Author: Gemma
Category: General, Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Characters and situations are used without permission,
no infringement is intended.
Summary: An 11-year-old girl by the name of Jaime Traspe accidentally discovers the old mirror of Rowena Ravenclaw, and brings her back in the form of a spirit. There's something fishy going on, and it's up to Jaime and her crew, Atalanta Mahalia and Jaques Flumogel to figure it out.
Author's Notes: Jaques Flumogel wasn't in the last chapter-- you'll meet him in this chapter. And when you try to translate Jaime's conversation with him, desole means 'sorry'. It was the best word I could find to mean sorry. I'm hopeless with French… give me Spanish any day, but French is impossible. If you need translations, go to altavista.com and use the Babelfish translator.
- Hinky the House-Elf is my own creation--Hinky is my half-sister's nickname--I didn't take it from anyone.
- Lajetski is a goblin name that popped into my head, and the Gringott's poem is mostly mine--- the last two lines are paraphrased from book one.
- If you are desperately into fan fics and you want Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Draco, Dumbledore and everyone else, some of them will be making their debut with Jaques Flumogel during this chapter, and others you will meet in the next several chapters--and they WILL be major characters- so don't you worry your pretty little head.
- This is a medium-sized chapter for one of my favorite, under-appreciated places in the HP series: Diagon Alley.
- Last thought: Sorry this took so long to get up on the internet… it is pretty long.
Dedication: To Catherine. Happy Birthday.
* * *
Rowena, I can't believe we've been driving for 2 days, and we're not there yet, Jaime complained to a rather sick-looking Rowena.
Shut up for the moment Jaime--I may be dead, but I can still get carsick. Just then, Rowena retched. It was mostly transparent, but it still smelled.
"Jaime! You should have told me you weren't feeling well! Now I guess we'll have to stop again," Mrs. Traspe said, almost excitedly.
Shit! Rowena! Now we're going to stop for another three hours while mother insists upon getting the car washed and eating at another little French bistro.
I can't say that I'm sorry we're not going to be driving any more for a little while, but I know you want to get to London.
Mrs. Traspe slammed the car into a parking place at a car wash, and flagged down an employee.
"I'm so sorry to trouble you sir, but my daughter here, Jaime," Mrs. Traspe hugged Jaime around the shoulders--who was silently daring the man to say something, "was sick in the car. I could use the windshield cleaned, and I suppose that the back rug needs to be vacuumed. And could you point me in the direction of good French food?"
The man pointed at a small café behind the car wash. There was a monstrous neon sign with the grotesque puke green words Chantel's Bistro painted on it. Jaime sighed disgustedly while her mother clapped joyously. Mrs. Traspe dragged Jaime over there and ordered several pricey delicacies, while Jaime munched on bread. Rowena stood next to Mrs. Traspe looking longingly at the escargot.
It's times like this when I wish I could eat, Rowena whined.
Do shut up. I cannot believe my mother is eating SNAIL!
It's delicious.
It's disgusting.
You've never eaten it.
I don't care, eating snail is absolutely revolting- and we're not going to argue about this anymore.
Mrs. Traspe ordered some foie gras and patè- all the while urging Jaime to have some too.
You know, Rowena, I think I might take a leaf out of your book and actually puke.
Why, that's friendly.
If it wouldn't look stupid, I'd give you a giant grin, but I can't exactly smile at air.
"Darling, are you okay? You haven't eaten anything except bread and water. You're not a prisoner you know. Here, try some of this cheese- it's divine."
"No, thank you, mother."
Mrs. Traspe sighed, resigned, "Alright dear. Well, I suppose they're done with the car. Waiter, check please!"
When they walked back over the car wash, the man looked at both of them strangely, before saying, "Well, missies, I got that all cleaned up for you. Mind you, it 'twas a bit odd…"
Jaime cut him off, "Thank you, sir. Come on, mum. I'd like to get to Diagon Alley before nighttime."
Mrs. Traspe paid the man, and they were off.
* * *
When they finally arrived at Diagon Alley, Jaime was so sick of French food she swore that if she saw another plate of patè within 26 years she would blow it up the worst way she knew how. After they had their car stowed at a parking garage outside London, they took the Underground. Mrs. Traspe was simply elated to be going to Diagon Alley. Jaime seemed to catch to mood, and the two of them were giggling about Mr. Ollivander and how he used to hit on Jaime's mum. The trip didn't take long, and they stopped in front of the Leaky Cauldron.
"Here we are," Mrs. Traspe announced.
It's been a long time, Rowena said in a low, scratchy voice.
What's wrong, Rowena? Jaime asked, rather nervously.
It's a long story.
Are you okay?
Is this you showing concern? I'm touched.
Rowena started laughing out loud at her own joke.
"Jaime, what are you laughing at, honey?"
"Oh, nothing mum!"
She was glaring daggers at Rowena, who had her hand over her mouth and was slowly turning purple from lack of air. Jaime and her mum walked into the pub, and Tom immediately bombarded Mrs. Traspe with questions about her home life and daughters.
"Mum," Jaime whispered when Tom was taking a breather, "Who is this loonie?"
"This loonie," her mother answered, "was one of my best friends when I attended Hogwarts.
He and I were both in Gryffindor."
As her mother went back to chat with Tom for a few more minutes, Jaime felt the bottom of her stomach drop out. If my mother was in Gryffindor, then how the hell did I come into possession of Rowena Ravenclaw's mirror? And if it was my father's, then how the hell did it appear in my mother's Sunset room? It was all too confusing for her, and Rowena touched her shoulder. It felt somewhat tingly where the contact was.
Don't forget that I can hear you thinking. Don't bother telling me to bugger off--I already heard. The mirror you found didn't belong to your mother or your father. It was sent to you. Now don't think or ask anything else. That's all I'm telling you…for now at least.
You lied to me. You said you didn't know anything…
Hush, little one. Don't.
Fine. Jaime walked over to her mother and tugged on the sleeve of her robe like a little child.
"Mum," she complained, "Aren't we going to Diagon Alley?"
A confused expression crossed Mrs. Traspe's face, and suddenly, she brightened, "Oh, of course dear! I was just asking Tom about two rooms for us. Isn't that right Tom?"
Tom was glowing red, and replied quickly---too quickly, "Yes, of course," while shaking his head 'no'.
Jaime stifled a giggle. Her mother was exceptionally charming, and had that effect on most men.
"Now mom. Stop that. You'll only break his heart."
Tom chuckled and said, "That's too true. Too true. It only reminds me of the most debonair lady that I let slip through my stubby fingers." He grinned.
Her mother pretended to look flattered, "Me? Debonair? That's for men you toothless wonder."
"Mum, get over yourself. I'd like to get going to Diagon Alley. I've never been there before, and after all you've talked about it I believe we need to get there as soon as possible."
Mrs. Traspe giggled, "Alrighty. Let's put our trunks up in our rooms and freshen up a bit. We have a month in London, and our bank account will be quite a bit smaller by the time we're done with it."
So the three of them (Tom leading the way) put their luggage in their rooms, and Jaime sunk into another steaming bath. There were no bubbles this time, but it wasn't a bother. It felt really good to remove the thin coat of grime that had settled on her from traveling and not having anything but a quick, cold shower at a cheap motel they had stayed at the previous night. She had taken a good look around the room, and it was a nice place. There was a queen-sized bed, a dresser, big fluffy chair, and a medium sized bathroom with all the necessities. The most interesting point in the room, in her opinion, was the large banner that hung above the bed. It was a replica of the Ravenclaw banner from Hogwarts. When she thought about it again, the nameplate on her door said "Ravenclaw Suite" and everything in the room was purple and blue. Rowena obviously noticed this, and she was poking around at everything.
Rowena, she thought, isn't this an odd coinkydink?
Yes, said Rowena absently, indeed it is.
She finished her bath, and changed into some fresh clothes.
"Ahhh, that feels so much better!"
"I don't doubt it," Rowena was still poking at the banner above the bed.
"Okay, well I'm going to go down to my mother's room. Diagon Alley is in my near future… it is so close that I can smell it. I'm so excited!"
She looked at Jaime as though she had the plague, "Jaime, that is completely uncharacteristic of you. What is so special about Diagon Alley?"
"Well, I got this book of the Internet. Bit stupid, really, I learned all about Diagon Alley, and ever since I read it, I've wanted to go there."
Rowena stopped poking at the banner, and looked genuinely interested, "Can I see it?"
"Of course!" Jaime pulled out a book from her trunk, and presented it to her.
"Diagon Alley For Idiots? Surely you don't consider yourself an idiot!"
Jaime stuck out her tongue at Rowena, "It is more like 'A Beginner's Guide to Diagon Alley'. Happy?"
Rowena was still chuckling to herself, muttering "Diagon Alley For Idiots" under her breath.
"Oh give it up. Later, Rowena."
Jaime skipped out of her room and knocked on the door on the left of her own. When no one answered, she pressed her ear up against the door. She heard giggling, and a female voice saying, "Oh, you haven't changed a bit, Tom!" The voice sounds remarkably like mum's, but mum wouldn't have an affair, would she? A few days ago I would have said that mum wouldn't have eaten snail---shows what I knew. I think I'll open the door. And she did.
Mrs. Traspe and Tom were playing a mirthful game of Exploding Snap, much to her relief.
"Hey, mum. I was hoping we could get a move on."
"Alright darling. I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."
* * *
Jaime was bouncing around in excitement. Diagon Alley had always seemed like a special world to her, although she had no idea why. She had even ordered that interesting book, Diagon Alley For Idiots, which was beginning to fall apart from overuse. Some of the patrons were looking at her oddly, and she glared at one who was openly staring. She heard Rowena's voice in the back of her mind.
Temper, temper. Refrain yourself from telling that man off.
Coming from the one who could not refrain from spewing in the backseat of the car, I find that very amusing.
Bugger off.
That's my line.
There was another one of those musical giggles from Rowena, and Jaime shook her head.
Mom, when are you going to get here? Rowena---could you check on her? Don't tell me if she's snogging Tom or anything, but if she's dawdling…
An apology is in order.
Sorry, Jaime thought sullenly. She truly hated apologizing. It seemed like the only purpose of it was to bash her ego.
Right then. Oh, let's see… currently, she is putting on lipstick and trying to cram a hat on her head at the same time. Her shoes are on the bathroom counter---and would you look at that, Tom is nekkid in her bed.
Rowena…
Oh, lighten up. She's coming---as am I. I haven't been to Diagon Alley in ages.
Fine---but if you giggle or spew or do anything out of the ordinary--I'll have a priest come and exorcise you.
I don't need exercise. I'm beautiful.
You're stuck up.
Am not.
Are too.
Am not.
Are too.
Am not.
I'm not arguing any more. Better get down here, mum's on the stairs.
Jaime's mum was finally ready to go (A/N--and after six pages--that woman is a procrastinator), and they walked over to the alley entranceway. She tapped a brick in the middle, and an opening in the wall grew to accommodate someone of Rowena's stature.
"Diagon Alley," Mrs. Traspe sighed, "The Happiest Place on Earth."
Jaime blinked several times in the bright sunlight.
Damn. I was hoping it was going to be cloudy. Well, I suppose you can't have everything in life.
There were so many shops and things to do… she felt a bit overwhelmed. Inside her head, she felt completely calm, but she didn't know she was pointing out stores and spouting little tidbits of information about them that no one really cared about. Her mother was looking at her as though she feared for her daughter's sanity… but excused it as excitement. Shopping was in the blood after all.
"Before you become too entranced with any particular item, we need to visit Gringott's. I have a bit of Muggle money, but that's no good here."
They approached the tall building, and Jaime stared at it in shock. It was one of the largest buildings she had ever seen, and the doors were so large that a 20-foot giant could have entered without crouching or ducking. There was an inscription on the door (A/N: Assume that the poem on the door changes, but the overall message is the same… the last two lines are partially paraphrased from Book One… ok?):
Gringott's stands, proud and tall
Among the buildings it does sprawl
Along an Alley with many a magical shop
We are the place you first shall stop
Do not enter these two doors
Unless you come to claim what's yours
You with intentions far from pure
Should not answer riches lure
You'll find yourself entrapped and scared
Within a place you will be snared
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
Jaime was a bit startled at how dire the poem was, but she wasn't a thief or anything, so there was no trouble there. She opened the door for her mother, and again she was startled.
The door weighed practically nothing. They entered the building, and the first thought she had was Jeez! This place REEKS!
Rowena giggled again, Of course it would. It was around in my day… old places do smell, you know. Although, it didn't look like this last time I was here. Gringott's used to look like a giant dungeon. This is all granite. She cast a distasteful look at the granite floors, walls, and ceilings.
Jaime thought that the place would look like a normal Muggle bank if it didn't have weird creatures she recognized as goblins swarming about the place. Her mother strode confidently up to a free teller who was reading a book called The Goblin's Guide to Goblin Rebellions. He seemed quite immersed in it, and didn't budge until mother cleared her throat importantly. He jumped about a foot in the air, and the book fell to the ground with a loud thunk. He flashed a look of annoyance at Mrs. Traspe, who returned it.
"I need to withdraw money out of my vault- Vault 8137," she said.
"Of course, madam," the goblin sneered elegantly, "May I see your key?"
She plucked it out of her purse, and he examined it thoughtfully. Jaime allowed her attention to wander, and she saw a young man bickering with a nasty looking guard by the door. She felt a bit queasy and tugged on her mother's robe sleeve again. Her mum turned around, and when she looked at the commotion near the door, she seemed to grow antsy too.
"That's just fine," the goblin announced, "Lajetski, please take Madam Traspe and her daughter to their vault."
"Follow me," Lajetski murmured in a smooth voice, which was actually quite calming. She motioned to a cart, and they all hopped in, with Rowena sitting on the floor in the back.
If you hurl on me Rowena, I'm going to… well, I don't know what I'm going to do, but it won't be good.
What a lovely threat.
I try my hardest.
Never mind you. Now look around. This is how all of Gringott's was back in my day.
I like the granite better.
That just goes to show that you have no medieval taste.
Jaime smiled, and her mother poked her and whispered, "You're not going to get sick, are you?"
"No, mum. I only get a little car sick… from what I've heard, this is more like a roller-coaster."
"Where did you learn all about Diagon Alley? I never told you about Bekesned the Bigot's trip to the Cauldron Shop---and you were dithering on about it outside."
"Well, I got this book off the Interne…. WHOA!"
Lajetski chose that moment to start the cart, and they were hurtling along a dirt path at about 65 miles an hour. Jaime chanced a look at Rowena, who, to her relief, was just enjoying the ride. They were cramped in the cart for a quarter of an hour, and finally they reached the vault. Lajetski unlocked the tightly closed doors, and they sprang open. Mrs. Traspe hopped out and Jaime followed in suit.
"Alright now," Lajetski said, "plug your noses, close your mouth…big smoke cloud coming through…"
Jaime didn't heed the warning quickly enough, and the goblin opened the vault. A huge cloud of gold smoke exploded from inside, and she dissolved into a coughing fit.
"Are you okay?" came the panicky voice of her mother.
"Yeah," she choked out, "just peachy, mum. Thanks for inquiring!"
She continued to cough out bursts of gold smoke while her mother asked Lajetski how long the fit would last. The goblin answered anywhere from five minutes to a few hours---depending on how much smoke the person had inhaled. Mrs. Traspe shoved a lot of money from the vault into her purse, and they all got back into the cart. By the time they got to Gringott's main hall, Jaime had almost stopped coughing up smoke completely, but every once and a while she'd cough a single burst.
"Good thing you're cured, dear! We've got some shopping to do."
* * *
Jaime brightened, and they left the giant Gringott's building. The cobblestone road was giving off warmth, and the glass windows of the stores had colorful messages that changed colors. Pure glee sent a shiver up her spine, and they decided to go the Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor to drown the gold smoke in sugar. They entered the parlor, and it was quite pretty. It reminded Jaime of the old Muggle ice cream parlors from the 1950s. It had a black and white checkered floor with pink and white awnings on the outside. There was a long bar with little swivel stools, and behind the bar were hundreds of flavors of ice cream. On the bar was a little wizard juke box that played old hits, and there were napkin dispensers and little bottles with hot fudge, caramel, and strawberry dip. She stared around in amazement for a minute, but her mother pulled her by the arm to order from Florean.
"Florean! It's been a long time, old friend!"
"Indeed, Jacklyn. You look absolutely beautiful."
Mrs. Traspe pretended to blush, and she waved her hand, giggling and said, "Oh, stop, you are such a flirt!"
"He's got nothing on you, mum!" Jaime announced rather loudly, and everyone, including Rowena, started laughing.
"The little one's right you know. Now what can I get you two, fine, young women? On the house, of course."
Jaime and her mother started giggling, "Well," Jaime contemplated for a moment, "I think I'll have the banana split with gummy bears, almonds, and brownie bits."
"And I'd die for a peanut butter-lemon custard ice cream cone."
Florean smiled, "Coming right up!"
He presented Jaime with a large bowl of Neapolitan ice cream with a banana under it, and all the things she asked for sprinkled on the top. Her mother's ice cream was an odd shade of blue, and Jaime decided she didn't want to ask what exactly was in it.
Don't I get one? Rowena sulked.
You can't eat, you dingbat.
I could pretend.
Oh, yeah, and that would be a sight. An ice cream cone floating in mid-air.
I suppose it would, but God, those look divine.
Jaime and her mum sat eating their ice cream at the bar chatting with Florean. Another customer entered the store, and he excused himself to help him. They finished their ice cream, and waved good bye to Florean, who was giving a grape-pecan ice cream cone to the customer. Jaime pretended to gag behind her hand, and her mother snickered. The two of them (well, three, actually) strolled down the alley, and window-shopped for a little while until they reached Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. It was a rather small store, but it wasn't busy at all when they walked in. There were rolls of different fabrics in hundreds of colors practically lining the walls, stacked on top of each other. There were also racks of automatic-sizing robes, which were really interesting. All you had to do was put the robe on, and it would adjust itself to fit you perfectly---but they wore out quickly, and weren't always perfect… they were too baggy in some places, and too tight in others. Jaime actually owned some clothes with automatic-sizing charms on them, and they were practically a godsend for her parents because she was growing like a weed. There was a boy in there, and he looked very exasperated. He was sitting in a chair in the corner, looking at a book of colors. His mother was standing near him, pointing out a color in the book every few minutes. Jaime was staring with interest when a short, plump little witch hobbled over with a knobby cane.
"Hello, dearie! Hogwarts? Well, let's see. Do you want some automatic-sizing robes, or shall we fit you? Fitting is a bit more precise---no room for error. Of course, it is a bit more expensive," she said.
"Fitting," Mrs. Traspe replied before Jaime had a chance to answer.
"Well hop on up here! I'll have you fitted in no time."
Madam Malkin worked quickly, and fitted a large black sheet to her body perfectly. The boy in the chair looked at her with interest, but when she noticed his gaze, he blushed and turned away. He was a bit odd looking, with his bright red hair, and long nose. His face was spotted with freckles, and he was very tall, even while sitting. His mother was leaning up against the arm of the chair, and she looked quite a bit like him, with the red hair, but she was short and plump. He didn't look too happy to be in the clothing store, and he was much more interested in seeing what Jaime was doing there. Finally, his mother got tired of not having his attention, and swatted the back of his head. Jaime started giggling at him, and Rowena joined in silently. She didn't even notice when Madam Malkin told her that she was done. After about a minute of waiting for Jaime to hop down, Mrs. Traspe walked over and swatted Jaime in the back of the head, and the red-haired boy and his mother looked like they were about to die laughing. She and her mum walked over to the two of them and introduced themselves.
"Jacklyn Traspe, how do you do?"
"Molly Weasley. A pleasure to meet you."
The boy looked a bit embarrassed, so Jaime held out her hand and said, "Hi. Jaime Traspe."
The boy took it, "Ron Weasley."
They shook hands quickly, and looked at their mothers. They were chatting, and didn't seem to be finishing any time soon. Jaime looked at Ron, rolled her eyes, and said, "Knowing my mum, they'll be talking all day. Let's go."
"Mum!" she called, "We're going to go get books or something."
Mrs. Traspe and Mrs. Weasley agreed, and said that they'd get the robes and would meet them at the Leaky Cauldron in an hour. Ron and Jaime left, chatting cordially.
"So, what year are you in?" Jaime asked.
"Starting 5th year this fall. You?"
"I'm just starting this year."
"You're only eleven?!"
"Is that so hard to believe?"
"Yes. You look like you're about 14 or 15!"
"I'm taking that as a compliment, for the moment anyway."
Ron smiled, "It was meant as one," he looked at his watch, " I'm meeting two of my friends in a few minutes… do you want to come?"
"Sure."
They went back down to Florean's, and sat at a table outside with four chairs. Ron and Jaime talked for a little bit, mostly about Quidditch. She was a big fan of the Chudley Cannons even if she couldn't play worth beans, and they were arguing about whom was the best chaser on the team when a medium tenor voice came yelling across the courtyard.
"Hey Ron!"
The boy had black, messy hair that was sticking up at odd angles, cowlicks all over the place. He had startlingly green eyes, and an angular face. The only odd thing about him was a scar in the middle of his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. That was odd…
* * *
Oh. My. God. Rowena!!! That's Harry Potter!
What an observation! Of course it's Harry Potter.
But he's…famous! Everyone knows him.
Don't stare at his scar. He doesn't like that… I can tell.
"Hi," Harry said, "Who're you?"
"Well isn't that a nice way to greet someone who's been chatting with your best friend."
Harry grinned, "Sorry. What's your name?"
"Jaime."
Jaime picked up the Quidditch conversation with Ron and Harry until a girl with bushy hair and a bag full of books approached.
"Hey Hermione," Harry greeted her.
She smiled, "Hey Harry. Hi Ron."
Hermione looked at Jaime, "Hi. Hermione Granger." she held out her hand, so Jaime took it and introduced herself. Hermione started telling her all about her new books while the boys kept chatting about Quidditch.
The three of them are quite impressed with you, Rowena confided to Jaime.
Is that your professional opinion?
You must have your mother's charm.
You say that like it's a good thing.
It is! Rowena protested.
To each her own, I suppose.
Hermione interrupted the silent conversation with a slew of questions for Jaime about her family. The four of them sat chatting for a long while until two short and kind of chubby figures came towards them from near the Leaky Cauldron.
"RON!" the redheaded one yelled, "WHERE ARE YOU?"
Ron and Jaime walked over to their mothers, waving a sullen good-bye to their friends, or new friends in Jaime's case.
"Where were you two?" Mrs. Weasley growled, "You said you'd be back in an hour!"
"Well, we were…" Ron started.
"Met Harry Potter and Hermione at Florean's…" interrupted Jaime.
"Lost track of time…"
Mrs. Weasley looked angry, but Mrs. Traspe looked cheerful.
"Oh, Molly. They're just kids. They're allowed to be late," she told her.
"But, Jacklyn, they said they'd be back… oh, well, you're right."
Ron looked amazed. His usually temperamental mother was docile as a lamb. "Can you loan me your mother?" he asked Jaime.
Jaime just smiled and shook her head, "Not on your life."
"Damn."
Mrs. Traspe interrupted, "Come on Jaime, dear, we have some more shopping to do since you didn't get your books! Keep in touch, Molly!"
"Bye, Jaime!"
"Bye, Ron!"
Wow, Jaime thought, they were really okay. Maybe I'll actually have some friends at Hogwarts after all.
* * *
They walked down the cobblestone street in silence for a few moments.
"So, mum, do you like Mrs. Weasley?"
"Oh, yes. She's a nice lady. I can tell you liked her son, Ron, too."
Jaime blushed, "Not like like, but he's a nice guy. I met his friends too---Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."
Mrs. Traspe stopped, "You met Harry Potter?"
She shrugged, "Yeah. So?"
"SO? He's famous! He vanquished He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"
"Newsflash, mum, that happened about 14 years ago, and" she added as an afterthought.
"You-Know-Who came back."
"I know. But he's a very respected member of the community! He's still alive after meeting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named four times. He's…"
"Mum, get over it! He's one of those reluctant heroes, you know? He doesn't want his fame. So stop dithering, and let's shop!"
The mention of shopping took Harry Potter off Mrs. Traspe's mind. They went to Flourish and Blott's. The sheer size of the store was amazing, but what was inside was mind-blowing. There were hundreds of thousands, if not millions of books in there on every subject imaginable. The store was at least 4 stories high, and was about half as wide as Gringott's, which was still saying something. There was an entire section dedicated to the Hogwarts textbooks on the first floor so that they would be readily accessible to the students who came to buy their books. In the middle of the first floor was basically a sunken in den with chairs, sofas, desks, and lamps. It had a very homey atmosphere. Jaime pulled the list of textbooks out of her back pocket, and read it over again.
Mrs. Traspe smiled fondly, and started browsing for the first book on the list. She took one off the shelf where over a hundred copies of The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) were sitting. There were also hundreds of copies of Grades 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7… but then, there were hundreds of copies of all the books on her list because Flourish and Blott's was the only place to get books in Britain. Jaime was looking for A History of Magic when a young man brushed by her, mumbling, "Excusez-moi. Je suis désolé."
"Excusez-vous!" Jaime replied disgustedly in perfect French.
"J'ai dit que j'étais désolé," the boy replied.
"Bien puis. Je vous pardonne."
"Pourquoi, merci," the boy replied sarcastically, but looked at Jaime with interest.
Mrs. Traspe looked at her daughter with interest too, "I didn't know you could speak French!"
Jaime smiled, "Ahhh, the wonders of the Internet."
The boy was still standing there, and she looked at him with admiration. It wasn't every day she met a boy who was so incredibly handsome. He seemed to be about 15 or 16, but he was a little on the short side. He had pretty long, brown hair, and high, chiseled cheekbones. He was very white, as though he hadn't seen the sun in ages. His nose was arched, and it gave him a 'manly' appearance, in her opinion, anyway. Rowena had been browsing the titles of some books nearby, but when she felt a rush of hot rage barge into Jaime's consciousness, she whisked right over to see what was wrong.
Where on earth did you find this one? He is gorgeous. If I was young and alive…
You're right, but then I went and insulted him. Now he's staring at me.
Why the hell are you complaining?
The boy seemed to have made up his mind about her, and he smiled. His teeth were perfect, like everything else about him. He held out his hand, "Jaques Flumogel."
Jaime looked at him warily, as though it was possible he was mad and dangerous. She decided, however, that he was at least partially sane, if not too perfect to be true. "Jaime Traspe. Parlez-vous anglais?"
"Yes," he answered in heavily accented English, "I am proudly bi-lingual."
"Really…" she said, "I was under the impression that you Frenchmen were proudly anti-anythingnotFrench."
"An unfortunate misunderstanding, mademoiselle," Jaques replied, smirking.
Jaime decided that she liked this boy, and smiled back. Mrs. Traspe sighed, and then giggled, "Well, I'll let you two pick out your school books. Jaime, dear, I'm going back to the room for a bit. Going to go take a nap. You dragged me out here quickly, you know." She gave Jaime The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) and some money and walked out.
"Right, mum. See you later."
"So, Jaime, where do you go to école?"
"Hogwarts. And let me guess, you go to… Beauxbatons?"
"What a guess. Although I may speak French, I do not attend Beauxbatons. Why would I be in Diagon Alley if I were from France? They have there own sort of thing there. No, I was just raised by French people and went to a boarding school in France for a while, but deep down, I'm British."
"What a speech. Impressive."
"You are a sarcastique petite chienne."
"That's not very nice. And I'm not a bitch. And I'm not little. So cram it."
"As you wish, mademoiselle. But I suppose the answer to your original question is that I attend Hogwarts. I'm in my 4th year."
"That means you're only fourteen."
"An excellent observation. And how old would you be?
"Eleven."
Jaques raised a delicate eyebrow, "You do not look your age."
"Nor do you," she replied.
"I believe you need to get your texts, if I am not mistaken."
Jaime glared at him, "Yes, I do," and she turned back to the shelves to pick get the remaining books.
Jaques just stood there.
"Well, make yourself useful!" she snapped, "Here's the list. You take the last 4."
They got their schoolbooks, and then decided to check out a flyer someone had handed them with titles of fantastic books and where to find them. (A/N: I wonder… did anyone get that pun, or am I completely hopeless? No… don't answer that.) Jaques and Jaime spent an hour looking them up, and actually ended up picking out a few each. Jaime chose Hogwarts, A History, Feminist Witches Who Changed the World, and Evil Wizards Who Met Their Downfall Because of Exceptionally Wonderful Witches. Jaques decided that Murder, Mayhem, and Morose Tales of the Ministry of Magic, Potions for Idiots, Stars, Planets, and Asteroids for the Beginning Astronomy Student, and Martin Miggs: The Mad Muggle Volume 27 Issue 36 were more worthy reads. Jaime chastised him for getting a comic book, but he laughed and said that she couldn't tell him what to do. She fumed at his arrogance and immaturity, and had no qualms in telling him that he was a complete fool. He said that he couldn't agree more, and she replied by telling him that he should seriously consider checking St. Mungo's out… he might be visiting there sooner that he might think.
That was a good one, Rowena said amusedly.
I know! He actually shut up for a moment.
Jaques and Jaime paid for the books at the counter, and they decided to make a last stop at The Astronomy Shoppe so that Jaime could get her telescope, and Jaques could get a lunascope, which he had always wanted, and had finally saved up enough money to afford. Astronomy, Jaime soon found out, was his favorite subject, and when he graduated from Hogwarts, he wanted to take over Professor Sinistra's place, teaching it.
"Well you seem to have it all figured out," Jaime said.
"What I want is not necessarily what I get."
Jaime pondered what he wasn't telling her.
Your friend here, Jaques, is not a happy boy. He is very misfortunate in his home life, and he's never had a close friend, Rowena said.
You know, I've been meaning to ask you. How do you know these things?! You know all sorts of things that I don't.
Perks, I tell you, perks of being a thousand years dead.
Maybe someday you'll tell me the whole truth.
And nothing but the truth, so help me God?
I think that perhaps you should be checking into St. Mungo's instead of Jaques.
I don't think that spirits can check into St. Mungo's… I thought it was only for live 'uns.
Jaime rolled her eyes.
"What is it?" Jaques inquired.
"Oh, nothing. I'm just-er-wondering why it's taking so damned long for you to pick out the lunascope you've been lusting after."
"Nice alliteration."
"Do I need to tell you to cram it again?"
"Possibly. I'll let you know later."
"I'd appreciate that."
Jaime bought a nice collapsible silver telescope, and Jaques finally chose a pearly white lunascope. She could see why he liked it so much---it was quite pretty, and very handy for astronomy… no more lunar charts. They left the store chatting about astronomy and Diagon Alley. They walked back into the Leaky Cauldron, and Jaques was in a rush to go.
"What time is it?" he asked quickly.
"Uh, I think it's just after 6."
"Maldicion," he mumbled under his breath.
"Jaques… you never said you were tri-lingual."
"Ah, well, not something I go around proclaiming from the rooftops. Spain is quite close to France, you know."
Jaime was going crazy, trying to figure out what her new friend was hiding. It was evident in the way he talked, but he never let on more than bits or pieces.
"I have to go, Jaime. My parents are meeting me across the street. I hope that I shall see you at Hogwarts. It was a pleasure meeting you," and with that he kissed her hand, and left her blushing wildly.