Once again, Ray popped out onto a sidewalk. Immediately, she sheltered her eyes with a hand - the sun was astoundingly bright after the gloom of the bar, and all the glass and brightly-colored stonework around them wasn't help matters.

Once her eyes adjusted, Ray saw what Douglas meant about the street set to become a major wizarding hotspot. The road was broad, freshly-cobbled, with two lanes ready for hoards of traffic and parking spots slotted diagonally down both sides. Both their sidewalk and the one on opposite them were large enough to accommodate bustling crowds travelling in both directions, and were interspersed with tall, white trees bearing leaves of every color.

All up and down the street were the shells of soon-to-be-filled buildings standing at the ready, although half of them were still concealed by scaffolding and protective sheets. A few had teams of construction workers outside their fronts, the workers wearing bright purple reflective gear and hovering big pallets of materials up and down in the air. The whole place had a very "outdoor mall" feel to it, and Ray could sense that once things were filled in, there would be a lot of very expensive, high-quality items sold here.

Some buildings were already in place, one of which (seemingly the busiest) had The Ministry of Magic set above its entryway in big, stone lettering. People were constantly popping and cracking into or out of the air along the sidewalk next to it, and unlike the rest of the street, there were a good number of cars parked out front.

The second busiest place stood out quite a bit from the rest of the buildings: the walls were painted a deep, burnt purple and had "G & F" set above the entryway in large, gold lettering. The inside of the shop was absolutely packed - a few clusters of people had even spilled out onto the sidewalk, and each and every one of them were talking to one another in a lively fashion or pointing and looking in through the windows.

Rather than either of these places, however, Douglas took Ray's hand (she thought they were about to go somewhere else for half a moment) and led them to a narrow building on the corner, labelled The Potter Foundation. It was a simpler building, with a design that definitely did more to help it blend into the background than stand out and impress.

As they passed between the clusters of people outside the deep-purple building, Ray saw a number of kids her age looking in at the window display, noses pressed up against the glass.

"You see that?" One of them said excitedly - "A map-page! Changes as you walk, to wherever you are!"

"Must cost a fortune!" Said another.

"What is that place?" She asked, trying to peer over the kids' heads.

"Oh, that's Gred and Forge's," said Douglas. "They're the biggest writer manufacturer on the market right now - which I suppose makes sense as they're the ones who invented them."

"Writer manufacturer?"

"Oh, er, yeah. Writers are little books you can use to write messages to your friends. Bloody useful, you know. Standard issue at the Ministry."

Ray realized that the journal Douglas had been scribbling in all morning was probably a writer too.

Once inside The Potter Foundation, Ray and Douglas found a middle-aged woman sitting at a desk. Ray wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but the inside of the place looked rather normal for somewhere that was supposed to be magical.

"Good morning," said the woman.

"Morning," said Douglas. "I think we might have an appointment…"

The woman checked her books, confirmed they did have a meeting, and after a brief wait in the spindly chairs by the entrance, Ray and Douglas were called into an office by a balding, hook-nosed man.

"So, you're Ray!" The man said, friendly, with a twinkle in his eye. "And you're starting your first year at Hogwarts?"

Ray nodded. "Yep!"

"Now, it looks like this is your family's first visit to the Potter Foundation, is that right?" He asked, turning to Douglas.

"Right. We've only just discovered it."

"I see. And you're out of Hogwarts by now?"

"Seventh year, actually."

"Ah, still a bit late then, I'm afraid. We're only able to provide funding up until the third year - sometimes the fifth, in special circumstances. So, to Ray, then - you have your forms?"

They sat down, and Douglas took a few papers out of his briefcase and handed them over to him. After a few questions and a search through his books, the man pulled out a slip of parchment and scribbled out a signature with a large, white feather, then had Douglas sign something, which he filed away.

"You'll want to take this over to Gringotts," the man said, handing over the slip. "They've just opened an extension across the way, if you didn't know!"

"I did know, actually! I've been interning at the DBI over the summer and have heard all about it. It's going to be a sight more convenient, won't it?"

After thanking the man and leaving the office, Douglas steered Ray across the road to an imposing, marble-white building front with "Gringotts" carved above the entrance in black letters. There were two pillars on either side of the entryway and an imposing wooden door, but once inside things seemed fairly normal - that was, aside from the people working there.

There were only three of them, and each and every one seemed to be suffering from an unusual type of dwarfism. Now, Ray had seen people with similar figures before, and her mother had very strictly told her to treat them just the same as she would anyone else. Of course, if Ray had treated them just the same, she would have asked why they were so short, but it was clear from her mother's instruction that that was exactly what she wasn't to do.

So it was that when they approached the teller - who, on top of everything else, had an enormous nose, sharp jaw, jagged teeth, and surprisingly pointy ears - Ray donned an expression of polite indifference, and tried to keep herself from staring.

"Hello, there!" Douglas said. "We're here to make a withdrawal."

The teller scowled at him. "I will need the account information, as well as your wand, sir."

Douglas delivered the slip of parchment and presented his wand, which was set upon something that looked like a weighing scale. The teller grunted, then turned and said something that Ray was sure wasn't english to the person working just behind him. The person hopped off their chair and strode across the floor, then disappeared through a set of impressive doors at the back of the workspace.

A few moments passed, where Ray tried not to look anywhere at all. Douglas had taken to his journal - or writer, she supposed - and the teller glowered down at her, seeming to think it was perfectly acceptable for him to do so, when it really made her feel quite uncomfortable. She thought the third worker must be staring at her as well, for she hadn't heard the feather they'd been writing with scratch in a while. She was just considering taking off her backpack and setting it on the floor for something to do (her backpack was heavy with all her books and cauldron and everything), when the second worker came striding back through the doorway, carrying a plump brown sack in their unexpectedly long-fingered hands.

"Funds for one school year," said the teller, bringing a heavy stamp down on the slip of parchment and filing it away. He picked up the bag and scooted it across the countertop to Douglas, who swept it away and, to Ray's surprise, bowed.

"Thank you very much, and I hope you have a pleasant day."

The teller said nothing.

Douglas turned and left the building, Ray following after him hurriedly. As soon as they were out on the sidewalk, Douglas spun around and grinned at her mischievously.

"Well, how did you like them?"

"Who? The… bank workers?"

He laughed. "Yes, the bank workers, what did you think?"

"What, about them…" she hesitated - "...being short?"

"Ugly brutes, aren't they?"

Ray's jaw dropped.

"DOUGLAS! THAT IS SO RUDE!"

Douglas roared with laughter, doubling over and slapping his knee. Immediately, Ray began to pummel him.

"Stop!" She cried. "Stop laughing, it's horrible! You're horrible!"

"They were goblins, Ray!" He finally managed. "Goblins!"

She paused, still furious. "Goblins?"

Still laughing, Douglas stood. "Oh, Mum has raised you well," he said, wiping at his eyes. "Yes, those were goblins, not even human. And you shouldn't worry about being rude to them, you ought to hear the things they say about us!"

"I don't care! It's still awful to talk about them like that, and just after we've spoken with them!"

"Ray, it's okay, really. Those things used to make snacks out of human children, for Merlin's sake."

That took Ray aback.

"It's… it's still rude," she stuttered.

"Okay, I'm sorry, alright? It was just a bit of fun." He shook his head, still grinning. "And man, your hits are a lot stronger than they used to be."

They set off down the sidewalk, Ray having to walk a bit faster to keep up with him. They were approaching the Ministry of Magic, and as they got nearer more and more people were cracking into or out of the air around them.

"What are we going in here for?" Ray asked.

"We're taking the Floo."

"The what?"

Douglas didn't respond, instead leading her up the stairs and inside. The Ministry of Magic had a much grander entryway than the other buildings, and immediately upon entering, Ray's jaw dropped.

The walls and ceiling opened up to an enormous entry hall, bordered on either side by rows of giant, ornate fireplaces all burning with emerald-green flames. A ways down the hall was a large fountain with four golden statues of figures of varying size, all spouting water, but she didn't get a chance to get a closer look - Douglas steered her off to the side, where he began instructing her amidst the hustle of people.

"Okay, so we're travelling by Floo to Diagon Alley. We're going to be going into one of these fireplaces - relax, they're harmless, see the green flames? - and I want you to hold onto me as tight as you can, okay? You wrap your arms around me, and hug me like you're trying to break me in two."

"What? Why?"

"It's a bit different than Apparating, and I don't want you getting banged out into who-knows-where. So hold tight, okay?"

"Okay…"

Douglas took her hand and pulled her toward the green flames. Ray should've been concerned about stepping into a fire, but she could tell the flames were, indeed, harmless - after all, they really should've been cooking her at this distance, but all she felt was a warm breeze.

Douglas stepped into the flames and pulled Ray in after him. Immediately, she did as he said and clung tightly to his waist.

"Diagon Alley!" He stated, his body vibrating against her ear.

The flames rose up around them and they started to spin. Ray suddenly felt like she was getting washed down a water-park slide, but instead of water around her it was ash, smoke, and green fire. She had the impression she was passing through a great many places - there were snippets of sounds, brief flashes of conversations or music, and as she squinted out through the tendrils of flame she saw a bunch of different scenes - maybe a living room, maybe an office, but they went by much too fast for her to make sense of any of them. At one point her ankle smacked against the inside of a chimney, and she pulled herself in tighter to Douglas, but a moment later there was a billowing roar and they were disgorged from the flames.

They stumbled onto a stone floor, having arrived below a great outdoor archway. There were two other fireplaces like theirs dug into the leg across the archway, and one right next to theirs, but the fires only turned green when someone came out or tossed powder into them.

Ray dusted herself off and looked around. They had come out by a cobbled road, but not cobbled as Autitha Way had been: instead, it was with knobbly, differently-sized stones that you'd probably trip on if you weren't paying attention. The building faces along the roadside were different, too, in that they were anything but regular: some of them projected out over the street with their roofs and beams, some of them were recessed and had little outdoor sitting areas, and some looked much too big for the plot they'd been given and had had to settle in like squished water balloons. Every doorway held a hanging sign, and every sign had the name of the place written on it (although one or two just had symbols or figures painted on with no words at all). Where there weren't doorways or windows or tables and chairs, there were barrels of beetle shells, stands of colorful fabrics, posters of bizarre silver instruments, and baskets of twisted roots. Clumps of people milled about, either haggling with the stand attendants or strolling along and talking to one another about the latest wizarding news. It was the messiest, strangest, and loveliest place Ray had ever seen, and she was pounding with the urge to go sprinting off and explore every single thing she could get to.

"Well, here we are," Douglas said. "Diagon Alley."

He led the way forward, and Ray hurried after him. She ran first toward one shop, then back to Douglas, then another again, bouncing all over the place like a pinball.

"Apothecary?" Ray read. "What's that? Slippery Jim's Legal Service? Salamanders and Firebrush? The Third Eye? Flourish and Blotts? Madame Ma-chang's Magical Things? What are all these places?"

"Magic shops," Douglas said simply. "Pretty crowded in together, as you can see. This place is an absolute nightmare a bit closer to the school year - sometimes it gets so packed you can't even see the other side of the street, let alone get anywhere."

"I think it's fantastic. Where are we going first? Are we going to get my wand?"

"No, wand'll probably be last. We need to put your robes in for tailoring - it'll take some time, and we can shop around while we're waiting. C'mon, this way."

Douglas led the way up the road. As they went, Ray seemed to draw the attention of the shoppers - one woman with a long nose gave her a quizzical smile, then a group of three men paused mid-conversation to look at her.

"Why is everyone staring at me?"

"Probably because you're wearing a pink t-shirt with the Manchester United logo on it."

"What, they don't like soccer?"

"No, it's just that they're very obviously Muggle clothes."

"What is a Muggle, anyway? I forgot to ask."

"Non-magical person. Okay, stop here."

They had come to a branch in the street. One way continued on toward an enormous, marble-white building, while the other sloped downward toward a dingy, dark line of shops. As Ray looked down the gloomy road, she felt a small prickle on the back of her neck, as though there was a hidden danger lurking somewhere amongst the piles of rubbish and dusty windows.

"We're going into that shop, got it?" Douglas said, pointing to a lit-up window just a few doors down. "This is Nocturne Alley, and the shops down here specialize in poisons and curses and all sorts of nasty things. Never come here unless you're with me or somebody who knows what they're doing, got it? There's a lot of shifty people that hang out down here."

Ray's eye went to a figure in the distance who was wrapped in robes and smoking a pipe, who she thought might be watching them.

"Okay, stay close to me. Let's go."

Ray followed him, part of her wanting to grab his hand, but unfortunately she was on the same side as his briefcase. However, they managed to reach the shop in no-time, and were back in a well-lit (although a fairly worn-down) waiting area once more. As they entered, the shop's bell tinkled overhead.

A moment passed, then a skinny, frazzled looking woman came out from the back room. She stood across from them on the other side of the counter, and Ray couldn't help notice her wand sticking out of her pocket, ready to be pulled at a moment's notice.

"Good afternoon," the woman said, studying them blearily.

"Hello," said Douglas. "We're here to get some robes altered for school."

"For the both of you?"

"No, just my sister here."

"Ah," said the woman, taking her in. Ray saw her eyes wander over her t-shirt.

"First year?"

"Yes," Ray said, softly.

"Well, step over here," said the woman, gesturing with a hand to a platform beside the counter. Ray thought she sounded a bit curt, but maybe it was just how she was.

"My name's Mrs. Pove," the woman said, tossing a measuring tape toward Ray. She went to catch it, but it twisted in midair and stretched along the length of her arm, then coiled and went down her side, moving about as if it had a mind of its own. "Best stay still, dear. And spread your arms and legs, so it can work around you."

"Okay," she said. "My name's Ray."

Mrs. Pove nodded. "Ray. Good name, that. And the robes for tailoring…?"

"Here," said Douglas, hoisting his briefcase onto the counter. "Now, most of these are my old robes -"

"And you'd like them refit for a girl?"

"You got it. There's also a few skirts from a friend that might need to be sized down, but if they'll only be a bit big there's no need to worry about them."

"No problem," Mrs. Pove said. "I've had my fair share of Hogwarts students over the years. I'm impressed you lot were able to find me, though."

Douglas paused.

"...You lot?" He asked, tone suddenly icy. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Mrs. Pove hesitated. Ray saw her eyes flicker to her Manchester United shirt again.

"Nothing," she said. "I meant no offense. It's just rare to have students come in so early before term begins, is all."

Douglas continued watching her, eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps you'd get more customers if you weren't so far off the main road. The quality of the shops down here, you know... some would say they were better avoided. That it might be better to do business elsewhere."

"Yes, sir," Mrs. Pove muttered. "Quite right. Perhaps I'll be able to afford the move this year…"

A few minutes later, once their order was all squared away, Ray followed Douglas back up into Diagon Alley.

"You were rude to that lady," Ray said.

"I was no more rude than she deserved. It's important to treat your customers with respect, you know - if she was a bit better about that, perhaps she'd get more business."

"What did she do?"

"You heard her, making accusations that we were Muggle-born. Honestly…"

"But… we are, aren't we? Practically?"

Douglas was silent for a moment, then said, "Yes, I suppose so. But it's not something you want to be talking about. And it's definitely not something that's polite to bring up."

Ray didn't push it any further. They followed the curve of the road, passing a great deal of shops, and a minute later came into full-view of the enormous marble building again.

"What is that place?"

"That's Gringotts, the main one. It's really impressive in there, too - I went with a friend to their vault once, got to ride in a minecart with them all the way down through the tunnels. There's miles of tunnels down there, you know. Caves too. You could spend the rest of your life trying to get out if you got lost."

"Does that happen?"

"Only if you don't have a guide. You need a goblin escort," he said, shooting Ray a grin.

Douglas took Ray to a shop for general school supplies, which was fully stocked and almost empty of customers. Aside from them was just a mother and her boy, who looked a few years older than Ray and only glanced at her once before going back to browsing feathers.

The feathers, as it turned out, were called "quills," and Ray thought they were incredibly stupid.

"I don't care, I want a pen," she said, after Douglas told her she'd be made fun of if she took Muggle things out in class.

"Look, quills really aren't that bad once you get used to them - you don't have to sharpen them all the time like pencils, and it's better to write at a deliberate pace, which you need to do when working with an inkwell."

In the end, Ray allowed Douglas to get her a box of fifteen quills and a small ink kit, which was the most basic set and definitely not going to last her the full year. "Oh, I'm sure it will, as I won't be using them," Ray said. She also had a number of parchment rolls forced on her - "The professors assign by length, they won't accept regular paper," Douglas told her - as well as a drawing compass, an ink remover ("See, a pencil would just be easier," ), a spool of ribbon to keep her scrolls together, and a few other odds and ends.

They then went back the way they came down the street, stopping only once to adjust the things in Ray's backpack.

"Take everything out," Douglas said.

"What? Why?"

"I'm going to put a charm on it. It'll only be a temporary one, but it should last us the rest of the day and I can fix a permanent one tomorrow."

Ray did as a he said, arranging all her things in a neat pile right there on the road. She wouldn't have been able to do it during the year, of course, but right now the place was a "ghost town."

"There's really such things as ghost towns? With real ghosts?

"Yeah, one or two, i think. Probably more that nobody knows about. And yeah, ghosts are definitely a thing - they're all over Hogwarts, as a matter of fact."

"How come I've never seen any?"

"Well, you've never been in a magical area, have you? There aren't any ghosts hanging out in Muggle parts. Partly because Muggles can't see or hear them properly - and that would make things pretty boring, I would imagine - but also because ghosts don't have any reason to go there. Unless they're feeling prankish, which is rare."

"But what about… ghosts of Muggles? Muggle ghosts?"

Douglas raised an eyebrow. "Muggles don't leave ghosts, Ray."

"What? Why not?"

"Beats me. Most people say it's because they don't have souls."

Ray was taken aback.

"WHAT?"

"That's just what most people say! Try not to worry about it too much. It's probably not the case, but if it is, it won't be affecting you, will it?"

Ray gave a bewildered laugh, at a loss of how to respond. What about their mum? What about their dad? Well, not their real dad, (or blood-related dad, that was), but -

"Okay, your pack's ready."

"Huh? Er, what did you do?"

"Undetectable Extension Charm. Now you can put a load of stuff in, and you'll barely notice the difference."

"But... what happens if the charm ends, and there's more things inside than could have fit originally?"

"Not sure," Douglas said, frowning. "It'll explode, I guess. Tear apart and have your stuff go spilling everywhere. Never seen it happen."

Ray definitely didn't want that to happen. She rather liked her backpack.

"And you'll fix the permanent one tomorrow?" She asked, loading everything in.

"Yeah, I'm pretty bushed today. Side-Along Apparition can get rather exhausting. You know, we ought to look into getting you a proper bag..."

"What are we doing tomorrow, anyways?" She asked, shouldering her backpack.

It really did feel empty - she even looked around to make sure she hadn't imagined putting all her things back in. "Mum said you wanted to do something with me?"

"Yeah. Hold on, let's go in here."

They entered a shop that stank so heavily of must and brine that it made Ray's nose wrinkle. Douglas made for the back after nodding at the counter-attendant, who was sitting down and labelling jars full of gross-looking animal parts.

"We're going to a festival in Godric's Hollow," he said over his shoulder.

"Where's that?"

"West. It's a wizarding town, pretty famous. I want you to get some exposure to things before jumping into the school year."

"Oh - it's just, I've got a study group planned with my friends, is the thing."

She stopped for a moment to look at a tank of sea anemones that were all growing squid tentacles instead of the regular kind, then hurried after him.

"Study group? For your Muggle school?"

"Yeah, I've got my SATs all next week!"

"You're still worried about those?"

"Of course I am! Shouldn't I be?"

Douglas shrugged. "It's good to be worried about grades, I suppose, but your Muggle ones aren't going to count for much."

"So you're saying I should just blow off the study group?"

"It's up to you. I don't think it'll do much good for you, honestly."

"You mean Hogwarts doesn't care about my tests?"

He laughed. "No, I can't imagine they do."

They stopped in front of a shelving complex full of glass jars, vials, bulbs, and a number of bins that were all loaded up with stoppers and corks of varying size and function.

"Well, what about my friends?" Ray asked. "I can't just not show up, Jordan and Heather are expecting me."

"Like I said, it's up to you. The festival's going to be going on for a while and we can show up later if need be. But, you know, your friends - they're going to have to learn to get along without you."

Ray's mind stuttered. That wasn't how she'd been thinking.

"Are you going to keep in contact with them over the year?" Douglas went on, browsing the labels.

"Well, duh, of course I am!"

"How are you going to do that? You'll write them letters by owl?"

"If I have to, yeah!"

"You will have to. There aren't too many ways to communicate with people outside of Hogwarts, Muggles in particular. They're not going to have the slightest idea of anything you're doing, you know - it's all going to be nonsense to them. You'll be learning how to become a witch and do magic, and they're just going to… well, go on with their own things. You're headed down different paths." He glanced at her. "Might be a good idea to start thinking about how to say goodbye."

Ray hesitated. Say goodbye to Jordan and Heather?

"Here, grab five of these," Douglas said, pointing to some tiny glass jars, "and get the matching size of stopper. Use the brown ones. The red, woody ones are better, but they're way more expensive."

They emerged from the potions shop twenty minutes later, Ray's things boxed and packaged safely in something that looked like blue Easter grass.

"Well, what do you say?" He asked. "I think we can take a slight detour. Want to get your wand?"

Ray's face lit up.

"YES!"

Douglas smiled and led her to a blue, rectangular building, which was so ordinary that it stuck out like sore thumb from all the ones squeezed in around it. The white paint of the trim was peeling, and the display window was underwhelmingly simple: nothing more than a single, unassuming wand on a faded velvet pillow, and the word "Ollivander's" painted in white on the glass.

As they entered, they came face to face with a young, square-looking witch, who wore narrow glasses and had maroon hair tied back in a tight bun.

"Oh, terribly sorry," the witch said. "I was just about to close up."

"You're closed?" Douglas asked, astounded.

"Yes, store hours are eight to four on Saturdays," she said, pushing them back through the door. "Terribly sorry."

Ray's eyes widened.

"Couldn't you stay open just for a bit?" Douglas asked. "We're only needing the one wand -"

"Please!" Ray pleaded.

"No, sorry, the store is closed. We'll be open tomorrow through Wednesday at normal hours - the schedule is given next to the door - please, have a nice day. Sorry again."

She shut the door in their faces.

Ray's breath came in heaves. She felt like she was about to cry, not just because of the wand, but because of, well, everything. She looked to Douglas, whose mouth was tight.

"Well," he said, "I guess there's tomorrow. We can stop here before heading to Godric's Hollow."

Ray took a few breaths and watched as Douglas went over and read the store hours. She was really trying not to cry, which sometimes made it even harder not to.

"If you're still wanting to do your study group, and you think you can get done by four, we should have an hour to come here and get your wand before they close." Douglas said. "The festival might be slowing down by then, is the thing... or maybe it'll be picking up? I'll have to look over the details again, it could be that the main event doesn't get going until after nightfall."

Ray gulped, getting herself under control. "Is there… is there another wand shop?" She asked.

Douglas shook his head. "No, you need a quality wand, and the only place to get that is Ollivander's. Sorry, Ray. Come on, we can still get your books, then your robes should be finished by the time we're out."

He started walking again, and she was just about to follow him when the store bell tinkled behind her.

"Er, excuse me?"

Ray whirled around - the witch had stuck her head out of the doorway.

"Are you here for a replacement, or are you getting your first one?"

"My first one!" Ray said.

"Yes, first one," said Douglas.

The witch's head disappeared, but Ray could hear her voice calling into the depths of the shop: "It's her first!"

There was a pause, as the witch listened to whoever was speaking to her. Ray's heart thudded.

"Yes, very much so," the witch said, then, "I know, but… really? Are you sure?" She paused again. "Well… okay, your choice."

The witch reappeared and beckoned them to the door.

Ray took a sharp intake of breath and sped toward her, then forced herself through the doorway before the witch could close it on her again. Douglas walked in after her, much more calmly.

The inside first reminded Ray of the basement at the public library: lots of dust, silence, and things filed away in boxes and drawers. There was the waiting area, in which Ray, Douglas, the witch, and several spindly chairs were situated, then the desk, which had a number of thick, white binders on it, and a doorway behind leading to another room. There were also two doors on either side, one of which had New Wands written on it, and the other, Replacements.

"You'll have to wait here for a moment," said the witch. Then, mumbling to herself, "Might as well..."

She went to her desk and took out a measuring tape. She tossed this toward Ray, who immediately straightened and held out her arms and legs.

The witch's eyebrows raised as the tape did its work. "Smart girl."

"Muriel?" Called a voice from the back room.

A tall, spindly man came out, who was wearing a large pair of glasses that magnified his eyes several times over, and had hair that looked like he'd just gotten electrocuted. He was old, probably in his mid-seventies, though Ray sensed there was something youthful about him.

"Muriel, you're free to go," said the man, taking off his large glasses and sticking them in his pocket. "I think I'll be able to handle things from here."

"Well, if you're sure," Muriel said, who wasted no time in nodding to Ray and Douglas and heading out the door.

"Ah," he said, coming around the desk and shaking a finger toward Douglas, "you're, er, your name was... well, let me see, you came in four years ago -"

"Six, actually."

"Six, was it? How the time flies... you're, er, Harold…?"

"Douglas."

"Right. And it was a blackthorn…?"

Douglas pulled out his wand. "Mahogany -"

"Mahogany, twelve and a half inches, blackberry stain," the man rattled off, as soon as the wand came into view. "Unicorn hair, narrow but strong, good for charm work."

Douglas smiled. "You got it."

The man turned to Ray. "And here we have our new witch. Muggle-born, i take it?"

Ray saw Douglas stiffen.

"Yes," she said, "...but my father was a wizard."

"Right, right. Well, welcome to the world of magic, young lady," he said, smiling kindly. "My name is Mr. Ollivander, but you're welcome to call me Odo if you wish."

"I'm Ray."

"Ray. I shall try to remember. Well, shall we head back?"

Mr. Ollivander snapped his fingers, and the tape measure sprang into a roll and hurled itself back onto the desk.

"Er, okay," said Ray. She looked at Douglas.

"Go on," he said, drawing out his journal and sitting down in one of the chairs. "I'll just be here."

"You don't want to come?"

"Oh, no, I need to check up on some things for the Ministry. Besides, you're only going into that room there," he said, gesturing to the New Wands room. "Feel free to leave your backpack, though."

Ray did so, shrugging it off her shoulders and setting it into the chair next to him. She then turned to follow Mr. Ollivander, who was waiting there with the door held open.

The wand room was cramped, compared to the waiting area: every wall but one was stuffed with tiny, narrow boxes, which were squeezed and stacked so high that only the pressure from the ceiling seemed to keep them from toppling over. It felt like a dusty, papery cave more than a room, and Mr. Ollivander barely had enough room to stand up straight.

"So, Ray," he said, looking over a slip of parchment he'd pulled from his pocket, "what kind of wand would you like?"

"What kind of wand?"

"Yes. What kind of wand do you think would suit your magic? What types of things would you like to do with it?"

Ray frowned. "I'm not sure. Just schoolwork, I suppose?"

"Think of it this way," Mr Ollivander said, stuffing the slip back in his pocket and looking over the boxes, "say you were out with your friends, outside of school, and were allowed to do magic. What kind of things would you want to do?"

Ray thought for a moment, watching him as he perused the room.

"Cool stuff, maybe... make trees grow, or fill up ponds if they've dried out. Make dragonflies grow really big. Travelling would be fun, I suppose, like being able to go wherever you want and create any food or supplies you need instead of carrying them with you. I'm not sure, what kind of things are possible?"

"Hmm, hmm… perhaps that was a bad question. Howabout this. If I were to, say, ask Douglas out there to describe you, what sort of words do you think he'd use?"

Ray hadn't thought about that either.

"...Or your friends, perhaps?"

That was easier.

"That I'm proud, or stubborn. That I like to get good grades, but I get in trouble a lot. That I'm always there to help them if they need it."

"And are there any kids you don't like, who tease you or say hurtful things? What do you not like being teased about?"

Ray thought of Cole. "Well, I certainly don't like when people call me stupid…"

Mr. Ollivander frowned. "No, I don't think you're a Ravenclaw…"

Ray's ears perked up.

"Do you think I'll be in Gryffindor?"

Mr. Ollivander went over to the walls and started pulling out boxes, each of which left a box-shaped hole.

"It's hard to say," he said, crouching down and pulling some out from the bottom of the stacks. "Perhaps a Slytherin…"

Douglas wouldn't like the sound of that, Ray thought with a grin.

"Here, let's get you started on some of these."

He brought three or four boxes over to a little tea-table in the middle of the room.

"Try this one," he said, unpackaging a wand. "Juniper, pheonix feather, great for spell work."

He handed it to Ray, and she took it tentatively. It was made of a soft, pink-colored wood that was striped with tree-lines. Mr. Ollivander pointed her to the bare wall, which had a very faded bulls-eye on it and quite a few color splotches and scorch marks all around. At the base was, of all things, a gutter and drain, as though the room might get flooded on occasion.

"Well, go on," he said, "give it a flick!"

Ray did so, feeling a bit awkward about it, and an unpleasant sparkling sensation ran through her fingers.

Mr. Ollivander pulled it from her and quickly replaced it in its box. "No, no… here, try this one instead. Ash, sturdy, good for transfiguration…"

She flung the wand forward and a long, black slug squeezed out the tip, which plopped on the floor and began slithering around like a snake. Both Ray and Mr. Ollivander scrambled backwards, but fortunately it went for the drain at the base of the wall and disappeared. Mr. Ollivander grabbed that one back, too.

She tried the rest of the wands with no luck, then stood there shiftily as he went around plugging them back into the walls and muttering to himself.

"Fifteen inches, no, definitely not," he said, starting to pick out a new selection. "Orange varnish on this one, eh? Perhaps, perhaps… dragon heartstring, good… no, not beechwood, I don't think… Ray," he said suddenly, "let's try that first question again, what kind of wand do you want? Do you want one that will help you explore; one that's good at helping you understand something (like a spider or the mechanisms of a clock); or one that you can use to show off your talents to your friends and impress people?"

"Exploring sounds nice, but I'm not sure. A reliable one? One that can do powerful things and won't fail on me, if that's a something that happens?"

"Powerful," Mr. Ollivander muttered, crossing to the opposite wall and pulling out more boxes still. "Powerful, reliable… perhaps holly… yes, this might do…"

He came up and piled a good deal of wand boxes on the tea-table, and Ray went through them. Some of the wands sent out puffs of green smoke or whistled obnoxiously, which Mr. Ollivander tugged away immediately, while others did nothing at all. A few felt pleasant to hold or made her fingers tingle like Douglas's had, but none of them were deemed sufficient by Mr. Ollivander. She had no idea what he was looking for.

He was just about to hand her a stubby chestnut wand when Ray interrupted him.

"Sorry, Mr. Ollivander, could I try that one again?"

There were five wands all piled on top of each other, not even put back in their boxes.

"Of course, my dear, the nine inch skrewt tail?" He asked, sounding a bit exasperated.

"No, the longer one, that felt a bit rough."

"Oh -" he frowned. "That one? Are you sure? I was thinking I might've boxed it up before finishing it, to be honest, it's not even varnished…"

He handed it to her nonetheless, and after a moment, Ray knew it was the right one. It felt comfortable in her grip like none of the others had, and the more she held it the more it felt like it belonged with her. There was something about it that felt right, like it helped her magic flow, which was a most peculiar sensation and not one she'd ever had a name for before, and only now that she was here and looking for it did she realize what it was.

Ray brandished the wand at the wall and made a swooping motion. Suddenly, a breeze washed through the room, bringing an incredible scent - one that reminded her of a freshly-mowed field of grass on a lovely, sunny day, when the weather was perfect for taking off at a run in any direction at all.

That was her. She had done that. That had come from her magic, she had felt it.

"Well, how about that," said Mr. Ollivander. "May I see that wand, Ray?"

She was reluctant to give it up, but handed it over to him.

"I really like that one," she said earnestly, "like, really like it. I think it's perfect for me."

"Yes, yes, this is definitely the one for you." Ray's face broke into a smile. "I must learn how to replicate that smell, positively exhilarating... That said, I never would have picked this one as yours. It's not particularly built for power, and it would've done better for someone who was a bit more, well, even-tempered, if you don't mind me saying so." He chuckled. "Well, there you go, the wand choosing the wizard."

"The what?"

"Just... something one of my old relatives used to say. The wand chooses the wizard. I, for one, don't believe wands are sentient, or make conscious decisions or anything like that - but there is a certain truth to it. Each wand is special, Ray, every wand unique, and each one only works best when paired with the person most suited to it.

"And, now that I'm looking at it, I do believe I knew what I was doing when I boxed this one up. If I'd done anything else, the wand's performance would have only suffered. It was as good as it could have gotten, exactly when I stopped working on it... eleven and a quarter inches, willow, very responsive and flexible. Very flexible, in fact, I think the deflection was over an inch and a half before it showed even the first sign of stress! Well, here you go, then… it's yours."

Ray took back the wand and felt a rush of energy. This was it - all the school books, all the equipment, all the worries about her letter and the marks she got on her tests, all of it felt unimportant next to this. She was a witch. She could do magic, for real, no question about it anymore - she'd felt it run through her, felt it inside her, ready to be called and used at a moment's notice, as much a part of her as her bones or her blood.

She and Mr. Ollivander exited the wand room, and Douglas looked up.

"Woah, what's with the look on your face?" He said. "If I didn't know any better, I'd be positively alarmed right now!"