Author's Note: I have decided to move Celena's first year back two years to the 1982-1983 schoolyear. Bill and Charlie Weasley have been aged up accordingly. Some things about the timeline, such as the Quidditch Cup, just make more sense this way.


I wake to the feeling of cold, dewy grass beneath my feet. The air is cool, and I shiver. I look up, watching the silver glitter of the stars strewn around the night sky. There's no moon tonight.

I sleepwalked again. I started sleepwalking just over a year ago. At first it was only rarely, once a month. Then it became once a week. Now it's almost every night.

I should probably go back to bed, but instead I lean back against the trunk of an oak tree nearby. Overhead, its leaves rustle. Once, I would have believed that the tree was calling a greeting to me. I would have responded. Sometimes I would chatter to the trees for hours, engaged in a one-sided conversation with imaginary friends. That was a child's fantasy. Since then, I've learned that some magic simply isn't there. Such as the magic that will bring my brother back.

My smile fades. I rub my finger along the flower bracelet around my wrist. I found it in Jacob's room the morning he disappeared, with a letter explaining where he had gone. It's all that I have left of him.

Jacob, I miss you so much, I think. I used to write letters to him, but like conversations with trees, it's another fantasy I've outgrown. Jacob will never write back. He's gone, and I've had to accept that.

Suddenly the rustling of the trees sounds hostile, like they're mocking me. Your brother left because he couldn't bear to be around you, they tease. Jacob's letter said that it wasn't true, that he loved me and would miss me, but sometimes I wonder if he was lying, if I failed him in some way.

I squeeze my eyes shut, blinking back the tears that have started to form. I run to my house and don't look back.

When I've reached the safety of my room, I throw myself onto my bed and let the tears flow. Sleep, when it finally comes, is restless and filled with nightmares. My room is not the haven I thought it was. There's nowhere the nightmares can't find me.

The morning dawns both too soon and too late- too soon for me to get any real sleep, too late to save me from the tormented visions that have plagued me for the past two years. Slowly, I roll out of bed and get dressed. I'm a half-blood, so I wear Muggle clothes most of the time.

I walk downstairs and start making breakfast. Jacob and I used to make breakfast together before he disappeared. It took a while, but I finally convinced my parents to let me make it on my own. We've all found ways to hold on to a piece of Jacob, to work around the gaping holes he's left everywhere. This is mine.

I set three egg sandwiches on the table with three glasses- milk for my father, orange juice for my mother and me.

I hear the creaking of the stairs as my parents walk down them. It's a miracle they never hear me sleepwalking. Though even if my father woke up, Mum's snoring would probably drown out any noise I make.

"Excited for today, Celena?" Mum asks. There's a wistful look in her brown eyes. "You must be looking forward to starting at Hogwarts."

My father frowns, his bushy eyebrows knitting together over his yellow eyes. I got my eyes from him, but Mum's softer features. "Are you sure she should go?" he asks. "It's dangerous. Remember what happened to Jacob."

Mum sighs. She and Dad have this argument frequently. I can predict almost word-for-word what they're going to say, as if they're actors reading from a script. "She has to learn to control her magic," she reminds Dad.

"I know," Dad says. "But Hogwarts isn't the only place for that. We could send her abroad, maybe to Ilvermorny. Or what about Castelobruxo? You like magical creatures, don't you, Celena?" I suppress a giggle. Sure, I'd love to go to Castelobruxo- if I spoke Portuguese, I think. "Or you could keep homeschooling her!" Dad continues desperately, addressing Mum again.

"But Hogwarts is the best place for her to learn." Mum shoots down his suggestions with her usual ease. "And don't forget, Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster. He won't let anything happen to her."

"Just like he didn't let anything happen to Jacob?" Dad retorts. The first few times that they had this fight, this line caught Mum off guard. She would stutter and look away while she tried to think of a reply. Now, though, she's prepared, and doesn't lose a second responding.

"You're a Muggle, dear," she reminds him, as if he could ever forget. "Leave Celena's education to me. I grew up in this world."

"It's because I didn't grow up in this world that I can see it has more holes than Swiss cheese!" Dad yells back.

Once, those last few lines would have resulted in them not talking for the rest of the day. Now they've heard those sentences enough to know that neither one of them really means what they say. Repetition has erased the sting of the words.

"All right, all right," my father sighs, concluding the ritual. "But be careful, okay, Celena?"

I nod. "Nothing bad will happen. Mum's right. Hogwarts is the safest place in the world." He's not completely reassured, but he knows when he's beaten.

"Have a good day," Dad says.

Mum walks to the fireplace and takes a handful of Floo Powder from the pot. She throws it into the flames, which hiss and spit like hungry snakes. They flare up and turn emerald green. Mum steps into the fireplace with a shout of "Diagon Alley!"

When she's disappeared into the fire, I take my own handful of Floo Powder. Before I can throw it in, Dad grabs my arm. I look at him. His eyes remind me of a bird of prey. "Whatever happens, don't do what your brother did," he says, more serious than I've ever seen him. "Do not go looking for the Cursed Vaults." There's a desperation on his face that I haven't seen since he begged Mum to say that Jacob wasn't really gone. My parents have already lost their son to the Cursed Vaults. If they lost me, too, our family would fall apart. "Promise me, Celena!" Dad begs. "I need you to promise me!"

"I promise," I say. My family takes promises very seriously. I've never broken one. As far as I know, neither have my parents. Jacob is the only one I can think of who's broken a promise- the same one that I just made.

The fear has not completely faded from Dad's eyes, but he releases my arm. "Your mother's waiting for you. You'd better go," he says.

I nod. "Diagon Alley!" I say as I toss the Floo Powder into the fireplace. I step into the roaring emerald flames, scrunching my eyes tightly closed. I don't like traveling by Floo Powder.

My stomach lurches as I'm spun through the fire. Even though my eyes are closed, the flames make my eyelids look emerald green.

After a few minutes of spinning, I'm ejected through another fireplace. I stumble into the Leaky Cauldron, brushing small bits of soot off my clothes and back into the fireplace. Mum guides me to a nearby chair, and I sit down until my nausea passes.

"You look like you're about to throw up," a voice next to me observes. I look for the source. There's a girl sitting near me. She looks Indian, with long black hair and dark eyes.

When I look at her, she ducks her head, embarrassed. "Sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to be rude. Traveling by Floo Powder affects me the same way."

"It's fine," I assure her. I spot a familiar parchment envelope in her hand. "Are you going to be a first year, too?"

The girl's eyes light up. "Yes!" she squeals. "I'm so excited! I'm going to be a Ravenclaw, I'm certain of it. What about you? What house do you want to be in?"

I pause. I've never thought much about what house I want. "I'd like to be in Ravenclaw, too," I finally say. Ravenclaw was Jacob's house.

"I'm Rowan Khanna," the girl- Rowan- says. "What's your name?"

"Celena Serantos," I say. My hands get sweaty. She has to have heard of Jacob. Everyone has. The Daily Prophet printed all sorts of horrible things about him after he disappeared. Some of them I know to be true, some are false, and others I can only hope are lies.

"Are you Jacob Serantos's little sister?" she asks.

"Yes," I say quietly. I hope she'll leave it at that, but I've never been so lucky.

"The same Jacob Serantos who was expelled for searching for the Cursed Vaults?" Rowan persists.

"The same," I admit. I had just started to think that Rowan and I might be friends, that I wouldn't be alone when I started at Hogwarts. Now there's no chance. No one has ever bothered to look for me behind Jacob's legacy.

"That was a massive story in the Daily Prophet. Everyone at Hogwarts will know about that." Rowan sounds concerned, not disgusted. Is it possible that we can be friends after all?

"I know. And they'll all think I'm weird..." I don't know why Rowan doesn't find me weird. What makes her different from everyone else?

"We can be weird together," Rowan assures me.

"What makes you weird?" I ask.

Rowan looks thoughtful. "I don't really know," she answers a moment later. "I just never seemed to fit in with people. I spend most of my time reading."

Rowan looks downcast for a moment, but then brightens. "Books are better than people, anyway. Oh- except for you, of course, Celena, and my family. Want to get our supplies together?" She suddenly changes the subject, eager to move on from her fumble.

"Sure!" I agree. "Just let me ask Mum." Rowan leaves, presumably to find her own parents. I look for Mum, and see her chatting with the bartender.

I stand next to her and wait for a gap in the conversation. Mum likes to ramble, so I can only be so polite. Right now she's in the middle of a story involving my Aunt Gretchen, her neighbor's dog, my cousin Allie's birthday cake, and a room full of chocolate frosting.

When Mum stops to take a breath, I jump into the conversation. "MumcanIgoshoppingwithmynewfriend," I blurt before she has a chance to start talking again.

"Of course," Mum says, handing me a bag of money and my acceptance letter. "What's her name?"

"Rowan Khanna," I say.

Mum isn't paying attention any more, already jumping back into storytelling mode. "And as you can imagine, Allie wasn't very happy about that dog eating her cake. She scrunched up her little face, and suddenly there was this massive blob of frosting on the table. And then..." Mum's chattering fades away as I search for Rowan.

I find her with her family. Her father is holding a boy who looks about four or five, the same age as Allie was in Mum's story.

"Celena!" Rowan sees me and waves me over. "These are my parents, and my brother Finch."

I introduce myself to Rowan's parents and wait for a reaction. Fortunately, her parents simply nod and move on. Rowan must have already warned them about my relationship with Jacob.

"We're happy Rowan's finally made a friend," her mum says. "Have you been to Diagon Alley before, Celena?"

"A few times." I came with Mum and Jacob every summer until Jacob disappeared.

"We come all the time," Rowan says. "I know my way around." She loops an arm through mine and pulls me away. We walk behind the Leaky Cauldron to the entrance to Diagon Alley, with her father trailing behind us. He taps the wall with his wand.

"I'll wait here for you girls!" he calls as the bricks rotate to reveal the entrance to Diagon Alley. Rowan is already pulling me away, making a beeline for the bookshop a few doors down.

A bell tinkles . We've reached the bookshop. The sign above the door says that it's named Flourish and Blotts.

"The textbooks are here," Rowan says, pulling me over to a table in the middle of the store. The table has a big sign that says FIRST-YEAR TEXTBOOKS on it. I refrain from pointing it out, not wanting to make Rowan feel embarrassed.

The textbooks are stacked in neat piles, making checking my letter unnecessary. I take one book from each pile, paying special attention to the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. This year it's Escaping The Dark Arts For Idiots. I make a mental note to read it first. Jacob always said you could tell a lot about a professor by their choice of textbook.

"Let's find some other books. My parents gave me some extra money," Rowan suggests. Her face falls. "Though I guess we should wait and see exactly how much it is."

"We can come back later," I reassure her. Mum gave me a few extra Galleons as well.

Rowan gives the bookshelves a mournful look. I have to pull her out of the shop. "You're just going shopping. It's not like you'll be gone for months," I remind her, but Rowan still looks sad. I think of something that will cheer her up. "Let's get our wands first."

"My family grows trees for wands and brooms. Mostly wands," Rowan tells me happily. "It's traditional in my dad's family for girls to be named after plants and boys to be named after animals. But I like to pretend that my name was inspired by Rowena Ravenclaw."

"So do you already have an idea-" I stop in the middle of my sentence. We've reached Ollivanders.

Rowan and I look at each other with wide eyes. This, to me, is the moment that makes it all real. I'm going to learn magic. Even though I've grown up with it surrounding me, the idea of casting spells myself fills me with a sense of wonder that I hope never fades.

I realize that I'm holding my breath, and let it out slowly. Rowan pushes open the door.

The shop isn't small, but it's cramped. A maze of floor-to-ceiling shelves occupy most of the space. Each holds an assortment of long, thin boxes. There's no writing on either the boxes or the shelves, and I wonder how Ollivander knows where to find specific wands. Are the wands organized by length, or by wood, or by core? Or does Ollivander have a totally different system?

"Here to get your first wands?" Ollivander asks without looking up. His voice is soft and cool, like ice cream, although less pleasant. I feel a shiver run down my spine.

"Yes," Rowan answers. Ollivander pulls a tape measure from his pocket. It flits about like a bird, measuring various parts of Rowan. Ollivander winds his way through the maze of shelves, muttering to himself as he pulls boxes off the shelves.

As the tape measure finishes up, Ollivander selects a box. He opens it and removes the wand inside. The tape measure tries to fly inside the box, but Ollivander snatches it and shoves it back in his pocket.

"Give this one a twirl," Ollivander says, holding out the wand. Rowan takes it. "Aspen wood, unicorn tail hair core, twelve inches."

Rowan waves the wand. Nothing happens, but Ollivander doesn't seem surprised. "Nothing to worry about. I've never matched up a wand and a wizard on the first try." He snatches the wand back and replaces it with another. "Beech wood, phoenix feather core, ten inches."

Rowan waves several more wands, but none of them work. Ollivander darts back and forth between her and the shelves, pulling out wands seemingly at random, muttering to himself all the while.

Seven is a common magical number, so it's fitting that Rowan finally has luck with her seventh wand. "Hazel wood, unicorn tail hair core, ten-and-three-quarters inches, hard," Ollivander says, pressing a wand with a pattern of leaves on the handle into her hand. Her fingers curl around it, and she gives it a quick wave. A stream of silver sparks flies from the end.

Rowan looks relieved when Ollivander turns his eerie gaze to me. "Hold out your wand arm," he instructs. I raise my right arm. The tape measure seems elated to be released from the confines of Ollivander's pocket and zips in a circle a few times. Ollivander snaps his fingers. The tape measure reluctantly starts measuring me.

Ollivander pauses in his search. "You are Jacob Serantos's sister," he says, his voice unreadable.

I stiffen. "Yes."

"His disappearance must have had a tremendous impact on you." Am I imagining it, or is there a hint of sympathy in his voice? I've been getting very odd reactions to Jacob's name today.

"There are a lot of rumors about him," I reply. "It's hard to know what to believe. I want to find answers."

Ollivander nods slowly. "Curiosity can open many doors. I may have just the wand for you." He offers me a wand that looks strangely familiar. "It is nearly identical to your brother's first wand. Maple, unicorn tail hair core, twelve inches, quite flexible."

I take it, expecting to feel... something, but the wand is dead in my hand, just a carved stick.

"No?" Ollivander raises one silvery eyebrow. "I thought for sure... but very well then..."

He hands me another wand. "Pine, phoenix feather core, eleven inches, supple."

The wand feels warm in my hands. I know even before I wave it that it's the wand I want. The stream of golden sparks that fly from the tip confirms it.

"Each wand is seven Galleons," Ollivander says. Rowan and I count out the correct amount of golden coins, carefully placing our new wands in our bags. I wonder if the wood for either came from the Khanna farm.

Rowan and I return to Flourish and Blotts. After buying all of my supplies, I have a few Galleons, several Sickles, and one Knut. Rowan has about the same amount.

Rowan walks to the shelf with vampire romance stories. I make a face and examine the nonfiction books.

Finally, I select a book about wandmaking, eager to see what the meaning of my wand is. I find Rowan. She's holding a new book titled Dehydration.

"I have enough left to get an ice cream," Rowan says as we leave the store.

A few minutes later, we sit at a table with ice creams in our hands. Rowan chose mint, and I got banana.

"What should I do if someone gives you trouble about your brother?" Rowan asks unexpectedly.

I sigh. "Please don't do anything. I've found that if I ignore people, they eventually leave me alone."

Rowan nods, her dark eyes serious. "I just wanted to let you know that I have an extensive vocabulary, and if you change your mind, I will use it to defend you."

An imagine pops into my head of Rowan defending me from a bully by calling them a "chauvinistic, discriminatory rascal of a poltroon".

As I dig into my ice cream, a part of me that hasn't been happy since Jacob disappeared starts to thaw. Jacob, I will find you, I think. No matter how many people are against it, no matter how long it takes... at least I have Rowan now.