Chapter 3

A/N: Well I am back after a super long hiatus! I've got it in my mind to write a book, and I figured how can I dream of ever completing one if I can't complete a fan-fiction first? So here I am. I have gotten many reviews over the years sent into my mailbox and I thank you all for taking the time to read this, even if you no longer come to this site. For future readers, I hope you enjoy!

Julie awoke the next morning to the sunlight filtering through her half closed blinds. It was still early, she could hear the rustling of someone downstairs in the kitchen, probably her mother making preparations for the day. She felt a stinging on her arms, and she looked down to see they were covered in scratches from wayward nettles and branches as a result of last night's escapade. She found her wristband on the floor next to her bed, and slipped it back on her scar which was still pulsing, somewhat painfully, with light. Her clothes from the previous evening were torn, ripped, and covered in mud. She grabbed her wand from the bedside table, and remembered nostalgically the day she had received it.

"My daughter is British, and she is going to have a British wand! I'm not going to have some mamsy-pamsy French wand maker give my daughter a wand." Her father vented, on the way to Diagon Alley. Her mother was showing exasperation at the fact that they had travelled all this way with her baby sister and younger brother on a four hour train ride "for a silly piece of wood, Andrew". I was excited, I hadn't been back in England for some time, and the whole trip had seemed like quite an adventure. They entered Diagon Alley, and I was in wonder at all the shops lining the small road. I had never been to a place like this, and my father had gotten me my school books through the ministry in France, so I hadn't even gotten to explore the roundabout Circe Circle, where many of my classmates at Beauxbaton would be purchasing their books. Witches and wizards lined the streets, some in brightly colored robes, others in what seemed to be work robes, and even some students in Hogwarts school robes. I thought I may have glimpsed a giant in a patchwork over coat, tugging along an owl cage, but my father pulled me into Ollivander's before I could investigate farther.

There was only one other family in the shop, a mother and father with platinum blonde hair, with a young boy her age with blonde hair as well. They seemed to be waiting for something, and in the back there was a great deal of shuffling, and an old man came out with the most startling blue eyes. He handed a wand to the young boy, "Oak, 8 ¼ inches, Dragon heart-string, pliable, good for transfiguration." The boy waved the wand around to no avail, as Ollivander looked back at us and said "Ah, Andrew Adams, Birch, 11 ½ inches, unicorn hair, good for defense." My father beamed, and put his hand out for Ollivander to shake.

"How do you do, Ollivander? It's been awhile! We've come to get a wand for my daughter." Ollivander shook my father's hand looking a little distracted by the boy's wand, and then quickly re-boxed it, stuffing the dragon heartstring out of sight.

"I never forget a wand, Mr. Adams. Let me finish here with the young Malfoy here, and then we will get to your daughter."

"Andrew Adams? The French Ambassador for the Ministry?" asked a drawling voice, that apparently belonged to the boy's father.

"Indeed!" said my father, putting out his hand once more "You must be Lucius Malfoy, it's nice to meet you." Lucius shook my father's hand, but let go quickly.

"This is my wife Narcissa, and our boy Draco. He will be attending Hogwarts this fall." The boy looked my way for the first time, and his blue-gray eyes looked nervous, but he composed himself and asked me, "Are you going to Hogwarts too?"

"Actually," I replied "We live in France, I'm going to Beauxbatons this fall."

"I just couldn't bear for her to have one of those French wands, you know." My dad said a little bashfully. "Ollivander is the best there is anyhow and it is well worth the trip." Lucius Malfoy seemed to warm up toward my father at this comment, and my father introduced us all, saving me for last. "And this is Julie, my oldest." I could feel their gaze on me, and I knew they must be looking at my mother and father's dark hair and brown eyes, with my brother and sister similarly colored, and then at myself with my dark red hair, not unlike the color the leaves turn on our maple tree in the fall, and bright blue eyes, but my father acted as if nothing was out of place.

"Nice to meet you." I said, as confidently as I could.

"Honestly," my father continued, "I'm hoping that she will be able to attend Hogwarts in a couple of years, but as of right now, there is just too much work for me in France." They chatted a little while longer, before Ollivander came out with a new wand for Draco.

"Hawthorne, 10 inches, unicorn hair, reasonably springy." Draco waved the wand about, and green sparks came out the end. His parents looked on excitedly, and soon they were out of the store, with half hearted good-byes. My mother put a sour face on, giving a disapproving look to my father.

"Those Malfoy's! Such blood purists, well, we're pureblood too and you don't see us going around judging people like cattle!" She shifted my sister on her hip, and looked at me. "You stay away from that Malfoy boy, nothing but trouble is going to come from that family." My father gave my mother a look that made her go silent, and pulled me up toward the desk where Mr. Ollivander was sitting. He looked me over once, with the most quizzical expression on his face.

"She is your daughter?" he asked my father, and my father's body tightened like a string.

"Of course she is sir! What a question to ask!" He said, raising his voice a notch or two. In reality, my parents had told me the story some months before. One night shortly after my father had received his position as ambassador, they had found me on their door step, with nothing to show for it but my silver scar, a piece of paper with my name scrawled on it, and an exquisitely made blanket. I still had the blanket; I was taking it to Beauxbatons with me. Despite the fact that I slept with it every night, and had taken it on god knows how many adventures in my childhood, it never got dirty, or frayed. Now I clung onto it because it was the only tangible remnant I had of my past. I loved my parents dearly, but ever since they sat me down and told me this, I often wondered where my real parents were, what they were doing, and why they had given me up. I had only been an infant, had they disliked me that much at birth?

"Yes, yes, I apologize. She just looks very familiar…" he trailed off as he headed into the back full of boxes. He came back some minutes later with a thin box covered in dust.

"Ash, 9 inches, phoenix feather, bendy." I took the wand and waved it around, feeling rather foolish, as nothing happened.

"No, no, of course not." He grabbed another box, and handed it to me.

"Yew, 10 ¾ inches, dragon-heartstring, rigid." I took it and still nothing happened and, after that, I went through so many wands I honestly lost count. It seemed Ollivander was getting a little bit flustered. My parents looked worried. The cores and properties of the wands were getting more and more obscure.

"Sassafras, 13 ¼ inches, banshee hair, dominating." Nothing.

"Black walnut, 11 inches, griffin feather, good for transfiguration." Nothing.

"Wisteria, 7 inches, Demiguise hair, good for defense." Nothing. I was starting to wonder if I even had enough magic to do anything at all with a wand.

"Chestnut, 11 ½ inches, Erumpet horn, unpredictable."

Finally he brought out the dustiest box of all. "Mr. Adams, I've never had quite the case your daughter has. This wand I have here is very experimental. I have never made one quite like it, and I am not sure of its attributes or properties yet."

"What is it?" asked my mother

"Willow,12 ¼ inches, Pegasus feather."

"Pegasus feather?" asked my father incredulously

"They are very hard to come by; there are only one or two colonies in Europe. This is the first wand I have made with one. The feather was gifted to me by Albus Dumbledore, who visited their village a score of years ago. If this is not the wand for your daughter, I am afraid you may have to find another wand maker." I looked at the box nervously, and slid off the cover. It was the prettiest thing I had ever seen, it was a pearly white, and I knew it was mine. I picked it up and silver sparks came out of the wand almost instantly. My dad smiled, and Ollivander looked relieved, but curious.

"Now I'm afraid it's going to be a bit extra Mr. Adams…"

We walked out of the wand shop with my father's wallet a considerably bit lighter, and with a huge smile on my face.

Truly, the wand had served Julie very well. She never saw any difference between her wand and anyone else's; except for a pearly glean it occasionally mustered in the dark. She pointed it at her torn robes and whispered "Reparo", and then "Scourgify", hoping her whispers wouldn't wake her siblings in the next room, the walls in this new house were paper thin. She glanced at the magnificent cloak, and whispered "Scourgify" again, to clean it of what seemed to be years of accumulated dust. It looked even more beautiful cleaned, in the sunlight. She picked it up and let the fabric run through her hands. It was velvety soft, although she could not tell what it was made out of. She stopped on the initials LE. The letters were embroidered with gold thread, and seemed to be made out of vines intertwining themselves around one another. She wondered if it had been prudent to take such a thing from the cabin last night, because surely someone would miss such a thing, but she didn't think she could bear to part ways with it. She remembered the letter, and grabbed her robes from the previous evening, fishing through the pockets. She went to her desk and held it in her hands, looking at the scrawling of Remus Lupin on the front once more. She opened it.

Remus,

I think he who we put our trust has ratted us out. I am going to look into the matter shortly, and I will let you know what I find. The baby is doing well, but I think she misses those we lost and her brother. Reply by owl with the code word, and we will meet.

Padfoot

P.S.

Snufflepod

Julie re-read the note several times, but could make little sense of it. Snufflepod? What did that mean? What kind of name was Padfoot? A surname maybe? She put the cloak and letter into her school trunk, to be pondered over later.

The next couple of days passed in regular monotony, until it was the night before she was supposed to be off to Hogwarts, and Julie realized she had done little in the way of packing. She scrambled around all evening, gathering socks, robes, spell books and other items, placing them all on top of the letter and cloak she had placed at the bottom of her trunk. By late evening she had gotten almost everything packed but her extra pair of robes, which her mother was washing. Settling onto her bed, Julie took a deep breath, trying not to think about the stresses a new school would bring. At Beauxbatons she had, had a couple of good friends who promised to write during the school year, but that was hardly a comfort, since they were hundreds of miles away. She was nervous about being older than the usual eleven, and having a different education, both which would make her stand out like a sore thumb. There was a knock on her door, and her mother entered her now mostly clean room. She placed the robes on the top of her things in her trunk, and closed the lid, and sat down next to Julie.

"I'm going to miss you love," She said, putting her arms around Julie

"I'll miss you too mum, but it's not all that different from Beauxbatons!"

"That doesn't mean I enjoy saying goodbye! Are you all packed?" she questioned, letting go. Julie nodded dutifully, and her mother gave her a kiss on the head, wishing her goodnight. Julie changed into her sleeping clothes, and lay back on her bed, looking at the ceiling. A feeling of excitement and anxiety was washing over her.

Tomorrow she would be at Hogwarts.