The Choice Is Yours

Some days I wake up and for a moment I think my world is perfect. I guess everyone does that sometimes. But it’s only for a moment. In that space between being asleep and being awake, I think that maybe I'll be okay. But then I hear my mum’s staggered breathing, the kind that tells me she fell asleep crying and I feel the summer heat bearing down on my window. I wish this summer would just be over.

After last year’s events my mind was unstable. I'd forgotten a lot. I re-read last year’s textbooks for the sole purpose of revision. I'd spent the entirety of the holidays, nine to five, learning everything I should already know. Maybe, just maybe, I'd learnt enough not to have to re-take my first year at Hogwarts. In fact, I was counting on it. If there was one thing I didn’t want, it was a repeat of last year.

Mind you, we’d definitely have a different Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Hopefully this one wouldn’t find himself bodily attached to Lord Voldemort and would have less of a stutter than Quirrell.
I eventually managed to get myself out of bed and get dressed. I was meeting Tracey at her house. It was a forty minute walk so I had to get moving soon. Tracey and I had been writing letters all holidays but with my lack of a pet, it was a little hard. My mother had refused to buy me one when she went to Diagon Alley last year, but this year I was going, with my own money to buy my own books and necessities, as well as my own pet.

It’s not like mother would have to deal with the animal for long, I was off to school in three days. Which was why most of my clothing was already packed away in my suitcase. Of course, the best of my casual clothing was on my body. I couldn’t be standing next to a girl who was effectively, Slytherin Royalty, looking like a pauper. I'd go back to school and no Slytherin would talk to me.

Hermione hadn’t spoken to me, I mused as I walked. She might have sent me a birthday card if she’d known when it was. But I figured that was better left on the outside. After all, it was on the 31st July, the same day Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was born. And that would surely raise suspicion. Unless I was just reading into things…I probably was.

Tracey’s clothing was designer, as one would expect. Not that it made much difference, she had an elegant black cloak covering it. Eyeing me carefully when I came in she said in disbelief, “You aren’t honestly considering walking through London dressed like a muggle are you, Alyssa?”

“Is there something wrong with this?” I asked with wide eyes, pulling at my azure coloured shirt.

She pursed her lips and muttered, “Follow me.”

I almost got lost even though I was only three steps behind Tracey. The house was huge and grandiose. Mine was pretty much the size of the entrance foyer. As anyone would be, I was really put off by the idea that my friend could probably buy my life with one week’s pocket money.

The moment I stepped into her ‘room’, which was more like a small apartment, she reached into her mahogany walk in robe and before I knew what was happening, had thrown a deep blue, almost black, wizard’s robe over my shoulders. Tying it swiftly across my neck, she nodded in acceptance.
“Now we can go.”

I'd never travelled by Floo Powder before. I'd heard the term before but I didn’t actually know what it was. Honestly, the powder seemed like a sort of drug. But when Daphne went through first and disappeared, I realised it wasn’t. Doing exactly what she had done I followed, just praying that I wouldn’t get caught up as atoms somewhere.

The sensation of moving through fireplaces was strange. But when I stepped out onto the hearth at Flourish and Blotts, and knew I hadn’t died, I let out the breath I didn’t realise I'd been holding and smiled in relief. Tracey was beckoning me with a quick arm to get inside the shop. The shop wasn’t packed by any means but I didn’t want to get stepped on by the next person to come flying into the grate, so I hurried out to meet her by the pile of books nearest to us.

A moving picture of a suave looking man was imprinted on the front of a book entitled Magical Me, authored by the same wizard who wrote most of our booklist, Gilderoy Lockhart.

Middle-aged witches all around us were chatting animatedly about the man in question. Through snippets I gathered that he’d been doing book signings a couple of weeks ago and they were all sorry they’d missed him.

“He seems rather handsome,” Tracey said, clutching Magical Me in her hand. I slipped it from her curiously and turned it over to read the blurb.

“Seems a little up himself to me.”

“He was a Ravenclaw,” she replied as though that explained it, putting the book back. “Still, even I'll admit that there are some pretty charming Badgers and Eagles.”

Charming, yes. But the most arrogant people were usually Slytherins. Not that I was judging or anything.

“Let’s get our books,” Tracey said, dragging me off to a part of the store piled ten feet in the air with books. With only mere utterance of the name of the book we needed, it flew down from its perch and landed in her hand. She passed it to me and continued to do so, prattling as she did so.

“Don’t we need to go to Gringotts?” I managed to remember, looking past the books to find her face. She looked at me with one of those looks simply saying, “My parents wouldn’t expect me to have dealing with the Goblins. My father withdrew his money yesterday.”

“Mine didn’t,” I answered, not knowing how I was going to get out of here without paying. I had muggle money, but I had to go to Gringotts to exchange it.

“Just put them on hold for a few minutes,” Tracey sighed, looking towards the counter. “But make it a quick trip, there’s a lot to do today.”

I didn’t hesitate in running down the street in awe. It was crazy how amazing Diagon Alley was to a girl raised in the Muggle world. Gringotts was this huge building at the end of the street looming fiercely over the shops nearby. Despite the fact that I was dressed the same as all the other witches and wizards filing down the alley I still felt out of place with the awe on my face.

I wouldn’t deny that the Goblins creeped me out. So it was to the softest looking one that I made my way with a head ducked. It was belittling to watch the bespectacled being stamping paperwork while I waited, looking up over the edge of the counter. After a few moments I gave a small cough. When the goblin looked over the edge I started, “I wanted to exchange some muggle money.”

“Do you have an account with Gringotts?”

“No,” I answered slowly, I just wanted to exchange the money.

“Would you like to acquire a vault?”

I shrugged, “Do I need identification?”

“Your Hogwarts letter and your wand will be enough.”

I handed both of them over duly, not even remembering the fact that I channelled my magic through Lily Evans’s wand and had yet to get one of my own. The Goblin realised this too.

“You say your name is Alyssa Tyler,” the Goblin enquired. “Our records state that we already have a vault in trust for you. It has been untouched for the past thirteen years. Unfortunately, we can do nothing without your key.”

“Can I know who opened the account?”

“Unfortunately they left no traceable contact, only the name of Potter and there are no other known descendants other than the Boy Who Lived.”

“Thank you,” I said, “But I'll have to come back. Where else can I exchange my money?”

The Goblin seemed disgruntled as he handed me a bag of weighted galleons, sickles and knuts. But I would be back. I had a vault at Gringotts, undoubtedly founded by my parents, how could I not be excited about that? No other descendant of the Potters other than Harry?

Well I, his twin sister, was walking out of the door and getting ready to go back to Hogwarts.