Disclaimer - I do not own any characters from the world of Harry Potter! ...You're an idiot if you didn't realize this.
Pandora Wormwood however, IS (c) to me as is her cat and any other character mentioned here aside from the obvious ones owned by JKR.....Right On with it now.

Nothing really happens in this chapter it's just a starter.

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I remember when I received my first letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I remember the look of joy on my Father's face and the look of annoyance on Mum's. I had just turned eleven earlier that month.

I knew of Magic, it was nothing to see a broom fly across the floor, dust swirling around it or the drapes close themselves when dusk fell in our home.

But they never told be there was a school to learn to control it. It seemed my mother disliked magic in almost every form, being a muggle herself. I suppose I gained my magic from my Da, not that I cared where it came from, I was simply glad I had it.

We found out I had it in my veins when I was nearly five, I made my half sister's long golden hair tangle itself into a giant knot because she wouldn't play dolls with me. Mum was furious as she tried to untangle the mess while my Da sat grinning like a child at Christmas.

Needless to say, Mum and I never got on well after that. Emmie went on about her business, to young to remember the incident for more than a few days.

Yet when the letter came, that day changed everything. Mum would throw me dark looks whenever I would walk into the room, keeping Emmie away from me when she could. Da started talking constantly about his days at Hogwarts, the friends he'd made as well as the enemies. The trouble they'd gotten into and which of the professors he'd loved and hated.

I became obsessed with it all and sat into all hours of the night begging him to tell me more until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.

The days of that week seemed longer than a year, but finally the day arrived when we were to go to Diagon Alley. I was up before dawn watching the minutes crawl by as my family got up, ate and packed themselves into our car. Soon, not soon enough however, I found myself standing in front of a brick wall in a courtyard barely big enough to contain me, Da, Mum and Emmie.

I pulled impatiently on my Da's sleeve, "Make it open! I want to see...pleeeeaaaase." I don't think there was a time in my short life where I hadn't whined anything I'd said.

He smiled and laughed as he pulled a thin wand from his pocket, tapping a brick far above my head in the wall. I stared in wonder at the wall before me while the bricks slide to rearrange themselves into a gateway. A whole new world had suddenly opened before me, if not for Da's hand holding me back I would've dashed off to be lost in the fluid colours of the people of Diagon Alley.

There were so many wondrous new things to behold as we found a pathway through the crowded street. I had been far to fascinated by the elegantly dressed folk, I hardly noticed where we were going until we were there.

"Ollivander's?" I read in half question half statement gazing at the worn sign as we passed underneath it.

The shop it'self reminded me of my Granma's house, the cluttered yet organized mess screamed 'little old person'. And it smelled like it too.

Small brown boxes lived in small holes in all the walls, stacked neatly and told apart only by coloured tags on the ends. A rather worn old man hobbled to the front of the shop to greet us. Mum huddled near the door, Emmie in clutched to her in a near death grip. Emmie was twelve now, a pretty girl with her long eyelashes and delicate features. Not like me, I was built to last Da always said. I had stick brown hair and black eyes, nothing special about my features but the cheek bones from hell. Even when I was young I looked starved because of them. I always wondered who my real Mum was, I knew it wasn't Emmie's Mum...the one who I'd always known, there were to many differences.

At this moment however, I couldn't help but feel envy for Emmie, I wanted Mum to hold me like that and support me though this.

Before my thoughts could go any further, Da called me to him at the long counter.

"So this is the newest addition is it?" the man's old eyes were kind and he smiled down at me. He began to slowly look over the rows of boxes behind him, selecting one after a pause of hesitation.

He slid the lid from it to reveal a lightly coloured wand. It was elegant, carved and highlighted with gold.

"Now here we have a beechwood wand. The length is just shy of eight and three quarters inches long. The core consists of unicorn mane."

I was nearly afraid to touch it as he laid it in my outstretched hands.

"Well give it a try then." he chuckled as I simply stared at it.

Da went to stand at the door with Mum as I tried to find what felt like the proper way to hold the wand. After a moment I managed to give it a wave and send everything on the counter flying into the air.

Ollivander raised from his crouching position behind the counter, "Oh dear....not that one I see." I handed the wand back to him, feeling slightly guilty.

"Try this one."

He handed me a darker toned wand this time, but it felt far to light in my hands. The next too heavy, then to wide, to thin, to awkward.

When what seemed like a hour had passed, Ollivander stood facing the shelves, hand on his chin. Then like a brilliant inventor making his latest discovery, ran off into the back of the shop, returning a split second later with box that had seen better days. It took him a moment to untie the cord holding the box together and gently lift the lid from it.

I loved it as soon as I laid eyes on it. The faint purple hue of the wood, the slight tapper to the end, and the ornate carving that ran the length of it. More importantly, it felt absolutely perfect in my hand. I gave my wrist a flick and this time only a faint breeze swirled around the shop.

"Never thought I'd ever find the match for that wand," Ollivander mused. "Purple heart, eleven inches even with a hippogriff bone core. Last person to try it nearly demolished half the shop."

As Da and he talked, I stared at the wand in my hands, trying to memorize every inch of it.

As far as I was concerned, this had settled it.

I, Pandora Wormwood was officially a witch.