I was already too late.

The clock on the wall ticked quietly for a few seconds. And then, bursting from the top window of the house-shaped clock, a tiny cuckoo bird screeched, "LATE! AMBER IS LATE! LATE LATE LATE!"
"Amber Harkstone!" My mother shouted, and I heard footsteps thundering from the other room. Seconds later, she appeared, huffing, her face red as she dabbed on the final touches of her makeup. Her pale blue eyes were like icy fire. "You were supposed to be ready to leave ten minutes ago! If we don't go shopping, you are not going to school this year!"

My two sisters, Virginia and Naomi, peered out from behind my mother's long blue skirt. Both were wide-eyed and nervous; it was extremely unwise to cross Mum, especially when there was a deadline involved.

"Where is your father?" She sighed exasperatedly, just as the tiny yellow cuckoo burst out of its nest for the second time and screamed in a high pitched mimic of my mother's voice, "Walter is late! Walter is late!"

"Mummy," Virginia piped up, the middle child, also Mum's favorite daughter, "Daddy said he was out tending to the animals. He said we should leave if we won't have enough time to wait."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Mum snapped. "Amber, get yourself to the Portkey now. Girls, either you follow your sister, or you'll be left behind, too."

Naomi, a small girl of only six, rushed outside to the front yard, where a lamppost stood, its lamp glowing, even now in the morning light. It was nearly quarter of eleven according to the frenzied cuckoo clock, and it was still having a fit, unable to rest until everyone had resumed their schedules.

Ten chickens wandered around the yard, clucking as they pecked repetitively at the dirt, scrounging for bugs or worms. A single rooster, black as pitch, stood guard of his harem while they went about their foraging. Even from this distance, I could see our two horses grazing in our field, a quarter mile away, their long tails swishing at pesky flies. A small black goat in between them ate lazily, her tiny tail stub flicking. A black-and-white sheep dog kept a close eye the entire farm. One ear was flopped over while the other stood straight up. When he saw Naomi sprint for the Portkey, he barked once, a warning to slow down.

I glanced back at the house as I heard the distant cry of the cuckoo bird. I had never been to Diagon Alley before. And I had never left home before, either. After the shopping trip, it was straight off to the train for school. I had spent the night at Grandma's plenty of times, but for never more than a week. This… I would not see this patch of land for three months. And by the time I came back, late summer would have turned into winter. I wouldn't see autumn here again. The gorgeous camouflage of fire-colored leaves would be barren by the time I returned. And something inside me began to hurt.

I squashed the thought quickly, but not fast enough, because hot tears sprang to my eyes. I blinked them back and tried to remember what this place, home, looked like. A sunny yellow bungalow where I had grown up in sat in a grassy clearing, surrounded by tall trees of a forest behind the house and bordered by a fence on all other sides. The small red barn where our animals slept stood not far away, empty at the time, but soon to be reoccupied once the sun went down and the air became cold and chilly. The white picket fence that enclosed our property also created a boundary with our neighbors; the village of Bellinghall only had a few hundred occupants, most of whom lived outside of the village square. Bellinghall was a small community, with only a church, post office, pub, boutique, ice cream shop, and library. My family happened to be sandwiched between the library and our neighbors, the Northby's. The library was on the edge of the village, and after that, sprawled fields of green grass, endless until they reached the edges of towering green and purple mountains. It was one of the breathtaking views in Scotland's highlands, a view that would not be much different from the school I would be attending.

I could hear the cuckoo screaming at my mother this time, instead of my sisters. I pulled out a roll of parchment, where, written in neat black calligraphy, was my acceptance letter to my new school.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

Dear Miss Harkstone,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September, 1971. We await your owl no later than 31 July, 1971.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Hands shaking, I rolled the letter up once again and glanced at the sky. Three geese flew together in a tiny V-formation. I wondered if at Hogwarts, I would learn to fly. I thought about what House I would be placed in, if they would let me choose for myself. I was torn between Gryffindor, home of the brave, and Ravenclaw, the home of the wise. Why couldn't I be both? What would my parents, both Hufflepuffs, have to say if they knew I wanted nothing to do with their own House?

I could hear my mother coming because the cuckoo bird had finally shut up. Brushing her brown braid out of her face, she stormed outside, her blue skirts flying in her haste. My two sisters flanked her like the two geese had flanked the leader. "Where is your father?" She demanded as she stepped treacherously close to the Portkey.

I shrugged, still searching the property for a sign of him. When he didn't appear in under five seconds, Mum swore and gripped the small hands of my little sisters. "Well, he's going to miss shopping."

Can't imagine he'll miss that too much, I thought mutinously as Virginia, my towhead sister, ten years old, took my hand sheepishly. Mum reached out for the lamppost. "Don't let go, girls," she said sternly, "Or else you'll be very seriously injured."

"Why, Mummy?" Naomi piped up, a little copy of Mum except for her green eyes, Dad's eyes.

"Never mind, Naomi." Mum sighed. "Just don't let go."

Virginia squeezed my hand tighter, smiling up at me. I grinned back. She was as excited as I was to be off to Diagon Alley. In only one year, Virginia would be off to Hogwarts as well.

"Ready? Three… two… one… now!" All of us stepped forward as Mum touched the Portkey. In an instant, we were being flung into the air, spun around tighter than the fastest carousel, pinned by the intense g-force…

"Let go!" Mum shouted after ten seconds of the dizzying ordeal, and obediently, we released our grip on the lamppost. Our feet touched solid ground again, and it was no longer grass and trees surrounded us, but cobblestones roads and brick buildings.

"We're here." Mum sighed. "Diagon Alley. Stay close, girls. Naomi and Virginia, don't let go."

"What about Amber, Mummy?" Asked Naomi, who was just as vocal as our cuckoo bird.

Mum rolled her eyes. "She's about to head off to school, Naomi. She is old enough to walk by herself."

Sharing a private smile with Virginia at Mum's exasperation, we walked down the crowded street. I remained in my Muggle clothes, and was aware of how painfully I stood out from these magical folk, who wore long, flowing cloaks and capes that billowed like black clouds with each step. Naomi watched it all with rapt attentiveness, but Virginia shrank close to Mum's side, afraid. She had always been shyer and more skittish than Naomi, even though she was ten years old, four years older than brave Naomi.

"Is Daddy going to join us?" Naomi asked Mum as we ducked into a store. Books were stacked, crammed, and placed precariously around the shop. Naomi ogled a fat book with pictures of wizards waving wands; Virginia stayed close to Mum's side.

"Here's your list of books," Mum said, handing me a piece of parchment.

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

"That's a lot of books," I muttered, searching for a librarian while Mum and Virginia wandered off to the back of the store. "I guess I'll get them myself," I said to no one in particular.

At least Dad would have helped me.

Fifteen minutes later, I hefted the load of books over to the counter. The bookseller was still busy with other customers, most of them in flowing black robes, many of them children like me, chattering away and each clamoring for the attention of the sole employee. I sighed. I glanced around again furtively, hoping that a cashier would magically appear.

Ten more minutes passed. Finally, I reached into my cloak and counted out the sum of the books. I left the money next to the register and picked up my books again. My arms were already aching in pain by the time I discovered Mummy and Virginia, sitting in the back of the store where all of the children's books were. Annoyance rose like a hot cloud; I swallowed it down and cleared my throat.

Mum glanced up, half-smiling. "I was wondering where you'd gone off to."

I forced myself to keep a straight face and not to roll my eyes. "I had to buy my books, Mum. For school."

"Right." She checked her pocketwatch. "Bloody hell! Your father still isn't here." She stuffed more Galleons into my purse. "Go on and get yourself a wand. Don't forget the rest of your items on the list."

I looked at Virginia, who sat contentedly on the floor, a picture book opened in her lap. They moved, smiling and waving, a moving story. There were little people and littler animals. Obviously, she'd pick a farm story.

"You and Virginia aren't coming?" I asked, wanting to share this moment with them, wanting Virginia to get experience in what she would be doing a year from now when she received a letter from Hogwarts herself.

Mum sighed. "She's enjoying her reading, Amber. She hasn't been feeling well." She searched the sea of faces for my youngest sister's. "Naomi!" She commanded. "Come here."

Sheepishly, Naomi put down a small book and came over. Naomi was only six, but she was already reading chapter books. Virginia, at ten, still read only picture books.

Curbing my thoughts away from Mum's parental efforts, I forced a second smile and took Naomi's hand. "Come on. Let's go finish shopping." I guessed we only had another hour before Mum would want to leave. But knowing her, she'd stay for however long Virginia wanted to.

"Leave your books with me." Mum said vaguely, as if the thought had just occurred to her. "You don't need to be lugging them around."

"Yes, Mum," I said, but I knew she was already focusing back on Virginia. Sighing, I led Naomi away from the stifling crowd of students and parents and back onto the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley.

"Why doesn't she ever pay attention to us?" Naomi asked quietly as we walked from the book shop to a clothing outlet called Madame Malkin's.

I squeezed her tiny hand. "She's just protective of Virginia." And babying her to death.

Naomi frowned. "Why?"

Memories swam before my eyes, but instead of telling Naomi, I led her into the clothing store. "I'll tell you when you're older."

"How much older?" Naomi persisted as I walked up the owner of the shop. She fell silent as I asked, "Excuse me, ma'am?"
A witch with necklaces of measuring tape turned, beaming. "Why, you must be a first year! Still in your Muggle clothes, too." She giggled. "We'll have to remedy that."

Naomi tugged her hand out of mine and began walking down the aisles by herself, admiring the robes and dresses. Independent Naomi, ever curious and wanting to learn. "She'll be alright," I told the witch. "She's just exploring."

"She seems bright," the witch remarked. "My name is Madame Malkins. And you are?"

I held out my hand. "Amber Harkstone."

She shook it. "My my. You have a grip like a prizefighter."

Heat rose to my face. "Sorry. I live on a farm. I have to help out with the chores a lot." The moment the words came out, I feel even more foolish. Blushing, I looked around the store awkwardly. "So, can you help me with my list?"

"Absolutely, dear." Madame Malkins said, not even glancing at the parchment list I clutched in my hands. "If you're a first year, you'll need three sets of plain black work robes, a black pointed hat, dragon hide gloves, and a black winter coat. Silver fastenings." She swept down the aisles, stopping every few feet to sift through racks of black robes. I noticed that was the only color for school clothes. I felt a stab of misgiving. Black was such a depressing color. I preferred blues, reds, whites, colors that glowed with life.

"Let's try one on, just to make sure it's the right fit." Madame Malkins led the way to a long mirror and waved a brown wand. A robe floated above, as if an invisible person flew high in the air.

I shuddered. "It looks like a lethifold."

Madame Malkins' arches raised. "You've seen one, child?"

I shook my head, unable to take my eyes off of it. "No, thankfully, but I've read about them."

She smiled. "You are strong, but yet, also, smart. You'll likely be a Ravenclaw. Or a Gryffindor." She frowned. "In fact, you'd be very suited to both. I was a Hufflepuff, myself."

I nodded, listening, watching as the robe magically descended upon me and engulfed my body. An instant later my head popped out, along with my arms. The hem brushed against my shoes, hiding them completely.

Madame Malkins clucked her tongue, circling me like a lion prowling around its prey. She wrapped her measuring tapes around my waist, chest, arms, and finally, measured from my feet to my head. She nodded approvingly.

"If you take good care of these, I can lengthen them next year." She smiled. "I think you'll be around 5'6 when you're fully grown."

Embarrassed, I didn't know what to say. So instead I called for my sister. "Naomi! We're ready to purchase my clothes."

"You have so many things here!" She exclaimed as Madame Malkins neatly folded my new clothes and placed them in a brown paper handlebag. "Do you make wedding dresses?"

"Of course." Madame Malkins beamed. "I make tuxedos, dresses, outfits for any occasion! And when might you be going off to Hogwarts?"

Naomi, delighted to be the center of attention for once, puffed out her chest and raised her chin a notch. "I'm going to be getting my letter when I'm eleven! That's a whole six years away, but at least I'll be able to be a first year when Amber is a seventh year! I bet she'll be Head Girl and be at the top of her class and win the House Cup each year!"

"Naomi," I chided gently. "No more pumpkin juice for you in the mornings."

"What a brilliant young girl!" Madame Malkins praised, amused. "That'll be seventy Galleons, dear."

I grimaced and handed over the payment. Mum and Dad were not wealthy and were very frugal. I'd been surprised I was able to attend Hogwarts at all, let alone afford the supplies.

"Have a nice day," I bade Madame Malkins, and had to drag a chattering Naomi away from out the door. She would have spouted facts all day to the poor woman all day if I hadn't.

"She was really nice!" Naomi gushed as we walked into the next store. We emerged with a cauldron, crystal phials, a telescope, and brass scales. Naomi stared at the amount of items in disbelief. "That's so much stuff, Amber!"

"Mum warned me to bring a suitcase." I muttered, feeling stupid for not heeding her advice. More than likely, she was still stationed by Virginia's side in the children's section of the bookstore. Naomi and I struggled to carry my school supplies. Sweat dripped down between my shoulder blades under the weight of the cauldron, filled with the other potion-making equipment. Naomi gripped the handle of the clothes bag with both hands.

"I wish Dad were here to help," she moaned.

"Well, he's not," I said through gritted teeth. "We just have to do it on our own. Besides, it's not so bad."

Naomi looked ready to kill our parents.

"Come on," I said quickly, wanting to deter her from her anger. "Let's go and get my wand."

Naomi's face lit up with excitement. My stomach tightened with butterflies as I realized that I was finally going to have my very own wand. My right arm tingled. A wand! My own wand!

I would finally be able to do magic. Real magic!
"You're so lucky, Amber!" Naomi moaned, following me into Ollivander's, a small store with a large window in front displaying several wands out front.

"How do you know where all these shops are?" Naomi asked as we crossed the threshold.

I hid a smile. "By reading the signs, Ny."

"Oh." She shrugged and placed the bag of clothes on the ground heavily. She waved at her face as I set down the cauldron beside it. "I'm so tired. I love this place, but I wish Mum was here to help."

Giving her a sympathetic look, I approached the counter. A wizened man with a single tuft of snowy hair walked out from the depths of the store. His eyes were large, surveying the room like an owl watching for a scurrying mouse. Still, he wasn't frightening. Rather, he reminded me of my grandfather, who had a hobby for collecting chess pieces.

"Ah," the man said, his voice raspy with age. "You must be a Harkstone."

Naomi and I exchanged a surprised look.

"Don't look so bewildered," he laughed. "I remember selling your parents their first wands. Twenty-five years it's been! The days are slow, but the years are fast. Yes, I remember. Walter had a hawthorne wand, unicorn tail hair core, eleven inches. Very capable." His eyes clouded for a moment. "And Lena. Maple, with another unicorn tail hair core. Eight and three quarters inches. A little fragile, but good for charms." He brightened. "So, young witch, what will yours be, I wonder? Likely another unicorn tail hair core. It tends to run in families."

Naomi and I exchanged another look.

"And who might you be?" The man said, fixing his large blue eyes on my sister.

Naomi lifted her chin, undaunted. "Naomi Harkstone. I'm six."

He laughed good-naturedly. "I am Ollivander. I was six years old a long time ago too." He disappeared into the back again.

"I think he's weird." Naomi whispered fiercely.

I winked. "I don't think he gets out much."

Ollivander returned a moment later, holding four long black boxes. So much black. It was as if we were in a funeral home rather than in Diagon Alley.

"Try one." Ollivander encouraged.

Excitement burst inside of me. It was time to get a wand! I couldn't believe it. After eleven years, I was finally going to have my own.

Hands shaking, I reached for the box nearest me and opened it up. "Cherry, unicorn tail hair core, eight inches." Ollivander whispered. "Give it a good wave, girl."

I obeyed.

The chandelier above our heads exploded. Shards of glass rained down, pelting our heads.

"Definitely not!" Ollivander croaked, his eyes huge. He studied me carefully. "Try another one."

He waved his own wand, and the glass instantly reassembled and returned to the chandelier. Naomi watched me with eyes the size of dinner plates, her face ashen.

Nervous, I reached for the second closest box. I wasn't sure what to expect with this one. More exploding glass? I shut my eyes and gave it a flick.

There was a sound like a blanket being shaken out, and the room turned black, as if the light had been sucked out by total darkness. Naomi shrieked.

"Not that one either!" Ollivander shouted. "Lumos!" His wand tip lighted, and he waved his wand a second time. The darkness fled, the light restored. I set the wand down quickly and stared at the remaining two boxes.

Ollivander noticed me looking and quickly withdrew them. "I don't think you're going to be having a wand with a unicorn tail hair core." He said quickly, disappearing around the back.

"Do you think we should leave?" Naomi asked fearfully. "That was really scary, Amber."

I took several deep breathes to try and ease my racing heart. "It's fine, Naomi. This is what happens when you buy a wand. It has to choose you. If it doesn't…" I gestured to the chandelier. "It rejects you."

She nodded silently. Ollivander returned with two new boxes. "Dragon heartstring." He proclaimed. "They are the most powerful wands, capable of flamboyant spells. They learn quick, as do you." He nudged a box forward when I didn't reach for one. "Go on, give it another try. We'll find one for you eventually."

The first dragon heartstring wand simply wouldn't cast any magic. Faint red sparks fizzled at the end, and quickly died. Ollivander took it back and handed me the next box. The second dragon heartstring wand made my arm ache and caused the front window to shatter. Mortified, I hastily put the fourth wand back. Ollivander restored the window, but not before seeing my expression.

"Sometimes it takes time to find the right one." He said encouragingly. "Trust me, I've seen worse."
"I doubt that." I said wearily, already resigning myself to the fact that I would probably not receive a wand. For a moment, I wondered if wizards could be capable of magic, but incapable of using wands to direct it. Would that make me a Squib? Or a pseudo-Squib?

Did that make me a witch at all?

As if he could read my thoughts, Ollivander reclaimed the boxes and fixed me with a stare. "I think I know the problem."

Despair pooled cold in my stomach. "Is it me?"

Ollivander shook his head. "Of course not. I know a capable wizard or witch when I see one." He smiled gently. "No, dear, your problem is that I have been giving you the wrong wands. We just need to find the correct one."

He came back with two final boxes. "This time, I want you to choose. I can't make the choice for you."

Our eyes connected, and I wondered what masked emotion I saw in his expression. Fear? Pity? Revulsion? Indifference? Swallowing against my racing heartbeat, pulsing hard in my throat, I reached for a box, and then stopped. I looked to the corner of the front room, oddly drawn. I walked away from the two boxes on the counter and approached a shelf crammed with thin boxes. For the first time, I noticed that only most of them were black. Some were brown. Fewer were red.

I selected a red box, carefully opening it. A dark brown wand, with a slight hint of auburn, rested in the white folds. My heart pounded faster, a war drum in my ears. I reached a trembling hand into the box, my fingers closing around the hard wood. My arm tingled, but not with pain. It felt like elated bubbles, popping on my skin lightly. It felt good. It felt right.

This time when I waved the wand, it didn't cause anything to explode or shatter. It didn't steal the light. Instead, the red box that had held it rose into the air, levitating, and floated towards me.

Heart pounding, I looked at Ollivander. He was grinning widely. "I should have known."

I felt a flicker of panic. "Known what?" Was there something wrong with this particular wand? Was I cursed? Was I not supposed to select my own wand? I kept my mouth shut, afraid to give breath to these fears.

Ollivander beckoned that I come back to the counter. I held the box and the wand in each hand, feeling as if I'd swallowed lightning.

"You are a very bright witch, Amber Harkstone. Humble, too, because you are blushing and won't meet my gaze."

Both statements were true.

"Additionally," Ollivander went on, "you chose your own wand. I should say, the wand chose you. And in this case, the wand that chose you is…" He carefully extracted the wand from my hand. It felt empty without the wand, as if I was missing a new extension of my myself.

He examined it. "Ah, yes. Ash. Hard. Phoenix feather core. Ten and ¾ inches. These kinds of wands are especially difficult to tame, and sometimes have a mind of their own. They also cling extremely tightly to their original owners, and should not be gifted or passed down. In your case, thankfully, you are the first owner." He smiled as he handed me back my wand. My wand! I felt a strong thrill of ecstasy. I was a real witch after all!

"Good luck with your new wand, Miss Harkstone. It will be very interesting to see what kinds of magic you are good in." He handed Naomi a red lollipop. "And you, little one; I'll see you again in five years when you receive your first wand."

Naomi's face lit up. It was as if she was promised Christmas was the very next day, instead of three months away.

"That will be fifteen Galleons," Ollivander went on, and I paid him with the last of my Galleons. Naomi and I turned and looked despairingly at the heavy merchandise that we needed to lug all the way back to Mum.

"Oh, and one more thing." Ollivander flicked his wand once. "Try picking them up now."

Naomi and I did as told.

"They're as light as feathers!" Naomi cried.

Ollivander nodded brightly. I smiled at him. He was an oddball, but a sincere, dear old man.

"Thank you for the wand, sir," I said, waving as I tucked the cauldron one-armed into the crook of my elbow. Naomi looked at the endless stacks of wand boxes excitedly. Someday, she'd be able to have her own, too. I felt excited for her, but nowhere near as excited as I felt about having my own. I squeezed my hand around it again. It fit perfectly in my palm. It was as if I had waited my entire life for this part of myself, and it was finally whole.

"That was so cool!" Naomi burst as we walked back to the book store. "I can't believe you got a wand, Amber! I mean, it was scary at first, when you did all that crazy stuff, but when you got the right one…!" She trailed off. She bent down to pick up a stick lying near the edge of a building and waved it, pretending to cast magic.

I laughed. "It wasn't me who made those things happen, you imp. It was the wands." And now my own wand will do what I want it to do. I felt power thrill up and down my right arm again. Would I ever get used to this new feeling of delight?

We reentered the book store and walked down the aisle to the back of the store. Mum and Virginia were nowhere to be found. The stack of books were gone, too.

The delight was slowly being replaced by a rising tide of frustration. "I hope she was the one who took my books." I would be furious if the clerk reshelved the already-purchased books. The clerk was still serving other customers. It looked like she'd be busy all day.

"Where's Mum?" Naomi asked as I stood still, biting my lip. Inside, I was fuming. It was just like Mum to leave, even when she hadn't told us where she'd be going.

"Come along, Naomi." I instructed. "We'll find her."

She fell into step beside me. I approached the clerk this time, slipping my way between a thick throng of customers, who gave me annoyed looks. I ignored them. The harried clerk was speaking to a redheaded witch, who had twin first-years anchored to her side, one near each hip. "Yes, I understand you don't offer discounts, but I'm trying to save some money here, and I've got twins. That's two sets of beginner books. Can't I at least get a small discount?"

The witch tried again and again to haggle, but the clerk continued to shake his head. Finally, after two minutes of pointless bargaining, I interjected, "Excuse me, but I seemed to have lost my mother."

The witch closed her mouth instantly, her eyes widening in shock. The clerk swung his head over, beady little eyes bright. "What?"

"My mother." I repeated. "Ours." I put an arm around Naomi's back. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her pouting her lower lip and summoning fake tears. It was a gift, being the youngest of three, to be able to summon crocodile tears on cue. "Please, sir, have you seen a witch with long braided brown hair and blue eyes? And a girl, with blonde hair, and blue eyes? They were in the children's section for awhile."

"Just a moment," the clerk said, distracted by the volume of customers he still had. "I'll be with you shortly."

Knowing it was just a ploy to stall, I shook my head. "Please, sir. My sister, she needs our mother. Desperately." How true that was. Taking the hint, Naomi burst into tears. Loud, heartbreaking sobs of a lost child. "I need my Mummy!" Naomi wailed. "Mummy! Where are you? MUMMY!"

I hid a smile. Naomi was smart. Too smart. She would almost certainly be sorted into Gryffindor someday for her nerve and willpower.

The redheaded witch looked outraged. "Can't you see this poor thing is lost? Help these girls find their mother!"

Other customers looked uncomfortable or determined to see help found for poor little Naomi and I. I gave the clerk my best sorrowful face. "Please, sir. She's only six."

He let out a gusty sigh, raking a hand through his thinning hair. "Alright, alright! I think I remember seeing a pair like that leave earlier. About twenty five minutes ago. They went towards Gringott's. But I didn't see them after that."

I nodded at him in thanks. "Come on, Ny," I said soothingly. "We'll find Mummy."

She sniffled, rubbing her eyes, hiccupping. "I want Mummy. Please. I need her!"

The little actress gave a stunning impression of Virginia.

"We'll go." I took her hand. "Come on now." I could feel the eyes of every customer on us as we departed the store. Once we were far away, Naomi wiped her tears for the last time and smiled brightly at me. "How did I do?"

"You could win a Jolie Award." I said seriously. "That was spot on, Naomi."

She grinned, basking under the praise. We walked in the direction of Gringotts, but Naomi stopped suddenly just before we reached the great white building. "Look! There they are!"

I followed her pointed hand, and felt a heave of rage. There they sat, at a red café, outside on the stone patio, eating sandwiches on a black wicker table. They seemed deep in conversation. My stack of books sat next to Mum's chair, knocked over and spilling onto the ground. With a shock of fury, I saw that at least two of the books were splayed on, their spines heaved up, cast aside like they were worthless.

"Mum!" I snapped, dragging Naomi with me. She let go of my hand, folding her little arms across her chest and fixing the two with her darkest glare. Mum looked up, seemingly annoyed. "What took you two so long?"

I struggled to keep my anger in check. Virginia watched us with fearful eyes. "We had to buy supplies, remember? That's the whole point of why we're here." I went over angrily and picked up my books. A fresh wave of rage washed over me when I noticed that several of the brand-new books had their pages pressed in odd ways from being kept on the ground. I looked away pointedly from Mum's face, afraid that if I looked, I'd lose control.

"Honestly, Amber, I don't see why you are so upset." Mum took another bite of her sandwich. My stomach growled. I was sure Naomi, the little weed growing in another spurt, was ravenous. "Your sister needs to eat. She has to keep her strength up."

Virginia gave me a sheepish look, ducking her head. She looked embarrassed. Mum looked haughty, almost as if she thought we had some nerve calling her out.

But I wasn't daunted. Flaring my nostrils, I tucked my books under the other arm. "You can't just leave a store without letting us know beforehand, Mum. Naomi and I didn't know where you'd gone."

She waved a hand indifferently. "You know that your sister's needs come first. She needs special care, Amber and Naomi." She was speaking to both of us now, lecturing us like we didn't already understand. "Your sister is weak and tiny and fragile and needs me. You two can handle yourselves."

Virginia looked more ashamed than ever. She hung her head, not even touching her half-eaten sandwich.

Mum was fanning the flames of my anger, but I didn't want to lose control. Not now. Not right before I left for school. Steeling myself, I gripped my new wand harder. "I used up all of the money. We don't have enough to buy lunch."

Mum rolled her eyes. "Come here and eat, Naomi. Have the rest of my sandwich." She gave me a cursory look. "Do you want to order something to eat?"

I shook my head. "I lost my appetite."

Mum spoke to Naomi and Virginia, while I reluctantly took a seat at the table, joining them. This time, I carefully arranged my supplies on the ground, so they stayed organized and neat. While Naomi told Mum about our adventures, she and Virginia listened. I stared at my new wand in my hand, waving it around casually, imagining the plate transforming into a tortoise. I wondered what kind of magic this wand was capable of. I wondered what kind of magic I was capable of.

"Amber!" Mum's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "You did get a wand! What kind is it?"

Something about the way she reacted grated on my nerves. You did get a wand? Did she think I wasn't going to get one?

Biting my tongue, I set my hand down over my wand. "Yes, I did. It's ash."

"She has a phoenix feather core!" Naomi blurted enthusiastically. "It's so cool, Mum! Ollivander said it was really rare and powerful!"

Mum was watching me with a guarded look. "They are. But everyone in our family has unicorn tail hairs."

At that remark, the last little spark of joy I had over receiving my wand flickered and died. Sour, I fixed Mum with a withering look. "Maybe I'm not really a part of this family."

Virginia gasped. Naomi looked horrified. Mum looked angry. "Now, Amber, really. That's preposterous. You're a part of this family. You're just… different."

"Not different." Naomi piped up. "You're special."

"Thanks." I muttered darkly, not comforted by either of them.

Mum smiled adoringly at Virginia. "When you get your wand next year, I'll be sure to be right there by your side. And I'm sure you'll get a nice unicorn tail hair. They have the least fluctuations and they're the least likely to turn to the Dark Arts."

Furious, I stood and scraped my chair back. My mother had single-handedly ruined my entire day. "I'm going for a walk." I announced coldly. "And then I'll go home."

Mum rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a drama queen, Amber. I didn't mean anything bad about your wand. It's only that, well…" She lowered her voice to barely over a whisper. "The Dark Lord has a phoenix feather wand core, too."

My final threadlike hold on restraint snapped. "So, you're insinuating that I'll turn bad and join You-Know-Who's forces, just because of my wand?" I was so angry I was shaking. Little red sparks spewed from my wand tip, hot like cinders.

"Amber!" Mum chided. "Keep your voice down!"

People were looking over, but I was so mad that I didn't care. "Pardon me while I go and get a Dark Mark, because then, maybe, I can do what you expect me to do!" I snatched up my supplies and stomped away, feeling the stares of many eyes on my back as I left my family behind.

I was seeing red. My mother is impossible! She treated everyone besides my angelic sister like they were jokes. On one of the most important days of my life, she was hardly there and then mocked me for my magical skill!

Angry tears welled up. No wonder Dad hadn't wanted to come. Of course he'd known today would be a disaster. Of course he'd known Mum would do this. But how could he not want to be apart of this? How could Dad, strong, proud dad, not want to help sort out the mess that was becoming our family?

I fixed my eyes on the lamppost in the middle of Diagon Alley. I walked past the pet shop, furious that I wasn't able to spend any more money to buy a pet. The letter said I could have one. A toad, cat, or a bat. But what I really wanted was an owl, something with wings, someone who was free to take to the skies whenever she wanted.

I closed my eyes. I knew Mum wouldn't give me any more money, because Virginia needed it. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

I knew I wasn't supposed to do magic outside of school, but dang it, I was eleven years old. I had a wand! I could do magic now, even outside of school.

I grabbed the lamppost and thought of the farm. The Portkey sucked me inside, leaving nothing behind.

I was sure Mum wouldn't miss me, even if I was under the Imperius Curse and ended up serving You-Know-Who. She probably wouldn't even miss me if I died. And I had a depressing feeling that I was right. At least, tomorrow, I started my first day at Hogwarts.