-8-

"As long as I knew her…she had golden hair. Like kind of caramel-gold. And very thin…"

"Then she dyed it. It's a pity. She had stunning black hair. Rich bluish-black, like a Caucasian princess. Then again Petunia didn't really have a high opinion of herself."

We were sitting upon black leather sofas in the old, dilapidated porch. He bent over his rusty mug, sipping some of the blackest coffee I've ever had. "If you ask me, what happened to her in the following years was as much my fault as her parents."

"Sorry?" I'm losing track…

He sighs. "I was the catalyst that day that triggered off those feelings of hers. But your mother held herself responsible. She always did."

She always did. Indeed.

"I'm going to call her Mimi, what do you think?"

"Nice."

Petunia and I sat on a bench outside Eeylops', while our parents paid the money to the old shopkeeper. In my arms reposed the beautiful, newly-named Mimi, purring contently. We were watching the passers-by, brisk, quiet and excitable. Petunia fingered the large basket with the azure silk-lining (for Mimi). "What's left on the list?"

I consulted the list. "The cauldrons, the robes and the wand."

"Mmmm…."

"Girls?"

We looked up. It was Maman and Father. Father seemed utterly bewildered by the proceedings. Poor him. "So are we going to this Pottery-no…."

"Potage's?" I enquired helpfully.

"Yes, yes Potage's," he motioned us forward. "Keep up," he urged Maman. "You don't want to be left behind in this place…."

They hurried on, but I lingered behind, grinning. It just struck me now that while to Father and Maman it was only 'this place'; to me it was a world where I finally felt accepted. Not a freak, just a normal eleven- year old. I caught my reflection in the glass of Potage's as I neared the dark brown building. Slim, somewhat average height for a girl of my age. Crimson hair. Green eyes. I shook back a stray curl and hurried along behind them.

"Now there's no mistaking which's the witch, eh?"

A thin raspy voice that reminded me of bamboo reeds greeted us at the door of the dingy red building that was Ollivander's.

Gradually, my eyes made out an extremely thin, extremely old-was old the word?….no, it was more like ancient-an ancient old man hunched at the back of an enormous pile of velveteen royal-blue boxes.

I took him in carefully. He could have been anywhere from sixty to two-hundred. Decrepit. Like a fossil. Behind the clouds of snowy white hair and beard, I detected two sharp hazel eyes.

"Witchy little one….come here," he beckoned to me. Ollivander seemed to realize which sister had the magic.

And which didn't.

"How did he…..know?" Maman whispered urgently. I nodded my head while shrugging. No idea.

"We've come to get a wand for the younger one only. Lily, go forward…choose one. But keep in mind the price, please." Father dictated in an authoritative manner.

The old man, Ollivander roared with laughter. "Choose? What will she choose?"

We stared, utterly befuddled. It occurred to me then, that perhaps a man with a name like OLLIVANDER couldn't be totally-well, sane.

He sat up now, a twinkle in those old eyes. "It's the wand that chooses the wizard or witch, not the other way around, dear people."

We stood like morons, staring at him, until he burst into laughter and said, "Here, little redhead. This way." He stretched out his hand. I stood for a while, wondering whether he wanted me to take it. Then Maman coughed discreetly and I complied.

The two of us, Ollivander and Evans Jr., set off towards the rooms at the back of the store. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Petunia staring unseeingly at the street.

We were in a storeroom. I knew this because of the poor lighting and the dusty mothballs-and-old-fur-smell that one only gets in a storeroom. There were shelves and shelves of cardboard boxes, almost falling apart with age and neglect.

"Here we go."

I looked up. Ollivander was atop a rolling ladder, the kind not uncommon in stores back at our Spinners' End. He was really taller than I had guessed from his slouch. While walking, he had a dignified military carriage.

"So, your sister is utterly normal..I guess? I mean, there isn't really any magic in her, is there?"

I did not reply. I watched his slender, almost womanly fingers tinker with the boxes. Troubled by his question.

Ollivander climbed down, and shuffled away. After a while I saw him return. "Okay, let's get your wand now."

Finally.

We moved to the back room. This one had a weird aura-like feeling about it. I knew it as soon as I stepped within. My veins seemed to understand it. The walls were made of a clear, sheer purple crystal. There was a huge chandelier(the second time in the day that I was staring at a shower of droplets), and the shelves were made of an elegant, dark-colored wood. Not only that, even the boxes on the shelves were lined with the same royal blue color I'd seen earlier. This is it, I thought excitedly.

"Now there, redhead."

He suddenly gave me a gentle push into the room. I was standing directly underneath the shower.

For a while, nothing happened.

Then I heard it.

A rumbling. Somewhere close.

I looked around fearfully. And now what?

Suddenly, I saw that one of the shelves was shaking. A real serious shake, like a quake. The boxes began tumbling out one by one. Looking at the old man, I found him as calm and composed as if I had just swatted at a bug, and not seen his goods spill out.

A box came flying at me. "Take it, miss!" he screamed. "It's your wand!"

I grabbed at it expertly. The shaking stopped as weirdly as it had started.

Together, we peeled off the lining and slid the box open. There was a long, sleek black wand lying amidst wads of paper. Its hilt was made of a mosaic of multicolored stones. It was shimmery and beautiful.

"10 and ¾, willow, hmm…surprisingly swishy." He handed it to me. "Very good for charms."

Holding the wand to my face, I saw a thousand little Lily-s staring back at me. With each of the gold, amber, green, blue or magenta pieces- I saw my hair and eyes change their color. I felt the wood. Silky soft. He had probably polished the willow hard.

Ollivander smiled at me. "And finally, you're a witch. Officially. How does it feel?"

"Like it was the best day ever!" I grinned up at him.

"She is going to reach the stars, you mark my words."

We were back in the front room. Petunia and Maman were inspecting the wand. Father was talking to Ollivander and it was the latter that made this comment. I stood in between, mopping my sweat.

"What makes you say so?"

"Well-" the old man stared at me. "Her wand has a phoenix feather core."

"Has a what?"

"Core made from the feather of a phoenix. It is an extremely rare core, which means she has great potential within her. I think you should be proud of her."

Maman smiled. "We're plenty proud of our baby."

"I'm no baby."

The elders smiled indulgently at this, but my sister's smile came out rather forced. Petunia had again turned grouchy.

"Let's go…I'm tired." She pulled Maman towards the door.

I turned around to get a last glimpse of the old man before the door jangled shut. And once again we were out on Diagon.

As we walked towards the exit of the lane, I saw someone in the crowd. Very familiar. Waves of dark hair. And a familiar gait.

"SEVERUS!" I screamed, running towards him. "Sev!"

Maman held me back. "Do stop screaming, Lily!" she scolded, her eyes darting around nervously. "Who knows what the people here are like?"

"Severus…"I pleaded. "He was there… right ahead of us. In there!" I pointed towards a dark lane. It proclaimed "Knockturn Alley" in big gilded letters.

"MAMAN! Please!" Petunia stamped her foot. Father stared at both of us. Finally he said "Alright. Lily, you'll see him later, is that clear? There shall be no screaming on the way. I repeat-NONE AT ALL." His eyes bore into Petunia's, who shrank back in fear.

We walked back in silence. All along the drive home, I kept thinking of him. It was him, this much I knew perfectly. Hadn't his mother said so herself…that he was unable to come? Well, actually she hadn't; her sentence had ended halfway. But what could he have in that seedy-looking lane?

My thoughts interlaced together to create a mindless mish-mash of colors and sounds until finally I felt my eyes closing in exhaustion.

"I didn't know she had a phoenix feather too."

He nodded "She did indeed. It was one of my finer wands."

"She was really concerned about her best friend and her sister."

"Indeed. She was a mature little thing and knew who needed exactly what kind of support. Motherly."

I fingered the wand in silence. The little pieces had chipped off and broken in several places. I placed one eye close to the mosaic and tried to imagine my mother's reflection staring back at me. But she didn't.

There was only broken glass and a shattered reflection.

And only one person was responsible for it.

Me.