We took the muggle underground to downtown London, and Sergius ended up being able to navigate it better than me, despite it was his first time in England and I’d taken it five times to and from King’s Cross Station previously. When we resurfaced downtown I led the way and we ducked into the unplottable wizard pub and inn, the Leaky Cauldron.
The barman Tom greeted us warmly and offered me a butterbeer. There were lots of families in the tavern and rooms up above, and I supposed the hustle and bustle would be continuing into Diagon Alley so I turned him down, but told him Sergius had never been before and that I needed to do some last minute shopping.
“Do you have rooms here?” Sergius interjected in a subdued tone.
“Seven galleons a night,” Tom answered cheerily. I got lost amid their conversation again as they started discussing the intricacies of muggle London and took it as an opportunity to disappear into Knockturn Alley and pick up his gift.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, tugging on his coat sleeve. “Stay here.” I narrowed my eyes at Sergius in a perfect imitation of his commanding tone then walked all the way to the back of the Leaky Cauldron where stood a tall brick wall. I tapped my wand along the third brick from the top and then the second down and stepped through the portal into the narrow streets of Diagon Alley.
I smiled at the stripey red decorations along the lamp posts, the clutter of families in the streets, and the smell of cinnamon in the air. Then I took a deep breath and turned right, walking down a dangerously steep set of stone stairs to the gloomy and quite notorious, Knockturn Alley.
The shop I wanted, dubbed ‘Sharpley and Tinns’, was empty except for an old witch with her rather ill looking grandson and the burly shop owner who seemed large and menacing enough to eat me whole. I tried to push the thought to the back of my mind that he was most definitely a werewolf, and not the friendly type either, while my eyes scanned the chilly store for the item I’d seen earlier that year.
The precious little trinket I had come for was still sitting in the display window. I made to pick it up when suddenly the seething shop owner growled from behind the counter.
“Do not touch.”
“But I want to buy it,” I replied defiantly.
“Give me galleons.”
I opened my mouth to retort, then closed it again. Slowly I approached the counter and, keeping a good distance between myself and the man, I asked, “How much is it?” His black eyes began to size me up and I got the icky feeling he was inventing a price based on my appearance.
“Little witch from Hogwarts,” he scoffed. “Sixty galleons.”
I hoped my face didn’t register the shock as he spat the ridiculous price at me. Perhaps if I had stopped at Gringott’s, the goblin operated Wizarding bank at the end of Diagon Alley before I came to the store I would have agreed if only to get out of there with the gift and my life, but as it was I had nowhere near that amount of money and had no desire to leave and return with it, either.
Then an idea lighted in my mind. I plunged both hands into my pockets as if to retrieve the money but instead lifted Sergius’ staff out with one hand and flicked my wand at it from inside my pocket with the other.
“Crecer!” I cried, loud enough for the shop owner and his customers to hear.
It instantly grew to well over my size and hit the rotten floor with a bang. I gripped it tightly , almost able to wrap my fingers around it fully, and looked at the man. I tried to take on the air of Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl I had the misfortune of sharing potions class with in second year. She was extremely unpleasant, haughty and demanding.
“I need some useless shiny little object to take back to Durmstrang for Headmaster Karkaroff as a thank you for giving me free rein of this indecent muggle city for the week,” I said in the sarcastically sweet drawl I’d come to loathe last year. The man had his eyes locked on the staff, which must have looked impressive considering it’s size. I was betting on him knowing more about Durmstrang than I did, or at least as much, and by his expression I was assured he did.
“I’ll give you ten galleons for your efforts,” I continued, “you can go ahead and wrap it up for me.”
I held my breath for what seemed like an eternity before the burly man grunted and pulled a small leather pouch out from behind the counter. ‘Sharpley and Tinns’ was seared into it in silver scrawl.
I dropped ten galleons lazily on the counter, the way I thought Pansy Parkinson would, then crossed my arms over the staff and watched as the shop owner approached the gorgeous little object. Without touching it he tucked it carefully into the bag and pulled the dark brown drawstrings tight. I took it and left the shop.
As soon as I was back up the stone steps to Diagon Alley I shrunk the staff again and placed it ashamedly back in my pocket. As for the leather pouch, I stood awhile not sure what to do with it, as I couldn’t risk shrinking something obviously handmade and already bewitched at risk of damaging it, but it was still too large to hide in my pocket. I decided just to carry it back to the Leaky Cauldron and bury it in my suitcase as quickly as possible.
When I returned Sergius and Tom were still deep in conversation, apparently about their varying personal Christmas traditions.
“Me family always does a goose on Christmas, we does,” Tom was saying. Sergius shook his head.
“New Years is more a big thing where I’m from,” he replied.
They barely acknowledged me as I hauled the suitcase onto the barstool next to Sergius, opened it, and nestled his gift within an incredibly fuzzy cerulean sweater. He swung around to face me with a pint of ale clutched loosely in his hand just as my suitcase clasped shut.
“Hey,” he said, “you okay?”
His tone of concern threw me off before I realized he must’ve thought I was in the lavatory or something; he didn’t know the Leaky Cauldron was a gateway or why we had actually come in here.
“I bought you a butterbeer.” He offered me the glass with a smile.
“Oh, uh, can I take it to go?” I asked Tom politely with a small smile.
“Sure thing, Miss. Heat that up for you?”
“Yes, please!”



Sergius said goodbye to Tom who winked back at us, then with my suitcase and hot butterbeer in hand I led Sergius back to the gateway in the Leaky Cauldron.
“Is this where you went?” he asked as we stepped into Diagon Alley. I made a so-so gesture with my hand then nodded toward Knockturn Alley.
“Down there. Only for a second; just to pick something up.”
We worked our way up the shops, stopping at whatever caught Sergius’ interest and all of my favourite places.
First we passed by Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, where he was serving hot fudge nuts and warm pumpkin souffle. I wanted to go into Ollivander’s to show him Sergius’ miniaturized staff-wand, but regretted it instantly as Sergius seemed very uncomfortable at the request. I asked if the staff chooses the wizard, like our wands do, but he just looked back at me quizzically.
“Your wand chose you?”
“Course,” I explained, “everybody’s wand is different. Ollivander makes you try out a bunch before first year until you find the right one. He knew mine right away though.” Ollivanders Wand Shop was owned and operated by the best wand maker in the world, Garrick Ollivander. He’d plucked the unicorn tail hair for my wand himself, and without even having met me before, knew right away which one would suit me.
Sergius spoke up in reply.
“Our staffs start out as hunks of driftwood collected from the beach outside the school when we get them. Then they grow and change to suit our magic.”
He looked down at me and I could tell we were thinking the same thing: we were even more different than we thought. I wondered what my staff would look like, but the more I thought of it the more I tried to incorporate my unicorn tail hair; the vine wood.
We spent a full half hour at the Magical Menagerie and Owlery looking at pets of all shapes and sizes. I noticed the shop cat, Crookshanks, was still there. He was an enormous fluffy mess of ginger fur with a squished up face and amber eyes. He growled and meowed when I hugged him tightly to me, his massive body hanging down to my knees. Sergius couldn’t stop laughing.
“I can’t wait for you to meet Tisha,” he said. “My parents’ cat. She’s just like him, but meaner,” he added, pointing a finger at Crookshanks’ flat little face. I beamed.
“She’ll love me,” I replied haughtily, and he laughed again. I let Crookshanks go and he padded away heavily. “Are you going to get a pet now that you’re allowed one at Hogwarts?” He looked into a cage of dancing mice.
“Maybe,” he answered. “Not right now.”
I nodded and we continued up Diagon Alley, where Sergius demanded to look at the antique books in Flourish and Blotts. I picked up a copy of the fourth year Muggle Studies book and read through it while he scanned the dusty shelves, taking careful stock of everything in the store.
I bought the textbook with the remainder of my pocket money and then we headed to the end of the alley where the white column pillars of Gringott’s Wizarding Bank stood.
“How much money do you think I should bring?” I asked as we stood in front of one of the goblins at the till.
“None,” Sergius responded blankly.
“What?”
The goblin was clicking his long fingernails against the high marble countertop impatiently.
“You don’t need any,” he repeated.
“Well it couldn’t hurt to be prepared,” I responded assuredly. Sergius shook his head but stepped aside as I handed the Goblin my vault key.
“Would Miss Candace Genevieve Twyla of vault three hundred and fourteen like an upfront sum of 30 galleons or to visit her vault?” the goblin bleated impersonally. I looked to Sergius who frowned back.
“Uh, I’ll just take the sum,” I replied hastily. “Please.”
The goblin slowly counted it up from between his towering brass scales and then tossed a jingling purple coin purse to me. When we’d headed back to the Leaky Cauldron, finished with my little tour of magical London, I took Sergius’ hand and gave him control of our trip.
“Okay, so where are we going?” I smiled genuinely up at him. My anxious excitement had returned and I was hopping up and down on the spot.
He brushed my cheek with his thumb and said, “Sit.”
Dejected, I flopped down into the chair at my feet. Sergius dragged one noisily next to me and sat close. I pouted.
“Relax,” he laughed.
“Well, how are we getting there?” I asked, exasperated.
“You’re not gonna like it,” he replied.
“How would you know?” I replied. I’d been thinking so many things leading up to this moment I was sure any of them would be fantastic. He sighed.
“Alright. Floo powder,” he declared.
“Oh.” I dropped my head. He laughed lightheartedly, then stopped.
“You thought the ship from Durmstrang was going to pick us up in the middle of muggle London, didn’t you?” My cheeks burned with embarrassment.
“Hey,” he said, raising my face to his, but I couldn’t look up at his clear blue eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said sadly.
“No,” I replied. “I’m so stupid. I keep treating you like a spectacle and it’s just…” I sighed. “I used your staff today.”
“You what?” He was staring down at me with a force that made me feel small. My words came out quickly while my eyes started to blur from tears.
“I was buying you a Christmas gift and this bloody werewolf wouldn’t give it to me because he thought I was just some spoiled little witch from Hogwarts so I showed him the staff and said I was from Durmstrang and that I hated his stupid shop and then I took it and left.”
Sergius was silent and I couldn’t bear to look up at him. A tear rolled off my cheek and hit his hand in my lap.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said in his soft voice. He wiped my eyes and finally I could look into his. There was not a trace of anger or sadness in them. “Even if you did steal a gift for me. That’s pretty cool.”
“No, I still paid for it. And then he wrapped it up for me,” I replied as a small smile began to break out across my face. He laughed, then leaned closer to me with a devilish grin.
“Clever girl.”
He kissed me in a hungry way that made me giggle, and I hiccuped from the tears. Just as I was about to ask if we should be on our way then, Tom came around and handed Sergius a key.
“Enjoy, Mr Moonblood. And safe travels tomorrow. Miss,” he said as he walked by.
“Tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s too late now. We’ll leave in the morning.” He carried my suitcase down the hallway and up a flight of stairs.
Sergius had the key to room four, which had a large four poster bed and a roaring fireplace. I busied myself against thoughts of sharing a bed with Sergius by unpacking and rearranging my suitcase while he read the Muggle Studies book I’d bought by the fire. I changed into a fuzzy sweater and pajama shorts on the floor stealthily while he was preoccupied and then sat cross legged at one end of the bed. He clapped the book shut and walked over to me.
I could already feel my cheeks going red and he hadn’t even done anything; said anything. He knelt in front of me, playing with my knees, and I looked down at him expectantly.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said. I nodded and he left the room. After adding the textbook back to the contents of my suitcase and combing through my hair, I climbed under the mountainous duvet and curled up in bed, drifting comfily in and out of sleep.

“Candie...are you awake?”
Thick fingers were grazing my hair and the mattress had started to radiate heat, and when Sergius gently planted a kiss on my shoulder, I shivered. His arm wrapped around my waist and I realized he had to sleep fully clothed as he hadn’t packed a bag with a change of clothes or pajamas, if he wore any.
I turned sleepily toward him and rubbed his jeans with my leg; pulled at his shirt with my nails like a cat. His belt buckle snapped open and he pressed closer to kiss me. I entwined my feet with his and began pulling the jeans down until he kicked them off and moved over me, prying with his knee between mine. A soft sound I’d never heard before escaped me as he began to kiss down my neck and it didn’t stop until we were both sound asleep, breathing deeply, in eachothers arms.

The sun rose late over London and I woke to the hustle and bustle of the Leaky Cauldron, families chattering and hurrying about, maid service making its rounds. I dug my wand out of the heap of clothes next to me on the floor and waved it.
“Tranquilo,” I uttered softly, sleep still apparent in my voice. A peaceful quiet fell over the room, and I rolled over to see Sergius was gone.
After the previous night I had to ignore the irrational fear that he’d just up and left me there at room four in The Leaky Cauldron. I tried to quickly dress while he was gone to avoid the awkwardness of changing in front of him but of course the door opened and he stepped into the room just as I’d pulled on a pair of leggings.
I stood facing the wide window wearing nothing but a patterned pair of grey and black tights.
I looked over my bare shoulder at him, my arms instinctively rising to my chest, and he seemed frozen for a moment. Then he took a few tentative steps forward and stood just behind me, looming, and now I was the one who felt frozen.
His hand felt like ice when it ran up my back and I jumped.
“Sorry,” he laughed. “Turn around.”
I hung my head and didn’t move, tracing non-existent patterns in the carpet with my eyes while his arms snaked around my naked waist.
“Candie,” he mumbled, laying his forehead in the crook of my neck.
He held me like that for a minute before pulling on my bare shoulders and spinning me around to face him, taking my lips in another kiss. I kept my hands instinctively over my breasts until he physically pried them away, laying my arms gently over his shoulders. He gazed down at me and I summoned all my bravery not to shy away and keep my hands where he’d put them. When his fingers began to crawl up my tummy toward my chest I panicked and pressed against him for a kiss. He forgot about his venture and intertwined his fingers with my hair. How could my life have gone from complete social obscurity to an integral and desired part of someone’s world over the course of only a couple months? He kissed the top of my head as we hugged and I sighed.
“Beautiful girl,” he mumbled, his chin coding the words onto my messy hair. I made a soft mewing sound not unlike the one from last night in response and he laughed, then raised my face to his and kissed me lightly, brushing my lips with his tongue.
“Alright,” he said after a while, breaking it off. “You get dressed now.”

He held my hand as we stood in the fireplace clutching two large handfuls of Floo powder, my suitcase wedged tightly under Sergius’ arm. We skipped breakfast as he assured me there would be plenty - if not too much - to eat where we were going.
“Ready?” he said.
“Ready.”
On the count of three we threw the powder into the hearth at our feet and Sergius bellowed, “Home!”