Harry Potter and the Old Believers

Chapter 02

Friday, July 8, 1910

"So, despite the opposition of many of the faculty, you have decided to confirm this appointment?"

Armando Dippet, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for just one week, wondered how long he could handle this job. At 66, he should have still been in the prime of life for a wizard educator. The job, however, was more difficult than he had imagined when he had been the Defense teacher, Deputy Headmaster, and head of Hufflepuff.

George Binns was the major problem. He had been a little too young to be considered for the position of Headmaster when the now-retired Headmaster, famed reformer Alfred Longbottom, had started his long tenure. He was now certainly too old for the job. He was determined to be annoying, however.

"No one has come up to any reasonable objection to the appointment of Doctor Pwy, other than the fact that he is an American and has a Muggle degree. And the latter only seems to bother you." 'Because it shows he knows about history than you ever will,' Dippet thought. 'Of course, some rocks know more about real history than you do.'

"His only real qualification is that he killed some native shaman in the American west, then helped the American Muggles by killing another native shaman in the Philippines a few years ago. Having a killer at the castle does not reassure many of us!"

"Defense has for too long consisted of five years of dark creature study and two years of dueling. It's time it expanded."

"There's nothing wrong with our curriculum!"

"George, Defense hasn't changed since King William's time!"

"That was less than a century ago." Binns frowned. "Wasn't it?"

Binns' tentative grasp on history not directly connected to interesting magical inventions and goblin rebellions was, at times, unnerving; in general since he taught history and this time because William IV had become king the year before Binns had become a student at Hogwarts.

'Still,' Dippet thought, 'the old bastard is ninety and drinks like a fish; he can't live too much longer.' He had to speak, however, "William the Third, not Fourth. That was over two hundred years ago. Now, the contract has been offered, signed, and accepted back. He will be joining us in late August, and, on related matters, we will continue to offer Muggle Studies, and the train will still bring all the students on the First. It's good to have the older students looking out after the younger students instead of hazing them, and after fifteen years, it's now the tradition."

"Very well, Headmaster."

Tuesday, August 9, 1910

"Can I 'elp you?"

The Leaky Cauldron opened at 9:00 am and closed at Midnight. Other than those times, you didn't get into Diagon Alley without knowing the secret ways in (only the shop owners and their families really knew the few secret entrances, and the only other ways were flooing in general or apparating or flooing into the Ministry basement -- the first was seen as an invasion of privacy and the second was frowned upon other than for members of the Ministry and their families). There was usually a small crowd waiting in the Muggle street at 9:00, but it cleared through fast, and most days the pub was fairly empty between 9:30 and 11:00, as it was today.

"I understand this is the public entrance portal to Diagon Alley?"

The inn-keeper stared for a few seconds. "Tis indeed. Where you from, mate? If you don't mind me askin'?" The man asking was huge, maybe even a quarter giant, and even quarter-giants were best not aggravated. On the other hand, he was dressed in the latest upper-crust Muggle fashion, and his accent, although odd, wasn't like any giant's.

"America. Am I right in believing you have rooms for rent?"

"Aye, that I do. Interested?"

"Well. . . ." the young man seemed embarrassed.

"Out with it, lad."

"I've had to rough it at times over the last few years. I decided, after the last time, I wasn't staying anywhere without modern plumbing again."

The older man laughed. "Well, then, it's a good thing we just finished installing new crappers and tubs a few weeks ago! Aye, sir, 'ired the same firm what finished 'ogwarts a few years ago -- Goyle and Crabbe it's called, though mark my words, they work fer that Dark sod Malfoy. Still, let me show yer."

The plumbing was indeed state of the art, and the young man engaged a room for two weeks. "I believe there is a train from London to Hogsmeade every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday?"

"Aye, sir. Least ways that's the through trains. Return every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Lots of travel 'tween London and 'ogsmeade, and 'tis 'ard to floo with anything more than one -trunk or apparate with more than two. You got business at 'ogsmeade?"

"I'll be teaching at Hogwarts."

"Ah! Well, then that's a good time to go. Teaching what, may I ask?"

"Defense."

"Really?" The man looked barely twenty-one at best, despite the mustache.

"Really. I'm Titus Pwy."

The older man shook the offered hand, slightly surprised. Few offered their hands like that to him. "Just call me Tom. That's all we've been called behind the bar at this tavern for well over eight 'undred years, no matter what name our mothers gave us."

"Glad to meet a tradition, Tom. I'll have my baggage sent over from the Muggle hotel this afternoon."

The next day, Titus Pwy walked into Diagon Alley for the first time. It was cramped, and in every way very different than any other wizarding settlement he'd ever been in. Before he could explore, however, he went to Gringotts, and opened his account.

"Any questions?" he asked the chief goblin after showing his correspondence and identification from his local branches.

"No, Doctor Pwy! Here is your key, vault number seven hundred eighty. Shall we transport in the entire proportion of this quarter's dividend?"

"No, I need a hundred and fifty galleons and sixty British pounds, also in gold." He tossed down two leather pouches.

"At once, sir!" Being a part-owner of the bank (for even though it was operated by goblins, wizards still actually owned the bank and controlled more than half the Board of Directors) and a known killer certainly brought respect from the bank goblins.

Once out of the bank, Pwy walked all of Diagon Alley, and both forks on either side of Gringotts -- Ministry Row, where some of the Government agencies and wizard law firms where located along with the headquarters of some of the larger firms and organizations (the Daily Prophet, some other publishers, the Quidditch League, etc.) and Knockturn Alley, obviously where some of the shadier businesses operated. Most of the businesses throughout the area had been in operation for many generations.

Madam Malkin's had been suggested to him as the best for robes ("In business since Saxon London!" several patrons had told him the night before). He ordered six sets of faculty robes, two sets of dress robes, and a new cloak (also with the faculty crest).

He went back to the pub for an early lunch. There were two more upscale restaurants in Ministry Row, but Pwy put those off for his dinners. After lunch, he sought out 'Ollivander's Wands', carrying a mid-sized case.

The shop was empty except for the shop keeper and what appeared to be his pre-teen son, although Pwy was certain there had been a crowd of youngsters with their parents earlier that morning.

"May I help you? Ah, a stranger. I'm Richard Ollivander." He was a fairly young man with very intelligent eyes. His son slipped out the back.

"I was wondering if you'd care to look at a consignment of wands."

"We make all our wands here, sir. Still, I'm always happy to look at other's craft."

Pwy set the case on the counter, and opened the case, unfolding several inner pockets as well, until 120 wands were visible.

"Quite an assortment. Your work, young man?"

"I ran off thirty-three of them on the lathe, and did the combining spells on eighteen others. It's a family business, back in America."

Ollivander did a quick examination. "Really, let me see. . .a wide choice of woods, but all wyvern? Shame the Old Believers took most of the wyvern stock with them when they left; they've died out over here now. They do make nice wands. Mostly feathers, a few mane hairs and heart-strings. Very, very nice. . . ." He started looking more closely. "Oh, my!"

"Yes?"

Ollivander pointed at the tiny, almost microscopic brand near the base of the wand he was holding. "Pwy?"

"Yes, I am Titus Pwy. And each is a genuine Pwy llath."

"I have never seen a new Pwy wand. Your family was the only real competition my family had, before the Old Believers left back in the Fifteen-hundreds!"

"Thank you. Interested?"

"What are you asking for them? Each one is a masterpiece!" Pwy wands were the premier wands in the States and Canada, just as Ollivander's were in the United Kingdom and Western Europe.

"What are your wands going for?"

"Well, the most expensive are just over three galleons."

"Then how about forty-five galleons and a wand. I like having three different ones, and my second best was destroyed two years ago. I haven't found one good enough to replace it. I'd like one for general defense and transfiguration. I like the other two for defense and charm work."

"I should offer you at least sixty and a wand."

The young man smiled. "No, forty-five is fine." He gave the man a card. "Feel free to order some more at your price. We also do dragon heart-strings and the occasional phoenix feather. While I'm in Britain, my family would be willing to sell to you, or trade for some of your unicorn wands." Unicorns were as rare in America as wyverns now were in Europe.

"Sounds good. Anything else, before we find you a wand?"

"Take a look at these." He pulled a different bunch of wands from under his cloak. "I regret to say these are all my own work."

"Eewwhh." The man wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Yew and. . .kappa bone?"

"Six kappa bone, six gindylow finger. Nasty, aren't they?"

"Very! Why?"

"I'm going to be teach Defense against Dark Arts at Hogwarts. I need to meet some of the vendors in Knockturn Alley."

"Those would do it. What do you want from me?"

"Would you be willing to write an appraisal? Obviously, I wouldn't want you to soil yourself actually selling something like these."

Ollivander grinned. "Worth at least two galleons wholesale, I'd say."

"Yes," Pwy grinned in return, "why not make them pay for it?"

Ollivander examined them carefully. He was impressed by the quality of the workmanship, but saw it was more show than substance. A glance showed him that Pwy knew that, and had intended it as well. "Do you think anyone in this country, outside you and my family, would know that after about three years of hard Dark use, and twelve years of regular use, the bones in these wands will likely shatter and then throw the last Dark spell on the user?"

"No, and if you write the letter right, no one will know that you knew."

"After all, even the best-made wands may suffer defects if too much Dark magic is channeled." They smiled.

"Let's get you a wand. We don't use wyvern or griffin; phoenix feather, dragon heart string, and unicorn hair only. What's your usual wand?"

"Hazel or oak, along with the wyvern feather. I thought maybe oak and phoenix? Still, I've never tried unicorn."

"Let's see." Ollivander thought a moment, and then moved in to search the boxes the wands.

All in all, it was an informative two weeks the youthful-looking professor spent in London. He had traded the wands in at three of the most infamous Dark Arts supply-stores of the period (Borgins, Hares, and Burkes) and come away with some very interesting material and books. He was also impressed by the excellent craftsmanship of most of the items on sale in Diagon Alley itself.

Still, soon it was time to leave. Now that his consignments of wands were gone, he could shrink all his trunks and packages so that they could fit into one magically enlarged trunk (he hadn't wanted the wands to need any time to regain their full power, as could sometimes happen under the shrinkage spells).

So, on August 23, he flooed to Platform 9 3/4, the magical train station. Three days a week, there were express trains to Hogsmeade (there were trains that made other stops every day). He had Tom book him a first class ticket two weeks before. The train left at 10:00 am, and took 8 1/2 hours to make the trip; fortunately, there was a dining car.

The first class carriage wasn't full, but there was someone in every compartment but one. He had noticed the other men had left their Muggle clothes and hats on, and so he settled into his seat with his hat and cloak on, since it was rather chilly for August.

Just before the train left, three ladies opened the door. "Excuse me," the oldest said, "May we join you? There are no other compartments with three free adjoining seats."

Titus stood and removed his hat. "Of course. May I help with any packages?"

"No, no," the woman informed him. "We only have a few things that couldn't go with the luggage." They came in an claimed the three seats opposite him.

"I see you're at Hogwarts. You must be the new Defense teacher," the woman continued after she saw the crest on his cloak.

"Yes, I am. Doctor Titus Pwy. Does this mean I'm the only new instructor?"

"No, but we know Alan Dinsdale, who is the other new instructor. I'm Henrietta Evans, the Chaperon of the Gryffindor witches. This is my sister, Misses Harriet Weasley, and her sister-in-law, Misses Joan Dumbledore."

"Pleased to meet you." All three women were strikingly attractive red heads, Miss Evans in her early-to-mid forties, the others perhaps a decade younger. "I wondered how the witches were supervised."

"There are four Houses, but twelve Common Rooms and eight Dormitories. The witches are housed near the young wizards, but not in accommodations that are directly linked. However, my room adjoins the witches' Common Room. The witches may only mix with the wizards outside of classes in the Dining Hall and in the Library, and in the witches' Common Room on Sunday afternoons. The witches' common room and the wizards' common rooms are linked by what we call the 'Tea Room.' Students may also sit there with tea or juice between nine in the morning until their respective curfews. Since the entrance to the Gryffindor areas and the Common Rooms all go through the Tea Room, there is little chance for inappropriate behavior."

"Very decorous, I'm sure. Do you ladies also live in Hogsmeade or the school?"

"No, we're shopping in Hogsmeade," Mrs. Dumbledore answered. "We both have our eldest sons starting this term, and also wanted to arrange accounts for them to order supplies."

"What Houses will they be in?"

"Well, the children are magically sorted," Miss Evans told him. "Evans', Weasleys, and Dumbledores are usually sorted into Gryffindor, but there have been the odd member of other Houses, especially a few Dumbledores into Ravenclaw."

All three witches had attended Hogwarts for at least five years (most witches, he was told, only attended for four or five years), although Miss Evans had attended for all seven. Technically, all the teachers were male, but the chaperons were picked for the ability to coach the students as well as their social and moral standing. Miss Evans coached Charms, Transfiguration, and the Dark Creatures portion of Defense.

By the time the train arrived, Titus had learned a great deal more about the school than he had anticipated. He seemed to have made a friend, at least as much as such was possible given the social conventions at the time. He had escorted the ladies to luncheon and dinner in the dining car, insisting on hosting them to each, and escorted the married ladies to their lodgings before escorting Miss Evans to the carriage which would take them to Hogwarts.