedly talented, young man. Now it's your turn, miss!" Ollivander smiled. "The wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around."

Irene nodded, tossing her hair back, but a naughty curl was in her eyes, causing her to fidgetily blow on it. While Ollivander measured the length of her frail arms, I stared at her hair. She was standing a meter away from me, but the tight braids no longer held back the tart scent. I hadn't noticed before that hair could smell so strong. Or rather, I hadn't heard anyone's scent at all. 'How beautiful!' I thought, and my loving gaze shifted to the wand. Not only is it beautiful, it's also comfortable to hold!

"Let's try this one..."

Ollivander held the dark brown, slightly curved wand up to Irene. She looked at me worriedly, and then, taking a deep breath, she took it carefully. Swing! The boxes with that important attribute for every wizard on the shelf behind me rattled down, and one flew straight to the back of my head.

"Ow!" I exclaimed.

Irene frightenedly dropped her wand on the table.

"Oh, I guess We have to try that..." Ollivander muttered to himself and disappeared behind the counter.

Well, now there was a twenty percent greater chance of death by negligence from Irene. If she tried to cut me with her index finger before, now she'll have a real magic wand, and that girl will automatically become a killing machine and become a very dangerous thing around me.

"So," Ollivander chanted, and offered another box.

It was just what she needed. As soon as Irene took the wand in her hand, the space around her was filled with warm light and a sea-like breeze. The wand was made of black walnut wood with a core of dragon vein. Absolutely black.

We left the store satisfied and happy.

"Such a contrast," I smiled.

"The wands are like yin and yang!"

"What is yin and yang?" I've really heard those words for the first time.

"It's about opposites complementing each other."

"So there can't be black without white and vice versa?" Her words made sense.

"Yes. I guess it's about balance and harmony of opposites. I found that when I met you here. If I were alone in this orphanage, then..."

"Everyone would have been smothered in bags on the first day."

"And if you had been alone, you would have been standing on the porch because of the arson that would have burned the whole block down."

We laughed out loud. I didn't know if she had been the trigger for everything that had happened at the orphanage, or if she was the opposite, holding back my impulses. It's a complicated question, and I didn't want to speculate about it at all at that moment.

As I left the Diagon Alley, I knew one thing: we were on the threshold of an entirely new world, and there was no place for the past life.