Hideout in England

Hestia Jones set the table, much more ease than she suspected she would be. From what she'd seen, Sally, Paul, and Percy were just wonderful people. Nothing at all like her worries had led her to believe, that'd they be blatantly anti-magic like some Muggles tended to be or as mad as her sister, Clio, had warned of.

Clio worked with the International Confederation of Wizards, on a special task force meant to redistribute wealth and power in countries lacking muggleborn or halfblood rights, and as a result, she had a much greater knowledge of exactly how many laws the rich and powerful were breaking. What she knew of Sally's mother had been disquieting, to say the least.

But, Hestia was pleased to think, obviously madness did not run in the blood, for this family line, at least (the Blacks and Gaunts were other stories). The Jacksons, notably sane and lacking bigotry, were also perfectly nice, funny, and friendly people. She suspected she'd get along with them more than she did half the members of the Order.

They had spread out to explore the house, Percy breaking away immediately and Sally almost immediately doing the same, Paul following his family's lead a bit later. Luckily, though, the cottage was small enough that her voice could be heard throughout the house, if she raised it loud enough.

Surveying the table one more time with a critical eye, Hestia decided it looked good enough. The least she could do is give them a good meal, for all their troubles.

"Supper's ready!" she called.

Sally and Paul filed in together, Percy following a moment later. After introductions, he had napped on the couch for most of the afternoon, and his hair reflected this, smushed on one side and knotted in the back.

Sally gestured at his face, and he hastily wiped away a string of drool from his chin.

"This looks great," Paul said. "Thanks for throwing this together."

"Of course! Feel free to sit wherever," Hestia said, gesturing rather uselessly at the four chairs settled around the table. Not like there was much variety.

Percy shrugged and slung himself into the nearest seat. Sally and Paul sat on either side, leaving the last seat, closest to the door, for Hestia.

Though they had teased each other earlier, the Jacksons seemed the type to prefer silence, or rather, the type that didn't feel the need to immediately fill silence with chatter. It reminded Hestia of home, both of their parents being mild-mannered researchers and Clio absorbed in her studies.

That is to say, she knew how to start a conversation. Quiet people always had much to say, once given an opening. "Dig in! It's a classic Sunday roast for you lot, as a sort of welcome to this side of the pond. I'd recommend the pastry-looking thing. Yorkshire pudding is a classic for us."

They began to plate their dishes, and Percy eagerly grabbed the gravy, pouring a more than ample amount over his food.

"Gravy," he announced. "How I've missed you."

Sally leaned in and explained, "Percy goes to a summer camp that promotes healthy living. They don't eat much artificial fat or sugar or salt there."

Hestia wrinkled her nose. "Like a fat camp?" She couldn't imagine the lean teen before her needing to diet.

The rest of the table laughed. "We're Americans, but we're not that stereotypical," Paul said.

"Nah, it's more of a military type thing," Percy further explained through a huge grin, still amused at Hestia's question.

"Oh," she said, smiling despite her blush. "That makes more sense. You'll be glad to hear that Hogwarts doesn't have the same policy regarding food."

"What kind of food are we talking?" Percy asked.

"Like this, mostly. Meats and stews and vegetables, though most are fried or roasted. Lots of deserts."

Percy nodded appreciatively, while Sally asked, "Anything else you can tell us about Hogwarts? We didn't find out much information about the school while we were planning our great escape."

That last part was tinged with sarcasm.

Hestia considered her words, searching for useful yet not redundant information. She was sure Dumbledore - or another teacher - would be coming by to give the Hogwarts speech and to figure out which year Percy would enter into. It was lucky that he wasn't yet of age, giving them time to officially enroll him.

"Well, it has four houses, which are groups of students that eat, sleep, and attend classes together," she began. "They're not really mentioned in the orientation talk but they're a big deal. You'll interact with mostly your house, up until about sixth year. There are less students taking each class because of testing requirements, so houses tend to mix."

"Sounds like dorm buildings," Paul remarked. "Is housing at Hogwarts also randomized?"

"No!" Hestia laughed. "Sometimes I wish we had done that, though. We're sorted more by personality. Gryffindor for the brave, Ravenclaw for the wise, Slytherin for the cunning, and Hufflepuff for the loyal."

Confusion was painted across their faces. Hestia tried to explain more. "The idea is that if you're surrounded by people who have the same thinking patterns you do, you'll be able to study, group up, and learn more easily. Like Gryffindors tend to work better when applying their studies to real life, while Ravenclaws do best with hypotheticals and philosophicals."

Paul looked especially horrified. "But in the real world you have to work with people of all different thinking patterns. And the traits you described can change in a person over time. How young are you again when you're sorted?"

"Eleven."

"And how are you sorted? Some kind of survey or interview before school? Or a test where your thought process is put into action?"

Upon reflection, those were really good ideas. "It's actually a magic hat."

"Holy shit!" These words were clearly involuntary.

Sally and Percy laughed at Paul's exclamation, while he buried his head in his hands, mumbling about complexities of the brain and development of personality.

"I notice you two aren't as shocked," Hestia noted.

Sally shrugged. "I'm sure it will set in. I'm just trying to go with the flow until then."

"And I've been in an alternative school before," Percy said. "I'm used to weird teaching methods."

"With those attitudes, I'd peg you both as Ravenclaws," Hestia said.

"That's the smart house, right?" Percy asked.

"I suppose."

Percy laughed. "Then that's definitely not me. I think I've gotten one A in my life, and that was in P.E.."

Hestia frowned. "You'd be surprised. Book smarts aren't everything, take it from an actual Ravenclaw. There are a ton of people in there because they're creative or good with emotions or especially open-minded, like you two have been."

"She has a point," Sally said. "Maybe you really will be there, and you'll finally listen to me when I tell you you're smart."

"Nah, I'll let you and Annabeth be the brainy ones. I'll go to whichever house takes people without them."

Sally's eyebrows rose. "Last I checked, you're not a scarecrow, Percy."

Hestia's confusion must have been very obvious because Paul looked up from his fingers to say, "It's a Wizard of Oz reference. The scarecrow is brainless in it."

"See, Hestia feels my pain," Percy said. He winked at her. "They're both huge English nerds. You're gonna hear about so many books. You'll never want to read again."

The talk turned to a lively discussion about the best of Muggle and wizard literature. Sally was the most animated, waving her hands wildly as she talked about the classics, a mix of serious commentary and jokes thrown in. And though Percy seemed perfectly content with playing a more passive role, quietly reclining in his chair, he occasionally made a joke at one character or another's expense, sounding a lot like her.

Eventually, dinner wrapped up, and quite a while later, conversation wrapped up as well. Sally excused herself to go to the restroom with a good-natured eye roll and reference to the baby, and Percy waved Paul off, volunteering to help clean up.

"I can do this," she said, quietly amused. "And I can do it a lot faster. Magic and all."

He insisted, as a thanks for her work preparing the meal, adding, "Besides, I'm kind of a dish-washing king, though. At camp, it was our director's favorite chore to assign."

"And why did he assign you chores?"

Percy turned to face her, dishes piled in his arms, the picture of innocence. "Especially good behavior?"

"With that tone, I'm sure you were an absolute angel," Hestia drawled.

"Yeah, something like that. How does Hogwarts like to deal with its, uh, angels?"

Hestia wanted to laugh but didn't, noticing Percy's worry. "There's a point system. Breaking small rules could result in the loss of points for your house. Bigger rules, and it could be a detention."

"What about breaking really big rules?" Percy asked, staring at the dishes he was washing, bubbles building up in the sink.

"What are you planning to do?" Hestia was incredulous.

"Nothing. It's just… sometimes weird things happen around me. And a band room gets set on fire. And then I'm expelled. And my mom and Paul won't complain but I know it would be easier on them if they didn't have to worry about finding another wizard school if things go sideways here, too."

Percy was still determinedly not looking at her. He seemed very young, all of a sudden. It was jarring, she'd admit, after watching him act closer to thirty than sixteen all night.

Her voice was soft, when she spoke. "I don't think they will. Weird things are pretty common with wizards. We have a high tolerance for them."

"Maybe not my brand of it."

"You know, Dumbledore, the leader of the Order? He's also Headmaster, and he has a good sense for these things. As long as your heart is in the right place, you'll have a place at his school, if that helps."

Percy began to dry dishes. He really was fast. "Thanks. I can see why you were in the house of the wise."

Hestia's heart warmed at the quiet compliment, and the night went on.

Diagon Alley

Sally Jackson took in the streets around her. Though they had left their home to go "in hiding" and had just set up shop in a safehouse, Hestia wasn't adverse to trips outdoors, as long as they still had magical protection.

She was very determined to show them a good time and give them a proper welcome to the world of witchcraft, deciding that their first full day in the country would be spent at Diagon Alley, which was apparently the wizard equivalent to Times Square.

"It's normally a lot more upbeat," Daedalus Diggle, another Order member, was explaining. Hestia had invited him for more protection, though Sally suspected she just wanted to spend some time with a friend. "Not so much now, with You-Know-Who and all."

Sally internally rolled her eyes at the name. Every way of referring to the man sounded like something out of a Game of Thrones knock off.

"Reminds me of home," Percy said lightly.

"True. Boarded up windows, suspicious crowds, wanted posters…" Paul continued. "All we need are the rats, and this is NYC all the way."

Daedalus looked scandalized. "Rats?" he asked cautiously.

Percy smirked, mischief in his eyes. Her son liked to say he never asked for trouble, but not everything could be attributed to the Greek world rearing its ugly head. Sometimes, a little trouble was fun.

"So many. Toilet rats, KFC rats, subway rats, subway pizza rats, baby stroller rats, biting babies rats, uptown rats, downtown—"

"Okay," Paul cut in, noticing the paleness of their companions' faces. "Lots of rats, we get it."

"Come on," Sally said, sweetly. "We haven't even gotten into the bed bugs. Or the cockroaches. Or the alligators in the sewers."

Daedalus made a strangled sort of gagging noise.

Paul tried, "If it helps, the alligator thing is an urban legend."

"Magic's a legend, too. But it's real," Percy added, helpfully.

"You two are killing me," her husband muttered. She and Percy simply high-fived.

"Glad you guys are still having fun," Hestia said, eyeing one of the moving posters. On it, a woman named Bellatrix Lestrange sneered, all wild hair and empty eyes. She was the picture of what Sally would have pictured had she thought 'evil witch.' "This is pretty grim. I hoped to show you the bright side of all this, not more fear."

Daedalus cleared his throat. "We can still be productive, though. Right?"

Hestia's face cleared. "Right. I know the wand shop is still open. Ollivanders, it's called. You can get a wand there, Percy!"

He looked thrilled, in all sarcasm, but forced a small smile, anyway. "Sounds good."

The resident wizards guided their little family down the streets. Sally took special note of the few boarded up stores and the people in purple robes pasting up signs. This was the beginning of a world falling apart, she couldn't help but think, the sentence echoing heavily in her mind. Maybe she'd use it one day, in a novel.

They had taken something called the Floo to get here, stepping into the fireplace and popping out in a quiet antique shop that Daedalus's family apparently owned, drawing little attention in the backend of the area. They were still, after all, trying to avoid being killed or kidnapped by Voldemort. Though she wasn't quite clear on what he would do to them, the general consensus was that drawing his attention did not bode well.

Sally tried to push away the inevitable thoughts of her mother, who apparently had once known the killer. She had been young when she lost her parents but she still remembered her mom curling up in the twin bed Sally slept in to spin fantastic fairy tales, her mom cheerfully letting Sally paint in her studio, even on her works of art, her mom painstakingly braiding her hair. It was hard to believe the same woman might have once believed that people like Sally were dirt.

Even worse, though, was remembering what it felt like to be young and pregnant and scared for your life after falling for the wrong man. Sally could so vividly see her mother that same way, a family line she unknowingly followed, decades later.

Paul squeezed her hand, just gently enough to say he was there for her. Percy trailed right behind, heartbreakingly watchful even here. But nonetheless, they were both here, and it was enough for Sally to focus on better thoughts.

After all, this time, she wasn't alone.

The area around them was nicer, a bit more cheerful, as they approached the main drag of Diagon Alley. Hestia and Daedalus seemed happier, too, Daedalus bouncing excitedly when he noticed that the ice cream shop was still, indeed, open. She'd guess they'd be making a stop there.

"Over there's Gringotts, the wizard bank. It's run by goblins." Hestia narrated. "Daedalus, why don't you run in and draw out the funds for the day?"

They were, apparently, to be given free access to Albus Dumbledore's vault. He was also maintaining the rent on their apartment. Sally wasn't exactly thrilled with either call. They could take care of themselves.

He agreed, cheerfully waving to them. Hestia continued. "I figured you'd rather spend your time out here than stuck inside. After your wand, there still is an apothecary you guys can see, a bookstore, and an owlery, if you like birds."

Percy paled. "Owls?"

Hestia nodded. "We use them to send letters."

"Any chance I can pop home and train a subway rat for the job?"

"He's afraid of birds," Sally explained, mentally asking Percy to please go with this. "Bad experience with pigeons back home."

"Yep," Percy said, popping the p aggressively. "I fed them once at the park, and they've swarmed ever since."

"No owlery, then," Hestia said smoothly. She picked up her narration as they walked, pointing out the most useful shops and ones they might check out later, eventually announcing that they were approaching Ollivanders.

It was heralded by a peeling sign and a door that didn't fill its frame the right way, very much a hole in the wall like the best bookstores and restaurants were. Sally had a good feeling about it.

Hestia's voice grew hushed as they got closer. She told them she'd wait outside. A wand was something personal for a wizard.

Percy pulled the door open. Sally and Paul walked in first, both squinting to adjust to the dimmer light. Slim, rectangular boxes were everywhere, lined wall to wall, floor to ceiling, like Jenga on steroids. Dust floated aimlessly through the air.

Sally noticed a pair of silver eyes, which quickly became attached to a man. He was older, with wispy, pale hair, reminding her of a mad scientist. Beside her, Paul jumped.

"How strange," the man - Ollivander, Sally assumed - murmured.

He did not continue to speak, so Percy did, his voice cracking in the middle of his question. It was very cute, in her unbiased opinion. "Um, what's strange?"

Ollivander stared at him, intense. Sally stepped in front of her son, uncomfortable with that intensity. This did not deter him. He just stared at her. "Everyone always jumps. Neither you nor your mother did."

"How do you know she's my mom?" Percy asked, voice tense. She was sure he was fingering Riptide inside his pocket.

"Oh, relax!" Ollivander said, suddenly turning away and striding towards the nearest box of wands, the lack of his attention just as disconcerting as his stare. "And you, the jumpy one, feel free to sit down."

He jabbed his wand, causing a pile of boxes to jump up and fall to the ground, revealing a spindly chair. Paul took the cue.

"You're untrusting, I can tell, but I don't know what you think I know. I don't even know what you might be thinking, just that it's different than what I'm thinking. I only know what my wands tell me, and they tell me you both feel the same. Well, your magic does."

Sally found herself nodding, drawn in by the whimsical, yet matter of fact way Ollivander spoke. Mad scientist, indeed.

Then she noticed what he said. "Wait," she blurted. "I have magic, too?"

Ollivanders: Makes of Fine Wands

Garrick Ollivander had thought he'd seen it all, but this… this, he'd admit was surprising.

Just one room over, he crafted the wands he sold, feeling the spark of magic in each as he bound cores with wood, giving him an intimate connection to each one. It was a steady thrum in the back of his mind, ebbs and flows as different potential matches walked by or into his store. Today, it was more of a tidal wave, many wands suddenly interested, others shrinking away, as two unmatched wizards walked in, the timid and inflexible wands quieting while the rest roared.

To think that the woman in his shop was unaware of that!

Garrick turned away from the prospects, facing her. "Of course. Did you not know this?"

"Last week, I didn't know any of this existed, so no," she said wryly. "They said it was Percy who had magic."

She jerked her head to indicate the teen next to her, who had thankfully dropped his immediate guard, comfortable enough to peer around his shop. Garrick felt bad for his introductory words. He didn't try to put newcomers so on edge, yet it always seemed to happen.

"My wands don't lie," he replied. "How about I find you one, Mrs. -?"

"Sally is fine," she said, hesitating to step forward.

Her son - Percy, she had said - nudged her. "You should do it," he encouraged.

"Alright. How do we do this?"

Garrick offered a quick explanation as he breezed between piles, listening for the loudest wands, while considering what he could make out of Sally's personality. She was humble, enough so that he ignored a few of the bolder wands clamoring for attention, and possessing a certain amount of intuition, calm and steady in a brand new world.

He focused on that aspect first, handing her, "Black walnut with unicorn hair. Ten inches. Rather willowy. Try waving it."

It was good for the instinctive and insightful. But it wasn't a match, the frequencies clashing in his mind's ear, and Garrick snatched the wand back. Perhaps he needed something even more introspective.

He picked, "Silver lime with dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Stiff."

Good for mind magics and Seers. No match. The wood didn't work at all, but the heartstring wasn't awful, a nice beat that matched Sally's. Something with a bit more bite to it could work.

Next, he tried, "Ash with dragon heartstring. Ten and a quarter inches. Mobile."

Ash suited those that were stubborn and hard to sway, a more steadfast wand. Still, a clamour, though Garrick felt he was getting closer. The ash wasn't entirely uncomfortable, the steadfastness matching, but it wasn't flexible enough. He'd need to find a balance between her intuition and backbone.

Phoenix feather could do the trick, if he found the right wood.

There it was. "Ebony with phoenix feather. Ten and a half inches. Springy."

It sang, a joyful sound that vibrated in his soul. Sally let loose a surprised laugh as a bright light flared, pure white, illuminating the room like a strike of lightning.

He cheered. "Still think you're not a witch?"

Sally's eyes were wide, fixed on the wand. "Give me a minute, and I'm sure I can make a case for it."

She stepped back to the threshold, where Percy and the Muggle were lingering. Both of the men looked awed. Percy whispered something Garrick couldn't quite make out, and Sally pushed him forward.

Garrick quickly got to measuring him, trying to make out what of his personality would most resonate. The wands were quieter, now that there was only one unmatched wizard, and the ones that failed for Sally were just as silent for Percy.

He wasn't sure, though, that her strongest qualities would be his, though it wouldn't hurt to start with Sally's wood. Ebony worked best for non-conformists that would hold to their beliefs, and from what Garrick could make out, the same streak drew similar wands to Percy.

This one did not work, two different songs. It did seem that the boy was… harder than his mother. A different wood could address this, it being, "Fir and phoenix feather. Twelve inches. Flexible."

It had the same strength of purpose but an extra oomph he supposed, working especially well for the resilient. The survivors. It failed, the wand's tempo too slow.

Percy was too changeable for the steadiness of fir or ebony. Next, he tried, "Pine and dragon heartstring. Eleven inches. Stiff."

Pine matched the independent streak that echoed loudly, while dragon heartstring allowed for that malleability which rejected the previous wands. The stiffness could counteract the wilder aspects of the pairing.

The wand immediately rejected him, an awful moan. Garrick wracked his brain, somewhat surprised. He was sure that would fit.

No matter. He pulled several new wands out of their boxes as Percy anxiously drummed his fingers against his leg.

Vine for hidden depths, which the teen certainly seemed to have. Willow for potential. Sycamore for adventure. Walnut for adaptability.

They all failed. Maybe something more combative. Sycamore and walnut both were rather fiery, pointing Garrick in that direction, though he wouldn't have thought it at first. The signs were pointing to, "Blackthorn and dragon heartstring. Thirteen inches and mobile."

Percy waved this, too, and for a moment, the room trembled. The wand shrieked, a single piercing cry, before it exploded in a violent burst of light, leaving nothing behind.

"I can pay for that!" Percy blurted, looking mortified.

Garrick blinked. He was somewhat gratified to know that his original instincts weren't wrong. "No need!" he waved Percy off. "It's been a while since something this interesting happened! I love the tricky customers."

He took a moment to explore what he knew. The wands that had been closest to Percy's match had all been highly adaptable, though not necessarily combative. Unicorn hair might work as a solid ground, a nice balance that could hopefully address the steady drum of Percy's own core.

"Redwood and unicorn hair. Thirteen and a half inches. Very flexible."

Again, Garrick heard harmony, another perfect match. Bright light, like his mother's, flashed upwards and out. Percy looked surprised.

He again clapped his hands and congratulated the two of them, wrapping their wands up nicely and explaining payment. Hestia Jones actually came in to provide the Galleons. Apparently, they were friends of her sister, and she was showing them around.

As they left, Garrick began to clean up his shop, noting that he really did need to get some more lights. He hadn't realized how dark it got until Sally and Percy lit it up.

It was strange, though. Not producing the same connection - that ran in families. The Blacks used to all produce gray smoke, for instance - but that particular light. It was familiar. At some point, he had seen that effect once before, a brilliant knifelike jab of concentrated power.

His mind was older than it used to be. And though he could remember every wand he ever sold (or made), Garrick couldn't quite place this.

He continued to work, though, shaking off his unease and vague memories. There were some protections he was hoping to get cast over the store, with everything going on. Ever since the Prophet went public with the return of the Dark Lord, attacks had been increasing every day.

Privet Drive

Harry Potter reclined on his bed, examining the letter from every direction. He was sweaty, the smell of grass still lingering, after a long day of garden work.

Things were quiet at the moment, though. His aunt and uncle were going to some Friday night dinner party hosted by a coworker, and Dudley was out with friends, presumably terrorizing the neighborhood's small children.

It was hard to believe. Only five days back, and Dumbledore had already written, promising a pick-up in a mere two days. Not even a full week with the Dursleys!

Harry suspected the quick turn around had to do with the task Dumbledore had alluded to. Though the letter was brief, he mentioned putting some pressing business on hold for a trip abroad. It seemed that Harry would be invited to attend this pressing business.

A thrill of adrenaline ran through him. It had to be related to Voldemort. And though Harry still dreaded what the prophecy meant for him, if it meant he would be working with Dumbledore, not being left in the dark anymore, well… he hoped he could live up to the challenge.

A/N:

I've been excited to get to the wands! All of my information about woods and cores came from Pottermore, and if anyone is interested in specifically what Sally and Percy's wands mean, ebony is "happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves" and in the hands of someone "who will hold fast to their beliefs and will not be lightly swayed." Redwood has a reputation of good luck (which I found ironic) and is attracted to people who "possess the ability to fall on their feet, make the right choice, to snatch advantage from catastrophe."

Next chapter is the point where we start to diverge from the Half-Blood Prince, and you can look forward to a major chunk with Harry's POV!

Thanks for reading! Your feedback has been wonderful!