Just to kick things off, below is a Harry Potter fanfiction story I drafted a while back. It's a bit rough around the edges but I had fun writing it, as well as a few sequels that turned this little story into a serial.
If you haven't read the HP series, it might not make any sense to you but hopefully it will hold up in its own right.
* * * * * * * *
Spring rain fell hard and fast as Nicole Dodderidge stepped out of a taxi on Charing Cross Road, making a mad dash for cover beneath her shop’s small awning while fumbling with her keys. Centered on the shop's glass front door, in bright magenta letters on a creamy white background, was a sign that read:
Hail & Comet
custom couture
by appointment
Nicole stomped over the threshold, pulled off her jacket and began the daily process of switching on the dozen or so tiny vintage lamps that served to illuminate her little entryway. Proceeding to the back room, she flicked on the overhead lights and walked straight past her messy worktable to a set of narrow windows. She shimmied one open and glanced briefly at the walled courtyard behind the store. Finally, she crossed the room to a tall dome-shaped object draped in pink silk, which she carefully removed: a large birdcage stood at eye level containing a single rosy-pink canary.
‘Good morning, Ruby,’ she whispered to the little bird, who began chirping softly. ‘Work time,’ Nicole sighed, moving toward the table strewn with various files, sketches and pencils. She ruffled through several papers then rubbed her eyes, thinking. ‘I really need to prioritise, Ruby. Three projects due by the end of the week. So… let’s see. Doctor Granger wants her gown on Thursday morning. I should probably focus on that. The final cuts haven’t even been made, let alone her first fitting.’
After putting on the kettle in the front room, Nicole gazed out the front door, her arms folded across her chest. She watched the rain come down in sheets like a blurry curtain. Her eyes narrowed in an attempt to focus on the shops across the road. Hm, no wind at all, she thought. That’s good I suppose, although I do like a bit of a breeze, keeps the air fresh -
A loud click nearby brought Nicole out of her trance. The kettle was done. She went to the spindly standing teatray and filled her cup, then returned to the back room. The shop’s minifridge contents were limited to a small carton of milk and half of a cheese sandwich. She poured some milk into her tea, grabbed the sandwich, settled in at her worktable and opened a file labeled, SKETCHES: Dr Geraldine Granger – Floor Length – Silk.
Nicole adored Geraldine and enjoyed creating the special dresses she occasionally required. The first one had been for an important meeting with the Prime Minister to discuss oral hygiene in London’s orphanages. Another was just a few months ago, for her granddaughter’s wedding. The current gown-in-progress was for a formal ceremony in honour of her husband’s retirement from dental practise. Nicole felt that Geraldine had many admirable qualities and each of their appointments became an extended visit, having tea and conversation. Yet, Nicole had noticed that she herself did most of the talking, whereas Geraldine never elaborated on her private life.
By the end of the day, Nicole was satisfied. After getting the gown cut and pinned on the mannequin, she even found time to locate the delicate sequins she’d been imagining for its neckline.
‘See?’ Nicole called triumphantly from halfway inside a bookshelf, holding out a small jar of sequins for the canary to admire, ‘organised chaos, Ruby. It took me about an hour, but I finally found these little beauties. Yes, I know’ she continued after the bird gave a chirp, ‘they weren’t supposed to be jammed behind a stack of 1940’s Vogues, but - ’
She stopped; the front door chimes had jangled against the glass. Squeezing out from the stacks of old magazines, she dusted off her sleeves and walked into the front room.
‘Good evening,’ she said with slight hesitation. A tall man stood in the entryway silhouetted by the glowing, grey diffused light from outside. Nicole noticed the rain was now falling diagonally. Wind was rattling the old windows as they both walked forward and met at the center of the room, beneath a hanging gilded candelabra. ‘Oh!’ she said abruptly as the man came clearly into view: he had startling green, almond-shaped eyes. They twinkled in an impish sort of way and were framed by a mop of dark hair and a lightly freckled nose.
‘Oh?’ he repeated, smiling down at her. ‘Were you expecting someone else?’
Nicole took a step back and absently folded her arms across her chest. ‘No,’ she answered calmly. ‘How may I help?’
The man slowly revolved on the spot, taking in the little boutique. ‘This is lovely,’ he said, coming round full circle to face her again. ‘Quite lovely and – charming.’
Nicole felt the colour rising in her cheeks, unnerved. Charm, indeed, she thought. She took another step back, bumped into the spindly teatray and swung round quickly to steady it.
‘Are you looking to have a - custom suit made?’ she asked, looking over her shoulder while fumbling to right the kettle and wipe up the mess.
‘No, I don’t wear suits. I’m here to see you.’ He held out his hand. ‘Al Potter.’
Nicole dried her right palm brusquely against the side of her skirt. She hesitated then took his hand. ‘Hello. Nicole Dodderidge. Pleased to meet you… ’ Hail & Comet
custom couture
by appointment
Nicole stomped over the threshold, pulled off her jacket and began the daily process of switching on the dozen or so tiny vintage lamps that served to illuminate her little entryway. Proceeding to the back room, she flicked on the overhead lights and walked straight past her messy worktable to a set of narrow windows. She shimmied one open and glanced briefly at the walled courtyard behind the store. Finally, she crossed the room to a tall dome-shaped object draped in pink silk, which she carefully removed: a large birdcage stood at eye level containing a single rosy-pink canary.
‘Good morning, Ruby,’ she whispered to the little bird, who began chirping softly. ‘Work time,’ Nicole sighed, moving toward the table strewn with various files, sketches and pencils. She ruffled through several papers then rubbed her eyes, thinking. ‘I really need to prioritise, Ruby. Three projects due by the end of the week. So… let’s see. Doctor Granger wants her gown on Thursday morning. I should probably focus on that. The final cuts haven’t even been made, let alone her first fitting.’
After putting on the kettle in the front room, Nicole gazed out the front door, her arms folded across her chest. She watched the rain come down in sheets like a blurry curtain. Her eyes narrowed in an attempt to focus on the shops across the road. Hm, no wind at all, she thought. That’s good I suppose, although I do like a bit of a breeze, keeps the air fresh -
A loud click nearby brought Nicole out of her trance. The kettle was done. She went to the spindly standing teatray and filled her cup, then returned to the back room. The shop’s minifridge contents were limited to a small carton of milk and half of a cheese sandwich. She poured some milk into her tea, grabbed the sandwich, settled in at her worktable and opened a file labeled, SKETCHES: Dr Geraldine Granger – Floor Length – Silk.
Nicole adored Geraldine and enjoyed creating the special dresses she occasionally required. The first one had been for an important meeting with the Prime Minister to discuss oral hygiene in London’s orphanages. Another was just a few months ago, for her granddaughter’s wedding. The current gown-in-progress was for a formal ceremony in honour of her husband’s retirement from dental practise. Nicole felt that Geraldine had many admirable qualities and each of their appointments became an extended visit, having tea and conversation. Yet, Nicole had noticed that she herself did most of the talking, whereas Geraldine never elaborated on her private life.
By the end of the day, Nicole was satisfied. After getting the gown cut and pinned on the mannequin, she even found time to locate the delicate sequins she’d been imagining for its neckline.
‘See?’ Nicole called triumphantly from halfway inside a bookshelf, holding out a small jar of sequins for the canary to admire, ‘organised chaos, Ruby. It took me about an hour, but I finally found these little beauties. Yes, I know’ she continued after the bird gave a chirp, ‘they weren’t supposed to be jammed behind a stack of 1940’s Vogues, but - ’
She stopped; the front door chimes had jangled against the glass. Squeezing out from the stacks of old magazines, she dusted off her sleeves and walked into the front room.
‘Good evening,’ she said with slight hesitation. A tall man stood in the entryway silhouetted by the glowing, grey diffused light from outside. Nicole noticed the rain was now falling diagonally. Wind was rattling the old windows as they both walked forward and met at the center of the room, beneath a hanging gilded candelabra. ‘Oh!’ she said abruptly as the man came clearly into view: he had startling green, almond-shaped eyes. They twinkled in an impish sort of way and were framed by a mop of dark hair and a lightly freckled nose.
‘Oh?’ he repeated, smiling down at her. ‘Were you expecting someone else?’
Nicole took a step back and absently folded her arms across her chest. ‘No,’ she answered calmly. ‘How may I help?’
The man slowly revolved on the spot, taking in the little boutique. ‘This is lovely,’ he said, coming round full circle to face her again. ‘Quite lovely and – charming.’
Nicole felt the colour rising in her cheeks, unnerved. Charm, indeed, she thought. She took another step back, bumped into the spindly teatray and swung round quickly to steady it.
‘Are you looking to have a - custom suit made?’ she asked, looking over her shoulder while fumbling to right the kettle and wipe up the mess.
‘No, I don’t wear suits. I’m here to see you.’ He held out his hand. ‘Al Potter.’
The windows were shaken by an even stronger gust of wind. Rain continued to pour down at an angle. Yet, rather than falling parallel to the building as it had been, it began to change direction, pounding against the old framed glass door and windows with tremendous force.
Nicole stared out at the weather for a moment lost in curious but indefinable thought then suddenly felt her hand being released. She looked away from the door and blinked.
‘Sorry!’ she said folding her arms over her chest and glancing up at him. ‘I was just – this rain! It’s almost scary how bad it is…’
‘Bad? Hm,’ said the man named Al, walking back towards the entrance. He stopped, gazing outward.
Nicole followed and, without thinking, stood very close beside him. Together they watched the rain, mesmorised, almost cross-eyed, by the quantity and quality of water that whipped onto the glass door, their faces nearly pressed against it.
‘I like a bit of a breeze, don’t you?’ he continued. ‘And I wouldn’t say rain is “bad”. Yes, it can be inconvenient at times. Like, for instance, when you’re hopping out of a cab without an umbrella.’
Nicole’s head spun around so quickly that, combined with extremely fuzzy vision from the raindrops, she nearly fell over. ‘Have you been - watching me?’ she asked, wanting to add and listening, but changed her mind, feeling that it sounded a bit too paranoid.
He didn’t move or answer but simply continued to watch the rain. Nicole opened her mouth then closed it without speaking: upon looking at him she felt less uneasy about his actions and, consequently, found his profile rather intriguing. She seized the moment’s opportunity to study it: His nose, she thought, I like the freckles very much. And I like up-turned eyes… those are quite long lashes… Then, just as she neared completion of her assessment, he glanced at her -- it was very quick, nearly undetectable -- and resumed gazing out at the storm. Nicole’s heartbeat picked up speed. She arranged a mild frown on her face and cleared her throat. ‘Why have you been watching me?’
‘I can’t tell you that. I must show you. After we eat.’ He turned to her, folded his arms across his chest to mirror her own and leaned into the door. He tilted his head slightly and grinned. ‘Would that be alright?’
‘Mr Potter,’ Nicole began, ‘I really -’
‘Al…’ he interrupted.
‘Al, I wouldn’t feel comfortable going out with you, in this crazy weather. I mean, I don’t know you… and I have work to do.’
‘But you’ve accomplished so much today. Come on. Won’t you please allow me to take you out for supper?’
Nicole’s frown was no longer forced. ‘Accomplished so much today, did you say?’ she snapped. ‘How do you know what I did today?’ She backed away slowly, her heart now pounding frantically.
‘Oh, no, sorry! No, don’t be scared,’ Al pleaded, dropping his arms to his side and, Nicole couldn’t help noticing, suddenly resembling a frustrated child. ‘I’m not a cad or a criminal. I heard about you through a friend, Geraldine Granger. She told me you’re - a very hard working, fun, talented young woman who spends every waking hour in this little shop. It really is lovely, mind, but a girl needs to get out a bit, don’t you think? And she just felt you might like to meet new people. I’ve got loads of friends.’ He took a deep breath, having spoken as fast as the words could travel. ‘I am sorry. I have been around Charing Cross all day, and I did see you arrive at work early this morning. Please. Why don’t we have a meal over at the pub across the street?’
Nicole, who was now back under the gilded candelabra, said nothing for nearly a full minute. Her heart was still thumping hard and fast but her mind was slowly relaxing, the anxiousness abating. Al watched her from the doorway, patiently awaiting an answer, his expression morphing from frustration to compassion.
‘Just over to the pub?’ she said finally, in a wary tone.
He nodded.
‘Let me get my bag,’ she said, smiling slightly. ‘And an umbrella,’ she added on her way to the back room.
He sighed and shook his head, laughing to himself.
~~~
The pub was crowded and rowdy but they managed to get a booth away from the gales of wind and rain that shot into the room each time the front door opened.
‘This looks great!’ Al said when their burger platters arrived.
Nicole looked down at the piles of food and felt a wave of nausea. She grabbed her pint of stout and sipped on it while watching her new, mysterious friend, who was somehow able to smile and chew at the same time without issue.
‘So,’ he said in a casual voice, ‘does your family live in London?’
‘No,’ Nicole replied coolly. ‘We don’t get along.’ She winced. ‘I don’t know why I just said that. I’m sorry.’
‘That’s fine,’ Al said, ‘I know how it is.’
‘You do?’ she asked.
Al’s eyes fluttered as his gaze shifted to the table. ‘No, that’s not entirely true. I come from a very close family.’ He looked back at her and took a deep breath. ‘But I know how it is to feel different than other people.’ He put down his burger and took a big swallow of beer.
‘Oh,’ Nicole said. ‘In what way?’
‘Well, mainly because I have certain talents that make certain friends and family uncomfortable, sometimes. It’s not a big deal. But once in a while it bugs me.’
He stared at her solemnly. She forced herself to look away from him, although she really didn’t want to. It felt nice there, basking in the green glow… For an instant she wondered what his certain talent could be, but her attention quickly turned back to her family.
‘I’ve been on my own for a while,’ she said airily, pretending to study a poster on the wall, failing to notice that the rain had stopped thrashing against a nearby window.
‘That’s hard,’ said Al, glancing over at the window briefly.
‘No, it’s not, really. My brothers and sisters were all really close, like you said your family is. But I just never fit in. I lived with them until I was about seven, then my parents sent me to live with an aunt in Los Angeles. So that’s where I grew up.’
Nicole shrugged one shoulder, fiddling with her plate.
‘And how was that?’ Al asked. ‘Living with your aunt.’
Again Nicole shrugged then began nibbling on a chip. ‘She was very good to me but always really busy, so I was alone a lot with the servants. She died when I was eighteen, left me nearly everything. I went to college, got a degree in fashion design and opened that shop, all with my inheritance.’
‘Right,’ Al nodded, looking pensive. ‘And then what? Anything exciting?’
Nicole stopped nibbling to focus on Al completely. ‘Exciting how? Isn’t that exciting enough?’
Al mimicked Nicole’s one-shoulder shrug and smirked, eyes roguish, then leaned back into the booth. Nicole smiled despite her discomfort.
‘I’m not exciting, if that’s what you mean,’ she said.
‘Oh, no,’ Al said with a crooked smile, ‘ever so dull, that Nicole Dodderidge.’
‘Not bad,’ she said leaning back into her seat, too. ‘It isn’t an easy name to recall.’
‘I have a good memory.’ He looked over at a passing waiter and nodded politely for the bill.
‘You’re finished?’ Nicole asked.
‘Yeah,’ he said, scanning the table. ‘It’s time to go.’
While Al was at the bar paying for their meal, which seemed be to taking him a very long time, Nicole looked around the noisy pub wondering what she was doing with a man she’d just met. Then she wondered why she felt like it was the right thing to be doing. A wave of pleasant chills went through her. A nearby window quivered from a wind gust; Nicole gazed through it at the torrential, slanting rain. When is it going to end? she thought as Al walked back to the table.
Albus Severus Potter and Nicole Dodderidge stood under a pub awning on Charing Cross Road. It was raining buckets on this particular spring evening and the wind was blowing so hard that the rain was falling at an angle.
Al watched Nicole with fondness, knowing she was contemplating what to do next. She was studying the rain-blurred landscape, or perhaps the rain itself. He wondered if it would happen now. He looked across the street at The Leaky Cauldron and could make out a few regulars sitting around the front table. Firewhiskey, he thought with amusement, she’ll be wanting a jigger of that by the end of the night.
‘Pretty amazing wind, eh?’ he shouted over the sound of rain slamming against brick and pavement.
‘I don’t know why I even brought this umbrella,’ Nicole said, twirling it like a baton. ‘We’ve only gone about fifteen steps and, besides, this slanty rain business defies all attempts to – to -’
Nicole’s voice trailed off as she stared straight ahead. The twirling umbrella slowly came to a halt and then dropped to the floor with a clank. Al carefully picked it up then remained very still, not wanting to make this moment any more shocking than it might already be.
The winds had calmed a bit and the rain was easing; within mere seconds it had changed to a fine mist. Al glanced sideways at Nicole, who was staring across the road in a state of obvious bewilderment; his inner eye was focused on his father. Al, you didn’t just inherit the two greatest wizards’ names. You also inherited their gifts. Don’t ask me how. All I can say is your mastery of Legilimency and Occlumency didn’t come from me! Or your mum, for that matter. And your powers with the elements is no coincidence either, for these two men were opposites and yet the same. Be careful with fire, of course, but even moreso with water, Al. Severus Snape lost his life purifying that element, damaged by countless wizards over the centuries. Too many powerful minds attempted to put into practise Salazar’s definition of the word “pure”. Even the very word itself needed to be purified. Just remember, Albus Severus: at its best water cleanses and also nourishes. Use it well.
‘Al!’
Al blinked. ‘Yeah?’ Nicole was pointing a finger directly at The Leaky Cauldron.
‘That pub…’
‘Uh-huh,’ he said, trying to keep from laughing. ‘Let’s go in.’
~~~
‘Al!’ shouted a deep, gruff voice from the far end of the bar.
‘Hey, Hagrid!’ Al called back to an enormous old man with a face barely visible through volumes of grey hair and beard. There was an equally enormous flagon in his giant hand. The old man waved and nodded excitedly toward Nicole, his mouth forming a large O within the grey mass. He let out a hearty chuckle and winked. Al’s eyes widened as he shook his head emphatically at the man then whispered to Nicole, ‘Let’s sit in the back, eh?’
She looked a bit delirious, like a person whose fever has just broken. Al quickly led the way to an isolated table by a doorway that seemed to be the inn’s back exit. The door was ajar; beyond it was a small, walled courtyard not unlike the one behind Nicole’s shop. The evening air that wafted in was gentle, cool and refreshing.
Nicole settled purposefully into her chair. She kept her gaze lowered while gathering her thoughts, then took a deep breath and focused on Al, who looked apprehensive. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he said in a very small voice. ‘This is my first time doing it.’
‘Doing what, exactly?’ Nicole demanded, having shifted from puzzlement to hysteria in an instant.
‘Taking someone over,’ Al replied.
There was a long pause while Nicole seemed to be translating the three words from an unfamiliar language. Suddenly, she leaned across the table at him. ‘What kind of pub is this?’ she hissed. ‘I thought you said you weren’t a criminal! And I believed you! This pub just popped up out of nowhere! What are you playing at?’ She sat bolt upright, as if someone had poked her in the small of the back. ‘Did you put something in my drink back there?’
‘No!’ Al whispered helplessly, instinctively reaching a hand toward her. ‘No, that’s not it at all. Please, just listen.’ He heaved a long, drawn out sigh. ‘I didn’t know it would be this hard, this – weird.’
Nicole was searching his eyes for answers, all interest in their colour and shape gone. She wanted answers or she would get up and run. Run as fast as her legs could carry her.
He leaned forward. ‘You can do magic, right? Make things happen? Or, things just – happen - when you have an intense emotion? They do, I know they do. You’re a magical person, Nicole… one who has managed to fall through the cracks of our world.’
‘Cracks? What cracks? What cracks and who said anything about magic?’ Nicole’s eyes darted around the room.
Just then a barkeep came to the table holding two brown bottles. ‘Hey, Al Sev, my man,’ he said merrily, ‘two butterbeers, courtesy of old Hagrid.’ He set the drinks down, grinned at Al and then looked at Nicole, who glared at him.
‘Will that be all, then?’ the barkeep asked stiffly.
Al nodded and the barkeep wasted no time in dashing off.
‘I am a designer!’ Nicole cried, ‘I design clothes! That’s what I do! That’s who I am!’ She grabbed a butterbeer without thinking and, screwing her eyes shut, took a swig from the bottle. Then, with a surge of frustration, a raw combination of fury and fright, she slammed the bottle down and stared back at Al. Suddenly a hanging lightbulb in the courtyard shattered.
‘You see?’ said Al breathlessly, pointing toward the bare socket. ‘That’s it! Do you get it now? Oh, bloody hell, I’m sorry. I’ve done this all wrong. I’m such an arrogant git! Gliding into your shop, having a laugh with it like it’s a game. It’s not a game! It’s not - obvious - to someone out here. You don’t know… you really don’t know who you are. Of course you’re upset, all alone in this strange world, who wouldn’t be upset to have this sprung on them? Well… Dad, for one, and Riddle, from what I understand. But you’re no longer a child. And children of this world so soon forget about magic… ’
But Nicole was calming down, watching him, hearing things that didn’t make sense… but somehow they did, somehow she needed to know.
Al noticed she was listening to his ramblings and pressed his luck. ‘I used the rain,’ he explained. ‘Some prefer mist for transitions, but I’m partial to rain. I thought it would help make it easier, make you see it – this - faster. It did, I suppose. Then I added the wind, when you said you like when it’s windy. But I’m not as adept with air. Water’s my thing. Fire, too, but I really love playing around with water.’
He took a deep breath and continued. ‘Okay, I’ve got to just spell it out: Nicole, you don’t belong here. You belong in the Wizarding World. Geraldine saw you get upset, when she was in your store a few months back. She was chatting about some pie recipe while you worked. Then suddenly you screamed because you -’
‘- pricked my finger for the millionth time, yeah,’ Nicole said automatically, nodding. ‘It really hurts, every time, and I got blood on a really expensive bit of lace…’
They both fell silent. Nicole slowly recounted in her mind how she had screamed when the pin pricked her finger, had let out a cry of pain and frustration. The lights had flickered, and the bird started chirping like mad. The computer had even shut down and restarted itself. Geraldine seemed amused… asked if things like that happened frequently… which they did… but surely it occurred to everyone… at least sometimes…
It was very subtle, and very gentle: all of a sudden, Al was there, joining her in this memory. He seemed to have asked permission, and she somehow had given it. And now they were together in her mind, and she knew if she asked him a question he would answer, all in thought.
She looked up at him. Geraldine knew? she thought to Al.
Yes, Al thought back as he looked into her eyes. She is not magical, but her daughter is. She’s my aunt, through marriage. You are different, though. You aren’t Muggle-born… that’s what we call it when non-magic parents have a magical child. Well, you are technically Muggle-born but… you’re special. Because we know from which wizarding family you came. This inn is your birthright. It belongs to you.
What? thought Nicole. Al burst out laughing.
You should see your face right now, he thought. This is what I’ve been waiting for! Welcome home, Nicole! Your ancestor, Daisy Dodderidge opened this pub and rooming house many centuries ago. She had a child; his name was Leon and he was a Squib… that’s a wizard who has no magical ability. Daisy created a portal between the Wizarding World and the Muggle World right in that courtyard. Al flicked his eyes toward the back doorway and Nicole did the same. She took in everything she needed to know about it in that one glance. Their eyes remet and he continued his thought. She was a right celebrity. But Leon hated being around wizards, all doing magic except him. He married a Muggle and took off. Never told anyone about his past. And the Ministry of Magic doesn’t keep records of Squibs, so Leon was lost in history. Until now. Does that make sense?
Yes, was the only word Nicole could think of, and it was completely true. The whole thing took perfect form. All the fragments aligned, all the dots connected.
They smiled at each other, and it turned into laughter. After what seemed like a while, Nicole stood up.
‘Let’s go,’ she said.
Al led her into the courtyard. It was the middle of the day and the sun was shining.
‘We just finished supper!’ cried Nicole, tossing her head back and staring up at the pale blue sky in disbelief. She looked back at Al for a response.
‘No,’ he said, ‘we were in thought for a long time. You’ll get used to it. I hope. And, along those lines, there’s something I need to say. I was listening, a bit, to your thoughts today. Or, yesterday, I should say… before I came into the shop, and a bit more after that. I’m sorry. I won’t do it without your permission ever again. You have my word. I might send you a thought if it’s all right, but I won’t just read. And I’ll be listening for you, whenever you want to reach me. Okay?’
She nodded.
Al slid his left arm inside his jumper, removing a wand made of elder wood. Nicole watched as he took her umbrella and tapped it with the wand, a wide grin popping onto his face like a small boy awaiting his favourite bedtime story. The umbrella sizzled softly, as moisture in a log does when it’s set ablaze. He handed the umbrella to Nicole and she gripped it by the handle. Gently, Al wrapped his hand around hers and together they tapped the enchanted umbrella on a brick in the courtyard wall. The brick vibrated slightly until a small hole appeared at its center. Slowly the wall dissolved part of itself, forming an archway with a twisted, meandering cobbled street on the other side.
‘Do you know what the combination of water and fire looks like?’ he asked just before they advanced through the gateway. His eyes had regained their roguish glint.
‘Water and fire? They can’t combine,’ she said cheerfully.
He considered her answer, shrugged one shoulder and led her forward.
‘Welcome to Diagon Alley,’ Al announced, bowing like a court jester as they walked into the other world. They were on a street not unlike the one they’d just left. As they got closer to the shops, Nicole was awestruck. Eeylops Owl Emporium? she thought in amazement, and a store just for cauldrons and –
Look, Al’s voice said in her head, and she turned. He pointed at a distant patch of grey clouds. There, across the sky like a magnificent cathedral dome, was a double rainbow. There, he told her from within, that’s what the combination of water and fire looks like. That’s me. Maybe it’s you, too.
Nicole stared at the rainbow for a long time before turning back to those bright green, almond-shaped eyes. Did you do that? she thought to him.
He just smiled.
