Under my great aunt’s
instruction, the taxi cab took us to Charing Cross Road. By this time,
Cresselda had thoroughly interrogated me on my magical knowledge, coming to the
conclusion that I had prepared well enough for my classes at home but encouraging
pre-reading all of my textbooks nonetheless. She also seemed fascinated and
slightly repulsed by the idea of Muggle School and had many a question for me
on the matter.

It seemed as if she had told the
driver to stop a little ways away from our destination, as we had to walk for a
couple of minutes to get to a rather shabby-looking pub positioned between a
record store and a bookshop. The wooden sign hanging off the side of the
building looked blank as we approached it, but as we neared the door the words
'The Leaky Cauldron' took form. I hadn't noticed as we walked for my eyes were
captivated by the impressive architecture around us, but when I turned to Cresselda,
I saw that she was now modeling a long dark green robe with golden embroidery over
top of her muggle clothes. She must have pulled it from her purse after we left
the taxi, but how it had fit in such a tiny bag was beyond me.

"Here we are, love,"
she said nodding to the storefront. She walked up to the rather heavy-looking
door and swung it open with ease.

Inside, a plethora of interesting
looking people milled about, many dressed in robes and other odd clothing. They
all politely inclined their heads as we walked by, and Cresselda introduced me
to a wizard named Florent Bagginshaft before taking me to the rear of the pub.
We exited and came upon a brick wall. I looked around, confused, as Cresselda
drew her wand for the first time ever in my presence. It was made of a light
wood, slightly short but just long enough, with an intricate carving running in
coils around the shaft. My longing for a wand of my own was immediately
heightened.

With much precision, Cresselda
lifted her wand and tapped a few of the bricks on the wall in what looked to be
some sort of pattern. A low rumbling sounded and the once solid brick wall slid
apart, revealing a colourful street bustling with magical activity: Diagon
Alley.

My heart leapt in my chest. I
begged my great aunt to let me go to Ollivanders first, but she insisted that
we pick up all other supplies before purchasing a wand. Begrudgingly I agreed,
and we paid a visit to my newly opened Gringotts vault prior to beginning to
shop. Before long, my arms were full of brown paper packages of wizarding wear,
textbooks from Flourish and Blotts, a pewter cauldron, crystal phials, a shiny
set of brass scales, a telescope and more. I nearly smacked Cresselda with the
telescope as I tried to rearrange the packages in my arms before she finally
noticed my struggle. She gently lifted the packaged telescope from where it was
balanced on top of my textbooks and slid it into her tiny purse, repeating this
with each box and bundle until my arms were empty and her purse much fuller
than it ever could have been without the help of magic.

“Well then, my dear,” she said as
we approached a storefront with the words ‘Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands
since 382 B.C.’ painted in gold on the dark wood of the sign board, “here we
are.” We had reached Ollivanders. Cresselda gestured for me to go inside; I
opened the door and stepped through but could not hear her footsteps following
behind me. I turned around to see her wave and smile and mouth, “Good luck.”
The door closed.

Φ