Here's the second chapter, already finished. Have fun reading.

– chapter two –

Silver Fir

Mid-July had come, and a beautiful day was starting to unfold. For several weeks now the sun had been ruling the sky and the wind was helping her, blowing away all impending clouds that tried to threaten the sun's dominance of the azure-painted summer firmament. Since the beginning of June, the warmth had slowly but steadily increased, and by now the city was blanketed with heat. The air flickered and it had the exotic look and feel one experiences in the desert (not that I have ever had the chance to experience it, but father had once been to the north of Africa and had told us children all about it). Birds were only heard in the most early hours, right before the sun began rising; I haven't seen any of them for weeks.

Normally I didn't sleep in, as I was an early riser. Elle always complained about me 'being so utterly joyful in the morning'. She loved getting up late when she was on holidays. But today I enjoyed staying in bed, relaxing my limbs and drifting in and out of sleep. I had closed the window curtains to keep the sun from heating up my room, but it was hot nonetheless, and my blanket lay crumpled on the floor at the foot of my bed.

The house was still quiet. No one else was up yet, except father. I had heard him leaving early in the morning, but after that moment no noise had penetrated the peacefulness of the house. Even Themis and Poros had silently occupied themselves in a far corner to keep from disturbing anyone.

I was just about to drift off into another dreamy slumber when a soft thud came from the window, followed by a hesitant little knock against the glass and an even quieter 'hoo hoo'. Thinking that it was just another dream unfolding itself within the depths of my unconsciousness, I yawned and turned over, intending to fully fall asleep again. Just then, shortly before closing my eyes, I saw something grey shimmer through the small gap where the two curtain halves didn't quite overlap. Now curiosity had me fully awake in the blink of an eye; hastily I got up and crawled out of bed. Slowly I inched towards the window and squinted against the brightness. So far I could only discern a fleecy shadow. At that moment an impatient tap tap echoed through my room, it could only be…

'An owl?' I hurriedly opened the curtains and there it sat, a grey miniature owl, a huge white letter bound to its left leg. The big amber eyes were reproachfully looking up at me, and it was the bad nagging feeling in the general region of my stomach that urged my hands to open the window to let this poor bird escape the heat and enter into my really cool chamber. The little creature flew straight to the top of my wardrobe but seemed to have decided really fast that the upper half of the room was hotter than the other one; it came down within seconds again. This time it landed neatly on my bed, rustling its wings and folding them against its body. The owl hooted one more time, then blinked several times with her huge amber eyes, before sticking out her leg to show me the letter.

Feeling a mixture of surprise and puzzlement, I inched towards the bed – slowly as not to frighten the bird – and with shaking fingers loosened the knot binding the letter to the bird's leg. I then sat down, leaning my back against the mattress, and unrolled the letter. On the front was written, clearly visible with emerald-green ink, Miss Isla L. Black, third-floor-bedroom, Twelve Grimmauld Place, London whereas the backside was dominated by a huge crest, divided into five parts – four in each corner, the fifth one in the middle. The upper left corner was filled with a golden lion, the background painted with golden-red stripes. Underneath was a black badger against a yellow squared pattern. The right side showed a green snake in front of a silver-green decorated tapestry, and beneath it showed a raven with a blue background. All four animals encircled a square with a capital H in its middle. Under the crest flew a ribbon sporting the words Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus – Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon.

I was bursting with joy. Finally, I would be going to Hogwarts. With destructive haste I ripped open the envelope to find a letter and a list inside. The letter I simply looked over – I knew the words by heart. The letter always had the same content, and I had been allowed to read the ones that Phin and Elle had received when they had been about to start their first year at Hogwarts. The more interesting part of the letter was the list on the second piece of parchment. It contained the necessary school books, potions equipment, as well as what robes we should possess, and so on. And it clearly said that I would need a wand. One of my own. Finally.

--

When the others finally got up, the clock of the nearest church tower had already droned twelve o'clock. From the basement kitchen, waves of delicious smelling food were spiralling throughout the house; Poros had already begun preparing lunch. By now I was nearly starved, and my stomach was growling loudly while I tried to gracefully walk down the stairs. I had been practising over the last year and father had already smiled proudly at my improvements. It had made me very proud as well. But right now the constant howling of my stomach somehow ruined the image of me walking like a lady. Several of my ancestors must have agreed, because I could clearly hear their disapproving whispers. 'Impossible, the youth of today,' one of the old men cried suddenly when a really disastrous growling echoed around me. My cheeks burned red, and I hurriedly apologised to my great-grandfather's uncle.

'A young lady should never allow herself to be degraded in such a way!' another old man cried.

I attempted to justify myself, saying, 'I'm sorry, uncle, but hunger is a natural given for humans. What shall I do instead of walking down to the kitchen? And what else do you want to hear?' However, my words went unheard, and the old men continued scowling at me. I decided that a strategic retreat was in order. Rather hurriedly I trampled down the stairs, only to run head-on into my brother. It seemed I wouldn't be getting off easily today, no matter what happened.

But Phin didn't say anything. He just looked at me the same way father used to whenever I did something wrong; it made me nervous, and I gulped down a bad feeling which intensified with every second my brother glanced at me. It went on for several more moments causing me to grow reckless inside; I was sure to say something nasty any moment now. But, luckily, Phin took that moment to turn around, grab my arm and drag me over into the drawing room. His grip was powerful and hurt me – it felt as if my arm was going to be ripped off – but he didn't stop until we stood directly in front of our family tree.

'Our ancestors, Isla, should be proud of us. We are to represent the Black's traditions, values, way of life.' He looked down at me with this calculating yet disturbing gaze that made me feel more ashamed than I already was. 'Never again anger our ancestors. Understood?' Phin spoke silently, but his voice carried a dangerous streak that forbid disaster. To avoid that, I did what I was supposed to do: I relented. I would do everything for my family's honour. So I fought down the growling hunger within my stomach and, surprisingly for myself, I succeeded. Phin gave me a smile and I knew I had done right.

'So what were you going to tell us, sister?'

I should have known. No secret could be held in this household forever. The walls had ears, literally.

'I received my invitation to Hogwarts today.' And then I took out the letter, proudly showing both sheets of parchment to my older brother. The happy feeling returned and replaced the icy knot with warmth and joy. 'I'm going to be a good witch.'

'No, a Black's never "good".' My heart sank, and I was worried he would lash out at me. But all he did was continue to talk. 'We're to do well, Isla. Got that?' And I nodded enthusiastically.

--

When I told mother about the letter during our late breakfast and showed her the list, she did something I'd never experienced before: she showed emotion. She smiled widely at me, then went onto her knees and hugged me hard and long; it felt as if several ribs were breaking within me. When she finally moved away from me, I got a good look at her face and saw that she was weeping. Slowly two tears rolled down her pale cheeks, leaving dark paths behind. It made her more human, something I wasn't ashamed to admit made me feel good in the inside.

Naturally, she decided that we would visit Diagon Ally right the next day so that I would have a chance to read up on several spells, memorise the first potion instructions, and get used to holding a wand before the school term began in September. I didn't want to point out that there was enough time until that day would come, six more weeks to be exact, because I had been dying to hold my own wand since I had been able to speak the word (which, if I remember correctly, was when I was only three years old).

When the next morning came, I was really excited. I awoke with the best feeling I have ever felt and could have sung all day along. In fact, I tried to do so, but the music faded quickly from my lips when I caught sight of father's eyes, reprimanding me to stop being so squirrelly. So instead of expressing my joy, I quickly started behaving like a dutiful daughter again and kept silent. I received no more glares.

The trip to Diagon Ally wouldn't take long, because father had decided to travel by Floo network. We assembled around the fireplace down in the kitchen soon after breakfast. Then my brother took a handful of the green powder and threw it into the flames. They turned emerald at once, and he stepped inside, calling loudly, 'Diagon Alley!' With a loud whush he disappeared and Elle moved to mirror his actions. When she had gone, too, mother went next. She looked shortly at me and reminded me to speak loud and clearly. She was interrupted by father who snarled, 'Let it go, Lyrae. Isla knows how to travel by Floo network.' Mother shot him a strange yet very short glance, then turned around rather hastily and was gone within the blink of an eye. Father then ordered me to grab some powder and I followed my siblings and mother in mere seconds.

The goal of our short journey was a pub called The Leaky Cauldron. It was situated at the corner of two streets and looked quite shabby and dark in the inside. I had never seen the outside of the pub because we always travelled by Floo powder whenever we were going to Diagon Alley. I suppose father didn't think that walking in the open Muggle world would be any good for us. But I had heard from other witches and wizards that Muggles weren't able to see the pub. For them, it seemed to look like a ruin in danger of collapsing.

I received a small slap against the back of my head before turning around and seeing father sending me another one of his famous 'what did I tell you?' glares. In order not to annoy him any further than I'd already done, I hastened to follow Elle who had started to move towards the back exit of the pub; Phin and mother were already leaving through said door. When we had assembled in the little backyard, father ordered us to stand aside and drew out his wand. With a few stabs against several bricks on the wall, the entrance to Diagon Alley started to open. The bricks had sprung to life and moved right or left to create a kind of portal big enough to allow humans to walk through without having to crouch. It resembled a normal wooden door, except it wasn't wooden and doors usually didn't have to open with stabs of a wand against several bricks.

Together we set out to a huge building, its white marble walls glistening in the light of the sun. From afar it didn't look like it had any decent corners or edges but a lot of round lines. How a house of that build was able to stand – let alone for several hundred years – I couldn't grasp. It was Gringotts, the wizarding bank and the gold and treasures in there were guarded by Goblins. These were not the most beautiful creatures, yet they were very dangerous to meddle with. We all waited outside while father went in to quickly gather some gold from our vault.

While we waited for father's return, I took the chance to look around curiously. Sure, I had been to Diagon Alley often, but it was always interesting and new things were always waiting to get inspected and discovered. But I didn't get the chance to turn around completely to take a good look around before father came back, the gold bulging in a purse in his cloak's pocket.

Our next goal would be a tailor's. I needed a set of school robes, several gloves, robes for work and other things. Elle would get a new set, too, since she had grown several inches and the old clothes were too short by now. Phin only asked for a new cloak and warmer gloves, which was granted naturally. The most usual shop to buy robes for all occasions would be Twilfitt and Tatting's, but father had never let us shop there. He said it was for the common people. Our kind would buy the robes elsewhere. So we went by Twilfitt and Tatting's and reached Vestimenta shortly after. The shop was relatively big, at least in comparison to the shops surrounding it. Vestimenta offered elegant robes and school uniforms, all fabricated right there (hand-made of course) and the material was imported from Spain, where the fashion of Europe was spreading. And our family always bought from the best.

While Phin was served (and done quite quickly), Elle and I were led into another room where a tailor measured our heights. He then offered mother, who had come with us girls, four or five different materials from which she chose. After that he asked Elle to try it on and, while a woman pinned the length, his attention was drawn to me. I had to get dressed, too, then the woman would come and pin the length, just as she had done with my sister. The whole procedure didn't take very long so we were free to go back to father and Phin who were already outside waiting for us. Mother came last, having cleared how many sets of robes were required and whose name should go on which set. The tailor promised to have them ready within two hours.

The next bit of shopping was handled quickly. At first we stepped into the apothecary, where we bought all ingredients needed for proper potion brewing, then continued on to the book shop. For me it looked more like father's library, but not as big as his. The owner forgot about the other customers as soon as he saw us, and father credited that with the extra pay he always received from us.

Laden with several bags of heavy books, we continued on and visited the Quidditch shop (Phin needed new oil to treat his broomstick), stopped by Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour to buy us children ice cream (which was an unusual event since we had never got ice cream before), went to collect Elle's and my robes from Vestimenta and then swept by the menagerie where father quickly bought cookies for my sister's owl. I wasn't allowed in but pressed my nose against the window – as lady-like as I could – and watched the animals inside. I would have liked a cat for my own, but mother and father didn't like them.

Our last stop of the day was Ollivander's, the best wandmaker in all of Britain. All our family had bought their wands from them, and they were really the best. So with anew excitement spreading through my entire being, we stepped into the shop, the door closing with a tinkle.

The owner, a quite young man, came sprinting down from one of the narrow isles dominating the shop's interior. He greeted us enthusiastically and took out a measuring tape which started to unroll itself as soon as father had put forward our request. While it danced around me, measuring all possible lengths, Mr Ollivander had wandered off, taking out several long, thin boxes. He stacked them on the counter, and then took out a wand. He handed it to me, asking me 'to give it a flick.' Nothing happened when I did so. Mr Ollivander's forehead wrinkled in thought as he put two or three boxes aside, unopened, and took out another wand.

'Try this one, young lady.'

I closed my fingers around it and waved it in the direction of the closest shelf, without anything happening. 'Hm… not this one either…' Mr Ollivander muttered while shuffling into another isle, taking out more boxes.

Phin, who stood slightly behind me, sneered, 'Maybe she's not a witch at all.' A slap on skin let me know that father must have punished him with the back of his hand against my brother's mouth. He went silent immediately.

Mr Ollivander returned with another stack of boxes balancing in front of him. He set them down and opened the topmost, handing it to me. This time as I held it, a strange tingling feeling went through my fingertips and I told the man so. 'Ah, we're getting closer.' He took another wand out and this time something fantastic happened: a really powerful blast shot through my entire body, kind like a bolt of lightning, and many colourful sparks emitted from the tip of the wand.

'This wand has unicorn hair as a core, which isn't all that interesting actually, but this hair is special. It comes from a foal, not three months old. It's still golden. The outer shed is of silver fir, a real rare plant in Europe. It only grows in the highest mountain regions. If I remember correctly, I gathered the wood during a trip to Salzburg. The people living in the Alps say that there is a sort of legend revolving around the silver fir. They say it was once a girl, clad only in white, her hair silver. She wandered around the woods all on her own, looking for something. But no one knows what she was searching or whether she found it; only a few suspect that she was looking for the truth. But when the winter came, it got really cold. So cold that all froze instantaneously, the girl amongst the plants. It was a sad thing and the spirits felt pity for her. So they transformed her into the first silver fir and gave it the ability to spread in order to allow the girl, whose soul still lived within the tree, to continue her search.'

'But as you said it's only a legend,' father snarled as soon as Mr Ollivander had finished telling. 'There's no proof that this is true and as long as it isn't, I won't allow such nonsense being told to my children.' He scowled dangerously at Mr Ollivander who quickly apologised to us and bowed deeply in regret. Father then ordered him to take the payment and hurried to get us out of the dusty shop.

All the way back home I was silent. Somehow this legend didn't let go of me and something told me there was more to it. When I arrived in my room, alone, I took out my wand to get a closer look. The wood had a silvery appearance and drew me to it. I couldn't tell what it was that fascinated me about the whole story, but I had the feeling that I would be involved in one way or the other. Maybe I would have to go looking for the truth, too. But why and when, I didn't know. And what would happen if I did was beyond my grasp.

Again, lots of thanks to my brilliant beta JadeSullivan. What would my text be without your help?

Chapter three is written, too, and should be online at the beginning of next week. I hope you'll stick with me and thanks to all for leaving reviews.