Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated with it in any way.

Note: Correction: I'm feeling magically sorry for myself today. It's just one step up from 'supremely,' so you get one more early-release chapter.

If you read this story during its first incarnation, this is one of those chapters where I changed a lot. I urge you to read it, and as always, please review.

/-Wujy

Chapter Four – A Curious Wand

It was as if the scene inside the shop had been the dam breaking over Whitney's tunnel-vision view of Diagon Alley. She was now noticing people pointing at her and whispering behind their hands. A few walked up to her and shook her hand quite without asking. When she'd been with Hagrid before, none if this had happened. Or at least, she hadn't noticed it then. Madame Malkin's voice replayed in her ears.

"It'll be an awful shock, then, when you start to realize that everyone in our world knows your name, child!"

That laughter echoed in her head, sounding far more sinister than it had been intended. She felt as though this must be what it's like to go mad. And maybe that's all any of this was! Maybe she'd never left her small room beneath the stairs this morning; she was simply lying comatose on the tiny bed with Petunia prodding her with a wooden spoon. This was all a fever dream caused by dehydration and starvation.

"Oy!"

Whitney spun in a circle when she heard the shout. When she spotted Hagrid's immense frame over the crowd of people, she ran to him, nearly in tears, and shouted, "Why? Why didn't you tell me? Everyone here knows who I am!"

Hagrid looked genuinely remorseful and said, "I keep forgettin' yeh don' know who y'are. Come on, then. Come with me."

Together, they walked back to the pub, which she now knew was called the Leaky Cauldron, and sat down where Hagrid explained to her the circumstances surrounding her parents' deaths and the ultimate dismissal of the Dark Lord.

By the end of the story, Whitney's mouth had fallen wide open and she was sure she'd gone completely insane. "This… this can't be real. I'm dreaming," she said, getting up from the table. "I'm being pranked," she continued, shaking her head as she walked away. Hagrid put an enormous hand on her shoulder and she stopped, turning back to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes contained a world of pain that no ten-year-old should ever know.

"Yer smarter'n that," Hagrid said with confidence. "You know better."

Whitney's eyes glistened as she looked at Hagrid, begging him to tell her that none of it was true. She shook her head at him and he wiped at her eyes with a surprisingly gentle touch. She cleared her throat and finished wiping at her tears with her sleeves. Just as she acceptance was dawning on her, someone behind her spoke.

"M-m-miss P…P-Potter," said an unfamiliar voice behind her with a heavy stutter. She turned to face the man who had addressed her. He was a tall, thin man wearing a purple turban, which at this moment, was simultaneously the least and most unusual thing in the world to the girl.

Whitney simply stared at him for a moment while he gave her a shaky smile and said, "Qu-quite p-p-pleased to m-make you're aqu…acquaintance."

"Er… thanks," Whitney said, not sure what else to say.

"Professor Quirrel!" Hagrid exclaimed, getting up to join them. "Whitney, this is Professor Quirrel. He'll be one o' yer teachers when yeh get up ter Hogwarts in the fall."

"Yes, qu-quite right," Quirrel said, followed immediately by, "Well, m-must be off. Th-things yet to c-c-collect in D-Diagon Alley."

"Us too," Hagrid said happily, clapping the poor man on the back so hard that his turban was knocked slightly askew. Hastily, the man straightened the turban and strolled off at a strong pace. Whitney just watched as the odd man left as abruptly as he had arrived.

Hagrid looked down at Whitney and smiled at her. It was a warm gesture that actually put away some of the cold, twisty feeling in her stomach. "Come on," he said reassuringly. "We'll finish gettin' yer supplies together."

Hagrid led her around Diagon Alley and gathered all of her supplies for school. Nothing else extraordinarily strange happened until it was time to purchase the final item—her wand. Getting a wand was what Whitney had been looking forward to the most. "Righ' in there," Hagrid said to her. "You take care o' this one yerself an' I'll pop over and get yer birthday present."

Whitney blushed, but didn't have any time to protest that she didn't need him to get her a birthday present. He was already gone, whistling as he walked away from her, so she took a deep breath and stepped into the dimly lit wand shop. Mr. Ollivander, the shop owner, was already helping another student pick out his wand.

"I knew it," Mr. Ollivander said. "Unicorn hair was the right fit."

"Yes, yes," the boy said dismissively, waving the wand around so that it emitted red sparks in the air. Whitney watched him jealously.

"Ah," Mr. Ollivander said, spotting her. "Getting a wand for school, girl?" he asked her, already moving toward a seemingly endless shelf full of wands. He picked up three boxes immediately and placed them on the table in front of her. Before she could open any of them, however, he whisked them away, shaking his head and muttering something to himself as he disappeared into the far reaches of the shop.

Whitney looked slightly disappointed at having been denied the chance to try out a wand, and the boy snickered slightly. "Bit of a nutter, Mr. Ollivander," the boy said, looking her over like a jeweler checking the quality of a diamond. He had a slightly pointed face, though not necessarily in a bad way, and his pale blond hair made him look unnaturally fair-skinned. He was dressed in black robes like the ones she had seen in the window of Madam Malkin's.

Whitney shrugged. "No more than anyone else here," she said, though almost immediately regretted it. She grimaced and tried to rephrase. "I mean… people here are just… They're…"

"Nutters," the boy repeated agreeably. "The man didn't even take my money before he moved on to someone new."

She shrugged again. "He seems distracted."

"My father says he isn't completely present if you know what I mean," he said, making a winding gesture near his head so that she couldn't possible not know what he meant.

Whitney nodded noncommittally and changes the subject. "Your father says," she repeated. "So your father's a wizard, then." It wasn't really a question so much as an observation.

The boy snorted and answered, "Of course. Any wizard worth his wand comes from magic, doesn't he? You're not Muggleborn, are you?" he asked, looking at her clothes disdainfully.

Muggle, Whitney realized. Nonmagical. Got it.

She shook her head. "My parents went to Hogwarts," she said. Trying to sound like she knew what she was talking about, she utilized her new vocabulary word. "I've been living with these horrible… Muggles… since they died," she added. "Relatives. Distant ones." She said the last a bit venomously, thinking about her aunt and uncle.

The boy perked up a bit and he sneered. "Are they awful?" he asked, looking interested. "I bet they're horrid."

Whitney grinned at this and nodded, happy to be talking to someone about how terrible her aunt and uncle were without fear of persecution. "They are!" she agreed with ethusiasm. "They're basically animals taught to wear clothes and walk on their hind legs." Draco laughed.

Just then, Mr. Ollivander came back with an armful of boxes, cradling them as though reassuring all of them that they had a chance. The boy cleared his throat to get the man's attention and, as though he had entirely forgotten that the boy was in the room at all, Mr. Ollivander exclaimed, "Oh! Yes. Right."

Carefully, he set down the boxes on the counter, just tempting Whitney to try one as he counted out the boy's payment. Gently, she picked one of the boxes at random and, holding it gingerly, waved it around like the boy had done earlier. Anticlimactically, nothing happened. Put out but not put off, Whitney replaced the wand and tried another. And another. She was testing out the third wand when the boy came back around to her and held out his hand authoritatively.

"Draco, by the way," he said, introducing himself. "Draco Malfoy." He stressed his own last name as though she should recognize it. She didn't, but she took his hand and shook it anyway.

She hesitated before giving him her name, but decided it would be impolite not to, especially after they had bonded over her dislike of her relatives. "Whitney Potter," she said a little shyly.

Draco's expression suddenly froze where it was and he stopped shaking her hand, though he still held it in his. The pause lasted less than a second before he forced his composure back into place and said, "Yes, well it was… nice… meeting you."

He turned on his heel to leave, but Whitney called out a quick, "Thanks," before he made it to the door.

He paused for a moment, turned to look over his shoulder at her. "For what?"

Whitney cleared her throat and looked slightly uncomfortable. "For not… going weird when you heard my name," she admitted. "Everyone else so far… Well, people have been making a fuss. It's... been sort of miserable."

Draco looked at her for a moment and Whitney got the distinct impression that he was trying to decide if she was being honest or not. Whatever he decided, she couldn't tell, but he nodded anyway. "I'll see you," he said before leaving.

Whitney bit her lower lip and turned to Mr. Ollivander, who was gazing at her with amusement. Mr. Ollivander shook his head, answering the unspoken question. "I knew who you were the moment you stepped in here. Let's get started, shall we?"

Where Whitney had originally been excited about getting her very own wand, after trying more than a hundred of them, she was beginning to worry that she had absolutely no magical ability at all. They'd send her back to live with the Dursleys, then. Her panic showed in the way the wands were beginning to react to her touch and twice she accidentally gouged long runs in the wooden counter.

"Here we are," the old man said, holding up the next wand. "If this doesn't work, then…"

His voice trailed off and he looked thoughtfully at the wand for a moment, as though it were speaking to him. "Really?" he asked no one in particular. Perhaps he was asking the wand. "Really…" he repeated, dropping the wand back in its box and reaching under the counter for a slightly more ornate box.

A tingle ran down Whitney's spine when she saw the wand and her fingers twitched in anticipation. She reached forward with one trembling hand, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth and biting down on it hard. She picked up the wand and, from the instant it left the box, it trailed a beautiful stream of golden sparks that made the girl smile.

"A perfect fit," Mr. Ollivander said. "Curious, but perfect."

"Sir?" Whitney asked, looking up from her wand at the tone of his voice.

"Curious that this wand should choose you, my dear. The phoenix whose tail feather resides in this wand gave one other feather for one other wand." He reached forward to brush the hair out of her face and his fingers traced her lightning scar lightly. Whitney didn't move; something about the old wizard's touch was almost comfortable, even though the action was rather personal. "The brother to your wand gave you this," he said in a soft tone.

Whitney shivered at the thought, but a warm pulsing sensation traveled up her arm from the wand flowed across her shoulders and down her back, reassuring her. There was no other wand for her, she knew.

There was silence in the shop for another moment before Whitney cleared her throat and looked meaningfully at Mr. Ollivander who seemed to snap out of a silent meditation.

"Right!" he said cheerily, moving toward the register. "Seven Galleons, Miss Potter. Those are the gold ones."

Whitney smiled, slightly more comfortable since the atmosphere in the small shop had changed, and paid Mr. Ollivander for the wand before leaving the store. Her smile faded into shock when she saw Hagrid stranding in front of her holding a beautiful, snowy owl in a cage and beaming at her proudly. Tears came to her eyes as she walked toward them and she took the cage from Hagrid carefully.

"Hagrid," Whitney said, her voice a tone of awe. "It's... I mean… You didn't have to."

Hagrid puffed out his chest and said, "Yer welcome. Everyone deserves a bit o' sommat on their birthday. An' it's a 'she'."

Whitney smiled as she looked into the eyes of the snowy owl and said, "This… this is the best birthday present I've ever gotten."

"May you have many more," Hagrid said with sincerity. "Now, let's get yeh back ta yer aunt an' uncle's."

"Do I have to go back?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn't make eye contact with him.

"'Fraid so, poppet," he said with some affection. "It's just fer two weeks until the train leaves fer Hogwarts," he added, handing her a boarding pass for the train.

Whitney stared at the ticket a little numbly, but nodded, hugging her new owl's cage tightly before walking back toward the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid.