Chapter One - Wands
Raylee and I often fought about our friendship. Not quite the kind that threatened to end our magical relationship, but more of what it was that kept us stuck together. Raylee argued that we liked being the weird outcasts, I argued that it was simply meant to be, but we both agreed it had a great deal to do with our fathers. I suppose if you wanted my full story, you would have to go back 8 years, to the ripe age of 11.
It was on a Sunday morning. My father was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through The Daily Prophet. In the next room was my mother, cooking breakfast. And I was upstairs in my bedroom, but not for long. I pounded down the stairs as loud as I could, shrieking at the top of my lungs. Adding to the cacophony were the screeches of an old, snowy owl.
My father stood up and put his paper down, grinning from ear to ear. His brilliant green eyes were twinkling. I envied his eyes and wished I had them. I had been given my grandmothers (On my mums side) eyes, a cold gray.
Mum came from the kitchen with a look on her face, which distinctly said she didn't think her daughter should be running through the house. I knew it all too well. My father often said I looked a lot like my mum, we had the same hair and facial expressions. Through I liked to think I acted more on my dad's side.
"Accio letter!" Said my dad, whipping out a wooden wand from his pocket and snatching the letter from me. Disgruntled I stopped my celebrations short and glared at my father as evilly as I could muster.
"Faelyn," said my father. "Calm down! You're going to cave the whole house in! Now… Shall I read it…"
"No! No! No! It's my letter!" I jumped up and down trying to get the letter from my father's hands. I knew I couldn't possibly reach it owing to my father's height. I suppose it was for my own dramatic satisfaction.
"Or maybe," he continued to tease. "I should light it on fire. I wonder if they've made these fireproof now, hmm? It would be an interesting experiment…" I thickened the dramatics by getting on my hands and knees.
"Pleaaaaase! I'm begging you! I've waited my whole life! Just let me read the letter!"
"Really Harry! You're so mean to the girl. Just let her have it!" Said my mum. He dropped the thick letter onto the floor and I snatched it up and began running in circles around the table. Annoying my mother was a pastime.
"Are you going to even open it, or are you just going to use it of a means of getting exercise for the rest of your life?" she said impatiently while she waved her wand behind her back, turning the eggs over. Content I had bothered her enough for the hour, I calmly sat down at the table and ripped open the yellowish envelope, pulling out several pieces of thick paper of the same color, and read aloud:
Dear Miss Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
The term begins September 1. We await your owl no latter than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
My father shook his head. "She's still there? Hmph… Wonder where Snape is…" He said it mostly to himself. My mother served up our breakfast.
"Well that's nice. We'll get your things tomorrow," she said in a pleasant voice. I stuffed toast in my mouth wondering why there were no balloons and streamers.
From a very small age my father had entertained me with stories from his days at Hogwarts. Full of giant snakes, sneaking out, secret passageways, and Lord Voldemort. I had also been trained to say his name. My fathers philosophy was if you gave something a name, you only gave it more power. It was a good philosophy, in my opinion.
The rest of my day was quite normal. I beat my father in Wizards chess twice, it would have been three if he had not decided (2 moves before he would have been in checkmate) that I should write to our family friend Sirius about Hogwarts. Sirius was my fathers godfather. I liked Sirius very much; He treated me like an adult and always smelt of burnt marshmallows. I stole a quill and parchment from my dad's desk and wrote my letter on the kitchen table.
Dear Sirius,
I got my letter from Hogwarts today. Nobody celebrated much so I was a little disappointed. Tomorrow we're going to get my school things. We're leaving early. Maybe I'll see you there?
Dad hasn't mentioned it yet but I know he wants me to be in Gryffindor. Hope all is well. Dad says hi.
-Faelyn
I tied it to my father's owl, which took out the window and disappeared into a cloud. I stayed in the window watching the spot, letting my mind wonder out past it. My peace was interrupted by my mother, who yelled at me for using the owl when she needed it to send a letter to Hogwarts. When her voice had gone hoarse she made me a sandwich. My father said my mum's mood swings were because of the stress she was under. My mum's a writer, owing to the fact that she's brilliant.
Late that night, as I drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep, a rattling noise lulled me out of bed and to my window. Half awake I could just make out a snowy white figure tapping its beak against the glass. I lurched open the window and a rolled up letter fell on my hand. The owl fluttered back out and went through the dinning room window.
I flipped on the light and sat dreamily on my bed, unrolling the letter.
Dear Faelyn,
Congratulations! If I were there I would have gotten you some balloons. I'm sorry but I have to work tomorrow, so you'll have to go without me. Here's a few Galleon's for your own spending money. Think of me when you spend all of it. (I know you will.) Best wishes to your school year! Tell your father I said hello.
-Sirius
3 golden Galleon's were tapped to the parchment, which I ripped off and hid in my bag. As I snuggled underneath my blankets I made a mental note to write Sirius a thank you letter as I finally fell asleep.
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The morning started as usual as it always seemed to do. Downstairs and fully dressed I ate my breakfast quietly as my father read the paper, and our house elf refilled my orange juice, mumbling things under her breath.
A large gray owl swooped in on us and landed on my father's chair, puffing up proudly at the amount of mail he had brought us. Casually my father sifted through it, stopping at a large yellow packet. My heart sore.
"Hmmm…" He said quietly. I sat up straight in my chair to get a look at the address, but I couldn't see from across the large, wooden table.
"Is it…?" I asked carefully. I had been bothering my father about it since the beginning of the month, and he had become irritated with my being there at all.
"I suppose," he sighed, and tossed the package to me. I could hardly retain my excitement as I savagely tore apart the yellow envelope and read it to myself.
Dear Miss Malfoy,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
The term begins September 1. We await your owl no latter than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
The joy inside was nearing the bursting point as my face strained to stay straight.
"Well," I said calmly with much strain, but it still came out a little shaky. "Well, I guess that's it then."
"There now," said my father, picking at his breakfast finally. "It's not so exciting, is it? Really was no need to bother me all this time…"
"Yes, yes." I agreed, not even hearing what he said, and left my half-eaten breakfast to climb up two flights of stairs to my bedroom, where I shouted with exultation and spent two hours reading and re-reading the letter over, and over.
Later that day my father managed to find my room to simply say, "We're getting your things tomorrow. The house elves will wake you up early, so go to bed soon." Then he left, his pale blonde hair bobbing off into the dark and dreary hallway. The same hair as mine. I pulled it up in a bun as I got ready for bed in front of my mirror. I turned to view my profile. Yes… I had his nose too, I never noticed it. But if there was one thing I was glad not to inherit, were his eyes. Grey, but in a cold, dull, lifeless cruelty sort of way. Mine were a pale blue that sparkled, even more so, in the candlelight.
I pulled back the drapes of my four poster bed and snuggled under the already warm blankets, day dreaming tomorrows events, and leaving no details out.
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My father's muggle alarm clock promptly woke the whole household up at 5:30 AM. My eyes snapped open in anger and I dragged myself from the warmth and comfort of my bed. I could hear my mother complaining and my father reminding her that I needed to go shopping, and the oppressing sigh and grunt of my mother as she too stood. Shopping… Of course! How could it have slipped my mind?! Actually, the answer to that was rather simple but, none the less, irrelevant to the story.
I pushed my body into my closet to reach the very back where my robes were, as I usually dressed in muggle clothing. I pulled down a personal favorite, black with lavender trim, and large sleeves that traveled the lengths of my arms whenever they moved. As I forced it over my head my father pounded on the door calling for me to wake up. As if his boisterous alarm clock wasn't enough…
I slid down the banister where my parents were eating breakfast in a hurry at the bottom, a bad habit they picked up somewhere in school. My father shoved some in my hands and motioned for me to hurry.br
"What's the rush?" I said lazily, nibbling on my breakfast.br
"We've got a lot to do today, Faelyn!" My mother snapped with bread still in her mouth. Smart-ass comments were hammering in my brain but I pressed them back and busied my mouth with eating toast.
My bag over one shoulder and my shopping attitude in full effect, I bounded outside and flung open the car door. The sun was just starting to peep over the horizon when my mother was the last to get into the car. A family in robes is not something you see everyday in our neighborhood, nevertheless we were safe in the car, magically protected. To the muggle eye we were dressed just like them.
The car scooted along the quite streets in silence. Slowly the sidewalks became more crowded with shops, and people leaving for work. Our little car rolled into a small dirt side street and parked near a black building with a swinging sign outside, barley legible, reading 'The Leaky Cauldron.'
Inside it was dimly lit. Even in the early morning witches and wizards were crowded around small circular tables, loud and boisterous from drinking. Tom, an ancient man with white hair and shaking hands, was serving drinks to a pair of formidable wizards in green cloaks. He grinned a toothless grin when he saw my father.
"Ah, hello there Harry! Get anything for you this morning?" My mother ignored him and walked straight ahead to a back door.
"Erm, not this time, Tom," Dad said, patting my shoulder. "Got to get Faelyn's school things." My chest swelled and I grinned from ear to ear.
"Well, have fun Faelyn," Tom said, tipping his hat at me.
"I will," was the reply, and I followed my mother out the back door. She already had her wand out and was tapping a series of bricks over three tin trashcans. The wall split down the middle, forming a rough archway leading to a cobblestone street known as Diagon Alley. It closed on its own as my family and I passed through and blended in with the crowds.
It seemed Diagon Alley was always packed, even in the early morning. My father's head above most others he scanned around at the shops.
"Let's go get Quidditch supplies first, I-" My mother smacked his arm.
"Don't be stupid, Faelyn can't play Quidditch. You only want to go in there for yourself!" I sniggered.
"I'll take you Dad, don't worry," I whispered to him. Mum was rustling up to the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts, and calling out instructions.
"I'm going to get your books, you go get your uniform!" From the corner of my eyes I saw my father rolls his eyes heavily.
"Come on," he said dully, but in a teasing kind of way. "We'll go get a uniform."
The tailoring shop was three doors down on the right, filled with racks of robes, dress robes, and school uniforms. The walls were covered in spools and spools of multicolored cloths and tapestries. Inside there was a very plump old witch in silver robes with a tape measure already out.
"Stand up on the stool, dear," she waved her plump hand at a short stool near the back. She began talking to my father while her tape measure flew around my body, and a quill floating next to her took down the measurements.
"Changed the uniforms this year, they did. Decided the black ones were too dull." The tape measure stopped and she grabbed the quill and parchment from the air, reading it over. "Don't have to wear those heavy robes either. Well, I suppose you will in the winter." She waddled to the back and began shifting around boxes. "Still," she was practically screaming. "The old ones were much easier to make." I glanced behind me at my father, who wasn't at all listening and was staring intently outside at the Quidditch shop across the street.
The plump witch came back and handed me several hangers full of cloths, and pointed me toward a dressing room near the register. Putting the outfit together like a jigsaw puzzle, I primed and pressed it against my body until it lay just right. A crimped, brown skirt and vest made of a scratchy sort of material. A plain white dress shirt protected me from underneath and cuffed around my neck.
I threw my cloak over my shoulders, still black, which tied in the front with silver string, and pulled the hood up. Hot from the stuffiness of the room I began flapping my arms like a bird to keep myself cool, admiring my looks in the mirror.
"You look stunning, dear," said the mirror. I grinned to it, striking poses and making funny faces.
"Are you done?!" said the plump witch in a sing-song voice. I pulled back the curtains and performed an overly dramatic interpretation of a fashion show, strutting my stuff down my imaginary catwalk. My father clapped, grinning.
"You look wonderful! Does it all fit?" Nod, nod. "Good! Go get redressed and I'll buy it all." I turned quickly, pausing to pose for the imaginary press at my fashion show before strutting down the catwalk swimming my hips overly dramatically. The witch chuckled to herself and I heard her telling my father,
"She certainly is a card, that one!"
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Dad brought down a porcelain jar, which resembled a family urn, from a high shelf and opened it up. Inside was our floo powder. White and soft like sand, it smelled like nothing, but I learned at a very small age that it tasted like rotted bakers chocolate.
I reached inside and grabbed just a pinch. I always went first. The fire turned a sickly green when I added the powder to it, and was slowly turning. I ducked and walked into the flames, warm and ticklish.
"Diagon Alley!" I shouted while trying to keep a straight face. the flames picked up the pace, lifting me up while it threw soot and dust all over. Somewhere very far away my mothers voice echoed off. My eyes shut tightly and my arms and legs automatically stiffened.
Just as quickly as it all began I landed into the fireplace at the wizards bank in Diagon Alley. I stepped out just as my mother landed, and shook the soot off my robes, a goblin came by and pushed the fallen soot away with a small broom. My father followed and added to the pile, glaring at the goblin.
"Raylee," he ordered. "Me and your mother are going to get some money. Across the street is the wand shop, that's the part that usually takes the most time. Go over there and start getting fit for a wand and we'll be over there in a minute to pay for it all." I scoffed a little as I walked out of the bank, I had never been allowed down to our vault before.
Inside of Olivanders I coughed up a storm up dust into the cold, dull shop, all of the walls completely covered in shelves, boxing walls and walls of wands. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the light, or lack there of. Mr. Olivander was sweeping up broken shards of glass from the small table in the corner, next to it was a girl about my age with her father, playing with her new wand.
"Accio glasses!" She shouted; Her fathers round spectacles shot off his face and landed in her hand.
"Don't do that!" He grumbled, snatching them back and placing them around his ears again. "Can we go to the Quidditch shop now, please?" he begged.
"I'll be right there, let me get my things." Her father leaped up from his chair and bounded out the door without another word. A cold hand lightly cupped my shoulder. I gasped and turned sharply to see Mr. Olivander staring down upon me, his eyes, white and blind from his old age, stood in place looking just above my head.
"And who do we have here?" His voice was chilling, but in some strange way it was also soothing.
"Raylee," I whispered to him.
"Ahhh…" He felt his way to the back of the shop, his long fingers running over the boxes. "I'm glad you've finally come. Here," he pulled down a long brown box and placed it in front of me. "Pine, 12 inches, unicorn hair. Very whippy." I picked it up in my hand and twirled it between my fingers. "No, nope. Not that one." He grabbed it back and set it aside.
"Here. Yew, 10 ½ inches, dragon heart-string. Very strong." I picked it up gingerly. It felt warm in my hand and almost pulsed, like the dragon heart-string was running into my veins. I nervously set it down on the table and backed away. "My, you were an easy fit," he chuckled.
"That's the one? That's my wand?"
"Yes, very well. That odd feeling goes away once your wand gets used to your body. A slight side effect of the dragon heart-strings." He placed the wand back in the box and handed it to me.
"My father's coming with the money," I whispered again.
"Please, look around then. I have some tiding up to do, forgive me." He felt his way to the back of the shop and disappeared behind a stack of boxes.
"Wow, took me almost 45 minutes to find my wand." It was the same girl as before. She was sitting in a chair by the window, watching intently, a wide smile across her face. She opened the box lying on her lap and took out her slightly red wand, imitating Mr. Olivanders voice.
"Cherry wood, 13 inches, two phoenix feathers. Very unusual. Nice and springy." She handed it to me. It was almost weightless in my hands, like a puff of cold breath. I shuddered and handed it back.
"What's that?" I said, noticing a small charm hanging off the handle of her wand.
"A moon. My dad bought it as a little decoration since I love the moon. There's a whole box of them on that table." She pointed across the room where the glass had broken. There was an old wooden box filled with gold and silver charms in various shapes. Animals, items, letters. My heart soared – a golden dragon found its way into my fingers, his one eye made of a blue, sparkling gem.
"That's pretty," said the girl, who was now peering over my shoulder. "You should get that one, it matches since your wand has dragon heart-string in it!"
"No," I shook my head. "My father would never let me. He'd say it was impractical." Speak of the devil, my father walked in, coughing just as I had.
"Why doesn't that old man clean up this junk shop?" He scowled around the room. "Raylee, are you done? Let's go, you need your school uniform." Sadly I set the charm down on top of the box.
"It was nice meeting you," I said to the stranger and followed my father out the door. We walked side by side down the crowded streets, him complaining and talking rudely about people. My mind was content on that dragon, just sitting in that shop, wanting me to buy it and display it proudly on my new wand.
"Raylee! Raylee!" Shouts came from the shop. "You've forgotten something!" The strange girl was running towards me, balancing several packages under one hand. "Your box, your box for your wand," she panted, handing it to me.
"Oh, t-thanks," I muttered. My father hadn't even noticed I had stopped, nor that someone was screaming out my name. The girl winked at me mischievously and said,
"I'll see you at Hogwarts." Then she disappeared in the steaming mass of people heading to various shops. I opened the box up; a note written in purple ink was across the bottom of the lid.
"My name is Faelyn. You forgot something else, too…"
The golden dragon sparkled from the corner of the box.
"Enjoy it."
Raylee and I often fought about our friendship. Not quite the kind that threatened to end our magical relationship, but more of what it was that kept us stuck together. Raylee argued that we liked being the weird outcasts, I argued that it was simply meant to be, but we both agreed it had a great deal to do with our fathers. I suppose if you wanted my full story, you would have to go back 8 years, to the ripe age of 11.
It was on a Sunday morning. My father was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through The Daily Prophet. In the next room was my mother, cooking breakfast. And I was upstairs in my bedroom, but not for long. I pounded down the stairs as loud as I could, shrieking at the top of my lungs. Adding to the cacophony were the screeches of an old, snowy owl.
My father stood up and put his paper down, grinning from ear to ear. His brilliant green eyes were twinkling. I envied his eyes and wished I had them. I had been given my grandmothers (On my mums side) eyes, a cold gray.
Mum came from the kitchen with a look on her face, which distinctly said she didn't think her daughter should be running through the house. I knew it all too well. My father often said I looked a lot like my mum, we had the same hair and facial expressions. Through I liked to think I acted more on my dad's side.
"Accio letter!" Said my dad, whipping out a wooden wand from his pocket and snatching the letter from me. Disgruntled I stopped my celebrations short and glared at my father as evilly as I could muster.
"Faelyn," said my father. "Calm down! You're going to cave the whole house in! Now… Shall I read it…"
"No! No! No! It's my letter!" I jumped up and down trying to get the letter from my father's hands. I knew I couldn't possibly reach it owing to my father's height. I suppose it was for my own dramatic satisfaction.
"Or maybe," he continued to tease. "I should light it on fire. I wonder if they've made these fireproof now, hmm? It would be an interesting experiment…" I thickened the dramatics by getting on my hands and knees.
"Pleaaaaase! I'm begging you! I've waited my whole life! Just let me read the letter!"
"Really Harry! You're so mean to the girl. Just let her have it!" Said my mum. He dropped the thick letter onto the floor and I snatched it up and began running in circles around the table. Annoying my mother was a pastime.
"Are you going to even open it, or are you just going to use it of a means of getting exercise for the rest of your life?" she said impatiently while she waved her wand behind her back, turning the eggs over. Content I had bothered her enough for the hour, I calmly sat down at the table and ripped open the yellowish envelope, pulling out several pieces of thick paper of the same color, and read aloud:
Dear Miss Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
The term begins September 1. We await your owl no latter than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
My father shook his head. "She's still there? Hmph… Wonder where Snape is…" He said it mostly to himself. My mother served up our breakfast.
"Well that's nice. We'll get your things tomorrow," she said in a pleasant voice. I stuffed toast in my mouth wondering why there were no balloons and streamers.
From a very small age my father had entertained me with stories from his days at Hogwarts. Full of giant snakes, sneaking out, secret passageways, and Lord Voldemort. I had also been trained to say his name. My fathers philosophy was if you gave something a name, you only gave it more power. It was a good philosophy, in my opinion.
The rest of my day was quite normal. I beat my father in Wizards chess twice, it would have been three if he had not decided (2 moves before he would have been in checkmate) that I should write to our family friend Sirius about Hogwarts. Sirius was my fathers godfather. I liked Sirius very much; He treated me like an adult and always smelt of burnt marshmallows. I stole a quill and parchment from my dad's desk and wrote my letter on the kitchen table.
Dear Sirius,
I got my letter from Hogwarts today. Nobody celebrated much so I was a little disappointed. Tomorrow we're going to get my school things. We're leaving early. Maybe I'll see you there?
Dad hasn't mentioned it yet but I know he wants me to be in Gryffindor. Hope all is well. Dad says hi.
-Faelyn
I tied it to my father's owl, which took out the window and disappeared into a cloud. I stayed in the window watching the spot, letting my mind wonder out past it. My peace was interrupted by my mother, who yelled at me for using the owl when she needed it to send a letter to Hogwarts. When her voice had gone hoarse she made me a sandwich. My father said my mum's mood swings were because of the stress she was under. My mum's a writer, owing to the fact that she's brilliant.
Late that night, as I drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep, a rattling noise lulled me out of bed and to my window. Half awake I could just make out a snowy white figure tapping its beak against the glass. I lurched open the window and a rolled up letter fell on my hand. The owl fluttered back out and went through the dinning room window.
I flipped on the light and sat dreamily on my bed, unrolling the letter.
Dear Faelyn,
Congratulations! If I were there I would have gotten you some balloons. I'm sorry but I have to work tomorrow, so you'll have to go without me. Here's a few Galleon's for your own spending money. Think of me when you spend all of it. (I know you will.) Best wishes to your school year! Tell your father I said hello.
-Sirius
3 golden Galleon's were tapped to the parchment, which I ripped off and hid in my bag. As I snuggled underneath my blankets I made a mental note to write Sirius a thank you letter as I finally fell asleep.
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The morning started as usual as it always seemed to do. Downstairs and fully dressed I ate my breakfast quietly as my father read the paper, and our house elf refilled my orange juice, mumbling things under her breath.
A large gray owl swooped in on us and landed on my father's chair, puffing up proudly at the amount of mail he had brought us. Casually my father sifted through it, stopping at a large yellow packet. My heart sore.
"Hmmm…" He said quietly. I sat up straight in my chair to get a look at the address, but I couldn't see from across the large, wooden table.
"Is it…?" I asked carefully. I had been bothering my father about it since the beginning of the month, and he had become irritated with my being there at all.
"I suppose," he sighed, and tossed the package to me. I could hardly retain my excitement as I savagely tore apart the yellow envelope and read it to myself.
Dear Miss Malfoy,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
The term begins September 1. We await your owl no latter than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
The joy inside was nearing the bursting point as my face strained to stay straight.
"Well," I said calmly with much strain, but it still came out a little shaky. "Well, I guess that's it then."
"There now," said my father, picking at his breakfast finally. "It's not so exciting, is it? Really was no need to bother me all this time…"
"Yes, yes." I agreed, not even hearing what he said, and left my half-eaten breakfast to climb up two flights of stairs to my bedroom, where I shouted with exultation and spent two hours reading and re-reading the letter over, and over.
Later that day my father managed to find my room to simply say, "We're getting your things tomorrow. The house elves will wake you up early, so go to bed soon." Then he left, his pale blonde hair bobbing off into the dark and dreary hallway. The same hair as mine. I pulled it up in a bun as I got ready for bed in front of my mirror. I turned to view my profile. Yes… I had his nose too, I never noticed it. But if there was one thing I was glad not to inherit, were his eyes. Grey, but in a cold, dull, lifeless cruelty sort of way. Mine were a pale blue that sparkled, even more so, in the candlelight.
I pulled back the drapes of my four poster bed and snuggled under the already warm blankets, day dreaming tomorrows events, and leaving no details out.
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My father's muggle alarm clock promptly woke the whole household up at 5:30 AM. My eyes snapped open in anger and I dragged myself from the warmth and comfort of my bed. I could hear my mother complaining and my father reminding her that I needed to go shopping, and the oppressing sigh and grunt of my mother as she too stood. Shopping… Of course! How could it have slipped my mind?! Actually, the answer to that was rather simple but, none the less, irrelevant to the story.
I pushed my body into my closet to reach the very back where my robes were, as I usually dressed in muggle clothing. I pulled down a personal favorite, black with lavender trim, and large sleeves that traveled the lengths of my arms whenever they moved. As I forced it over my head my father pounded on the door calling for me to wake up. As if his boisterous alarm clock wasn't enough…
I slid down the banister where my parents were eating breakfast in a hurry at the bottom, a bad habit they picked up somewhere in school. My father shoved some in my hands and motioned for me to hurry.br
"What's the rush?" I said lazily, nibbling on my breakfast.br
"We've got a lot to do today, Faelyn!" My mother snapped with bread still in her mouth. Smart-ass comments were hammering in my brain but I pressed them back and busied my mouth with eating toast.
My bag over one shoulder and my shopping attitude in full effect, I bounded outside and flung open the car door. The sun was just starting to peep over the horizon when my mother was the last to get into the car. A family in robes is not something you see everyday in our neighborhood, nevertheless we were safe in the car, magically protected. To the muggle eye we were dressed just like them.
The car scooted along the quite streets in silence. Slowly the sidewalks became more crowded with shops, and people leaving for work. Our little car rolled into a small dirt side street and parked near a black building with a swinging sign outside, barley legible, reading 'The Leaky Cauldron.'
Inside it was dimly lit. Even in the early morning witches and wizards were crowded around small circular tables, loud and boisterous from drinking. Tom, an ancient man with white hair and shaking hands, was serving drinks to a pair of formidable wizards in green cloaks. He grinned a toothless grin when he saw my father.
"Ah, hello there Harry! Get anything for you this morning?" My mother ignored him and walked straight ahead to a back door.
"Erm, not this time, Tom," Dad said, patting my shoulder. "Got to get Faelyn's school things." My chest swelled and I grinned from ear to ear.
"Well, have fun Faelyn," Tom said, tipping his hat at me.
"I will," was the reply, and I followed my mother out the back door. She already had her wand out and was tapping a series of bricks over three tin trashcans. The wall split down the middle, forming a rough archway leading to a cobblestone street known as Diagon Alley. It closed on its own as my family and I passed through and blended in with the crowds.
It seemed Diagon Alley was always packed, even in the early morning. My father's head above most others he scanned around at the shops.
"Let's go get Quidditch supplies first, I-" My mother smacked his arm.
"Don't be stupid, Faelyn can't play Quidditch. You only want to go in there for yourself!" I sniggered.
"I'll take you Dad, don't worry," I whispered to him. Mum was rustling up to the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts, and calling out instructions.
"I'm going to get your books, you go get your uniform!" From the corner of my eyes I saw my father rolls his eyes heavily.
"Come on," he said dully, but in a teasing kind of way. "We'll go get a uniform."
The tailoring shop was three doors down on the right, filled with racks of robes, dress robes, and school uniforms. The walls were covered in spools and spools of multicolored cloths and tapestries. Inside there was a very plump old witch in silver robes with a tape measure already out.
"Stand up on the stool, dear," she waved her plump hand at a short stool near the back. She began talking to my father while her tape measure flew around my body, and a quill floating next to her took down the measurements.
"Changed the uniforms this year, they did. Decided the black ones were too dull." The tape measure stopped and she grabbed the quill and parchment from the air, reading it over. "Don't have to wear those heavy robes either. Well, I suppose you will in the winter." She waddled to the back and began shifting around boxes. "Still," she was practically screaming. "The old ones were much easier to make." I glanced behind me at my father, who wasn't at all listening and was staring intently outside at the Quidditch shop across the street.
The plump witch came back and handed me several hangers full of cloths, and pointed me toward a dressing room near the register. Putting the outfit together like a jigsaw puzzle, I primed and pressed it against my body until it lay just right. A crimped, brown skirt and vest made of a scratchy sort of material. A plain white dress shirt protected me from underneath and cuffed around my neck.
I threw my cloak over my shoulders, still black, which tied in the front with silver string, and pulled the hood up. Hot from the stuffiness of the room I began flapping my arms like a bird to keep myself cool, admiring my looks in the mirror.
"You look stunning, dear," said the mirror. I grinned to it, striking poses and making funny faces.
"Are you done?!" said the plump witch in a sing-song voice. I pulled back the curtains and performed an overly dramatic interpretation of a fashion show, strutting my stuff down my imaginary catwalk. My father clapped, grinning.
"You look wonderful! Does it all fit?" Nod, nod. "Good! Go get redressed and I'll buy it all." I turned quickly, pausing to pose for the imaginary press at my fashion show before strutting down the catwalk swimming my hips overly dramatically. The witch chuckled to herself and I heard her telling my father,
"She certainly is a card, that one!"
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Dad brought down a porcelain jar, which resembled a family urn, from a high shelf and opened it up. Inside was our floo powder. White and soft like sand, it smelled like nothing, but I learned at a very small age that it tasted like rotted bakers chocolate.
I reached inside and grabbed just a pinch. I always went first. The fire turned a sickly green when I added the powder to it, and was slowly turning. I ducked and walked into the flames, warm and ticklish.
"Diagon Alley!" I shouted while trying to keep a straight face. the flames picked up the pace, lifting me up while it threw soot and dust all over. Somewhere very far away my mothers voice echoed off. My eyes shut tightly and my arms and legs automatically stiffened.
Just as quickly as it all began I landed into the fireplace at the wizards bank in Diagon Alley. I stepped out just as my mother landed, and shook the soot off my robes, a goblin came by and pushed the fallen soot away with a small broom. My father followed and added to the pile, glaring at the goblin.
"Raylee," he ordered. "Me and your mother are going to get some money. Across the street is the wand shop, that's the part that usually takes the most time. Go over there and start getting fit for a wand and we'll be over there in a minute to pay for it all." I scoffed a little as I walked out of the bank, I had never been allowed down to our vault before.
Inside of Olivanders I coughed up a storm up dust into the cold, dull shop, all of the walls completely covered in shelves, boxing walls and walls of wands. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the light, or lack there of. Mr. Olivander was sweeping up broken shards of glass from the small table in the corner, next to it was a girl about my age with her father, playing with her new wand.
"Accio glasses!" She shouted; Her fathers round spectacles shot off his face and landed in her hand.
"Don't do that!" He grumbled, snatching them back and placing them around his ears again. "Can we go to the Quidditch shop now, please?" he begged.
"I'll be right there, let me get my things." Her father leaped up from his chair and bounded out the door without another word. A cold hand lightly cupped my shoulder. I gasped and turned sharply to see Mr. Olivander staring down upon me, his eyes, white and blind from his old age, stood in place looking just above my head.
"And who do we have here?" His voice was chilling, but in some strange way it was also soothing.
"Raylee," I whispered to him.
"Ahhh…" He felt his way to the back of the shop, his long fingers running over the boxes. "I'm glad you've finally come. Here," he pulled down a long brown box and placed it in front of me. "Pine, 12 inches, unicorn hair. Very whippy." I picked it up in my hand and twirled it between my fingers. "No, nope. Not that one." He grabbed it back and set it aside.
"Here. Yew, 10 ½ inches, dragon heart-string. Very strong." I picked it up gingerly. It felt warm in my hand and almost pulsed, like the dragon heart-string was running into my veins. I nervously set it down on the table and backed away. "My, you were an easy fit," he chuckled.
"That's the one? That's my wand?"
"Yes, very well. That odd feeling goes away once your wand gets used to your body. A slight side effect of the dragon heart-strings." He placed the wand back in the box and handed it to me.
"My father's coming with the money," I whispered again.
"Please, look around then. I have some tiding up to do, forgive me." He felt his way to the back of the shop and disappeared behind a stack of boxes.
"Wow, took me almost 45 minutes to find my wand." It was the same girl as before. She was sitting in a chair by the window, watching intently, a wide smile across her face. She opened the box lying on her lap and took out her slightly red wand, imitating Mr. Olivanders voice.
"Cherry wood, 13 inches, two phoenix feathers. Very unusual. Nice and springy." She handed it to me. It was almost weightless in my hands, like a puff of cold breath. I shuddered and handed it back.
"What's that?" I said, noticing a small charm hanging off the handle of her wand.
"A moon. My dad bought it as a little decoration since I love the moon. There's a whole box of them on that table." She pointed across the room where the glass had broken. There was an old wooden box filled with gold and silver charms in various shapes. Animals, items, letters. My heart soared – a golden dragon found its way into my fingers, his one eye made of a blue, sparkling gem.
"That's pretty," said the girl, who was now peering over my shoulder. "You should get that one, it matches since your wand has dragon heart-string in it!"
"No," I shook my head. "My father would never let me. He'd say it was impractical." Speak of the devil, my father walked in, coughing just as I had.
"Why doesn't that old man clean up this junk shop?" He scowled around the room. "Raylee, are you done? Let's go, you need your school uniform." Sadly I set the charm down on top of the box.
"It was nice meeting you," I said to the stranger and followed my father out the door. We walked side by side down the crowded streets, him complaining and talking rudely about people. My mind was content on that dragon, just sitting in that shop, wanting me to buy it and display it proudly on my new wand.
"Raylee! Raylee!" Shouts came from the shop. "You've forgotten something!" The strange girl was running towards me, balancing several packages under one hand. "Your box, your box for your wand," she panted, handing it to me.
"Oh, t-thanks," I muttered. My father hadn't even noticed I had stopped, nor that someone was screaming out my name. The girl winked at me mischievously and said,
"I'll see you at Hogwarts." Then she disappeared in the steaming mass of people heading to various shops. I opened the box up; a note written in purple ink was across the bottom of the lid.
"My name is Faelyn. You forgot something else, too…"
The golden dragon sparkled from the corner of the box.
"Enjoy it."