Chapter 3 - Diagon Alley

Written by Nemesis

The Leaky Cauldron was located in the more shell-shocked area of London, where they were still having air raids on occasion. Tom stared around the ruins of various buildings, amazed at how the block resembled a mouth with missing teeth. Some structures would be entirely intact, while one right beside it would be completely demolished. The few people out on the street kept glancing nervously at the sky, and though it was quite a warm day, Tom shivered.

"Well, this is it," Hannah said simply. "This is the Leaky Cauldron. Very famous place." She indicated the only building on the street that looked at all warm or inviting. Tom followed Hannah into it, casting a grim eye around the street before entering. The Leaky Cauldron was a small and somewhat dingy little inn, but it was packed with witches and wizards. A pre-teenaged witch in a flowered, pointed hat began whispering excitedly to her friend as she spotted Tom, and the two of them stared at him gleefully.

"Hannah!" the bartender grinned. He was in his thirties, and he had very bad teeth, which made Tom shudder with obsessive-compulsive aversion. "Here for a butterbeer?"

Hannah shook her head. "I'm going out back, George. Taking Tom to do his Hogwarts shopping." Hannah's hand tightened on Tom's shoulder. George scrutinized Tom through his pince-nez spectacles.

"So this is Tom Riddle," he remarked approvingly. "I can see why you go on about him so, Hannah. He looks like a nice kid." George looked back at Tom, who dropped his gaze sharply, his shyness already beginning to creep up on him. "You must be the tallest one in your class," George chuckled. "Play Quidditch, Tommy?"

Tom flinched. He hated being called Tommy, probably because one of Gregory Hamill's favorite insults was "Tommy Salami." "No," Tom answered, still staring at his ancient shoelaces.

"Better get going, then," Hannah exclaimed. "Come along, Tom, there's a lad." She marched him out the back door of the inn. Tom heard the young witches behind him whisper and giggle, and he flushed with embarrassment.

The back lot of the Leaky Cauldron was blocked all around by an old brick wall. Hannah took out her wand and tapped one of the bricks. Tom gave out a cry of shock as the wall dissolved, revealing an arched doorway. "Follow me," Hannah commanded, not unkindly. Tom's mind was going a mile a minute. They had walked out into a long street bathed in sunlight. The lane seemed to have a golden glow around it, and the sight of it made Tom want to run along and look in every shop.

After a brief visit to Gringotts, the wizard bank, Tom removed his school list from his pocket.

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's hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (any color acceptable, metal fastenings)
5. One robe sash (any color acceptable)
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
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
A History of the Dark Arts by Viktor Berger
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass crystal phials
1 set brass scales
1 telescope
2 quills (eagle feather or similar)
10 rolls of parchment (minimum)
Students may also bring an owl, cat, toad, or any other small animal. Students are reminded, however, that bats, tarantulas, and flesh-eating slugs are not allowed.

PARENTS SHOULD REMEMBER THAT FIRST-YEAR STUDENTS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

"I'll take care of the books for you, Tom," Hannah said, taking the list. "You can go into Madam Malkin's Robe Shop and buy your school uniform. This should be enough to cover the charges." She pressed several golden coins into Tom's hand and disappeared into a bookshop called Flourish and Blott's. Tom headed into the shop directly adjacent to it, butterflies fluttering around his stomach. He hated talking to adults, they made him nervous.

A tiny bell rang somewhere when Tom entered the shop. Madam Malkin, a very young woman with flyaway brown hair, turned around to look at him. "Hello, my dear," she breezed, gliding across the room. "Are you here for your Hogwarts shopping?" Tom nodded, and Madam Malkin smiled at him. She led Tom into a back room, where two other children were being fitted. One was a pasty boy with a pointed face and dark brown hair, and the other was a girl with white-gold hair and an extremely attractive visage.

"My, you've long arms and legs!" Madam Malkin informed Tom after measuring him. "Don't worry, though, we'll fit you properly." She bustled off to find some black robes. The two strange children turned to him.

"Hogwarts?" asked the brown-haired boy.

"Yes. I'm starting this year."

"So am I," the boy replied. His voice had a bored, conceited drawl to it, which Tom disliked immensely. "The name's Malfoy. Francis Malfoy." He waved an uninterested hand in the direction of the blonde girl, who promptly tossed her hair haughtily. "That's Ambika Dawes," he informed Tom. "She's starting this year, too."

"What is your name?" Ambika queried, her proud blue eyes roving from Tom's dingy shoes up to his nervous face. She was practically guffawing her disapproval.

"Tom Riddle." Tom had the sudden urge to slap Ambika silly to stop her from sniggering at him.

"I don't believe I've heard of your family," Francis drawled. "You aren't a Muggle-born, are you?" he added, wrinkling his nose with distaste.

Tom glared right back into Francis's cold, grey eyes. "I am half-blooded," he said softly. He was finding it harder and harder not to dislike this boy.

"Oh, really?" Francis's nose remained slightly scrunched. "Well, I'm pure-blooded, and Ambika is too, if you can count a veela mother as being a witch." Tom whirled on Ambika, who was smiling smugly. Hannah had once explained to him that veela were beautiful but unpleasant creatures, originating in Bulgaria and possessing a strange power over humans, particularly males. Tom eyed Ambika with curiosity, but he did not feel at all bewitched. Perhaps half-veela were not as strong, he mused.

Madam Malkin turned up a few seconds later with a set of robes. Tom tried them on, discovering quickly that they were too baggy. "That's no problem, dear," said Madam Malkin good-naturedly. She tapped the hem of the robes with her wand, and they were immediately a perfect fit. "So that's three in this size, Annamae," she told her assistant, folding up the robe. Tom selected a hat, a forest green cloak with silver fastenings and brocades, and an emerald-colored robe sash embroidered in silver threads.

"Going for Slytherin?" Ambika laughed derisively, picking out a cloak of frosty sky-blue. "They don't usually accept Mudbloods, you know." Tom pretended not to hear, concentrating on Madam Malkin, who was enchanting the fingers of his gloves so that they were long enough to accommodate his lanky hands. He paid for his purchases and hurried out of the store, laden with bags. Hannah met him outside, looking ill but happy.

"I have your books," she said, "and I bought your cauldron and phials at the Apothecary. You must have had a time in the fitting room, Tom."

Tom made a loud "tuh" and bustled past her, clutching the bags in his arms. "I'm not very easy to fit," he retorted shortly. The snobbish children in the robe shop had put him in a bad temper, and he was not particularly talkative as he and Hannah acquired his telescope, scales, quills, and parchment. He finally explained what had happened, and Hannah frowned slightly.

"I wouldn't take a Malfoy seriously," Hannah snorted. "They're bad blood through and through. Francis's grandfather is in Azkaban for spying with Grindelwald." Tom cocked his head in interest. Grindelwald was an Austrian wizard who was currently wreaking havoc in the Caucasus region. Many a great wizard had fallen because of him, and he was considered an active threat even by British witches and wizards.

"Thing is," Hannah continued, "the Malfoy family is so stuck-up that they won't even give a half-blood the time of day. A lot of wizard families hate Muggle-borns, but only a Malfoy will also turn his back on a half-blood." Tom shot a glance across the street. Francis was coming out of the Magical Menagerie with a large screech owl on his shoulder. He was flanked by his pallid-looking parents, who were doting on him fondly. Tom sneered and turned away.

Now, all that was left was Tom's wand, which Hannah insisted Tom buy on his own. "I have to do some of my own shopping at the Apothecary," she informed him when he asked for an explanation. Sighing heavily, Tom dragged himself into Ollivander's Wandshop, praying he would not meet any other unsavory children inside. Ollivander's was dusty and dimly lit inside, its walls lined with hundreds of boxes. The only furnishings were a desk and a chair, and the light was coming from an open door near the back of the room. The shopkeeper was nowhere to be seen, so Tom sat down in the rickety chair and waited. To his luck, there were no other children about.

Tom did not have to wait for very long. A man about Tom's height with greying hair and silver eyes emerged from the back room and placed a box in one of the empty shelf spaces. Tom stood up to greet him. "Are you Mr. Ollivander?" he asked.

The silver-eyed man turned around and noticed Tom for the first time. "Yes," he responded after a long silence. "Ah, you are starting at Hogwarts." He swept forward and looked into Tom's face. Mr. Ollivander's eyes narrowed suddenly, and he examined Tom more closely. "Are you Maria Salamair's son?" he inquired.

"Yes. I'm Tom Riddle." Tom stared into Mr. Ollivander's eyes. What an unusual color, more than a little mysterious. Then again, Tom thought, his own eyes were not particularly normal themselves.

Mr. Ollivander's face broke into a smile. "I sold your mother her wand," Mr. Ollivander proclaimed. "Ten-and-a-quarter inches long, cherry and unicorn hair, rather supple. An excellent wand for transfiguration, that was. Now we shall see which wand suits you the best." Mr. Ollivander removed a stack of boxes from a shelf. "Which is your wand hand, Tom Riddle?"

"My left," Tom stated immediately. Mr. Ollivander gave him an odd, calculating look, but Tom chose to ignore it.

"Let's see…" Mr. Ollivander reached into the first box. "We'll try this first. Willow and unicorn hair, nine inches, whippy. Take it in your hand--" (here Mr. Ollivander flinched as Tom lifted the wand left-handed) "--and give it a good wave." Tom obeyed, but to no avail. The wand showed no sign of life. "How about this. Holly and dragon heartstring, twelve-and-a-quarter inches, bendy. Try."

This wand was unsuccessful as well. Tom went through seven stacks of boxes over the next hour, and none of the wands worked. By the bottom of the seventh stack, Tom's shoulder was killing him from all the waving, and he felt so exasperated that he wanted to jump up and down and scream. Hannah had sidled into the shop by now, and was sitting in the chair, watching with interest.

Mr. Ollivander was hoarse from talking so much. "Troublesome customer, are we?" he grinned, coughing. "Your mother found her match in just two minutes! Oh well, your powers must be choosy. Here, try this one. Yew-wood and phoenix feather, thirteen-and-a-half inches, nice and flexible." Tom reached into the box and closed his fingers around the wand. Instantly, he felt a surge of hot energy shoot down his arm. He lifted the wand over his head and brought it down through the air.

A blast of sparks and colored light zoomed out of the wand and swirled all around the shop, bringing with it a gust of wind. Several boxes fell off their shelves, and the entire store was illuminated. Tom gasped and stared down at the wand in his hands. It felt warm under his fingers, and was still emitting tiny sparks. Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands with glee. "That'll be the one, Tom Riddle," he cried. "You have in your hands one of the most powerful wands I have ever come across. This one came from a healthy yew-tree and an exceptionally clever phoenix. We shall expect many great things from you, Tom Riddle."

"Bravo, Tom," Hannah cheered. "Better late than never, and what a finale!" Tom, his face flushed with relief, let his arm fall, still clutching the wand tightly. Hannah patted him on the shoulder and began searching her money bag. Mr. Ollivander was eyeing Tom's left hand shrewdly, but made no comment.

After they had paid for the wand, Tom voiced the question that had been lingering on his tongue for the longest time. "What's wrong with being left-handed?" he asked.

Hannah looked into his face. His brow was furrowed, and he looked deadly serious. "There's nothing wrong with it, per se," she said slowly. "It is simply very rare in the wizarding world. Some people think it is the sign of an outstandingly ambitious and powerful wizard, and I expect Mr. Ollivander was just worried that you might use your determination and talents the wrong way. But that's just superstition, Tom, I wouldn't worry about it." Tom continued to look worried, so to cheer him up, Hannah suggested that they pay a visit to the Magical Menagerie and buy his animal.

The wizarding pet store was beyond anything Tom could have imagined. All around him were animals of every shape and size, from owls to rats. Tom's eyes fell on a doe-eyed barn owl, who was clicking her beak disapprovingly at all the people. The owl hooted as Tom crossed over to meet her, and closed her eyes in relaxation when he stroked her feathers. Tom was beginning to think how much he would like an owl.

"Is that the one?" Hannah asked, watching the owl fly off its perch and land on Tom's shoulder, nibbling his hair. "Let's see. That owl's… er… one-hundred-fifty Galleons."

Tom's face fell. He did not have enough money to spend that much all in one go, and Hannah certainly did not, either. The owl hooted sadly and returned to its perch, sensing what Tom was thinking. Hannah apologized gently, but Tom was not listening. He checked the price for a rat, but even though he could afford the two Galleons, he abhorred rats.

It was at that moment that Tom noticed that at the back of the store, there was a whole wall of tanks, each containing one snake. He straightened up and turned away from the rat cages, his eyes in the direction of the snake tanks. As Tom approached them, the snakes began whispering excitedly through the tank walls. Apparently, a snake could tell when a Parselmouth was near. "Hello," he hissed, making sure the shopkeeper was off somewhere else. "How are you, my friends?"

The snakes were all leaning toward him eagerly. "Are you going to buy one of usss?" a tiny garter snake asked keenly.

"I would ssso like it if you purchased me," a boa constrictor cried. "Thisss cage is rather too sssmall for me." Before Tom knew it, all of them were raising their voices, begging for Tom to buy them. Tom spotted a silvery snake with intent eyes that seemed especially persistent. He bent over to speak to it more quietly.

"What is your name?" he asked softly.

"I have no name," the snake replied, its voice like silk. "None of the other sssnakes like me much, ssso they have never named me." Tom felt a pang of empathy.

"Do you want a friend?"

"YESSS!" The snake was nodding excitedly.

Tom stood up and beckoned the woman behind the counter. "I'd like to buy this one, if you please." The woman looked impressed and slightly worried.

"That one's an Indian king cobra," she informed him. "Sure you can handle him, my boy?"

Tom exchanged a few whispered words with the snake. "He won't hurt me," Tom finally deduced. He paid the six Galleons for the cobra and bought a wicker cage for fourteen Knuts.

"What did you get?" Hannah asked, looking away from a fluffy ginger cat. Tom opened the wicker cage and the cobra poked its head out, flicking its tongue and spreading its hood. Hannah jumped back, dropping Tom's cauldron with a loud bang. The other customers turned and stared.

"His name is Nepenthe," Tom said casually, "and he won't hurt you. Hold out your hand. See? He likes you." Nepenthe licked Hannah's hand, and she immediately withdrew it, grimacing and muttering. Tom laughed. He had a very cheerful, warm laugh, in complete contrast to his usual sadness. Hannah glared at him, still terrified, but Tom continued to laugh, even as she dragged him out of the shop.

"She'll get used to you," Tom whispered reassuringly to Nepenthe, as they left Diagon Alley and came out at the Leaky Cauldron.

"I hope ssso," Nepenthe sighed, curling up. "I hate to think that she will dissslike me."

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

With some reluctance, Hannah agreed to hide Nepenthe in her room until term began, along with Tom's school things. All through the summer, Tom would spend his recreation periods inside, reading the spellbooks over and over until he knew them all by heart.

After a while, he started doing small magic, turning bottles into toadstools and snails into teacups. One day in July, Tom even managed to make all of his school robes stand up, as though someone invisible were wearing them, and he had had them dance around the room with each other. Hannah had walked in on this operation and had been quite impressed with Tom's progress.

In August, Tom made a quick trip to Diagon Alley by himself, and he returned with his arms full of books he had bought for extra reading. Most of them involved advanced magic, including some rather unusual curses Tom was sure were not taught in school. For instance, he managed to master a curse that made the victim spew slugs for hours, and another that made leeks sprout out of one's ears. By the end of the month, he had become an adept dueler on top of everything else.

It was becoming harder and harder for Mr. Carney to find him. Mr. Carney could never catch him doing something he should not do. Gregory Hamill, too, seemed to have backed down, ever since the snake incident. Tom was left to himself, and he preferred it that way. It was easier for him to study, and however he might want to see Gregory with rabbit ears and a fluffy tail, Tom preferred the quiet.

All the while, Tom was counting down the days until September first.

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