Fridays were a blessing as I had a good mix of both engaging and sleep-throughable classes on that day: History of Magic in the morning, which I slept through, and woke to find that Audrey had scribbled "you snore" on my parchment before leaving, Ancient Runes in the afternoon with my favorite Professor Maudrick, and in the evenings, Wandlore with Ollivander.

"This will be a lot easier once you've learned Apparation. Anyhow, make sure to speak clearly," McGonagall said, holding out a jar of Floo Powder. I grasped a handful and stayed back as she pointed at the fireplace and said, "Incendio."

A spurt of flames shot in the fireplace and a merry fire caught immediately. I threw in the powder, stepped in and stated firmly, "Leaky Cauldron!"

I tripped slightly when the spinning stopped and fell flat on my face onto a cold stone floor. As I ungracefully gathered myself up, the sounds of the pub reached my ears. General murmuring, the clinking of plates and cups, and the soft rustle of newspapers.

No one gave me a second glance as I hurried out to the back alleyway where the entrance to Diagon Alley was stationed.

From there, I quickly made my way to Ollivander's and pushed open the door.

The bell tinkled.

Ollivander emerged from the back room. Upon seeing me he said softly, "Ah. Ms. Kingsley. Welcome."

"Mr. Ollivander," I greeted him. Then, for some inexplicable reason, I smiled. I felt strangely at ease here. There was a feeling of magic in the air here that invited curiosity and wonder, and such an atmosphere agreed with me.

"Bring that stool over to the counter and let us sit," Ollivander said. I dragged a dusty old stool over to the counter and sat across from him.

"What," Ollivander asked me, "did you think of wands when you yourself first step foot in this store?"

I remembered back all those years ago, when Sirius' mother had hit her son and dragged him away. I also remembered being quite nervous as the number of wands that rejected me mounted up, afraid that no wand would choose me.

"I thought having a wand is a great privilege," I answered honestly.

Ollivander seemed thoughtful of my answer for a long while before he spoke again, in a quiet voice. "Wandlore is an incredibly complex branch of magic. It is the saying of those in this trade that the more knowledgeable you become, the more questions replace answers. But this much is always clear: the wand chooses the wizard. Or witch, of course."

"But sir, what exactly does that mean?" I asked him. "How can a wand choose anything?"

"Ms. Kingsley," Ollivander said in a sharper voice, "we always say things happen to us. We say 'fate' or 'coincidence' occurs. Now, I do give weight to such ideas, but what we must never overlook is that even in the possibility of chance arises according to the kind of person you are. For example, your friends. Yes, it is chance that they happen to be your age. However, there are plenty of students your year, why them? Because you are a certain person and also because your friends are certain people."

"It is the same with wands. Wands all possess distinguished qualities and when they find not matching, but engaging qualities in a wizard or witch, the wand desires a relationship with them and magic is sparked in its truest form."

"But what kind-of 'distinguished qualities' are we talking about?" I asked. "Are you talking about the length of the wand or-"

"No, your thought is far too shallow. The length of the wand may perhaps, be determined by a particular customer's physical stature, but what you must understand is that the length of the wand itself is ultimately not a quality, but a representative of deeper, incorporeal qualities. Qualities like the wandholder's affinity for dramatic flair or the wand's flexibility in changing allegiance."

"You must be simultaneously perceptive and open-minded to be a wandmaker. You must approach each customer equally while knowing everything about them. That is why you must study subjects such as Legilimency and Dark Arts. You would not be able to judge your customer properly if you are say, averse to the use of Dark Arts. Nor would you have been able to identify the tremendous power of a spectacular wand such as the Elder Wand's, if it ever came into your hands. For part of its great power lies within its destructive capability."

"I'm sorry. The Elder Wand? What is that?" I asked.

"The Elder Wand is the most powerful wand ever to be created," Ollivander explained. "It has long been the wand that we wandmakers have sought to find and imitate."

"If it's so powerful, why haven't I heard of it? Are you sure it exists?"

"Oh yes," Ollivander replied. "Yes, it is perfectly possible to trace the wands course through history. Perhaps you have heard of the Elder Wand under different names?"

"In 1777, the wizard Egbert the Egregious slaughtered Emeric the Evil in a ferocious duel. Blood was shed as the two fought over an alleged Wand of Destiny," Professor Binns read without the slightest change in tone.

"Yes, I have. In History of Magic. I think he said, 'The Wand of Destiny'."

"Indeed, that-" Ollivander broke off when the bell tinkled as the door opened.

I heard the man before I saw him. He was grumbling loudly, "Disappearing so suddenly like that, Tom! What am I supposed to do without an assistant, eh?"

Then he came into view and I could see that he was a short, somewhat filthy, and beady-eyed man.

"Mr. Borgin," Ollivander said in a neutral voice, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Nuthin' much. Just wondering if I could put this up on your bulletin board, since I'm in need of a new assistant", the man named Mr. Borgin held up a flimsy piece of parchment that had scrawled onto it: LOOKING FOR PART-TIME ASSISTANT AT BORGIN & BURKE'S, KNOCKTURN ALLEY. MUST BE OF AGE.

"Your assistant left?" Ollivander inquired, raising an eyebrow. "That boy from Hogwarts?"

"Well, he graduated a while ago, Tom Riddle did. But yeah, he left. Left just a short note too, mind you, no explanation, no nothing. Can I hang this sign?" Mr. Borgin asked again.

"Certainly," Ollivander replied, but his face was no longer as composed, but troubled.

When Mr. Borgin left, I addressed him, "Is something wrong, Mr. Ollivander?"

Ollivander's silver eyes fell on me and they were unreadable.

"No," he finally answered at length. "Now, to conclude your lesson…"

The lesson ended with Ollivander handing me a long list of wood types and their characteristics to memorize in an enchanted envelope under protective charms.

I walked back to the Leaky Cauldron and stepped inside to see a young boy disappearing into the fireplace, obviously traveling somewhere with Floo Power.

Tom had grabbed his coat and upon seeing me, said frantically, "Family of fifteen just used the last of my Floo Powder. But I'll get some more, just a moment! Here, help yourself to some butterbeer, free of charge! Be right back!"

He slammed down a mug, splashing my cloak a bit with some sweet-smelling liquid that was clearly not butterbeer. I took a careful sip and a sweet, cherry-like flavor spread over my tongue, but when the liquid was swallowed, I immediately felt a tingling sensation that could only be described as burning in my chest.

It was pretty good, but I had a feeling that this was some alcoholic beverage and didn't drink anymore, not waiting either to travel through Floo Power or face McGonagall totally piss-drunk.

Instead, I simply sat and examined the bar and all the different drinks advertised on the menu hanging over the counter. Then, a man's gruff voice reached my ear, "All the same, these Muggle-borns aren't doing no favors for themselves, acting up like that. They should just go back from where they came from and stay there."

"Now, now, be careful, Albert. If people overhear you, they might start thinking you're one of them," a nervous, fidgety voice replied.

I looked over my shoulder to see two men sitting at a table over mugs of beer. One of them was black-haired, immense, muscular, and very clean-cut. But he had been the first one to speak. The second man looked like his voice- dirty in dress, twitchy, with long, mousy, and unkempt hair.

"Them? What're you talking about?" the man named Albert asked.

"I'm talkin' about the man they call Voldemort. He's been getting himself a whole lot of followers."

"Oh, you mean Death Eaters," the man laughed. "They're just a bunch of kids."

"Yeah, but I hear they've been killing Muggle-borns and the like. The Prophet's trying to keep it hush-hush, but rumors still abound…"

"Nah, I don't think killing's right, no matter what. But those Muggle-borns are sorta asking for it, aren't they? Getting wands and taking away our jobs like they're entitled to 'em?"

"Here you are!" Tom raced back in, carrying a pot overflowing with Floo Powder.

My blood boiled in anger, but at the same time, shame spread through my veins like the blood, the very same 'dirty' blood the men were talking about.

"Thanks, Tom," I said before throwing the power into the ash and stepping inside the fireplace.


"Ms. Kingsley," McGonagall greeted me, looking up from his desk, "I'm glad to see you didn't get lost. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet, will you?"

"Right," I said, carefully stepping out.

"It's nearly past curfew, so do be on your way," she said sternly.

"Yes, Professor," I agreed and left her office.

The sun was beginning to set and beautiful, but quite harsh orange rays streaked through the tall windows and flooded the corridors. When I turned a corner, I was instantly blinded by the sunlight. Squinting, I began to raise my arm to block out the light when suddenly someone seized my arm and dragged me sideways.

"Ow, what? Jam-?"

He slapped his hand over my mouth as he dragged me behind the wall that made up the corner to the corridor he'd just dragged me out of.

"Shh," James whispered in my ear, "you're gonna ruin it if you don't shut up."

"Ruin what?" I whispered back.

"Mmm," James said suddenly, looking down at me. "You smell like firewhiskey. Have you been drinking?"

"No-" I started to reply, but was cut off by Peter who whispered excitedly, "Look, look, he's coming!"

We all peered just down the corridor. Sirius, being the tallest, stood on tip-toe to look. Then James' head poked out just below Sirius', then, Remus', then mine, and at the very bottom, almost with his knees to the ground, a crouching Peter. In a vertical line piled up against the corner, we looked down the hallway.

Then, Snape came into view, his robes billowing behind him and papers fluttering as he ran to make curfew.

"James," I hissed between gritted teeth, "Snape again?"

"Sh, watch," James retorted, gleeful anticipation evident in his voice.

Suddenly, a shrill voice suddenly screamed out, "Got youuuu!"

Snape shouted in fright and tripped over his robes. He went sprawling as a female ghoul, whom I immediately recognized as Moaning Myrtle, the ghoul who usually haunted the girl's bathroom on the second floor, pounced at him from out of nowhere.

Suddenly, Filch appeared. "You, it's past curfew! You're in trouble, you are!"

Swearing, Snape picked up his things and bag. Filch grabbed Snape's arm and began to lead him-

Sirius swore and we all began to sprint headlong down our hallway.

"Oh no, he'll catch us, he'll catch us, he'll-"

"Peter, shut up!" James said frantically. "He'll hear us!"

"How about we all keep our voices down?" Lupin suggested quietly, though he was panting slightly as we sprinted down the corridor. They were so quick, I was barely keeping up with them.

"No! Remember this leads to a dead end?" Sirius said in a frustrated voice as we turned the corridor.

Suddenly, Mrs. Norris appeared and mewed loudly.

"Get away, you stupid cat," James hissed back.

"Aargh, I wish I were Padfoot so I could just eat her," Sirius growled. "Though she'd probably give me indigestion."

"Sirius!" Lupin said, shocked. He glanced at me with frightened eyes, probably praying I hadn't noticed Sirius' slip of tongue.

Instead, breathing heavily, I asked, "Wait, this is the third floor, isn't it?"

"Um, yeah, we've been on the third floor. Bit slow there, Ray," James commented.

"We're done for," Peter moaned. "We'll have to face Filch for the fourth time in two weeks!"

"What about the Cl-?"

"It's not big enough for all of us!"

"C'mon!" I whisper-yelled and began to backtrack.

"No! Where are you going?" James asked me. He make a grab for me but missed.

"You'll run right into Filch!" Peter warned me.

"Come on," I urged furiously.

The boys looked at each other.

"She's mad," Sirius said.

Remus shrugged. "We've got nowhere else to go." He began to tag after me. James and Peter followed, though hesitantly. With a groan, Sirius followed unwillingly.

"Dissendium! Quick, get in, get in!" I said urgently.

We all managed to cram in and the witch's hump shut just as Filch's footsteps and raspy breathing could be heard turning the corner.

We all held our breaths.

Finally, about a minute later, a cat purred.

"We missed them this time, sweet, but it's all right. We've already got one tonight," Filch crooned to his cat, and his footsteps faded away.

We all let out the breaths we'd been holding. I slumped against the wall while the four boys all looked quite pleased with themselves.

"Right then, that was successful. I'm hoping Snape'll get about a hundred detentions," Sirius said, grinning.

"Did you see how he tripped over his robes?" James said gleefully. "Good ol' Myrtle. We owe her one."

"What'd you mean? You mean you owe me one", Sirius replied. "It's because I agreed to kiss her that she agreed to do it. Gah, that was bloody disgusting. Felt like kissing ice cubes."

I stared at him in a mixture of surprise and disturbed disgust.

"Yup, Padfoot kissed a ghost. How many sexy blokes can say that?", James smirked, and reached over to grab Sirius' face and squish his cheeks, "Our cute little Paddyfoot-"

"Quick thinking. That was brilliant," Remus turned to me, obviously with the intent of cutting off James.

"Yeah," Peter piped us, "you saved us from seeing Filch four times in two weeks."

"Pete, how many times are you going to say that line?" James rolled his eyes. "Why are you scared of Filch? He's just a Squib, remember?"

"Filch is a Squib?" I said. "But aren't Squibs..?"

"Yeah, he can't do any magic," James nodded. "Bit sad, really."

"Wait, four times?" I said suddenly. "What'd you do the other three times?"

Remus cleared his throat and said in a slightly guilty voice, "Um, we may or may not have thrown enchanted water balloons on Filch from the staircase past curfew. It was done with the purest intentions, however. We simply thought he looked a bit… parched. Needed a pick-me-up to cheer up his wits, so to speak."

"Also, we may or may not have used an illegal hex on that prat Bertram Aubrey and his head may or may not have grown twice its size…" James smirked and victoriously tossed his hair back like a girl, "I mean, it wasn't meant to be that perfect of a spell, we originally aimed for only a little enlargement, but what can we say? We're just too good."

"And we may or may not have enchanted the suits of armor Filch was supposed to be cleaning to repeatedly slap him in the face…" Peter grinned.

"What are you talking about, Wormtail? That was just me, Prongs, and Moony. You deserted us 'cause you thought you heard Filch coming, remember?", Sirius said.

"O-oh, right," Peter said, visibly deflating.

"Raylynx, how did you know this was here? This hideout," Remus asked me curiously.

"Oh, um…" Your map, which you probably don't know I had. "I found it last year," I said evasively as Sirius looked out into the hallway.

"Think the coast is clear," Sirius said. "Shall we go back now?"

"We're not all going to fit," James said, frowning. "The four of us barely fit as is."

Fit? What is he talking about?

From his pocket, James pulled out a large quilt of shimmery silver fabric. He draped it over his shoulders. My mouth dropped open.

Everything except his head was completely invisible.

"Cool, right?" James grinned at me. "It's the best Invisibility Cloak there is. It's been passed down my family for centuries and it hasn't worn in the least. Spells don't work on it either. McGonagall's tried, but she hasn't caught us yet."

"Come on, we'll go in the front with the cloak to check if the coast is clear. Peter and Remus can follow," Sirius said.

Sirius hasn't spoken to me once since we came to Hogwarts. And now he won't even mention my name?

Our eyes met for a moment and I knew he could see the hurt on my face. He looked away, scowling, grabbed James' arm, and pulled him out.

Peter looked out and when they beckoned, we knew it was safe to go forward. We made it to the Gryffindor common room without any trouble.

"Starlight," Sirius said and we entered.

We passed through the common room together and stopped at our separate staircases.

"Well," James said a little awkwardly, "Night, then."

"Night," I replied equally as awkwardly, and we separated into our respective dorms.


As it was a Friday night, all the girls were up, and they were playing an exciting game of Exploding Snap.

"You just get in?" Marlene asked me as I put down my bookbag.

"Yeah," I said, dropping onto my bed. Marlene, your boyfriend is a twat.

I let out a sigh of relief as I snuggled into my blankets.

Dorcas curled up next to me and said, "Best feeling in the world, isn't it? Laying down on your bed after a week of classes."

"Definitely," I murmured, just before my eyes closed.