Chapter 1: Journey to Hogwarts pt.1
Iona tossed her schoolbag onto the kitchen table, sending a shower of crumbs from last night's pizza flying. She sighed, pulling out a chair and plopping down, her long platinum hair cascading over her shoulders.
"Mum, what's for tea?" she called out, her voice echoing in the small terrace house.
Her mother, Jean, poked her head around the corner, flour dusting her round cheeks. "Chicken pie, love. Why?
“Oh no reason, just askin'.” Suddenly, the doorbell rings. Iona frowned, pushing her chair back and standing up. "Oh that’s probably Dad" she thought out loud as she made her way to the front door. She swung it open, revealing a tall, thin man with a long, pointed nose and piercing eyes. He wore a worn-out cloak and a pointed hat, and in his hand, he held a large, parchment envelope sealed with purple wax."Can I help you?" Iona asked, her brow furrowing. The man looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her red irises.
"Ah, I believe I have found the right person," he said, his voice deep and resonant. "I am Alastor Moody, the new head of administrations at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. I've come to deliver your acceptance letter.
You're due to start as a seventh-year student," he stated matter-of-factly, extending the envelope towards her.
Iona stared at him, then at the envelope, then back at him. "My what? I’ve not applied to anything, definitely not a course on magic tricks. Sorry not interested.” She shut the door on him, rude, but an appropriate response to a stranger spewing nonsense on your doorstep.
“Who was that, love?
Your dad’s not due till later,” Jean asked, wiping her hands on her apron as she entered the living room. Iona stood by the front door, her back pressed against it, staring at the closed door as if expecting it to open again any moment.
“Uh, just some salesman, Mum. Nothing important,” Iona replied, turning around and forcing a smile. Her mother raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further.
"Well, set the table, would you? Dinner's almost ready." Iona nodded, grabbing plates from the cabinet and setting them down on the table. As she sat down, she couldn't shake off the encounter with the strange man.
Just as she was about to share the peculiar incident with her mother, the doorbell rang again. This time, there were two people. Iona got up, her heart pounding in her chest. She opened the door to find the same man, Alastor Moody, accompanied by her father.
Her father, usually a man of few words, wore an expression of bewilderment. "Iona, this man here says you've been accepted into some...school," he said, scratching his head.
Moody held up the envelope again, his eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. "I apologize for the confusion earlier, Miss Hamilton. I realize my appearance may have been... startling. I assure you, Hogwarts is no place for magic tricks. It's a school for young witches and wizards."
Who you callin’ a witch" Iona retorted, her Scottish accent thickening with her growing irritation. She glanced at her father, who seemed just as clueless as she was.
Moody, seeing her skepticism, sighed and reached into his cloak, pulling out a long, gnarled wooden stick. "Very well, if you won't take my word for it, perhaps this will convince you." He pointed the stick at a nearby plant pot, and with a flick of his wrist, the pot rose off the ground, hovering in mid-air. Iona's eyes widened, her mouth agape. "Bloody hell, that's... that's some trick," her dad muttered. Iona, finding her voice, demanded, "How did you do that? There must be some explanation!" Moody smiled, lowering the pot back to the ground. "There is, Miss Hamilton. But it's not magic tricks. It's magic, plain and simple. And you, it seems, have it in your blood.
May I join you at your table, Miss Hamilton? I can explain everything" Moody said. Iona stepped aside, allowing Moody to enter the house.
Her mother, hearing the commotion, appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening at the sight of the stranger. "Jean, this is Mr. Moody. He's here because... well, I'm not quite sure yet," Iona's father stammered, scratching his head again.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hamilton," Moody said, tipping his hat. Jean nodded, still looking bewildered, and ushered everyone to the kitchen table. "Would you like some tea, Mr. Moody?" she offered, already filling the kettle.
Moody nodded, taking a seat at the table. Iona sat down opposite him, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. "Alright, so you've got some... magic stick. What's that got to do with me?" she challenged, her tone still skeptical.
Moody took a sip of the tea Jean had poured him, setting the cup down carefully before speaking.
"Well, Miss Hamilton, typically we’re able to sense magic in children by the time they’re 11 and invite them to our school from that age . However, it seems your magical abilities have only recently begun to manifest." He glanced at her red irises, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "The curse you bear has likely been suppressing your magical powers until now."
"Curse?!
What curse?" Iona's voice was sharp, her eyes flashing with sudden anger. She looked at her parents, then back at Moody.
“We believe someone wanted to prevent you from honing your magical abilities and cursed you as a baby, but it appears to have weakened as we can sense traces of magic within you now," Moody explained, his gaze steady on Iona. Her parents exchanged looks of confusion and concern.
"Alright, so let's say I believe you. Why would anyone want to stop me from being magical?" Iona asked, her fingers tracing the edge of her teacup.
Moody leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. "That, Miss Hamilton, is a question I cannot answer. But I can tell you that Hogwarts is the best place for you to learn about your powers and control them.
Iona bit her lip, considering this.
She looked at her parents, who seemed as lost as she was. "What do you think, Mum? Dad?" she asked, seeking their input.
Jean looked at her husband, then back at Iona. "Well, love, it's all a bit... much. But if this man is telling the truth, it might explain some things. Remember the time you made that plant grow just by looking at it? We thought it was just your green thumb." She chuckled nervously.
Moody nodded, " Yes, that was your magic at work, Miss Hamilton. Hogwarts can help you understand and control such occurrences. Plus, it's not every day one gets to learn from the greatest witches and wizards of our time."
Iona's father, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat. "But what about her highers? She's in the middle of her studies here."
Moody waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, don't worry about that. Once you're at Hogwarts, your education will be far more... comprehensive.
You'll find that your Muggle education will serve as a solid foundation, but Hogwarts will offer you knowledge far beyond what you could learn here."
Iona bit her lip, contemplating this new information. She looked around the table, taking in her parents' worried but hopeful expressions. She knew they wanted what was best for her, even if they didn't fully understand what was happening.
"Alright, Mr. Moody," she said finally, her voice steady. "I'll go to this Hogwarts. But I've got conditions."
Moody raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in his chair.
"Conditions, Miss Hamilton? I must say, that's a first. Usually, students are thrilled at the prospect of attending Hogwarts." His eyes twinkled with amusement.
Iona rolled her eyes, unperturbed. "Well, I'm not your usual student, am I? I've just found out I'm some sort of... witch, and I'm supposed to drop everything and go to this magical school. I think I deserve some say in this."
Moody chuckled, nodding. "Fair enough. Let's hear your conditions."
Iona counted them off on her fingers.
"Well, I want a wand . Like, a proper one, not a stick from the garden. And I want to start in September, like a normal school year. And I want you to promise me that I can come back here for holidays, see my family, you know? I'm not gonna just vanish into some magical world and forget about my mum and dad."
Moody listened intently, his gaze never leaving Iona's face. When she finished, he nodded slowly.
"A wand, I can provide. Though the process of choosing one can be quite... involved. September is indeed the start of the new academic year, so that poses no problem.
As for holidays, I assure you, Miss Hamilton, Hogwarts is not a prison. Students are encouraged to visit their families during the Christmas, Easter, and summer holidays. Now, anything else?"
Iona thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No, that's all. But I want your word on those things."
Moody extended his hand across the table. "You have my word, Miss Hamilton. Welcome to the magical world."
Iona hesitated for a moment, then shook his hand. It was warm and firm, and she felt a strange comfort in his grip.
She pulled her hand back, breaking the contact, and looked around the table. Her parents were both smiling, relief evident in their eyes. She knew they were happy, not just because she'd agreed to go to this Hogwarts place, but because they finally had an explanation for the odd things that had happened throughout her life.
"Right then," Moody said, releasing her hand and sitting back in his chair. "There are a few more things we need to discuss. First, you'll need to acquire your school supplies. Your robes, books, and other necessities.
We can arrange a visit to Diagon Alley, the magical shopping district in London, to acquire these items. We’ll arrange for a professor to meet you there.
They'll assist you with your purchases and guide you through the process," Moody continued, sipping his tea.
Jean , who had been quiet for most of the conversation, spoke up then. "Today’s August 30th though, is there enough time to get to London and back to the highlands in time?” Jean asked, her brow furrowed in concern. She was always the practical one, the planner, the one who made sure everything was in order.
"We wizards have… more efficient modems of transport” Moody reassured her, a small smile playing on his lips. “We won't be needing any Muggle trains or cars.
In fact, we can leave whenever you're ready." He glanced at Iona, who was still trying to wrap her head around the idea of 'magical transport'.
"Now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked at her parents, who seemed as taken aback by the speed of events as she was.
Moody nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Quite right, Miss Hamilton. Time is of the essence. But there's no need to be nervous. The journey to Diagon Alley is quite... exhilarating. You'll see."
He stood up, pushing his chair back. "Now, if you'll follow me, we can depart immediately."
Iona's parents exchanged a look, then her father stood up as well. "We'll come too, Iona.
If you're going to this...Diagon Alley, we want to see it," Jean said, surprising everyone. She stood up, a determined look on her face. Iona's eyes widened, her gaze flicking between her mother and Moody.
"Aye, we'll come, love. We'll not let you go off into the unknown without us," her father added, standing beside Jean. Moody looked taken aback, but he recovered quickly, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Very well, but I must warn you, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, Diagon Alley is no ordinary place.
It's a world unlike anything you've ever seen. I'm not sure how you'll react to it," Moody said, his gaze shifting between Iona and her parents. Jean squared her shoulders, her chin lifted in determination. "We're her parents, Mr. Moody. We've faced plenty of unknowns for Iona. This is no different." Moody nodded, respect in his eyes. "Very well. You best go pack, Miss Hamilton” Moody said, his gaze shifting to Iona. “We'll be leaving as soon as you're ready."
Iona nodded, standing up and making her way to her room. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, her heart pounding in her chest. She was about to embark on a journey that would change her life forever, and she hadn't even packed yet.
She pulled out her suitcase from under her bed, the one she used for her annual trips to the Isle of Arran with her grandparents.
She tossed it open, revealing the worn, purple floral lining. As she began to throw in her clothes, her mind wandered to the thought of hot wizard boys. She had always been drawn to the mysterious, the unknown, and the idea of a school filled with magical boys sent a thrill down her spine. She grinned to herself, imagining the type of boys she might meet - tall, dark, and handsome, with a touch of danger in their eyes. She paused, holding up a particularly low-cut top, the one she wore on nights out with her friends. She bit her lip, wondering if it was too much. But then again, she reasoned, she was about to enter a whole new world. She might as well make an impression. She threw the top into her suitcase, followed by a few more 'slutty pieces', as she liked to call them. She added a handful of lacy bras and thongs, just in case.
You never knew when you might need to impress a certain someone. She zipped up her suitcase, her heart pounding with anticipation. She took one last look around her room, her sanctuary, before grabbing her suitcase and heading back downstairs.
Moody was waiting by the front door, his cloak billowing around him. He looked up as she descended the stairs, his piercing gaze meeting hers. "Ready, Miss Hamilton?" he asked, his voice deep and resonant.
Iona nodded, her grip tightening on her suitcase handle.
"Ready as I'll ever be," she replied, her voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Her parents followed behind her, their expressions a mix of apprehension and excitement.
"Alright, everyone huddle up ," Moody instructed, his voice echoing in the small hallway. They all moved closer, Iona sandwiched between her parents. Moody opened a small pouch, grabbing a handful of green powder. "Now, hold on tight. This might feel a bit... unusual," he warned, his eyes twinkling with amusement, before throwing the powder to the ground.
Before Iona could ask what he meant, a bright light enveloped them, and the world around them spun. She felt a sensation like she was being squeezed through a tiny tube, her stomach lurching as if she was on a rollercoaster. She gripped her suitcase tighter, her knuckles turning white.
Just as suddenly as it had started, the spinning stopped, and the light faded. Iona blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sudden change in lighting. When her vision cleared, she gasped. They were standing in a narrow, cobblestone alleyway, surrounded by tall, ancient buildings that towered above them. The air was filled with the scent of spices and something sweet, like honey. The sound of distant laughter and chatter echoed around them, and Iona could see people - no, not people, she realized, witches and wizards - bustling to and fro, their cloaks billowing behind them.
They all seemed to be in a hurry, their faces focused and determined.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley, Miss Hamilton," Moody said, turning to Iona with a small smile. "And welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton," he added, nodding at her parents.
Jean and Iona's father looked around in awe, their eyes wide with wonder. "It's... it's incredible," Jean breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "We've never seen anything like it."
Moody chuckled, "Indeed, it's unlike anything you'll find in the Muggle world. Now, unfortunately I have something to attend to so I shall hand you over to my esteemed colleague, professor Ebeneezer Olson . He’ll assist you with your purchases and guide you through the Alley," he said, motioning to a tall, thin man with a large, round nose and kind hazel eyes.
The man stepped forward, a small smile playing on his lips. "Pleasure to meet you, Iona. And you must be her parents ," Professor Olson said, extending a hand each towards Jean and Iona's father. They shook them, still looking around in amazement.
"Now, let's get you sorted," he continued, turning to Iona. "First things first, we need to get you robes. Follow me."
He led them down the bustling alley, past shops filled with cauldrons, potion ingredients, and creatures Iona had only ever seen in fairy tales. She couldn't help but stare, her eyes wide with wonder.
They passed a shop filled with nothing but wands, each one more intricate and beautiful than the last. A sign outside read 'Ollivanders'. Professor Olson led them to a small, inconspicuous door sandwiched between two larger shops. A sign above the door read 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions'. He pushed the door open, ushering them inside.
The shop was small but cozy, filled with racks upon racks of robes in every color imaginable.
“We need houseless robes for this lovely young lady” Olson declared to the elderly woman behind the counter.
The woman's eyes widened as she took in Iona's appearance, her gaze lingering on her red irises. "Houseless, you say? Well, that's a rather unusual request. don’t students her age have their houses sorted?" she said, her voice sharp.
Olson stepped in, a reassuring smile on his face. "Yes, well, she is a special case. She's only just found out about her magical abilities and will be starting her seventh year at Hogwarts this September."
The woman's expression softened, and she nodded, her eyes filled with sympathy.
"How quaint. Well, we can certainly try to help with that. Let's find you something that'll make you feel right at home, no matter which house you end up in." She turned to a rack filled with plain black robes.
“I’m afraid we’re low stock on houseless skirts though, my dear. So I hope you don’t mind wearing yours short.” She held up a simple black robe with a skirt that ended just above the knee. Iona looked at it, then back at the woman, a hint of defiance in her eyes.
“Aye, I don’t mind at all,” she replied, taking the robe from the woman. “In fact, I prefer it. Less fabric to get in the way, you know?”.
Olson pays for the robe, they head to the owl store next. “An owl is customary for Hogwarts students. It’s how you’ll receive your daily mail,” he explains. Inside, owls of all sizes and colors perch on branches, hooting softly. Iona’s eyes widen at the sight. She’s always loved birds, and the thought of having her own owl sends a thrill down her spine.
“Which one should I choose?” she asks, turning to Olson.
He smiles, “It’s up to you, Iona. But remember, owls can be quite temperamental.
Choose wisely," Olson advised, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Iona approached the cages, her gaze scanning the owls. She was drawn to a small, elf owl perched on a branch in the corner. It had a diminutive look that she found cute. She reached out a tentative hand, letting the owl sniff her fingers before gently stroking its soft feathers.
"This one," she said, turning to Olson. "I want this one."
Olson nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "A good choice, Miss Hamilton.
Elf owls are known for their loyalty and intelligence," Professor Olson said, nodding approvingly. He turned to the shopkeeper, a tall, thin woman with sharp features and piercing eyes. "We'll take that elf owl, please."
The shopkeeper nodded, reaching into the cage to carefully lift the owl out. She placed it on a small perch, which she then handed to Iona. "Here you go, dear. You'll need to name her, you know.
Owls respond better to names," the shopkeeper said, her voice sharp yet kind. Iona looked down at the small creature perched on her hand, its large eyes blinking up at her. She thought for a moment, then smiled. "I'll call you Junpei," she decided, her voice soft. The owl hooted softly, as if in agreement. Iona grinned, feeling a warmth spread through her at the sound.
Her mum, taken aback at the fact her daughter just bought an owl, “this society is so weird ,” she mumbled. Iona just laughed, “I know, Mum, but isn’t he cool?” She stroked Junpei gently, her heart already filled with affection for the little creature.
Next on their list was a visit to the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts.
The scent of old parchment and ink filled the air as they entered, and Iona couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer number of books that surrounded her. Towers of tomes reached up to the ceiling, and she could see ladders leaning against the shelves, ready to be climbed by eager readers.
Professor Olson led them to a section marked 'Hogwarts Textbooks'. He picked up a large, heavy book bound in deep red leather and handed it to Iona. "This is your standard textbook for Charms," he explained.
"You'll need it for your seventh-year Charms class. Now, let's see what else you'll need..."
He scanned the shelves, pulling out a few more books and piling them into Iona's arms. There was one on Potions, another on History of Magic, and a third on Defense Against the Dark Arts. Iona struggled to keep hold of them all, her arms straining under the weight.
Meanwhile, her parents wandered off, drawn to a nearby display of Muggle-born books. Jean picked up a copy of 'Hogwarts: A History', flipping through the pages with curiosity.
"Iona, look at this," she called out, showing her daughter a black-and-white photograph of the castle. "Isn't it beautiful?"
Iona looked up from her pile of books, craning her neck to see the image. "Yeah, it is," she agreed, a sense of longing in her voice. She was starting to feel a strange connection to this place, this Hogwarts, as if it was calling to her.
Her father, who had been browsing nearby, joined them.
"So, this is where you'll be spending the next year, eh?" he said, looking at the photograph over Jean's shoulder. "It's quite something, isn't it?"
Iona nodded, her eyes still on the image. "Yeah, it really is."
“Sorry to interrupt folks but I’ve been summoned to meet someone briefly, Iona, can I meet you at King’s Cross in an hour?” Professor Olson checked his pocket watch and looked up at Iona.
“Sure, no problem,” Iona replied, her eyes still on the photograph of Hogwarts.
With that, he tipped his hat and disappeared into the crowded alley.
Iona watched him go, then turned back to her parents. "Well, I guess that's it then," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked at them, her eyes filled with a mix of apprehension and excitement. Jean reached out, pulling her into a tight hug. "You be careful, Iona," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And remember, no matter what happens, you're our little girl, and we love you." Iona nodded, her eyes prickling with unshed tears. Her father stepped forward then, wrapping his arms around both of them. "We're proud of you, Iona," he said, his voice gruff. "You go out there and show them what you're made of." Iona laughed, sniffling back her tears. "I will, Dad. I promise." They stood there for a moment, the three of them wrapped in a tight embrace, before finally pulling apart.
Iona took a deep breath, steeling herself for the journey ahead. Her parents looked at her, their eyes filled with a mix of worry and pride.
"Alright, I guess I should go find Professor Olson," Iona said, her voice steady.