A/N: This is a collaboration with my friend StoryBookGhoolies ( u/3103181/StoryBookGhoolies). I haven't posted much fanfiction before so any reviews would be very gratefully received. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it, positive or negative. Hope you enjoy! :)
It's just hit midnight when the owl arrives. Had we been asleep, the incessant tapping of its beak against my window would have woken us up, but as it happens, Hermione and I have been waiting up for this exact moment, too tense to sleep. I can hardly believe it's actually here.
"Open it!" She tells me, her brown eyes wide. "Go on!"
I don't need telling twice, scrambling to the window and undoing the latch. The owl, a graceful barn with snow-white wings, hops onto the windowsill and tilts its left leg towards me. A rolled-up scroll dangles in front of my fingers.
"There's a letter!" I tell my sister.
"Of course there is!" She says, impatient with excitement. "Open it, open it!"
I fumble to untie the scroll and unfurl it with shaking fingers. It all comes down to this.
"'Dear Miss Granger,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' I'm in!" I squeal, jumping up and down.
"I'm proud of you, Diana!" Hermione stands up and wraps me in a tight hug. "I always knew you'd get in, of course." She says, her tone returning to one of its usual confidence.
"Did you?" I grin. "What was with the nervous pacing ten minutes ago, then?"
"You'll need a wand, of course." Hermione says briskly, scanning the list that came with the letter and completely ignoring my teasing. "Textbooks, quills, ink…. Oh, and school robes; Madam Malkins' is best for that. Potions kit, too. You can come with me to Diagon Alley on Wednesday."
Excitement ripples in my stomach at the thought, but before I can say anything my sister's talking again. "And you're allowed a pet - an owl, a cat or a toad."
I blink at her imploringly. "... Baby dragon?"
Hermione shoots me a withering look. "Don't you start. I'm not having another Norbert situation."
"I'll never forgive you for not getting me a picture." I tell her, thinking wistfully of the baby Norwegian Ridgeback she told me about last year.
"Maybe this will help to ease your pain," she says, drawing a large, flat parcel, dripping with ribbons. "It's technically your birthday now, after all, and I wanted to wait until after you'd received your good news." She grins at me and hands it over; it's hard, rectangular - almost certainly a book. Well, that's certainly in my sister's alley.
"Thanks!" I give her a one-armed hug, then tear into the paper. From the red-striped shreds I pull a hardback book - I was right, then - flip it over and gasp in excitement. Fire and Fang: An Encyclopaedia of Dragons, by Thaddeus Lightclaw. A huge green beast flaps its way across the cover: breath-taking, beautiful.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I squeal again, like a five-year-old on a sugar rush. I can't help it, though; I've never loved a present more. I throw my arms round my sister, still clinging to my gift.
"You're very welcome!" she laughs at my exuberance. "I'm glad you like it."
"I love it." I say seriously, leafing through. Never have moving pictures been more beneficial; every page is vivid and beautiful, so engaging I feel as if I could fall right into them. The only time I've ever seen a dragon in flight before is in a couple of newspaper clippings Hermione sent me last year - they amazed me enough, but the small black-and-white images pale in comparison to the artistry I'm holding now.
"I've never seen you so engrossed in a book before," my sister says, smiling, and I reluctantly drag my eyes away from the scarlet dragon I'm gazing at.
"Don't get too used to it," I say. "I don't think I'm going to be rivalling you for time spent in the library."
"Honestly, Diana, I don't spend that much time in the library…"
"Course not." I grin. "Well, I guess I'll find out in a few days, won't I?" Nerves ripple through my stomach faintly as I speak, but they're drowned out by my continued buzz of excitement.
"Yes, you will," Hermione says, then she stops and looks me in the eye, intently. I'm about to ask what's wrong, or make another joke, when she speaks again. "I'm really happy you're coming with me this year, Diana."
I suddenly feel calmer, less giddy; I'm about to embark on something massive and unexpected. I make a silent promise to myself: I will not mess this up.
I look into my sister's familiar brown eyes and return her smile. "Me too."
When I make my way downstairs to the kitchen the next morning, my whole family is gathered round the table. Hermione is reading, looking up from her book only to wink at me knowingly, my mum is setting down crockery and my dad neatening a little pile of presents at the centre of the table. As I walk in, my parents erupt into a flurry of congratulations.
"Happy birthday, Diana!" Mum says, dropping a kiss on my forehead.
"Eleven today!" Dad says, ruffling my halo of frizz affectionately.
"Thanks!" I hug them both, but disentangle myself quickly. I'm impatient to tell them about last night. "I have some very important news..." I announce, trying to create an air of mystery. In the corner, Hermione shakes her head in despair and hides behind her book, probably so no one sees her laughing at my inability to sound even remotely serious right now.
"Ah, yes! The great Hogwarts verdict!" Dad says dramatically.
"So, tell us! Did a letter come for you in the night?"
I pause, smile. "Wellll…"
"Diana!"
"I got in!" I exclaim. "An owl came just after midnight and - I got in!"
"Well done, darling!" Mum exclaims.
"And another magical Granger!" Dad smiles proudly.
There's a moment's happy silence, broken only by the whistling kettle. I look at their faces and know from eleven years' experience that they're both trying their hardest not to laugh.
"...Yeah, you two both knew already, didn't you?" I grin.
"Your wizarding potential clearly doesn't extend to celebrating quietly, sweetheart." My mum says wryly. "I'm sorry, though - we wanted you to be able to tell us!"
"Don't worry, you had excellent surprised faces." I laugh. I can't recall ever being more excited than this, not since I was very small. "I'm going to Hogwarts!"
"What next?" Hermione asks, scanning her neatly written list (neatly written by her, of course). She's definitely talking to herself; I'm of no practical use to anyone right now. An hour's shopping still hasn't dulled the childlike excitement that hit me the second we entered Diagon Alley. It's the first time I've ever been fully immersed in the wizarding world, and it definitely wasn't subtle. The mass of cloaks and pointed hats, the incessant hoot of owls, the whimsically named shops and visual prominence of broomsticks, cauldrons and wands are all fascinating to behold.
"You need a wand." My sister decides, breaking me out of my reverie. My excitement intensifies; this definitely beats buying robes.
"Ollivander's?" I guess.
"Just around here," Hermione guides me around the corner, dodging a knot of people kneeling next to a spilled cauldron, and stops outside a little shop. I look up - 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC in Diagon Alley', reads the sign above our heads. A slight nervousness stirs in my stomach.
"Do you want me to come in with you?" Hermione asks, seeing my face.
"No, it's OK." I say decidedly. She was alone when her wand chose her - I know I want the same thing.
"Alright - I'll go and get some parchment and ink for us both, and meet you back here." She smiles bracingly. "Good luck!"
I nod, inhale deeply and push open the rickety door. Inside, the air is thick with the sweet, earthy scent of wood and the sharp tang of polish. Shelf upon shelf are crammed to the brim with a mass of narrow boxes, but there is no one in sight. "Hello?" I call, a little uncertainly.
There's a rustling sound, and an old man with pale skin, silvery eyes and a shock of white hair emerges from beneath the counter, hauling up an armful of boxes.
"Hello...Mr Ollivander?" I guess nervously. "Could I - could I buy a wand, please?"
"You're in the right shop," he smiles faintly. "What's your name?"
"Diana Granger."
He studies me for a moment. "Granger...sister of a Miss Hermione Granger?"
I nod. "She's just outside."
He doesn't seem to hear me; instead his face takes on a dreamy, distant expression. "Nice wand, hers. 10 3/4 inches, vinewood...dragon heartstring." He murmurs, as if reminiscing about an old friend. "Now, for you," He turns to me suddenly and fixes me with an intense gaze. "Something similar, I think...in the same vein..."
As I open up the box he begins explaining what I'm looking at - a huge relief or I'd have to parrot questions that wouldn't really benefit either of us. "Oakwood, 11 inches, the same dragon heartstring as your sister's!"
My stomach lurches into a knot of excitement at the mentioning of dragon heartstring. I'd badgered Hermione in an insistently annoying manner when she'd explained her wand to me - specifically, I wanted to know if the dragon said heartstring had been supplied by was dead at the time of it being plucked out. The idea of such beautiful creatures being slaughtered - similar to elephant tusk harvesting for piano keys or tiger skins for fancy décor - had made me sick to my stomach until she'd reassured me about the humane way they were acquired.
Twisting the wand nervously in my hands, I can't help but smile at the man who's grinning at me broadly, something worryingly akin to maniacal delight glinting in those silvery eyes.
"Go on, go on!" He insists. "Give it a test! I have to make sure you've procured the correct wand, after all!"
The weight of the wood in my hand seems to officialise my status somehow. I am a witch. No matter what anyone might say to me, this is proof I belong in this world, just like Hermione does. I swirl the wand in my right hand, allowing it to glide through the air in an elegant manner, the way I used to wave paintbrushes around when I was younger. I wasn't anything special when it came to painting, but I had an affinity for twirling around the brushes like hairy batons.
With a tentative flick of my wrist, small, pale blue sparks begin to bubble at the end of the wand, shooting out like shimmering bullets and letting off little whistling sounds.
"Well, look at that!" Ollivander exclaims, clapping his hands together in delight. "You couldn't have asked for any better - and on the first try, too!"
I stare down at the wand in my hand, a smile spreading over my face. It already feels natural to hold - almost like it's part of me, as unequivocally mine as my limbs. I tear my eyes away, somewhat reluctantly. "I'll buy this one, please!"
"Of course, of course!" He springs into action, plucking the wand from my hand and nestling it back in its box. "That'll be seven Galleons, my dear."
I hand over the gold Hermione collected for me earlier and take the box, already dying to tear into it and retrieve my wand. "Thank you so much!"
"You're very welcome, very welcome..." Ollivander smiles vaguely, already retreating behind the counter again. "Goodbye now!"
I duck out of the door, still grinning all over.
"You look happy," Hermione says, coming over to meet me with a mass of shopping bags. "What have you got?"
"Oakwood, 11 inches, the same dragon heartstring as yours!" I open the box and she peers in, her brown eyes lighting up at the sight of the wand - my wand, I think enthusiastically.
"Brilliant," she murmurs, then looks up. "What did you think of Mr Ollivander?" She asks suddenly, grinning slightly.
"Well...he certainly seems to know his wands...got this for me on the first try!"
"You're lucky! It took such a long time to find mine..." She smiles fondly at her own wand, just peeking out her pocket. "Anyway, I think we've done everything, shopping-wise!"
On turning back down the alley, I'm glad that I've linked my arm through Hermione's. The street has become flooded with witches and wizards, many of whom are dragging children around my own age through the streets, muttering about the stresses of the back-to-school rush. I'm only thankful my older sister manages to be so confident as she pushes us both through the crowds with her indignant refusal to get trampled.
It's only as we're beginning to reach the end of the street that Hermione stops dead in her tracks and I almost end up walking right into her, forgetting to pause.
I go to her to ask why she's stopped before I avert my eyes to the path in front of her and Hermione's reasoning becomes self-explanatory. There's a tall, slender young wizard stood in front of us who looks around sixteen years old. He has an attractive olive tone to his skin - the sort that isn't just the bronze you get from a holiday - and his cloud of dark brown hair adds some golden tints to his complexion. From the side, his jawline is strong, his nose sleek, lips rounded and full. He looks like the heartthrob stereotypes most girls fall for...and even I have to admit I'm a little awestruck, which is helped by the modern dark colour scheme his clothes are composed of.
He seems to realise we're stood there and turns, revealing the thoroughly handsome nature of his face in its entirety as his eyes come to rest on us. "I'm so sorry!" His voice holds traces of a French accent to it and his eyes linger on Hermione for a bit. "Wait..." He smiles wryly. "You're Hermione Granger, aren't you?" He asks.
She nods fervently with a slightly dazed expression, then seems to pull herself together. "Yes, yes, that's me."
"You helped swipe the House Cup for Gryffindor last year, right?" He asks.
She looks even more flustered at the mention of her achievements. "Um, well, I suppose so!"
He grins. "Very impressive, if a little annoying for the rest of us! I'm Gwaine Marchelle LaBrie, by the way."
"Good to meet you! Oh, and this is my sister, Diana," Hermione says hurriedly, nodding to me. "She's going into her first year."
"Ah, my sister's just starting too!" He tells me.
"Really? Is she about?" I almost forget my shyness. I'm eager to meet someone from my year; it might make walking into not only a new school but an entirely new way of life easier. Well, a bit.
"I'm sorry to say she was too lazy to come,' he laughs. "I'm just here with my brother, he's-' He turns around and scans the crowd behind his back, to no avail. "Well, he was just behind me." He shrugs, swinging back round. "Probably got caught up staring at his reflection in a shop window or something. I'd better go and find him."
"Yes, I've got to meet my friends, too." Hermione says, still sounding a little flustered. "Well, it was very nice to meet you!"
"You too! And you, Diana - good luck at Hogwarts!"
"Thanks!" I squeak.
He gives us a little wave and retreats into the heaving mass of people.
"Now him I could understand the fuss about," I tease under my breath, as we start walking again. "Gilderoy Lockhart, on the other hand-"
"Oh, he's doing a book signing at Flourish and Blotts!" Hermione exclaims. "How could I forget?! Come on, let's hurry up and meet everyone - we might still catch him!" She doubles her pace, and I scurry to keep up. Half of me suspects this is punishment for my teasing and I smile ruefully.
"So," I pant. "Did they say where you could meet them?"
"It was supposed to be outside Gringotts,' she says, as we come to a stop in front of the enormous bank. 'But I don't - hang on - is that Harry? And that- that's Hagrid -"
Her expression breaks into pure excitement, and she runs towards her friends at a pace that outstrips me in seconds. I watch her run for a second, her bushy brown hair streaming behind her. I've never seen her this happy to see school friends. Clearly, the friendships she made at Hogwarts have been the most significant of her life so far.
I hope they will be for me as well.
I revel in the anticipation for a moment, taking in the sight of the wizarding world, then run through the dense crowd after my sister.