Traitor: A Draco Malfoy Story

five

I opened my eyes, sure I had moved onto the afterlife. But what I saw in front of me was no heaven. It was no hell, either, that's for sure. It was an odd little street with buildings that should not have been architecturally sound yet were, windows slanting on top of one another like an afterthought. The buildings looked like they would topple over with one guest of wind, but they stayed put and I could see people moving about inside.

Dumbledore was waiting for me across the street under a sign that said Slug and Jigger's Apothecary. In the window were giant, pale, worm-like creatures that waggled around and dripped creamy goop on the window. I scrunched up my nose.

"There are definitely appealing things in the Wizarding World, and those slugs are not one of them," the Headmaster chuckled. "Yet they do cure a good burn when a potion backfires."

I didn't even acknowledge that, I figured that was a conversation for another time. Instead, I walked over to him. Hagrid had walked out of the Apothecary and came to stand with him under the sign.

"Hagrid will be your guide through Diagon Alley today." He handed me a slip of parchment. "Here is a list of all the items you will need." He turned to Hagrid. "Meet me at Ollivander's at 2 PM."

The first thing on the list was a cauldron. Hagrid proudly held one up to show me that he had gotten it. "I did the borin' things," the large man said. "Figur'd you'd rather explore Diagon Alley and see the fun things."

He walked me to Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. "You'll be needin' robes, o'course," he said. "Can't be wearing street clothes in yer classes. Woulda gotten 'em for you myself, but I'm not too good at guessin' sizes given you're so small." He squinted through his index finger and thumb. I laughed. I really did take a liking to the Caretaker. "I'll wait for you outside," he said as I walked in.

I went up to the counter, but there was no one there. I began to look around the store and wandered to the back, feeling each robe, some of which were silk, some were cotton, and some were a leathery material I didn't recognize. When I read the tag and it said, "dragon skin," I dropped the sleeve immediately and shuddered. Definitely not those. I walked backward, taking in the sights of the shop until my back collided with something firm. The person gave an annoyed grunt.

"Watch where you're going," a voice hissed and I whirled around. A boy around my age with platinum blond hair was glaring down at me from glittering gray eyes. His scowl was searing, but I smiled and quickly apologized.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"No, you weren't. Maybe you should--" the boy stopped. "Say that again."

I stared at him, confused. "Are you bloody daft?" he snapped. "Apologize again."

By this time, a scowl had crept onto my face. "Jeez, I bumped into you on accident. Stop being a dick and get over it."

"Your accent." was all he said.

"Yeah, I'm new. What about it?"

He smirked. "It's not every day I meet an American witch. Who are your parents?"

"Who are my--" I cut myself off, not knowing whether or not to be offended or confused, or even what to think. "Why does that matter?"

He scoffed. "Figures you're probably a filthy little mudblood." He practically spat on me at the last word. I got the feeling it was equivalent to a wizard racial slur.

"Is that supposed to be offensive?"

His glare faltered for a second, then solidified. He scoffed again and stalked away, being sure to hit my shoulder on his way past me and opened both doors to leave the shop. So dramatic, I thought. I hoped not everyone was that elitist.

When I was finally helped to be fitted for robes and got outside, Hagrid was waiting with a good-sized cage. "Surprise!" He shouted, his voice booming around Diagon Alley."Isn't he a beauty?"
I looked inside the cage, and there sat a large cat, one side of its body a silky black, one side a pure white, divided down the middle from its head to the tip of its tail. It was a gorgeous feline.

"Oh, Hagrid," I beamed. "He is a beauty."I decided to name him Gemini. I threw my arms around Hagrid. "Thank you so much."

I paraded Gemini down the alley, visiting all the shops from Quality QuidditchSupplies to Flourish and Blotts. But soon, Hagrid led me to a different part of Diagon Alley. I noticed it was around the time Dumbledore had told the man to meet him somewhere. The painted sign above the black shop we stopped at said "Ollivander's" and we walked inside, a small bell tinkling as we opened the door. The Headmaster was already there along with another old man, who stood surrounded by probably thirty long boxes strewn around him.

"It can't be a decoy," Dumbledore was saying. "If a witch or wizard happens to disarm her, they will know her secret right away."

"It also can't be a powerful wand or it will bond with someone else," the other man was saying heatedly.

Both men stopped when they saw me standing there.

"Ah, Miss Beckett. So glad you could join us." The two men shot each other a glance and I was unsure of what was being communicated. "The time has come in your trip to Diagon Alley that you must choose a wand."

The other man spoke up. "My name is Garrik Ollivander. I own this shop. I have never been asked to fake a wand ceremony. Very precious thing, you know. The wand chooses the wizard, Miss Beckett." He shot a look at Dumbledore that reeked of disapproval.

"Don't let me intrude," I said, suddenly feeling guilty. "You can give me a faulty one if you'd like. It's not like I know how to use it."

"You could grow into your magic," Dumbledore suggested. My brows raised at that. Part of being a Muggle was apparently the lack of magic, so the idea that I could grow into anything was extremely unlikely. Ollivander seemed to have the same thought running through his mind and he glanced at Dumbledore incredulously, but something in the Headmaster's eyes silenced him from saying anything further. "Try some of the wands he's picked."

"This one. Pliant, ash wood, eleven inches, with a unicorn hair core." Ollivander handed it to me and I was surprised at its weight.

"Is something supposed to happen?" I asked.

"Very unlikely, but it should still suit you in size and stature," Ollivander said. "Well, give it a wave!

Nothing happened.

"It's heavy," I commented. "I feel like I'll drop it."

"Okay," said Ollivander, looking both triumphant and disappointed, as though he had wished for something to have occurred and yet was relieved he'd proved his point to the old wizard. He handed me another. "Whippy, but doesn't easily give. Willow, twelve and a half inches, with a phoenix feather core."

It was extremely light, so much so that I thought one wave would send it flying out of my hand. I waved it, but like before, nothing happened. I handed it back to him. "I'm sorry sir, but seriously, I don't have the magic gift, or whatever it's called. And this feels very fragile."

"Try this last one," Ollivander sighed tiredly. "Hawthorne wood. Surprisingly swishy. Fourteen inches, with a dragon heartstring core."

Dumbledore's eyebrows raised at the last part. "Dragon heartstring can be quite temperamental," he observed.

Ollivander handed me the wand before answering. "She'll need all the temperament she can get if she's going to fake being a witch."

The wand had a good weight. It fit in my hand naturally, settling into the crease of my palm and I gave it a small wave. Nothing happened. Shocker. I looked down at the smooth black wood, a ring around it right above where my hand gripped the ribbed end. I switched it to the other hand, and then back again. A small but delicate breeze ruffled my hair and I smelled daffodils, but nothing extraordinary occurred.

Dumbledore, Ollivander, and Hagrid were all looking at me. "Sorry," I said. "I guess it just wasn't meant to be."

"No," said Ollivander tentatively. "That's the one."