Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money off this!
Ursa Lestrange had no friends. She had spent every recess since beginning elementary school anxiously considering this fact. Because she lived in a foster home with many other children around her age, she should probably have at least one friend. But she didn't, and everyone seemed to comment on it. Her teacher had written about it on her report card, and her foster mother had written so in her file that Ursa had snuck a look at.
She was thinking about the issue again on the day that everything changed. She was sitting outside the large red brick building that had been her home for the past three years, swinging her legs from where she sat on the garden wall, when she saw a thin, dark-haired woman turn the corner onto her block. She was wearing a smart skirt and matching jacket, the kind business people wore, and had her hair tied up in a neat bun. She caught Ursa's eye as she walked past, and did a sort of double take.
"You must be Miss Lestrange," the woman said. Ursa stared at her. The woman seemed important, and not the type of person Ursa would know, since her world consisted of social workers, foster carers, and other children at her school. She hastily straightened her dress, jumping down off the wall.
"Yes?" she responded, feeling a bit nervous. What could this woman want from her?
"I am here to speak with your foster mother, if she is in," the woman continued, pressing her lips together. Ursa's first impression of this woman was that she must be very strict, and the idea that she wanted to speak with Ursa's foster mother alarmed her. She was suddenly struck with a thought that made a lump appear in her throat. Ursa had always had horrible marks in school, and she was worried this woman was here to tell her foster mother that she was hopeless and she would have to be transferred to a remedial school.
"She's in," Ursa squeaked. The woman walked briskly up the stairs and knocked smartly on the door. Ursa was left standing on the front walk, wondering whether she should follow.
When Ursa's foster mother answered the door, the woman turned to her and called, "Well, aren't you going to come in?" Blushing, she anxious hurried up the front steps, following her foster mother and the business-looking woman to the front room.
Her foster mother indicated for them to sit down. "So you say you're from a school?" Ursa's foster mother asked. Ursa almost groaned aloud. If she was being moved to a new school, she had definitely failed Year 5.
"Yes," the woman explained. "My name is Professor McGonagall, and I'm here representing The School for Gifted Young Women, which Miss Lestrange has been accepted to." There was a long silence in the room, as Ursa's foster mother considered Professor McGonagall.
Finally, she sighed. "You must have the wrong girl. Ursa was bottom of her class last year." She sounded exasperated, as she always did. Ursa's foster mother was always exasperated.
Professor McGonagall's lips thinned again. "Nevertheless, Miss Lestrange has been accepted. I can show you all the details now," she offered. She handed Ursa's foster mother a blank sheet of paper. Instead of laughing, or calling the professor a fraud, her foster mother's eyes seemed to glaze over.
"Yes, alright, I see," she consented.
"You can get back to work now," Professor McGonagall said. "I will be taking Miss Lestrange to obtain her school things this afternoon." Ursa's foster mother left the room, leaving Ursa alone with the professor.
"Miss Lestrange," the professor began. "I am not here representing The School for Gifted Young Women. I am here representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but you are to tell your foster mother, social worker, and whoever else inquires that you go to this school for gifted girls." Ursa stared at her. Her first thought was that this woman must be a lunatic, escaped from some sort of hospital ward. But then she thought about all the odd things that seemed to have happened when she was around – when the other children had stolen her stuffed rabbit, years ago, it had appeared that night on her bed, and then when her foster mother neglected to ever pack her lunch, a packet of cookies had always appeared in the pocket of her school uniform.
"I'm a witch?" she asked, seeking confirmation. With Professor McGonagall's nod, a shiver of excitement travelled up her spine. She was a witch! She had always known there was something different about her – something that set her apart from everyone else.
"You have been offered a place at Hogwarts, a school for young witches and wizards to learn magic. It is a boarding school in Scotland. Do you accept the invitation?" She felt uncomfortable under the professor's intense gaze.
"Of course," she answered. There was no way she would give up a chance to get away from her current school, foster mother, and the other children she lived with. But as she answered, a peculiar look came over the professor's face, almost as if she were disappointed.
Nevertheless, Professor McGonagall gave her a nod, explaining, "Today I will be taking you to get your school supplies. School begins on September 1, in about two weeks." She handed Ursa a thick envelope, which was made of a different type of paper then she was used too. The wax seal had a design with four animals surrounding an H.
She carefully pried it open. Inside was an acceptance letter to the school, signed by the professor, and a list of things she would need. She read it in fascination – a wand! These were things she'd only ever read about in books. Suddenly, she felt a spark of distrust. So many times people had promised her great, happy things, which she'd never actually got to experience. This seemed just like the times when her social worker had told her she would be adopted – but no one ever seemed to want her.
"Are you sure you've got the right person, professor?" she asked. "Are you sure I've got magic?"
McGonagall gave her the same piercing stare as earlier. "Quite sure, Miss Lestrange. You would not have received a Hogwarts letter if you had no magic." Well, Ursa certainly hoped that was true, because it would be very embarrassing if she showed up to this school of magic, and wasn't able to perform any.
Soon enough, Professor McGonagall and Ursa were standing on the walkway outside. "We will be going to London today," explained the professor. When Ursa stared at her, shocked, since London would take hours to reach on a train, she elaborated, "We'll be travelling by apparition."
Apparating was not something that turned out to be enjoyable. It felt like Ursa had spent one long, horrible moment inside of a dark tube, and suddenly, she was standing in an alleyway. The sensation had made her feel quite ill, but as she looked around at the new surroundings, she realized that what the professor had told her must be true – magic was real!
The professor led Ursa out onto a regular looking street and into a dingy pub. It was dark inside, with barely any natural light. It was so crowded that Ursa and Professor McGonagall had to shove though to get to the back of the pub.
"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall!" an elderly man called out from behind the counter. "Muggleborn shopping trips already?" Ursa was too busy staring at a floating mug to hear the professors reply, but soon enough she was hurried through the back door of the pub, into an alley. Ursa stood behind the professor, confused as to what they were going to be doing in an alley behind a pub.
"What is a Muggleborn, Professor?" Ursa asked.
The professor pursed her lips. "A child borne of people who have no magic. Non-magical people are called Muggles." The professor seemed annoyed for some reason.
She understood what they were doing in the alley when Professor McGonagall tapped the wall what must have been a wand, and the bricks in the wall rearranged into an arch. She looked through the arch at an amazing sight. Behind the alley was a bustling street! "How can this be?" she asked, taking in the sight and sound of the street in front of them.
"This, Miss Lestrange, is Diagon Alley," the professor explained, guiding Ursa through the archway. As she half-walked, half-ran behind Professor McGonagall, she noticed the peculiar clothing people were wearing. Everyone was dressed out of older times, with all of the women wearing dresses or skirts, and the men dressed in collared shirts and stiff slacks. Each of them wore a robe overtop of their clothing. She felt rather out of place in only her summer dress.
Their first stop was a clothes shop. Ursa had seen another, nicer one, up the street, but it was not a place where she would expect to buy a uniform. She wondered if it were for the wealthier students of Hogwarts. But these thought of money reminded her of another problem.
"Professor McGonagall, I haven't got any money! How am I going to pay for all of these things? For Hogwarts?"
The professor explained that there was a fund for students without enough money to afford their school things. "You'll have to make do with second hand things," Professor McGonagall explained, almost as if she assumed that Ursa would have a problem with this. But how could she, when everything she'd ever had was second hand?
"Thank you, Professor," Ursa said. "That's very nice."
She was given a number of robes to try on inside the second hand uniform shop, even though the assistant complained that she was very small, and they wouldn't have many robes in her size. Nevertheless, they found her three robes, three collared shirts, and a black uniform dress to go under the robes. She was also given a pair of tights and a couple pairs of knee socks, and a pair of scuffed black shoes. A couple other things were added to the pile, such as a pointed hat, a pair of gloves covered in a scaly material, and a heavy cloak.
Finally, the shop assistant brought them into the back where a number of scuffed looking trunks were piled against the wall. "She can take one of these," the assistant explained. Ursa picked out the one that looked the sturdiest.
Ursa left the shop with her hand guiding her trunk, filled with her school clothes, which the professor had done something to in order to make it float behind her. She was fascinated by this, but also a bit worried that they'd just spent a whole lot of money. "Will I have to pay back Hogwarts one day for all these things?" she inquired.
The professor waved her hand. "Nonsense," she said. "We don't have many children who draw from the fund per year, so it's no trouble."
Next, they got her schoolbooks, which Ursa couldn't wait to look at, especially the book about spells. Then they got her a potions kit, with scales and a cauldron, which were shrunk to fit in her trunk. Last came the most exciting shop, the wand store, which was called Ollivander's. The store looked dark and closed, but when they came in, a man was sitting behind the counter, stacking up a number of thin boxes.
"Aha," he pronounced, coming around to stand in front of them. "Another first-year come to get a wand. You know, I remember every wand I sold –" He broke off abruptly. The owner of the shop and the professor shared a sharp look, and then the man continued, "And I am Ollivander, maker of wands. Who might you be?"
"Um, Ursa Lestrange, sir," she answered, a bit bemused.
Ollivander began rummaging through a stack of the thin boxes that were piled everywhere in the shop – on shelves, on the counter, and on the floor. After a bit, he pulled out a thin box, opening the lid and holding it out for Ursa. Inside was a thin, shiny wand.
"Hawthorn, unicorn tail hair," he explained. "Give it a wave."
Uncertainly, she picked it up and swished it through the air. Flames appeared on the countertop. The professor quickly waved her own wand and the fire was gone. Ursa took a step backwards, shocked. "I'm so sorry," she apologized.
"No, no, not for you," Ollivander said, snatching the wand from her and placing it back in its box. "You know, Miss Lestrange, that the wand chooses the witch or wizard, so we must find one that chooses you." He went back to looking through the piles of boxes.
"Try this one – elm and dragon heartstring." Ursa was given another wand to try out, but this one caused a shelf to collapse. "Better," Ollivander commented, and gave her a few more to try. None of these seemed to work either, until he brought out a dusty black box.
"Maybe," murmured Ollivander, followed by, "I wouldn't be surprised." He ran a finger up and down the box, before handing it to Ursa carefully.
She opened it carefully and looked at the wand inside. It was longer than the others had been, and of a dark, shiny color. As soon as she waved it, she understood that this was the wand for her. It filled her with a warm, secure feeling and a gust of wind swirl around her. For a moment, a dull, warm light seemed to be emanating from the wand.
"There it is," Ollivander said. "That is the wand for you, is it not?" Ursa nodded. "It is walnut, with a dragon heartstring core. Very stiff – good for counter-curses, actually." He sounded surprised.
She was so enthralled with the new wand that she could only murmur, "Thank you." She clutched the wand as the professor paid, and it wasn't until they were back in the street that the professor reminded her that it would be best if she kept it in the box.
"After all, you don't know how to use it yet," the professor warned.
It seemed like such a shame when she was returned back to the foster home. She couldn't wait till the day she would get on the train to go to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had explain that she would have to catch the train from London, but since her foster mother would be too busy with the other ten children in the house, she would have to take another train into London early in the morning.
Every night, she counted down the days till she would get to leave. Soon enough, the night before dawned, and she knew that she wouldn't sleep a wink. After her evening chores were done, and the other children were asleep, she packed her trunk in the dark room she shared with four other girls. She had to be careful not to wake them, so the only light she had to see came from the street lamp outside the window.
All that she really had was packed into the trunk. She didn't have that many clothes so she figured she would take her grey uniform dress from the year before, and the one collared shirt she had to go with it. She didn't bother taking her pair of pants, since all the other girls in Diagon Alley had been wearing skirts or dresses. The only other clothes she had were her summer dress and her night dress, so her trunk ended up miserably empty. Ursa hesitated before packing the raggedy stuffed rabbit she'd had since before she could remember, but she was so worried that if she left it at the foster home, it would end up destroyed or stolen by another child.
She ended up having to walk to the train station herself in the early hours of the morning, and the spell the professor had placed on her trunk had worn off. It took so long to walk to the station that she feared she would miss the train and be late for Hogwarts, but she made it just on time. The station assistant had been friendly enough, stowing her trunk on board for her, and inquiring, "Off to school, are you?" It must have been evident, since she had decided to wear her old school uniform, which went with the black shoes from Diagon Alley.
She wanted to look like a witch when she got to the Hogwarts train, so she had found an old leather over the shoulder bag in the basement of her foster home. The strap was broken, and she'd had to sew it back together, so she figured her foster mother wouldn't miss it. She hadn't seen anyone with backpacks in Diagon Alley, so she had left hers at home. She had one of the plain black school robes folded up in her bag to put on when she got to Platform 9 ¾, as it said on her ticket.
She was too excited to sleep on the train into London. She stared nervously out the window, heart in her throat. No one had liked her at her old school, so why would people at Hogwarts like her any better? These thoughts plagued her until the train pulled into King's Cross Station. After that, she was too nervous about finding the right platform that those thoughts stopped.
A station assistant helped her place her trunk on a trolley, and which she struggled to push towards Platform 9. The wheels of the trolley kept spinning, so it was hard to keep it going in one direction. Finally, a voice came from behind her. "First year at Hogwarts?" a boy's voice asked.
She looked up from her trolley, a bit nervous. Someone from Hogwarts was speaking to her! "Y-yes," she stammered. "You?" The boy who'd addressed her was tall, and much older than her. He looked like he would be good at sports.
He nodded. "I'm Marcus Flint. You?" He said it in a certain way that made it seem like he was testing her.
"Ursa Lestrange," she answered, quietly.
"Need a hand with that trolley?" he asked. "Seems a bit heavy for a slight thing like you." She blushed, but nodded. He picked up her trunk and put it atop his trolley, balanced on top of his trunk. She hurried after him as he confidently steered it towards Platform 9, one hand clutching the handle of his trolley. She became alarmed when he didn't make any move to slow down as he approached the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. She was about to shout for him to stop, as she was sure they were going to crash, when they seemed to go right through it.
On the other side of the barrier was another platform, which must have been Platform 9 ¾. Her heart racing, Ursa looked around the platform at the families dropping their children off to catch the train to Hogwarts. Many were dressed in the same type of clothes she'd seen in Diagon Alley, though some were wearing normal-looking jeans and t-shirts. Marcus Flint helped her put her trunk in an empty compartment, and then left to go find his friends. She thanked him profusely: she wasn't used to help from anyone.
She was a bit early, so it was awhile before the train pulled out of the station. After pulling on her robe, she watched the platform outside the window of her compartment. There was a large family, all with redhead children, with a girl that looked about her age, though she ended up staying behind on the platform as the other, older boys boarded the train. There was an elderly woman with a stuffed bird perched on her hat. She looked annoyed at the boy she was accompanying.
Soon enough, the door of her compartment swung open. It was a rather heavy-set boy. "Hullo," he said. "I'm Gregory Goyle. Who are you?" Ursa thought he seemed very direct.
"Ursa Lestrange," she answered.
His face seemed to clear. "Can I sit with you?" he asked. "Most of the other compartments have older students in them."
"Sure," she said, pleased. Usually she sat alone on the bus whenever her school had gone on trips. It was nice that someone wanted to sit with her. He sat across from her, and then there was a period of silence. Ursa could tell they were both uncomfortable, but she had always been bad with conversation.
Finally, Goyle broke the silence. "Did you hear that they have someone come around on the train, selling sweets? My mum gave me some knuts to buy some." He sounded pleased.
"Oh," Ursa responded. "I didn't know – I didn't bring any money." She didn't have any money anyways, so it didn't matter. Soon enough, the train was pulling out of the station. Goyle waved goodbye to a rather large woman on the platform.
"That's my mum," he explained. Ursa nodded, thinking it must be nice to have someone to send you off to school.
At first, the two of them contented themselves with looking out the window. Ursa watched the scenery fly by, wondering how long the journey was going to take. After all, Professor McGonagall had never said. About half an hour into their journey, a boy opened the door of the compartment.
He was heavy-set, like Goyle, and Ursa thought they looked remarkably similar. "Greg!" he exclaimed. "I've been looking for you everywhere!" He took a seat beside Ursa and across from Goyle. "Who's this?" he asked, noticing her.
"Ursa Lestrange," grunted Goyle.
The other boy nodded. "I'm Vincent Crabbe," he introduced himself. "Greg and I know each other because our dads play Quidditch together. Right, Greg?"
Ursa presumed that Quidditch was some sort of sport. "They must be very athletic," she said, hoping she wasn't making a fool of herself but wanting to say something.
Goyle and Crabbe agreed happily, and began a passionate discussion of the subject, while Ursa went back to looking out the window. It wasn't until they were interrupted by another boy opening the compartment door that anything interesting happened.
The boy who came in was very pale, like Ursa, but in contrast to her black hair, he had hair that was almost white. He had a very superior look about him, something that she was used to associating with the wealthy children at her old school. "Vince and Greg!" he exclaimed. "I've been looking for you everywhere! I had to sit with a bunch of Mudbloods because I couldn't find you guys." He flopped into the seat beside Goyle. "Who are you?" he asked Ursa.
"Ursa Lestrange," she said for what felt like the hundredth time that day. She wondered whether it was a magical custom to abruptly ask someone's name whenever you met them, and what a Mudblood was.
"Nice to meet you! I'm Draco Malfoy," the boy drawled. "Seems like this is the compartment to be in! Have you heard that Harry Potter is on the train?"
"Huh," Goyle said, not seeming very excited. Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed very excited about this Harry Potter. The boys talked about Quidditch for a bit, before Malfoy convinced Crabbe and Goyle to come with him to search for Harry Potter.
"Coming?" Malfoy asked, but Ursa stayed behind. She did not know who Harry Potter was, and was so used to having her things stolen, she didn't feel comfortable leaving her trunk unsupervised on the train.
So she sat alone until a girl with frizzy hair and the boy who had been with the woman with the stuffed bird hat knocked on the door of her compartment. "Have you seen a toad?" the girl asked.
A toad? She shook her head. The boy, who was a bit chubby, seemed to be studying her intensely. "Well, Neville's lost his," the girl said. The boy, who must have been Neville, looked uncomfortable.
"Let's go, Hermione," he said, giving Ursa a worried look. They left quickly, leaving her wondering why the boy had seemed to want to get away from her. No matter, she decided. More people had been nicer to her today than in the last year, so she wasn't complaining if one person seemed to dislike her.
Soon after, Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy were back, seeming annoyed about something. They grumbled about the Harry Potter person for a bit, but then the trolley with sweets came around, which distracted them. The three boys bought a whole bunch of something called Chocolate Frogs.
She watched in fascination as they opened the packages and caught the frogs as they jumped out. She realized that they were made of chocolate, but must be spelled to jump around. Goyle must have mistaken her stare for wishing to have a chocolate, because he offered one to her.
"Oh, no," she stammered. "It's alright." She wasn't used to being offered sweets by other children. Goyle waved a hand.
"Go ahead, I've got lots."
"Thanks," she said, carefully catching one as she opened its package. She noticed a card inside the package as she ate the frog. There was a woman on the card, with long flowing hair. She stared as she realized that the woman's hair was rippling with the wind – on the printed card! She flipped it over. There was a description on the back, indicating that the woman on the card was a witch called Circe. She slipped the card into the pocket of her dress, glad to own something magical.
"Look, I got three Dumbledores," complained Malfoy. He had chocolate smeared on his lips. Apparently Dumbledore was a common card, since Crabbe and Goyle readily agreed, complaining that they had many of his cards.
It was dark when the train pulled into the station. Ursa felt a thrill of excitement. She had been wondering what Hogwarts looked like, and now she would find out.
Thank you for reading!