The Hogwarts Extras And The Marauder'S Map

Long-time friends Mikaela and Madeline are not so different-- they're both stubborn, creative, and generally well-meaning. Or so they thought, until they arrived at Hogwarts and got placed into completely different houses: Gryffindor and Slytherin, respectively. Still, even though they don't get to share a common room, Hogwarts is bursting at the seams with adventures and shenanigans for two first-years to get into. And what could possibly go wrong when they happen across a wonderful piece of parchment that shows all the secret passages in the school? When Harry, Ron, and Hermione are off on exciting adventures, what are the other Hogwarts students getting up to? What's life like for the Hogwarts Extras? Partial credit goes to Mikaela McParlan, whose URL here is mamabear. Everyone go friend her, now.
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Diagon Alley

Chapter 1

Mikaela and I pretended to know where we were going as we skipped around  Diagon Alley trying to find places like Flourish and Blotts and Ollivanders. The place was bustling with magical people looking like little pieces straight from my wildest sketches of wild fantasies. Long purple robes, tall elegant hats, and no noticeable brand names, something Mikaela also noticed and appreciated. Our moms were trailing behind loosely, and eventually we lost them passing a pub, where it can be assumed they parked themselves for the afternoon. The giddiness at being set loose on a whole wizarding village wore off as we reached the end of the sunny street, an intersection marked “Diagon Alley” and “Knockturn Alley”. I suggested we try the new street, which looked very interesting, as if it was magically overcast even in the sunlight. Also there was a green lady selling what looked like Christmas ornaments from a grim-looking cart. Mikaela said no. 

The first shop we came upon was Flourish and Blotts. It was probably the best place I had ever been in. Enormous books were piled high and stacked on shelves lining the walls all the way up to the ceiling. Neither of us had any clue where we were supposed to look for our spellbooks, but neither of us felt like asking an attendant. So Mikaela started scouring the shelves for the titles on her list, and I wandered over to a corner devoted to Divination, and started perusing the shelves. 

The first books I got my hands on weren’t as exciting as I had hoped, so I was forced to toss them onto the floor at my feet. My favorite book that I discovered was about death omens, with a frightening black dog on the cover, who I learned two pages in was called the Grim, and he was the ultimate omen for death. My uncle had a dog named Jake who looked just like the Grim. Was my uncle doomed to die?

A painfully short forty-five minutes later, Mikaela stormed over to me, exasperated that I had not collected my books yet. I explained that I had been collecting books, as I motioned toward the increasingly large pile of divination books at my feet. 

She led me around the store and I spent about a third of my money.

Next, we went into Madame Malkin’s, and it was my turn to be extremely bored while Mikaela took a whole fifteen minutes picking out robe fabric and getting fitted and deciding whether or not to buy a hat. The robe tailor woman, presumably Madame Malkin herself, looked relatively dumbstruck when I asked her if I could just have a medium large. She then prodded me onto a stand and forced me to give her my measurements. I told Mikaela she didn’t have to stay, but she hung around anyways, striking up a conversation with a short skinny blonde boy when I became so gloomy standing on that stool with my arms stretched out that I couldn’t talk. For the dreadfully lengthy ten minutes it took Madame Malkin to fit my robes, I mostly daydreamed that I was a bat flying around in the rafters of the shop, until something in Mikaela’s new conversation caught my ear, and I drifted into attention:

“Oh. Well, then.” said the blonde boy, looking a little perturbed. He had been looking her in the eye, up till then.

“Why? What’s the difference if you’ve got muggle parents?” Mikaela asked him, her voice getting higher. The boy snickered in an unpleasant way, but didn’t answer. Mikaela looked shocked that anyone could be so rude.

“Hey!” I said loudly at him. “What’s the difference?” I was honestly curious. Also, for some reason, I felt hot anger start to spread from my stomach, even though he hadn’t really said anything yet. I decided that nothing he had to say would do anything to lessen my rage. 

“Well, it’s just, you’re not really witches, are you? You can’t expect to match purebloods, after all. If I were you, I wouldn’t bother with school at all.”

I had absolutely no idea what any of that had meant, but I was right about the rage not lessening. I really wanted to say something intelligent and witty and hurtful right back at him, but my tongue was tied in anger and the only reply I could think of was small penis, which wasn’t even remotely close to the level of insult I wanted to achieve. 

“We got our Hogwarts letters, same as you.” Said Mikaela coldly. At that moment,  two other boys walked into the shop. Both of them were very large and very stupid looking, and they seemed to be friends of this blonde kid. All of a sudden I felt helpless and outnumbered. The blonde boy, however, seemed to have gained confidence. This was evidently so, because he no longer wasted words on politeness:

“If it were up to my father, you and your lot would have been barred from Hogwarts ages ago, and I think so, too. Wizardry aught to be left to proper wizards.”

Just as I opened my mouth to say, “Small penis!” a new idea formed in my head (thank goodness).

“What a genius!” I exclaimed. “Proper wizards! I agree, too many non-proper wizards are being allowed into Hogwarts. Bloody idiots that don’t even know what a Grim is.” I laughed gleefully at the stupid look on his stupid face. “You know what a Grim is, don’t you? It’s rudimentary Divination.” The blonde boy and his comrades looked at each other like they were trying to figure something out, and after a moment the blonde one looked at me and said,

“You’re making that up. Think you’re the only one who knows how to pick up a book, Mudblood?”

Damn, my cover had been blown. Quick, think of something witty, ruthless, and intelligent!

“Small penis.” I said cleverly.

This had all the effect I was hoping for even though I had lost the respect of everyone in the room, especially Madame Malkin, who had just re-entered with an armful of new robes. She shot me a dirty look as she handed them to me and Mikaela and I hustled ourselves out of there before a rather perturbed blonde kid could work it out. 

As little good as that encounter did anyone, especially me, Mikaela kept going into giggle fits over it, and that brightened our day even further. Neither of us knew what a mudblood was, but it seemed sort of like a swear word, the way the two ogre-boys had acted when he said it, like it was so brave and cool of their blonde friend to use it. Wizard boys were the same as regular sixth-grade boys, I realized unhappily.

In the pet store, Mikaela bought an owl. He was a large very pretty moon-faced barn owl, and I really wanted one too, but I figured that I probably couldn’t take care of any more than my cat, and I could probably borrow hers if I needed to send any mail. I came very close to buying a bat, but they weren’t on the list of animals. Only cats, rats, owls, or toads. 

That’s when we ran into our mothers again, who were apparently having a marvelous time on their own, both holding little half-empty cups of ice cream. Neither of them seemed to understand the gravity of our shopping success that day, and both seemed keen on ending the shopping expedition.

“Well, you’ve got all your stuff! We can go back to the hotel and hot tub whenever,” said my mom passive-aggressively.

“I still need to get my wand!”

“Kaela, have you tried any of those... fizzing whizbees? I was just thinking we could stop at that candy shop.” Asked Mikaela’s mom in a lighthearted voice. 

“No. I’ll try them when we get our wands.” Said Mikaela in the opposite sort of voice.

“Maaaaaaan! We gave you guys a whole hour and a half!” Complained my mom.

“We had to get fitted for robes! Just let us finish.” I said.

“Okay, how about another half hour, and then we go?” She bargained.

“If we’re done by then.” I said sternly. We set off for Ollivanders, but first came across a shop called “Jimmy Kiddel’s Wonderful Wands” that our mothers suggested we stop at. They were denied.

Mr. Ollivander was by far the strangest person I met that day, including Draco Malfoy and all the Gringotts goblins. I liked him immediately. He had strange pale silver eyes like mirrors, and even though he was very old, he had a very strong energy about him. Mikaela went first for her wand. First, Mr. Ollivander had to measure her all over again. All the while he was making unusual small talk, and after a few minutes he presented her with a very pretty brown wand.

“English Oak, dragon heartstring.” He said professionally.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” She asked.

“Give it a wave,” said Ollivander. He watched expectantly as she waved her new wand, and nothing happened. He snatched the wand from out of her hand and went rummaging through his boxes for another.

“Poplar, Phoenix Feather.” He said. She had barely touched it when he changed his mind and took it away.

“Larch, Dragon Heartstring.” He said. Mikaela waved this golden wand and caused  half a shelf of wands to topple over.

“Oh! Sorry!” She said. But Mr. Ollivander was busy rifling through those very boxes. He seemed to have some sort of idea all of a sudden, and soon pulled out a wand that was almost the same color as Mikaela’s hair.

“Elm, Phoenix Feather.” He said proudly. Mikaela had only just grabbed onto it when red sparks began to shoot out from where she had touched, and Mr. Ollivander looked very pleased. “You should be quite happy. With a wand like that, you’re bound to go places. A complex power, that wand has, if you choose to pursue it. The elm is known for it’s selectivity and advanced capabilities, but with a phoenix core... a complex power.” Mikaela looked simultaneously ecstatic and confused.

After that, it was my turn. Ollivander tried out three wands on me. One was Vine, Unicorn Hair. This was clearly a mistake, because it started a fire, which was exciting for me, as I had never started a fire in a shop before. But Ollivander put it out without a glance with only a wave of his own wand. The second one was Beech, Phoenix Feather. That one didn’t do a thing for me. The last one, a handsome blonde piece of wood with swirls carved into the handle, was 

“Larch, Phoenix Feather.” Ollivander confidently handed it to me, and I felt a very happy warm feeling tickling up my arm, like my new wand was saying hello. A faint light gleamed around the tip. Ollivander clapped and said, “Another strange, complex piece of work, that wand. A wand of hidden talents. Confident wand. A strange wood, larch. And paired with phoenix, you’re bound to make wonderful things happen. How magnificent!” He exclaimed, much to the amazement and confusion of me, Mikaela, and our mothers. We paid for the two wands and were about to leave as Mr. Ollivander said, “And on a side note, if I’m not mistaken, the phoenix who gave the feather for Ms. Johnson’s wand and the one who gave the feather for Ms. McParlan’s wand were brothers, twins, which is quite rare in itself. If you were wondering.”

We weren’t wondering, or at least I wasn’t but for the rest of the day, it was all we could talk about. After we got the boring stuff, cauldrons and glass phials and telescopes, etc., we were treated to ice cream at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, where I got a double scoop of cherry cheesecake and chocolate nuts. The sun was sinking lower, and the sky was brilliant red. Overall, it was probably the best day ever. We left Diagon Alley and took a bus back to our hotel in London where we arrived before the sun had left the sky.

My mom and I got back to our room. The bus ride over had allowed all the exhaustion that had built up over the day to sink in, and when I got to my bed I was thoroughly ready for sleep. Except it occurred to me as  slipped off, what if all of today had been a dream? And then I couldn’t sleep for a long time.

At least, that’s what I thought. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when I woke up it was 10:00, which gave us only an hour to get to platform nine-and-three-quarters. 

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