Diagon Alley Grand Fair and Ollivander's Obsession!

Things happened too fast but with extraordinary management after the meeting on Christmas Eve.

The ministry of magic appointed Mr. Hillam as the Head Organizer of the supposed New Year Fair by the 25th evening.

The manager of Flourish and Blotts was needed to contact the various shops and enterprises within Diagon Alley to prepare a list of those who were willing to participate in the fair.

The response was greater and swifter than everyone's expectations.

The entire Diagon Alley seemed to have woken up like an ancient slumbering dragon on the 26th morning.

The various owners and managers could be seen roaming around in their shops with a red glint in their eyes. This opportunity was too great to not deal with their dying inventories and lazy business.

By the morning of the 27th, the Daily Prophet had already announced it to the entire Britain.

Diagon Alley Grand Fair!!!

Such was the name they had given to it.

It bombastically listed the bumper discounts all the shops would give on their commodities and products during three days, lasting from 31st December to 2nd January.

As the Christmas Holidays ended by the 1st week's end, these 3 days were best suited to provide a breather to the children and parents.

Not to mention, the beginning of the fair was an overnight event.

All participating shops, events, and restaurants would remain open on New Year's Eve till 1 am.

However, it was still the Chess Tournament that remained the star of the show.

Malfoys' name had been mentioned nowhere upon Darcie's request to the minister.

So the generosity of Mr. Hillam stuck out like a brilliant star in the face of the rewards.

There were only two groups, with it all being nothing but a trial in the eyes of the ministry.

One group was for Under 11 and the other was for Under 17.

The registration fee was only a few sickles.

To restrict the number of players, the ministry would make the players go through an elimination round.

It would take place from the morning to the afternoon of the first day.

All players would be required to solve a set of chess problems, and the time taken by them to solve the problem would be the deciding factor.

In the end, only the top 20 players would enter the next round.

The chosen chess format was Round Robin. In this, every player would play with every other player in the tournament. A win would award 1 point, a loss 0, and a draw would award half point.

The player with the highest count, in the end, would be the winner, snatching first place. It was simple and the easiest to follow.

For the U-11 section, the winner at 1st place would get 100 galleons and a discount of 50% on all books of the School's curriculum for the first 3 years, when applicable in the future.

The 2nd place would get 75 galleons and a discount of 33%, while the 3rd place would get 50 galleons and a discount of 10%.

It was clear that the discount on the books was the prime heart-grabbing reward of the tournament.

For the U-17 section, there were similar money rewards, but in their cases, the winners would get their next year's books for free.

To top it off, the ministry had even set up a board to grant ratings to the Chess players based on their performance.

They were calling it the Alberta Toothill Young Wizard Chess Tournament in memory of a famous English medieval witch and duelist who, defying all odds, had won the All-England Wizarding Dueling Competition of 1430.

The magical community seemed to have erupted like a volcano from this sudden news.

It just happened too fast, and yet all became as excited about it as they would have anytime else.

Even in the magical world, new things didn't happen as frequently as one had imagined; especially those that allowed one to earn something extra.

Only a few wizarding families were as rich as the Malfoys or came closer. The rest were still ordinary working wizards.

Who would let go of such a chance to gain fame, wealth, and experience in one go?

And the Grand Fair was already there to make up for the fun part.

However, the greatest amount of elation, with a touch of nervousness, remained within the heart of Diagon Alley.

The clamor was just too huge, and on a much grander scale, for it to be ignored.

*

*

Monday, 29th December 1986

Flourish and Blotts

In the chilly blues of winter evening, a little girl and an old man were seated opposite each other with a table between them.

On the table, pieces of magical chess set were standing tall in formations, the white looking in an advantageous position at a glance.

Darcie had drawn black pieces.

If it was any other day, then by this time she would have returned to the Brews and Stews on the orders of Madam Villanelle. If it was any other evening, the alley outside the main entrance would have been conquered by cold and fog, the crowd vanishing every moment till night.

Not today.

When Darcie turned her face to look out through the tall windows, the only things she could see were people.

Beyond the alley, the hubbub within the restaurant was greater than ever.

Brews and Stews was a high-end hotel, to say the least. The moment Daily Prophet published further details about the Grand Fair in the evening issue on 27th, the owls had brought letter after letter booking every single room.

The smile on Ms. Crispe's face had yet to vanish, Darcie recalled.

Both Mr. Hillam and Madam Villanelle were out there, managing the preparations of the fair, and acting as the go-betweens between the various shops, who had never contacted each other despite having their office in the same alley.

Today, the shop belonged to Darcie, the Page of the bookshop.

To accompany her, Mr. Ollivander arrived after both adults' departure.

Since his first visit to the bookshop, the old wandmaker had been coming often to have a round of chess with Darcie in the evenings.

They talked little, but both found each other's company more soothing than the ordinary talks full of nonsensical topics.

"You will lose at this rate, young lady," Mr. Ollivander commented, eying the chessboard. "Something seems off about you lately, I am afraid."

Garrick Ollivander had a sick fascination related to the powerful wizards.

And this fascination crossed all moral boundaries when it came to match a wand with those wizards.

It was no hidden fact that he treasured Darcie's very existence. Her published paper, their first meeting over tea, her magical prowess, and then their subsequent shared remarks had drowned the old man in profound dreams.

The only thing that restricted the old wandmaker was Darcie's persistent request for him to teach her Wandlore.

This was her obsession, but the old man had an obsession of his own, no matter how impossible it looked at a glance.

Ollivanders' Wandlore have remained in the family for generations, he would say every time Darcie mentioned it. Perhaps it would be best for it to die with him.

However, the old man's face betrayed him all those times, showing a pained and saddened expression.

Couple it with Ollivander's profound intelligence, and it wasn't a thing to wonder that he showed an interest in Darcie's current listlessness.

For someone like her to let her mind wander during a game of chess was truly an eye-catching thing.

It grabbed Mr. Ollivander's attention the moment he saw it.

Darcie took a deep breath and made her move, her legs swaying like pendulums under her chair.

"There's this topic I learned of recently, Mr. Ollivander," she said, eying her black pieces. "And I am not making any headway related to it."

"Oh!" the old wandmaker raised an eyebrow. A topic that could make a young genius like Darcie so lost seemed to have piqued his interest more than it should have ordinarily. "Now that I think about it, you did mention an interest in linguistics, runology, and the philosophy of languages. Is this related to that?"

Darcie's face was as calm as ice, her poisonous green-colored eyes brimming with a child's innocence and a scholar's hunger.

She nodded.

"Haha!" the old man scratched his chin, chuckled, and picked up his remaining bishop to make a move. "Well, honor me with your doubt, then. Let us hear what is this great mystery that troubles you so?"

Darcie opened her mouth, and words came roaring out like a clap of thunder.

"Ancient Magical Script."

The bishop fell out of Garrick Ollivander's grip, destroying the beauty of the chessboard to the most hideous degree.

***************

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