Disclaimer. It's not my world, my locations or my magic system. It's all thanks to the wonderful author of the REAL Potter's life story. I owe her such a debt. :)

Darcie walked into Olivander's shop, clutching a small purse with the money her parents had given her for school supplies. Her parents had stopped to pick out her books from the list she'd received from school, but when she'd asked if she could please, please go ahead, they'd made mock shooing gestures at her. She hadn't needed any second urging and dashed off, barely avoiding a witch with a double armful of dubiously-folded clothes.

She'd never been alone in Diagon Alley before. She felt a little knot of fear in the pit of her stomach at first, but she'd been here often enough that she knew her way around, and quickly that worry turned into the youthful excitement that a new bit of trust and freedom from one's parents can give.

The fear returned though as she pushed open the weathered old door to the wand shop and stepped inside. Row upon row of wand boxes lined the shelves, which stood against almost every available foot of wall space. The lighting inside was dim, even though the day outside was bright and sunny.

Advancing slowly into the shop, fingers toying nervously with the little purse, Darcie called out, "Hello? Um, excuse me, is anyone…"

She trailed off as she heard someone walking somewhere out of sight. The sound grew, then an older-looking man walked out from a small hallway in the back she hadn't noticed when she first entered. Olivander, she guessed. He smiled. Darcie found the expression a little unnerving.

"And what can I do for you?" he asked politely.

Not thinking the question at all strange – though what else would one want to do in a wand shop but shop for a wand? – she said, "I'm going into my first year at Hogwarts, and I need a wand. Mum said you're the best person to talk to for that."

If the flattery or her cheerful tone had any effect on him, he didn't show it. He simply nodded and asked, "Name?"

"Darcie Alice Potter."

That got a reaction. Olivander, who had been taking a box down from a shelf above his head, nearly fumbled it. He managed to catch it and shove it back into its place on the shelf.

"Potter?" he said. "You couldn't be…"

"No," she said pleasantly. "No relation. Sorry."

He seemed to look a little relieved at that. "I see," he said. "You must get that a lot."

"All the time," she agreed. Olivander turned back to the shelves.

"Well, let's see. Eleven-inch rowan, I think. Perhaps with a hair from a unicorn."

Thirty minutes later, Darcie and her parents were waiting for a table for lunch and going over their purchases.

"So we got all your books, dear, and the wand, the robes, the cauldron," said her mother, Mary. "I'm sorry there's no money for a pet this year, but without a wand to buy next year, maybe we can get you one then."

"Or maybe a broom," Darcie suggested hopefully.

Her mother chuckled. "Let's wait and see how you do on a broom at school before we start thinking about getting one of those, okay?"

The two of them looked through the books while Jeff Potter, Darcie's father, stood in line to ask about getting a table. As he came to the front of the queue, the hunched woman behind the counter said, "How many?" Her voice rasped, as though before coming out her mouth it ran over a grated in her throat.

Clearing his own throat, Jeff said, "Uh, just three. How long will it be?"

"Ten minutes, dearie. What's your name?" came the painful-sounding answer.

Jeff hesitated, adjusting the collar of his shirt. The witch looked up at him with one good eye and one that rolled oddly and didn't seem to focus on him.

"Name? Or you change your mind?"

"Er…" he cringed a little as he said, "Jeff Potter."

The woman's eyes widened and she drew in her breath with a little gasp. "You mean-"

"No," he said flatly.

"But… everyone's heard of… I mean, we can get you right in," she said, tapping the little book in front of her with her wand. The page flipped so fast that had her hands been close enough, the paper's edges might have done her harm.

Jeff put his hands on either side of the book and leaned forward, bringing his very close to the woman – almost scarily so. "No," he repeated, enunciating carefully. "We are no relation. We are from an entirely different family. We happen to share a last name. That is all. It is hardly an uncommon occurrence in the world, for unrelated people to have the same last name. Now, how long before we get a table?"

The woman nodded hastily, and with another flick of her wand the page flipped back. "Of course, of course. I understand. Ten minutes," she rasped. Another small motion, and his name scrolled across the page at the bottom of the list. "And now… sir if it's not too much trouble, could I have an autogr-"

Jeff turned resolutely, muttering a quick, forced "Thank you" over the woman's request, and returned to his family. "You'd think Potter was an uncommon last name," he said as he settled into the chair next to his wife. "Don't people even think?"

"It's an easy mistake to make," Mary said gently. "It is the same name."

Her husband was warming up to his subject though, and said, "And next I suppose it'll make sense for everyone named Smith to automatically be related to that television actor over in America, right? And I suppose there must be only one Thatcher in the world. Goodness. Don't they think that if the boy who survived had some similarly-named relatives cavorting about, someone would have mentioned it before now? And I suppose they think our girl's his long-lost sister or some other rubbish."

Mary took his hand and gave it a brief squeeze. This seemed to help him get control of himself, for soon he was looking through books with his daughter and wife, telling Darcie about his years as a Ravenclaw, while Mary talked about the great friends she'd made in most of the houses, but especially in her own, Hufflepuff. Darcie seemed more interested in the sorting itself though than hearing about her parents' escapades.

Finally they had lunch, then gathered Darcie's many school supplies and headed out. As they walked, Mary and Jeff noticed another, similarly laden couple walking with a girl who looked to be about Darcie's age.

"First year?" Mary called over pleasantly. The young man carrying most of the bundles managed a weak nod, while the beautiful young woman with him said, "you too?"

"Yes, our first one," Mary said, nodding to Darcie who'd gone skipping ahead. The little girls stopped by one another and studied each other for a few seconds. The child of the young couple made the first move.

Formally, she said, "I'm Alexa Melanie Rowena Smith. Pleased to meet you."

Jeff Potter nearly choked as he tried to keep from laughing. The other three adults gave him an odd look.

The youngest Potter in the Alley ignored her father's lack of manners. "I'm Darcie Potter," Darcie said to Alexa, bobbing a quick curtsey. "Nice to meet you too. Are you excited about going away to school?"

But Alexa didn't seem interested in answering. Her expression slowly changed into an amazed look. "Potter? You mean like-"

"Nope," Darcie said cheerfully. "No relation."

"But…"

As the two girls walked down the street chattering, Mary put a restraining hand on her husband's arm to keep him from following them too closely. "Here we go again," she murmured to him, chuckling.