Cynthia MacLanley

1853: The Alley and Allie

"Di'gon Alley!" Cynthia jumped into the green fire, her blonde hair freshly braided. A few seconds later, she emerged from the large fireplace that lay on the end of Diagon Alley, built just for wizard transport. Her mother was waiting for her.

"Come, Cynthia, yeh dun want teh be blockin' the fi'place," her mother warned. She took her daughter's hand and quickly moved her out of the way of two brawny teenage warlocks who soon appeared afterwards, both of whom paid no attention to the much smaller girl. "See wha' I mean? People can be such snots 'ese days."

Cynthia, however, was listening to her mother just as carefully as the two boys had been. This was her third time in Diagon Alley, and her most recent was nearly three years ago. Save for her parent's friends that would drop in occasionally, and sometimes literally, Cynthia had very little contact with the rest of the world, wizarding and otherwise. The whole street that opened up in front of her, with the quaint little shops overflowing with all sorts of fantastic and magical items she barely knew the names of, seemed to be paved with gold. She let go of her mother's hand and was ready to jump into the thick of it all.

"Do yeh have yer list, dear?" her mother asked, just before the girl was about to disappear.

Cynthia gasped. "Ooh, it's right on the table where I left it teh go upstairs!"

"Cynthia!" reprimanded her mother. "Ach! What am I goin' teh do with yeh?" She shook her head and thought for a moment. "'Ell, I dun want teh waste the Floo. Yeh're just gonna have teh find some other firs' year's an' look at it."

"I'm sorry, Mama," said Cynthia meekly.

"Dun worry 'bout it. Least I'm not the one that's going teh have teh find someone, aye?"

"Aye, Mama." Cynthia frowned and looked around the street. The cobblestone path contained nearly twenty people, and none of them looked her age. She looked back up at her mother, but she had found one of her friends and had already begun talking to them.

"Oh, Abbie, what have you done this time?" a tall man with copper hair was saying exasperatedly. Cynthia looked over at her and saw a lanky boy, much older than she was, freeing his finger from the mouth of a strange animal that looked like an ugly, hairy little man with wings and lots of arms and legs.

"'E star'ed it!" shot back Abbie with a thick Cockney accent, holding the creature in his fist angrily. A second boy came out of the shop behind Abbie, with a stack of books in the crook of his left arm and an open book in his right hand.

"According to 'Magical Creatures of Europe', that's a doxy, or biting fairy," said the much younger second boy. He had the same reddish-brown hair as his father, with thick glasses, and he appeared to be the same age as Cynthia. She was excited to recognize some of the books that he could barely carry as ones on the list, and tramped over to him.

"Oh, shu' UP, Allay!" retorted Abbie, throwing the doxy back into its cage. He closed its door and made a face at it before wandering off to somewhere past the pursed face of his father.

"You be at the gate by noon, or we're leaving without you!" the man called, and, not receiving an answer, turned back to the other boy and sighed. "Well, there goes the father-son quality time I was planning on. I'm going to slip into the Leaky Cauldron to get a little drink, and make sure that Abbie doesn't." The father sighed. "I don't know how your brother gets the grades he does, Allie."

"Don't worry about him, Dad," said Allie cheerfully. He closed the book he was reading and placed it on top of the others he was carrying. The new addition, however, caused the stack to fall over into the street. Cynthia, who was standing next to him, bent down and picked up his Transfiguration and Herbology books, plus two she couldn't make out the titles of, and handed them to him.

"Oh, hello," he said, straightening up and re-adjusting his glasses.

"Hi," replied Cynthia shyly. She could get a little nervous around new people.

Allie scooped up all of his books and held them securely to his chest, while extending his right hand to Cynthia. "My name's Allie," he greeted, shaking her hand firmly.

"I'm Cynthia," she replied, smiling, and feeling a little more comfortable with the boy whose glasses kept slipping down his long nose. He let go of her hand to regain a grip on his books. Cynthia broke the awkward moment with, "I fergot me list. I'm a firs'-year. Kin I see yers?"

"Of course!" he answered, juggling his many books to reach into his pocket. Cynthia suddenly realized that the multitude of books he was carrying would be the same she would have to worry about. He brought out the list, and she looked at it again, relieved but confused to see only six titles on the list.

"What's with all o' yer books?" she asked. He was losing his grip again, and Cynthia deftly relieved him of five of his volumes before he dropped them again.

"Thank you!" he said, pushing up his glasses again. "I'm just getting some extra reading for myself. A little extra knowledge never hurt anybody, right?"

"O' kurse not." Cynthia smiled. She liked this Allie.

"Well, I just got here, and I have a lot of shopping to do."

"Me too," the blonde-haired girl replied.

"Oh, well, then, do you want to come with me?"

"Sur'!"

Cynthia discovered that Allie was half-and-half, his father being a wizard, and that he had been in Diagon Alley many times, and more recently than Cynthia. He led her to Gladrags Wizardwear, where they were outfitted with work robes and the Hogwarts uniform - Cynthia was pleased to no end that the pleated skirts could be worn nearly to the knee, unlike the constricting ankle-length dresses her mother made her wear. Next, they went to Pip Lacobin's Magical Goods to purchase cauldrons, bookbags (to Allie's relief), parchment, and dragon hide gloves. Then, Cynthia got all her school books, which Allie pointed out to her in The Book Bin. Afterwards, they went to Flourish's Fine Inks and Blott's Beautiful Quills, where Cynthia and Allie declared their partiality for the color purple in their ink choices.

They emerged on the street, their bags full of Hogwarts supplies. Judging from the sundial at the end of the street opposite the Leaky Cauldron, by the big fireplace, there were but a few minutes left before Allie had to go home with his father and brother. He quickly guided her to a tiny shop that she had never seen before, which was very dark and dusty inside. Her eyes adjusting to the dim light, he whispered, "This is Ollivander's, the wand shop."

There came a rustling noise from the back of the shop. Abbie, and the two boys that had come through the fire grate after Cynthia, appeared, followed by a wispy old lady holding a wand box in her claw-like hand. The boys shouldered their way over to the desk, where the mummified woman opened a moldy-looking ledger and wrote something in it with an equally moldy-looking quill. "That's five Galleons for the wand, Mr. Androgski," she said, peering at the shortest of the three with her sharp grey eyes. The stocky boy fished around in his pocket and brought out five gold Galleons, which he tossed nonchalantly to her and picked up the wand box. "Do be careful with this one, Mr. Androgski. Just because you break them easily doesn't mean a new one will come to you easily. Remember, the wand chooses the wizard."

Androgski nodded like he had heard it a thousand times before and slid the wand into his pocket, leaving the box behind. He, Abbie and the other boy shambled out of the wand shop, not even waiting for the door to shut to mutter, "God, that place gives me the creeps."

"And, at last, some fresh faces," said the old woman, casting her keen glare downwards to Allie and Cynthia. She looked at Allie extra-carefully, her eyebrows slightly lifted. "Don't tell me one of those buffoons was your brother."

"Unfortunately, yes," replied Allie carefully.

"Ah, well, we can't choose our family, but that's what friends are for, right?" she replied, looking at Cynthia.

Allie smiled.

She rose from her desk. "I am Ms. Ollivander, current carrier of the Ollivander tradition of fine wands since 382 BC. I believe I have serviced your parents, and maybe even your grandparents. What are your names?"

The first-years looked at each other, and then back at Ms. Ollivander. Cynthia spoke first.

"I'm Cynthia MacLanley. Me papa's Donovan -"

"Donovan Angus MacLanley," finished Ms. Ollivander quickly. "A big, strapping lad, I remember him. I do believe he broke his wand a few times in his youth, but I saw the last of him twenty years ago. Fourteen inches, a bit thick, oak, dragon heartstring. Good one for conjuration, is it?"

"I - I think...."

"And your mother?"

"Elfr'da Hastin's."

"They married? Well, I would have never seen it." Ms. Ollivander gazed off into the distance for a minute. "Then, of course, one can never understand the mysteries of love," she added, looking at Cynthia again. "Twelve inches, ash, unicorn tail hair, excellent for quick jinxes. I dare say Donovan's come under one or two in his matrimony?"

"Aye!" Cynthia giggled. Her father lost his fingers, could only speak by clucking, or grew purple ear hair practically every week, due to the very wand Ms. Ollivander was describing.

"Well. What an interesting couple they must be. And you, my dear, need a wand." She stood up from the desk. "Let me go look around back...I think I have just the thing for you."

She went behind a cabinet, where she had emerged before, and Cynthia and Allie had only enough time to steal a quick anxious glance at each other before she appeared with an armful of wand boxes. She placed them on top of the ledger in a neat pyramid and handed the first one to Cynthia as Allie pushed up his glasses.

"Maple. Eleven inches. Unicorn tail hair." Cynthia took the wand from the old woman and flicked it experimentally. There came a tiny poof of smoke, but nothing else happened. Ms. Ollivander snatched the wand from her, tossed it back into its box, and handed her another. "Ten and a half inches. Elm. Phoenix feather. Flexible." A quick wave produced nothing, and Ms. Ollivander quickly replaced it with another. "Eleven inches and a quarter. Beech. Dragon heartstring." Nothing. "Willow. Phoenix feather. Ten inches." Nothing.

Ms. Ollivander put the tried wands away, and looked carefully at the pile still on the desk. "Ooh, I know." She pushed the boxes around and found one at the bottom. "Try this one," she said, handing the box to Cynthia carefully. The blonde opened the box and drew out the wand, her fingers feeling warm and tingly. She swept it upward in a grand arc, and purple and silver beams of light poured from the tip. Grinning, she clutched it as if it was made of gold.

"I knew it," said Ms. Ollivander, taking out her own wand and whisking away the pile of unused wand boxes from the ledger. She turned a few pages and wrote something with the ratty quill, and then looked up at Cynthia. "Thirteen inches, oak, sturdy like your father's. But with unicorn hair, like your mother's." The old woman smiled and looked back at her ledger. "That'll be five Galleons, my dear."

She took up the relocated pile of wands and returned them to her shelves, giving Cynthia enough time to fish out four Galleons and seventeen Sickles from her small money-bag. Allie pushed up his glasses and exclaimed "Wow, Cynthia, you've got a wand now!"

"And you will, too, soon enough," replied Ms. Ollivander, emerging from the gloom of the shop for a third time. There came a knock at the door, and Allie's father stepped in.

"Hello, Allie, hello Ms. Ollivander. Have you seen Abbie? It's nearly noon."

"He was just in here," replied Allie. "Dad, I want you to meet Cynthia. She's a first-year too."

"Hi...." she greeted, feeling shy again around new people.

"Call me Mr. D.," said Allie's dad, filling in the silence. He shook her hand, just like Allie did, and Cynthia was sure that if he wore glasses, they would keep slipping down his long nose like Allie's.

Ms. Ollivander looked carefully at Mr. D, and said, "You were that mahogany, phoenix feather one, weren't you, Reynaud? Twelve and a half inches?"

"You know your business, Matilda." Mr. D smiled, and Ms. Ollivander returned it as she handed Allie his first wand.

There was a second knock at the door, and Elfrida walked in as Allie's wand emitted a scream. She looked slightly confused until Ms. Ollivander laughed. "That's not the one," she explained, taking it out of his hand.

"Cynthia, are yeh ready teh be goin'?" asked Elfrida.

"Aye, Mama." Cynthia picked up her school bag full of books and all of her other bags from the shops. "This is Allie, Mama, he's teh un I got a list from."

"Tha' was nice, did yeh say 'thank yeh'?" replied Elfrida, looking at Allie and his father.

"Thank yeh!" said Cynthia quickly, as she followed her mother out of the shop. "I'll see yeh at Hogwarts, Allie!"

"See you, Cynthia!" called Allie, and then he dropped his wand onto the desk. "Ouch! That one burns!"

"That's not the one either," responded Ms. Ollivander, quickly taking the wand and placing it back in the box.

Out in the street, Elfrida took three of the bags from her daughter, and they then walked to the fire at the end of the alleyway. "'Ell, yeh made out li' a bandit, didn't yeh?" Elfrida joked, looking at all the supplies. She reached into her pocket and threw a handful of Floo into the fireplace, stepping lightly into the fireplace with a loud "MacLanley Homestead!"