So this is a little late. However, not only do I have school, but I have recently been hired as a copy editor. So much excite! This chapter, we meet Draco and she writes her first letter to the two knuckleheads back home. Thanks to everyone who read, followed, favorited, and reviewed. We are at chapter 10! Yay! And we have 86 reviews! Double yay!

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Chapter 10: Not Yet A Killer

"Might as well get yer uniform." Hagrid decided, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Alex, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

Haven nodded, trying to calm her nerves. It was already bad enough she was here without her family, but now the only familiar figure in this whole place was leaving? Of course she would be fine, it just made her nervous. She entered the shop alone, schooling her features to look confident instead of frightened.

Madam Malkin, a smiling woman in mauve, asked, "Hogwarts, dear? Got the lot here- a young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with aristocratic features stood on a stool, while a woman pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin led Haven to a stool, throwing a black robe over her head. She began to pin it to the right length and fit. She felt like she was being draped in a bunch of heavy, stifling blankets that offered limited freedom of movement.

"Hello," said the blonde boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p'.

"My father's next door buying my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy in his bored, drawling voice, "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. Have you got your own broom?"

She replied shortly, "No."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Nope." Haven replied, wondering what on earth the boy was talking about. Now that she had the money, she definitely was buying a pile of books for research.

"I do- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in yet?" the blonde boy asked.

"Not a clue." she replied, wondering if he'd ever shut up.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" the blonde remarked.

"What is so bad about Hufflepuff, besides the name, of course?" she asked casually. Maybe this kid might have some use in providing her with information.

He eyed her critically, "You're American, aren't you? How did you get into Hogwarts?"

Haven shrugged, "My birth parents went there."

He looked pretty interested, "What happened to them? Your parents."

"They died a long time ago." the raven-haired girl replied, voice light as if discussing trivial matters, not the death of her parents.

The boy's face softened slightly, though his eyes were as sharp as ever as he replied in a sympathetic tone, "Oh… I'm sorry."

Silence descended upon them, both lost in thought and not entirely sure what to say. Finally, the blonde boy asked, "Hey, so what's your surname?"

"Winchester." Haven replied, a little happier. Maybe she would get someone to call her by her preferred name. What an odd problem to have, having gone so long without ever hearing the name she was born with being spoken.

The boy, about to say something, was interrupted by Madam Malkin, "That's you done, my dear."

"Thank you very much." Haven replied, hopping down from the footstool she had been standing on.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, then." the pale blonde replied, giving her a quick wave and what seemed to be the boy's equivalent of a smile, a tiny upturning of the lips and a sparkle in his pale eyes.

"See ya, then!" she replied, returning the wave cheerfully. Haven quickly paid for her school robes, gathering them up and entering the alley, looking for Hagrid. She found him walking her way from the Leaky Cauldron, looking much better.

Next, they bought parchment, ink, and quills, which she grumbled over. At least she had thought to bring her school supplies from home. She managed to back up the line when someone recognized her as Alexandrite Potter. They all just kept ignoring her polite corrections, like they were deaf or something. Thankfully, Hagrid managed to get her out before she did anything rash.

On the way to the next shop, she asked, "Hey, Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Alex, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know- not knowin' about Quidditch!" Hagrid said. "Well, Quidditch is our sport. Wizard sport. Everyone follow Quidditch- played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls- sorta hard to explain the rules."

"Oh, okay." Haven replied, she'd just look it up later, "And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School Houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but better Hufflepuff than Slytherin. There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one." Hagrid informed her, dark edge to his tone.

Intrigued, she inquired, "Vol- oh, right, sorry, You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago." Hagrid answered somewhat uncomfortably. She would have continued her interrogation is they hadn't come to the bookshop called Flourish and Blotts. It was her own, personal heaven: books were stacked from floor to ceiling, of all kinds. It took a large stack of books in her arms and Hagrid half-dragging her out of the store to get her to leave. She'd definitely be paying several visits there whenever possible.

Next, they got a cauldron, weighing scales, and a telescope. Then, they paid a visit to the

Apothecary, which smelled terrible. Despite how much she hated the smell, she was fascinated by all of the things in there. They even had some hunting supplies.

"Just yer wand left- oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a late birthday present." Hagrid informed her once they had exited the Apothecary.

Haven shook her head, "Oh, no, you don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at- an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'." Hagrid informed her, steering her towards Eeylops Owl Emporium. She didn't bother arguing anymore- owls carried mail, mail could be sent to her family.

She entered the shop, her eyes instantly drawn to a snowy white owl to one side, who was staring straight at her. Without bothering to look at any of the other animals, she marched straight to the snowy owl.

"This one." she said, stopping in front of the pretty owl. Hagrid laughed, before going off to buy the owl for her.

She carried the owl with her on their way to get her wand, "Oh, thank you Hagrid. She's so lovely."

"Don' mention it," he replied gruffly, "Just Ollivanders left now- only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

The shop wasn't as magnificent as she had imagined- it was narrow and shabby. Yet, the air seemed to be alive with magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Haven jumped, hand going to a knife. Her hand relaxed as she took in the image of an old man with wide pale eyes.

"Hello." replied Haven.

"Ah yes." said the man, "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Alexandrite Potter. You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Haven sighed under Mr. Ollivander's scrutiny.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr. Ollivander said, coming even closer. Haven stepped back, meeting his eyes.

"And that's where…" Mr. Ollivander said, reaching out an arm and touching the lightning shaped scar on her forehead, half-hidden by her wild hair. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

He shook his head, before his attention came to Hagrid, "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again… Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes." Hagrid replied.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, becoming stern. Haven frowned- expelled? Why?

"Er- yes, they did, yes." said Hagrid awkwardly, shuffling his large feet, "I've still got the pieces, though."

"But you don't use them?" asked Mr. Ollivander, rather sharply.

"Oh, no, sir." Hagrid replied quickly, his grip on his pink umbrella tightening.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, staring at Hagrid intently, "Well, now- Ms. Potter. Let me see. Which is your wand arm?"

Mr. Ollivander pulled out a long tape measure from his pocket.

"Well, I'm right handed. Is that what you mean?" Haven asked.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." Mr. Ollivander replied. Obediently, she held up her right arm. The wandmaker measured all sorts of odd things. Why he had to measure around her head, she'd never know.

As he measured, the old man said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms. Potter."

"It's Winchester, sir. Haven Winchester." she interrupted firmly. He raised his eyebrows, and continued.

"We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons." he told her, as her eyes widened. Such creatures existed? What were they like?

"No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." he concluded, as the tape measure finished the measurements on its own. Growling, she snatched it out of the air with irritation as Mr. Ollivander began searching the shop for wands. The tape measure went limp in her fist.

"Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave." Mr. Ollivander instructed. She took it in her right hand, flicking it quickly. Mr. Ollivander snatched it back almost immediately.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-" as Haven took the wand from the wandmaker, the man instantly snatched it back with a little flinch.

"No, no- here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out." the man said. So Haven tried, feeling a flicker of irritation when once again it was taken from her. She didn't know what the man was waiting for. She went through wand after wand. While she became more irritated, the wandmaker seemed to become more joyful.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere- I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." the man said, handing her another wand. She took it with a heavy sigh, abruptly going silent when warmth ran up her fingers. She raised the wand, before swishing it in a small pattern, streams of multicolored spark flowing from it and chasing each other around the shop, throwing light on the walls and floors. Hagrid whooped and clapped.

"Oh, bravo," cried Mr. Ollivander, "Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…"

He put the wand back into it's box. She was disappointed to have to let go of it. The old wandmaker just kept muttering 'curious' under his breath.

"Sir, what's curious?" she asked finally. Mr. Ollivander stared at her intently.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why it's brother gave you that scar." he told her. Her gaze snapped down to the wand box.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the witch, remember… I think we must expect great things from you… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great." Mr. Ollivander said gravely. Her fists clenched.

She paid the seven Galleons for the wand, leaving the shop as quickly as she could without seeming desperate.

Hagrid escorted her back to the Leaky Cauldron, helping her bring her things to the room she would be staying in until school started. He gave her her ticket for the train she'd take to get to the school, and how to summon the bus that could take her there. Once he left, she fell onto the bed and slept until the middle of the night. Once she woke up, she took a piece of paper and a pencil out and started writing a letter to Sam and Dean, glaring at the candle that provided her with light. She had barely been there, and already she had so much to tell them about.

Dear Sam and Dean,

I haven't been gone for more than a day yet, and already I have so much to tell you two! First off: apparently I'm famous because I was too stubborn to die when a madman decided to kill me. He killed my birth parents, actually. Unfortunately, these stupid wizards keep ignoring me when I try to tell them what my name is. If one more person calls me Ms. Potter, I might become a murderer! Then you'll have to help me escape Wizard Jail (if there is a Wizard Jail).

As soon as I finish some of these books I bought, I'll send them to you, Sam. I just know you're dying to get your hands on them!

Stop making that face over Sam's shoulder, Dean.

Has dad come back yet?... is he mad at me? Tell him I said sorry, and that I love him.

I have a wand. The wandmaker was really creepy. The wand that chose me (yeah, wands choose you, weird, right?) is holly with a phoenix feather core. I can't wait to see a phoenix! Also, unicorns, dragons, and vampires exist. I was surprised too. Maybe they have different creatures here- I've certainly never seen a dragon (though I'd like too, if it didn't eat me first).

The bank here is run by goblins. Goblins! The vaults are all underground. They seem to be really well protected.

You'll never believe this: wizards live in the freaking dark ages! No electricity, no phones, not even pencils and normal paper! I have to do all of my assignments on parchment and write with quills! There might be a chance I'm coming straight back, just because of that. And then there are the robes. Yes, wizards wear robes. That is actually the school uniform! They are actually not as restricting as I thought they would be, but still quite bad.

I did meet another kid that will be in the same year as me. I didn't ever catch his name, though. He seemed a bit like a spoiled brat, but not too bad, all things considered. I'm pretty sure he is the only one who didn't call me Potter at some point (he didn't recognize me, so I could actually introduce myself).

I think, for the duration of my stay in Diagon Alley (the wizard shopping place), I'll have to wear some form of disguise. People just swarm me everywhere I go, it's crazy! All I did was not die, and now I'm some sort of hero. Freaking wizards.

Apparently, there are these things called 'Houses' that we get sorted into at this school. So far, I only know about Hufflepuff and Slytherin. The names they give these things, though! All I know is that no one takes a Hufflepuff seriously and that Slytherins are supposed to be evil overlords. I'm not sure how accurate that is, as the kid I was talking to wanted to be a Slytherin, and he wasn't way too terrible, he just wouldn't shut up. He said his whole family has been in there. Maybe it depends on where your parents went. I really don't know, but I'll tell you about it when I do.

I did meet one of my teachers. He seems to be afraid of his own shadow; kept stuttering the whole time I talked to him. He teaches a class called Defense Against the Dark Arts. From a comment he made, I think people here already know I'm a Hunter.

There's also a really weird sport that everyone keeps talking about here called something really stupid. Kwedich, maybe? I'm not really sure. All I know about it is that the players fly around on broomsticks and kids here know how to fly on them. Also, magic can teleport people. It's not very pleasant though. The landing is pretty difficult, too, but it's still really convenient.

I think I've told you guys everything. I should probably stop rambling before Dean gets too annoyed, wouldn't want you to do anything rash, brother.

With love,

Haven

P.s. By the way, I am a millionaire now. No joke. The vault my birth parents left me was filled with money.

Special thanks to justaislinn for parts of the letter. You are my favoritest ever! What do you guys think? You know I love opinions! See you all next chapter.