This is my first attempt at Harry Potter fic. I usually browse around for other people's stories but decide to give it a try because I feel the need to refresh my writing style from time to time. Reviews and critics are always welcome but don't frame me without a good reason to do it. I don't feel the need to stop you if you want to repost the fic but please don't claim my work as your own.
I might sound grumpy here but I assure you, there is no one who can claim to be friendlier than me in the 10km radius from where I live. So...go on ahead give me critics, I won't bite.
Disclaimer: I'll say this once in this first chapter, I don't own Harry Potter. Only OC is mine!
Dear friend,
I'm sorry I take more than a month to reply this time and congratulation on being accepted to Beauxbatons. I was waiting for my letter to arrive so I could write you back with equally good news. But then things spiral down hectic after that official looking owl swooped down into my dad's study room. Yes! It is exactly what you're thinking. It was the Hogwarts owl with 'my' letter in its beak. Oh you should have seen the look on my mom's face. I'd pay galleons to have that moment back with a camera ready in my hands. Anyways, my mom was so elated with the news she could give the owl a kiss. The poor owl screeched as if he was under some kind of attack but he managed to get away from my mom's claw. Geez, talk about overreacting. I am already ashamed of being a little late bloomer, you know (Alright, I know I'm really late with my magical showoff but hey! I'm not a squib). My dad even took a day off from his work the next day so we could all go to Diagon Alley to get my school stuff together. Not that I wasn't happy with his decision but I guess the Unspeakable must be a laid back position in the ministry if my dad could skip his work with a less-than-twenty four hours notice.
So we three found ourselves standing and gawking like some grindylows in dire need of water after we entered the Diagon Alley from the famous Leaky Cauldron, watching the dense crowd of witches and wizards tackled each other to get to their destinations.
"And I thought there shouldn't be many people around on weekdays" my dad grunted. My mom snapped her head to him, looking rather grumpy herself.
"If you didn't sleep in, I'm sure we'd already finished her shopping by now. Without having to fight our way in too" my mom said, sounding quite annoyed.
As you might have known by now, about this frightening woman I call my mom, that this witch can really wrestle a troll when her bad temper kicks in. So my dad and I kept quiet and waited for her order on what we should do to break the new record on completing the shopping list in the shortest time possible.
"Patrick, please take her to get the school robes and her wand. I'll be the distraction and try to get her potions ingredients and her school texts"
Alright, now we're getting to this, I think there's something I need to confess to you before I go further with the story. As you might be feeling a little confused with my mom's choice of word a few lines up above, I can assure you she has every right to claim herself as a distraction. You see she's a…
"Excuse me, are you…" a teenage girl who wore a hopeful look on her face stared unsurely at my mom who turned swiftly on the spot I could swear I heard her robe flipped.
"Olivia Grey" she smiled sweetly as she turned to face the girl, gone with the frown which can easily scare away an acromantula. The teenage girl squealed with delight "And I hope you don't mind me asking for some directions. I'm shopping for my daughter's first year Hogwarts, you see?"
Asking for directions? That was the lousiest excuse I've ever heard in years! I certainly didn't expect that line coming from some popular 'Columnist' whose workplace is situated right within Diagon alley. Yes, I'm terribly sorry that I've kept this fact from you for quite sometime (a few years?). My mom is a columnist for Daily Prophet's Pink Magic Column. You know, she gave advices to young witches in heat (I mean in love) about lots of feminine how-to. Her articles are also popular among adult witches too. I wasn't quite sure how you'd handle this piece of information so I always miss the chances to mention my little secret (which I personally found a bit embarrassing) to you. Anyways, my oh-so-gorgeous mother managed to coerce the poor girl to help her shopping for my school stuffs.
My dad tucked on my arm "We should really get going before the girls start to pour in. That could be any minute now" he mumbled the last part more to himself. I nervously agreed with him as we rushed to Madam Malkin's. But before we reached the shop, just right in front of Fortescue's ice cream, two boys (taller and definitely older than me) walked out and one of them clashed into me. Unfortunately, his delicious looking chocolate cone 'met' with my favorite light blue dress. Of course I was seething mad when I sought his explanation.
"Hey! Watch where you going" I was so proud of myself at the moment because I didn't slip any colorful word out of my mouth.
"I'm sorry!" the boy's face turned as red as his hair. He seemed genuinely concerned about my ruined dress so I thought I'd let thing slide. That was until his hand reached forward, trying to wipe the rest of the ice cream off my chest! I saw my dad's normally puppy eyes (despite his age) went wild for a second.
"Hands off, you perv!" again, I beat my dad to it. I know you'd call me paranoia at this point since I told you in our last letter that I'm still a little underdeveloped around the chest. But, hey! What if my chest decided to grow bigger that very second? I just don't want him to be the first guy who gets to singe them alright?
The two boys (who I just realized after a good look at their faces, twins!) turned their gaze to stare at me. The other one smirked as he looked at the stain (or was it my chest?). I was sure they were about to say something horrible when my dad chimed in.
"Really, we have no time for this Leeya. I can clean it for you once we get inside the shop" he pulled on my arm as he moved forward "As for you boys, I'm sorry for your ice cream but please pay more attention when you're walking" he said with his serious tone, although not exactly the same tone he'd use when he scold me (happens rarely) but the effect was almost instantly. Whatever the smug look on their faces earlier were replaced by unreadable ones. Their eyes followed us as we entered the robe shop. At that time, I hoped our less than fortunate encounter would be the first and the last.
I'm aware that I was being wishy washy at the time, of course I know that one fateful meeting won't be the last.
How on earth can I be so sure, you wonder? Let's keep that for a later part of the letter (maybe I'll even explain that in the next letter). Don't get me wrong, I do want to tell you but the issue is an entirely different story and it'll ruin the flow of my story telling if I tell you now. I promise to never keep anything from you again if you promise to keep everything I tell you so far (and everything that I'll write from now on) a secret.
Well, since writing letters is still pretty much one way communication, I'll assume your answer is a YES (it's an unbreakable vow). So I'll keep my ramble going.
After the uneventful visit at Madam Malkin's which results in a big bag full of new robes in my dad's hand, we finally arrived at the dusty Olivander's. My dad pushed the door to get inside and stood waiting nonchalantly once he landed himself in front of the long counter while it took all my will power for me to follow him into the unknown territory where most wizards called Olivander's. The shop's interior looked dingy and eerie to say the least. I panned around to see if the shopkeeper was presented at all but before I could concluded that the shop was unattended, an ancient old wizard suddenly appeared behind my back. I squeaked like a chicken at his presence.
"Patrick Myers" he said, unaware that he had just stole a few beats off my (fortunately) still thumping heart. Thank Merlin he didn't stop it completely "It's been months since we last met. I hope your beech and dragon heartstring is still up to task?"
My dad nodded eagerly "Never disappoints me" he seemed to beam when he announced that to the old man. It's true though. I've never seen his magic fail, not even once.
"How's Olivia?" now I'm not sure if he was asking about my mom or her wand but I'll leave socializing to my dear father.
As I waited for the grown-ups to get comfortable with each other (shouldn't I be the one who needed to get comfortable), I glanced around the shelves which held hundreds of thin boxes. I saw one battered package laid idly on the shop counter. The lid of the box was slightly open, revealing the silvery tip of a wand. My hand moved to it immediately (blame my curiosity) and the next moment I knew, the silvery wand was already in my hand.
"Woah!" I blinked as the wand began to dance in my grasp. It crackled and popped as if it was a firecracker and not a wand. I felt it burnt my fingertips for a second and I almost let go before the heat spread from the wand turned warm and soothing.
"Oh, dear" the old wizard mumbled. "The last one from my father's creations. It laid idle for almost a decade already. I think it is strange that it hasn't chosen its owner yet so I brought it out for a few tries this morning." The ancient wandmaker droned on. "Strangely fussy for a walnut wand. But it might be because of the core." At this, he turned to grinned at me. "A Phoenix core, curious one, is notoriously hard to dominate. But if you're persistent enough to make the wand listen to you, it'll open you to a greater range of different kinds of magic." He paused as his face fell for a second before his voice went gloom. "I still remember the other walnut wand from my father's collection, too bad it might have been snapped in half by the end of the war."
At this, my stomach lurched. One of the many reasons that a wand could have been officially snapped is for the time in which a witch or a wizard has been sentenced to a crime they had commit. Is this old man referring to the wand's owner who had turned to dark arts? Is he telling me that I'll be turning into one? My head began to spin as I heard my dad cleared his throat and the wrinkle prone shop-owner hastily continued.
"But fear not, young one, the walnut wand only obeys its master desire and had no power over the mind of the one who wields it. And as you grow in knowledge and power, the wand will grow with you."
That doesn't really help, does it? Does he really expect an eleven year old girl to calm down after listening to his riddle? I know my brows might have knitted together as I stared up at him that moment but I didn't really care! I am just about to start my first year at Hogwarts and I know I am no Harry Potter, but it is still foreboding to know that the other walnut wand owner is already sleeping in Azkaban. My dad seemed to know what I was thinking and he approached us, his hand placed firmly behind my back.
"But a wizard who has been chosen by a walnut wand usually possessed an extraordinary intelligence, isn't that right Mr. Olivanders?" My dad smiled warmly.
"Ah, that too." The old man quickly chimed. I couldn't help huffing at him in mild irritation. Shouldn't he mention that 'fact' before delivering the gloomy info? I watched my dad paid for my wand, eager to leave the wandmaker's lair to get my own owl (finally). As we wormed our way through the crowd, my dad suddenly stopped as he twirled his face to follow someone he knew.
"Arthur!" My dad beamed at the tall, nearly bald man who looked to be a few years older than him.
"Patrick! Merlin's beard! How come you keep looking younger every time we meet?" The man hugged my dad heartily. "Hogwarts' shopping?"
They instantly hit it off with their reunion so I decided to wander around the shop while looking for my pet owl. I looked up as a cream color one hooted at me happily. It was that moment that I felt the rim of my dress lifted up so high it showed my undies.
"It's strawberry prints!" I heard a boy yelled in a jolly voice behind my back as another boy sputtered at my fashion (knickers) preference and I felt my cheeks heated up. My eyes scanned the shop and I saw other children sniggered at me. I spun around, making a vow to myself that I would never leave this shop until I see some blood spill on my panties' behalf.
"You filthy little..." I trailed off after I had a good look at the culprits' face. It was the twins from the earlier incident. While they were smirking smugly at my humiliating state, I had decided that they didn't deserve to get away from my rage this time. So I swiftly grabbed one of the twins' hand in mine, and tried my best to concentrate.
Then I saw it, a set of moving images ran through my mind for a few seconds before all of them abruptly disappeared.
And it was my turn to smirk.
"DADDY!" I shouted for my savior, putting on the most convincing innocent attitude I could mutter. "He peeked under my dress!" I pointed a finger at the redhead who started to look in my dad's direction. The twin's eyes widened in panic as he glanced to the red hair man who was tailing not so far after him.
I hid behind my furious father when both men arrived at the crime scene, grinning secretly as one of the images I saw earlier began to unfold before my eyes.
And this, my dear friend, is my dirtiest secret yet.
I am (sometime) able to see a glimpse into one's future whenever I touch someone.
But wait! Before you roll your eyes at this point, let me tell you that I don't classify myself as a seer or an oracle.
You see, this weird ability of mine is annoyingly unreliable. It is true that the situations I see will always materialize in the future. The point is I don't usually know when it will happen. Most of the time I will get random scenes running through my mind and eight out of ten, those images are very normal, everyday occurrences.
So it was purely my luck that I happened to see the scene of this "Fred and George Weasley" being badly scolded by his own father in front of these owls and cats (and toads) inside this menagerie on my shopping day.
"I'm so sorry, Patrick. They don't usually play this kind of prank on a girl." Mr. Weasley said with furrowed brows. The look on his face was harboring between embarrassment and agitation.
"What's done is done, Arthur. I just hope it won't happen again when term starts." My father sighed as he struggled to school his face into passiveness. I tugged at his arm and pouted at him. It was not his pants that was being flashed out for the world to see. Think about the young maiden's feeling (me), daddy!
"Oh I give you my word that this kind of situation won't be repeated again, is that right boys?" He directed his stern look at the twins and the two redheads nodded simultaneously. "In fact, how do you feel about letting them look after her while in school? I'm quite certain that they can be helpful when it comes to things around Hogwarts." Mr. Weasley was brimming with a newfound confidence as he returned to being a proud father and my father relaxed at his offer. They both were completely blind to the signal I was giving (shaking my head fervently) and instead, staring in admiration at the twins who grinned and nodded like obedient sons they pretended to be.
Thus my day out ended in misery at the prospect that "I" would most likely become the target of "unwanted" affection (from certain twins) in the near future. Hence I see the need to study basic spells and jinx (and maybe some curses/counter curses) as much as I can before I even set a foot on Hogwarts' express next month.
I wish I could see into my own future here. Because if I ever did, I would never let my father have a single word with Mr. Weasley today. Look at what they put me through! I'm studying even before term starts!
Look forward to hear from you very very soon,
Leeya Myers
P.s. My owl won't leave you until you give him a piece of nougat. His favorite brand is Lucas' (hence his name) but I'm not sure they sell that stuff in France so any nougat will do.
P.s.s. My mom's name is actually Olivia Myers but she uses her previous family name for her pen name.
