Mostly Void ▷ Theseus Scamander

2 - THE PREPARATIONS

1 September 1901

THE MONCRIEFF FAMLY PRIDED THEMSELVES ON BEING PERFECTLY PUNCTUAL. On the morning of the first of September, each member of the family woke at the crack of dawn to make sure everything was exactly as it should be, the boys heading back to school making sure that their trunks were filled with their books and other items they wanted to bring, Jean and Francis with their brooms and owls.

Anatole himself was forced to triple check his trunk, what with it being his first year no longer needing their house governess to teach him and going off on his own to school, he had to make sure he didn't forget his clothes nor his books nor especially his wand and new cat which his parents had allowed him to have on their trip to Diagon Alley as a celebratory gift for his first year at Hogwarts.

"I want to go," his little cousin Gaspard huffed, stomping his foot petulantly, his twin brother Olivier close behind, the two looking at Anatole like he had just betrayed the entire family by being allowed to leave.

"You will soon," he said, though he used the term rather loosely, what with his being eight years their senior, but they were still three and, as a result, weren't equipped with the full comprehension needed to realize he was partly fibbing.

"Anatole," his mother sang, causing the three youngest to look up, "Darling, are you ready, we're going to be late!"

"Mum, it's only nine and it only takes an hour for us to arrive at the station," he pointed out, but he had heard the same argument from his brothers many, many times, but his mother never did listen, always insisting that it was better they be early than late.

"What if you miss the train, you won't be able to go to school!" his mother cried, looking positively faint at the prospect, "And in your first year, that would be so tragic for you."

Anatole couldn't help but agree as he triple checked his trunk once again, grabbing his list of first-year school supplies, scanning them over and pointing towards his own books, smiling when he reached his wand. He set down his list and picked up the wand, turning it over in his hands.

    After retrieving his necessary school supplies and additional cat, whom he named Helene to his mother's delight, he had been led towards Carkitt Market, the side street by Diagon Alley, towards Wands by Gregorovitch, a shop run by an unmade bed of a man who was puttering around in the cramped room filled to the brim with boxes stacked all upon each other. The man had been muttering it himself about core and wood length when Anatole stepped forward, accidentally knocking over an entire stack of wands, all of them tumbling down.

    His father had nearly reprimanded him right there in the store, but Gregorovitch had swooped in and insisted that there was nothing to worry about, using his own wand to right all the boxes, seemingly pulled back to reality as he went to shake the hands of his family, checking all of their wands and reciting their specifications by heart before turning to Anatole, bending down slightly to get a good look at him.

    "First year?" he asked, and Anatole nodded, only just able to vocalize an affirmative so as not to upset his parents, who always insisted that one must be fully engaged to seem polite.

    The man was rough around the edges, taking Anatole by the arm and tugging him around the store, letting go sharply to mutter to himself and whip a wand off the shelf and out of its box, handing it towards him. Sometimes he would let Anatole try to wave it before declaring it wrong, but often he would simply pull it away before the young blond could so much as let his fingers graze the wood.

    "Hazel, maybe?" the hummed, after twenty-three failed attempts, rubbing his chin and nodding, "Yes, yes...dragon—No! No, unicorn, ah, yes...and eleven inches? No, no...seven. And three quarters."