"It's time to buy a new wand," Snape said, looking at the parchment in his hand and placing the gleaming silver badge that had fallen out of the envelope onto the table. "Professor Dumbledore really is a man of his word..."
Ten minutes ago, the school's owl had delivered the seventh-year booklist to him, along with a small badge engraved with the letters "HB."
"What's this?" Eileen wiped her hands on her apron as she walked over and curiously picked up the badge from the table. "Oh, the Head Boy badge! Wonderful, Severus!"
"Yes, yes," Snape drawled lazily, getting to his feet in mock grandeur before giving an exaggerated bow and catching Eileen's hand. "My dearest mother, seeing you fills me with such delight."
"Oh, stop it," Eileen laughed until her eyes curved into slits, trying to pin the badge onto Snape's black robes. "Why don't we go over to the Burrow wearing this?"
"Don't," Snape jumped back quickly. "No need to parade around with a badge that says 'Enormous Brain.'"
Lily, sitting nearby with her own envelope, burst out laughing.
When she tore it open, a badge engraved with "HG", the Head Girl insignia, fell into her lap.
"My, my," Eileen's eyes lit up, "Lily, you've got one too! How wonderful! You're the Head Boy and Head Girl. Come on, let me put it on you..."
Lily's smile froze.
"But, you're heading to Diagon Alley so early?" Eileen asked as she finished pinning the badge on Lily and turned toward Snape. "Shall we all go together?"
"No need, I can go alone." Snape pulled from his robes the wand that had once belonged to the old Albanian witch. "This wand really doesn't suit me. I'd like to replace it as soon as possible."
"It won't affect your Apparition, will it?" Lily asked, trying discreetly to unpin the badge without Eileen noticing.
"It will," Snape said. "So I'm planning to take the Knight Bus. The Daily Prophet says it resumed service last month."
He walked to the cabinet and took out a few brightly colored toys, the extra ones he had bought when getting gifts for Percy.
"See you later," Snape said, opening the front door.
With a loud bang and a screech of brakes, the vivid purple Knight Bus appeared out of thin air on the country road of Cokeworth.
Snape waited a while before the door slowly creaked open.
The driver, Ernie Prang, jumped down in a fluster. His gray-white hair clung to his forehead, and his thick glasses were fogged over.
"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus... I'm Ernie Prang, your driver and conductor, "
"Ernie," Snape interrupted him, "long time no see. How have you been? Still working alone?"
"Oh, it's you." Ernie pushed his glasses back up from the tip of his nose. "No one else wants this job, so it's just me... but someone's got to do it. Where to?"
"Diagon Alley." Snape counted out eleven Sickles. "Same price as always?"
"Yes." Ernie nodded but didn't take the coins, glancing nervously over his shoulder into the empty bus.
In daylight, the Knight Bus wasn't filled with brass beds, instead, there were all sorts of mismatched chairs, each looking different from the next.
"Oh, only one passenger. Shouldn't be any trouble then," he muttered to himself, stepping aside to let Snape board.
"Ernie," Snape said as he climbed aboard, taking the small toys from his robes, "these are for little Stan."
A faint blush crept over Ernie's grayish face, and his rough hands fidgeted awkwardly with the hem of his uniform.
"It's not like that..." he mumbled in a low voice. "I didn't mean to blame you... If you hadn't been there that time, things might've been much worse..."
"It's fine," Snape said, taking a seat. "I understand. Anyone would be shaken after something like that."
Ernie nodded, went to the driver's seat, then suddenly jumped up again as if remembering something.
He hurried to the back of the bus, rummaged through a storage box, and pulled out a large slab of chocolate.
"Free," he said awkwardly, handing it to Snape. "Want some?"
Snape took it. "Thank you, Ernie."
With a loud roar, the Knight Bus lurched forward. Outside, buildings, trash cans, telephone booths, and trees all leapt aside in alarm to make way.
After a wild, bone-rattling ride, Ernie slammed on the brakes. The Knight Bus tilted dangerously before stopping in front of the Leaky Cauldron.
"Here we are," Ernie said, gasping as he hurried to open the door. "Diagon Alley."
"Goodbye, Ernie." Snape stepped down, speaking politely.
He pushed open the door and entered the dim, grimy little tavern.
It was noon, and not many people were inside. A few old women sat in the corner sipping sherry, smoking long pipes, and playing with a set of biting cards; a plump man was chatting with the balding, walnut-faced barkeeper.
"Fancy a drink?" said Tom, wiping a glass with a gray rag as he spotted Snape. "Beer? Brandy? Or something stronger, Dragon's Blood Whiskey?"
"Sure," said Snape. "Just a pot of tea and some bread."
He had originally planned to go straight to Ollivander's, but didn't mind having a quick drink first. Alcohol, though, wasn't worth his time.
A few minutes later, Tom approached with a tray holding tea and toast.
"Tom," Snape said as the barman was about to leave, "how long have you worked here?"
"This pub's been mine since the twenties," Tom said with a touch of pride. "Why, lad, you planning to buy the Leaky Cauldron?"
"No." Snape sipped his tea. "I just thought your name was interesting. Tell me, have you ever met another Tom here?"
"There've been plenty of Toms," the barman replied, blinking. "But if you're willing to buy old Tom a round of rum, I might just remember one."
"In that case, one bottle of rum," said Snape.
"One bottle of rum," Tom repeated, sitting down instead of fetching it. "Now that you mention it, I did meet a boy with the same name many years ago."
"Tom's a common Muggle name, but not so common among wizarding families," he said. "That's probably why he stood out to me.
"Especially since, though he was born to a Muggle family, he came here all by himself, no Hogwarts professor to guide him. Can't imagine which teacher thought that was acceptable."
Snape chuckled. He wondered what Dumbledore would think of Tom's remark if he ever heard it.
"A handsome young lad, just like I was," Tom grinned, showing a few crooked yellow teeth. "He didn't even have a wand, just stood there so politely at the counter, asking me if I could open the way to Diagon Alley for him."
Snape's fingertips tapped lightly against his teacup.
"And then? Did you ever see him again?" he asked, running through the known Horcrux locations in his mind.
As Riddle's gateway to the wizarding world, the Leaky Cauldron was unlikely to house a Horcrux. Before the "reward the Lestranges could never have imagined," where else might Voldemort have hidden one?
"Let me think..." Tom said, spreading butter on his toast. "He must've come a few more times... but when, I can't remember. You know how many people come through here."
"Well then, young sir, I've got customers waiting." Tom held out his hand. "Including the rum, that'll be two Galleons, I'll round it down for you."
After paying, Snape rose, walked through the bar to the walled courtyard, and tapped the bricks with his wand to open the gateway to Diagon Alley.
A winding cobblestone street stretched endlessly before him.
Through the bustling crowd, Snape made his way to a small, shabby shop.
The golden letters on the shop sign were peeling: Ollivanders, Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Thick dust coated the window, and on a faded purple cushion lay a single lonely wand.
At the sound of tinkling bells, an old man appeared before Snape.
"Good afternoon," said Mr. Ollivander. "How may I help you?"
"I need a new wand, sir," said Snape. "The old one, uh... broke."
"A new wand?" Ollivander grumbled. "Seems like everyone's saying that these days."
"Many people?" Snape recalled all the wands that had snapped in his hands. Unwittingly, he had become Ollivander's strategic business partner.
"Yes indeed." Ollivander's silvery eyes fixed on him. "I remember you, Severus Snape. Ebony wood, dragon heartstring core. A powerful combination."
"Hmm." Ollivander peered sharply at him. "You should treat your partner with care. A wand is not a disposable tool. Now then, Mr. Snape, let's see."
He pulled a silver-marked measuring tape from his pocket. "You're right-handed, I presume..."
The tape began measuring him automatically, shoulder to fingertip, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and finally around his head.
Snape wondered why Ollivander bothered. Wizards grew, after all, and wand sizes varied each time anyway. He could only chalk it up to two millennia of Ollivander family ritual.
As the old man moved between shelves, he recited lines every young witch and wizard knew by heart: "Each Ollivander wand contains the finest magical substances..."
"All right," he said. "Try this one, Mr. Snape. Same materials as your old wand, but a little longer, fourteen and a half inches. Generally, a wizard's material preference doesn't change. Go on, give it a wave."
Snape took the wand and gave it a flick. A faint spark glimmered at the tip.
Ollivander immediately snatched it back.
"Curious... very curious," he muttered. "Adequate, perhaps, but far less impressive than your first wand. Back then, it was far more than a flicker."
"Perhaps we could try a different material?" Snape suggested with a shrug.
"No, no," Ollivander shook his head stubbornly. "It must be subtle variations within the same wood. Let's try another ebony wand."
For the next half hour, Snape tested every ebony wand in the shop.
At last, Ollivander reluctantly admitted they might need to consider another wood.
"Take this one," he said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Beech wood and unicorn hair, fifteen inches."
"Maybe we can skip the beech," Snape said, accepting the wand.
Before he could wave it, Ollivander snatched it back.
More than a dozen common combinations failed to respond properly in Snape's hands.
"A finicky customer indeed!" Ollivander muttered irritably. "Next combination... let me think, ah, yes. Acacia wood, phoenix feather core, thirteen inches, exceedingly rare."
The moment Snape took it, he felt a warmth surge through his fingertips. With a light flick, a silver bird burst from the wand's tip, darting joyfully among the shelves and scattering trails of shimmering light.
He felt the deep resonance between his magic and the wand, a flow smoother than any he'd ever known.
"Oh, splendid!" Ollivander sighed in relief. "At last, the perfect match.
"Wands of acacia are highly perceptive, they refuse to perform magic for anyone but their true owner and reveal their full power only to the most gifted. Once bonded, they can master any branch of magic, from the finest Transfiguration to the most formidable combat spells."
"Congratulations, Mr. Snape," he said. "I believe you'll achieve great things."
"Thanks. That's the second time I've heard that today," Snape said, taking out seven Galleons. "Here you go."
"Not that price," Ollivander said, waving his wand to tidy the mountain of boxes on the counter. "Seventy Galleons."
"Seven Galleons is the Ministry and Hogwarts–subsidized rate for underage wizards," he added.
"Is that so?" Snape felt a pang of pain. Even though he wasn't short on money, he realized he had destroyed wands worth over a thousand Galleons altogether. "Sir, couldn't you give me a discount?"
"No," Ollivander said firmly. "In over two thousand years, Ollivander has never given a discount."