From the moment she woke up, Lyra felt a change in the world. It was a completely new feeling, waking up and not dreading the coming day, and she knew she would have to get used to it.
She spent most of her morning lying in the roomy double bed, revelling in her first full night's sleep in a very long time. Her bed at Coles had a deep dip in the mattress and she had gotten very used to twisting in the middle of the night and feeling springs pierce her back, waking her up. No one bothered to act on her many complaints but she made a mental note to replace the mattress herself the moment she returned to the dump next year.
Next year! A whole year away from Coles! Lyra squealed in excitement and stretched her limbs out on the bed, fully basking in its softness.
Her foot kicked the abandoned pile of parchment off the bed, sending them fluttering unhelpfully across the floor, and Lyra crawled off the bed to gather them.
She had stayed up later than she would have planned going through the newspaper last night, trying to cram as much information into her overwhelmed brain as she could handle before passing out. It was incredible, she never thought she'd catch herself reading a newspaper before yesterday, but she couldn't get enough of the strange articles. So far she had learnt that centaurs and vampires existed, Quidditch was a sport that involved broomsticks, and that the potions community were experiencing a Mugwort drought due to the unusual storms in eastern Europe interrupting imports. She was enthralled, pining for more pieces to read about her new world. She had always considered herself a bit of a bookworm (not having friends tended to leave you with no choice but to socialise with fictional characters), but the thought of being a teacher's pet made her feel physically ill. Lyra was more of the 'sent to the headteacher' type.
Still, her recommended reading list from Professor Dumbledore lay on top of the dresser as her top priority as she began to get ready for whatever awaited beyond the bedroom's door.
Examining her clothes, Lyra realised how dull everything she owned was compared to all of the witches and wizards' whimsical clothing she had seen and she tried to pull together a look that screamed she belonged. She opted for the ugliest shirt she could find, her paint splattered black dungarees, a pair of black, scuffed boots, and all of the necklaces she found rolling at the bottom of her bag. Her thick, black hair sat in two knots on top of her head and she decided to experiment with some glitter to add to the dramatics. Lyra could never pass up an opportunity to be incredibly extra.
She found Danielle downstairs in a cosy corner of the pub, picking at her porridge as she scanned the latest Daily Prophet . A few early risers couldn't help but stare at Lyra as she crossed the room but if anything she felt encouraged by them, they were another reminder that this was all real. The mood was a lot quieter compared to the previous evening, but the atmosphere still brought smiles and happy chatter to the patrons.
"What time did you go to bed?" questioned Danielle immediately, passing her a plateful of toast and a selection of jams. Lyra's teeth tried to bite away her smile and she shrugged, taking the seat across from her.
"I dunno but have you heard about the Kappa scandal in Yokohama? It's insane! Apparently some Muggles-," began Lyra, spreading butter on her breakfast and Danielle sighed incredulously, slamming the newspaper down.
"Jane–! I mean, Lyra! Really?! I should have taken those papers away from you last night," she scolded, giving her a disappointed frown, but Lyra shook her head.
"And deny me my right to learn about the Wizarding world before attending school? Wow Danielle," she placed her hand over her heart, "that's really cold."
Danielle waved away her sarcasm and offered her some fresh tea. "Don't be silly, we have a lot to do today and I don't want you passing out on me. I guess it was too optimistic of me to assume you'd sleep after everything that was said. How are you feeling this morning?"
Lyra sipped her steaming drink and decided to be serious for her support worker's benefit. She was still stunned from the hardest revelation, she couldn't bear to dwell on her mother's murder, but she felt strangely settled. Maybe it was the new name, it had given her a different view on life. She felt like she could do anything.
"Honestly I feel great," she admitted with a small smile. "The last time I felt this happy was when you joined Coles."
This was music to Danielle's ears. Lyra's welfare was still her number one concern.
She gave the girl's small hands a quick squeeze and removed the newspaper from the table, replacing it with a rather extensive shopping list. Lyra stared at it and felt a rush of nerves fill her stomach when she saw the word 'wand'. That was the thing she was looking forward to most.
"Before we can start crossing things off of the list, we need to go and withdraw your money," she explained, tapping her sharp fingernails in anticipation on the parchment. "Do you have your key?"
Lyra patted her dungarees pocket, sending her a wink, and Danielle suddenly took in what the girl was wearing. She scoffed, shaking her head so hard that her long braids started swinging. "What are you wearing?"
"What do you mean?" sighed Lyra, deadpanned, "is this not the best outfit for a day's shopping?" She stood up and did a slow spin, forcing Danielle to fully examine her style choices. It was very clear that Danielle found her outfit revolting, but she wasn't that surprised. Danielle's outfit today consisted of an ironed, crisp caramel plaid jacket and its matching pencil skirt, the whitest turtleneck sweater Lyra had ever seen and a small leather handbag. She looked impeccably professional and fashionable, Lyra couldn't deny that, but that wasn't a personal concern of hers.
"Sweetheart I'm only saying this because I care - you look… questionable." confessed Danielle in her sweetest voice. "You're a very pretty girl and this isn't doing you any favours."
Lyra glanced down at her outfit and shook her head in strong defiance.
"Looks aren't important I'll worry about that later," she countered factually, "Besides I'm a witch now - I think I fit in perfectly!"
Danielle pursed her lips playfully and gathered up their belongings. "If you're happy wearing that then I'm happy too," she told her although her expression suggested otherwise. "Is there any way I could persuade you to take a trip into Muggle London to replace your wardrobe? We don't have to buy second-hand anymore."
"But I've transformed all of those charity shop clothes into pieces of art!" defended Lyra, hurrying to finish her food as she was dying to get out and explore the supernatural side of the capital. Danielle pulled a face and tried to hold the attention of the grey eyes before her — this was a serious matter.
"Please don't tell me you packed that awful clown badge," she begged, and Lyra shrugged.
"...Perhaps," she mumbled, giving her best attempt at looking innocent. Danielle hung her head in defeat and stood up, straightening her crinkled jacket.
"Lord give me strength," she mumbled to herself and ushered the smirking girl towards the back doors, leading her into a tight, neglected courtyard.
Lyra noticed the sun for the first time that summer as she stared up, relishing the warmth on her face. Slipping past a group of empty barrels, Danielle shuffled through the parchments and found the appropriate diagram Dumbledore had left her. Without a wand it was rather difficult to get through to the shopping district and she had never visited without her parents before so this was a new experience for both girls.
"If my clothes offend you that much then fine, we can go clothes shopping afterwards," decided Lyra as she waited, glancing up at Danielle. She knew her support worker was right and just trying to help. "It's just a shame you don't recognise true taste."
"As much as I adore your creativity, Lyra, other people at school might not and I'm just looking out for you. You'll have a hard time making friends when they have to have their eyes assaulted every time they look at you," said Danielle, tapping the final brick. As the wall shuddered and began to melt away, she stroked Lyra's head hoping the affection would soften her words. The pair always spoke honestly with each other, it was how Danielle gained Lyra's trust when they first met and it had kept their relationship tight, but she prayed she didn't hurt the girl's feelings with her brash opinion. She was only looking out for her.
"I mean, you're right..." Lyra acknowledged under her breath, "but I hadn't even thought about the 'making friends' part of— SHUT UP! IS THAT AN ELF?!"
She cut herself off with a yell of surprise as she noticed Diagon Alley stretch out before her, twisting and turning out of view. Shoppers of all kinds roamed the streets, filing in and out of vibrant shop fronts or milling about chatting in groups with arms carrying paper bags, and an array of mesmerising aromas wafted through the air calling customers to it with enticing promises of fresh food. It was more enchanting than she imagined.
Lyra caught sight of the nearest group of wizards, three elderly gentlemen who glared over at the sound of her screams, and her jaw dropped at the appearance of a small, shy elf cowered timidly at their calves, bulbous eyes darting around. She was fascinated but she fought down the urge to go over and meet the fantastical being, the elf's company looked as if they would turn her into a chicken if she dared to address them.
"That's a house elf," informed Danielle as she dragged the girl away from the men's disapproving stares, "you never really see them outside of their master's house, they usually stay indoors."
"Aren't I lucky," joked Lyra, looking back at the nervous elf. They looked rather uncomfortable being out in the open, and it made her feel slightly uneasy. "Does every family have a house elf?"
"No, it's more of a Pureblood practice. They serve a wizarding family until their death," said Danielle, leading her through the slim gaps in the crowds quickly. She had spotted a few eyes following their footsteps and the whispers were coming thick and fast.
"That sounds a lot like slavery," frowned Lyra, confused at the analogy, "elves are really interesting creatures, they possess very powerful magic. Have you not read Lord of the Rings?"
Danielle tried not to smile too widely at her comparison. "I think the bookshop will be our first stop after the bank - the Muggle idea of magic isn't at all accurate."
As they passed the arctic cold shop front of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, Danielle saw the familiar gold headline stands scattered in between each shop, pulsing the latest news headlines for passersby to read. It wasn't long until one of the headlines caught Lyra's attention, and she snorted.
"Do you reckon I'll get a free copy since I'm on the cover?" she wondered out loud, and Danielle wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders, steering her away from the shouting paperboy who had drawn a few curious onlookers.
"We have no time for mischief, come on," said Danielle, and as they turned the corner the great bank loomed over them, its white marble exterior glittering in the sunshine. Lyra gasped and rushed ahead, spotting a group of nattering goblins enter through the grand doors straight ahead, and she pulled Danielle behind her wishing she would walk faster.
Gringotts reminded Lyra of a dragon's cave - a vast, cold chamber that echoed endlessly where goblins and people alike spoke in soft tones, the marble walls glistening with ruby reds, deep golds and silvers as coins and treasures were exchanged and examined. Lyra let Danielle take the lead and followed her to the very end of the huge room where they found a particularly wrinkled goblin guarding a small, dusty podium. They took one look at their new arrivals and slipped on a pair of smudged spectacles, opening the thick tome on his desk.
Danielle cleared her throat and went to ask for help when Lyra took over, stepping in front of her with a smile.
"Please can I withdraw some money from my vault?" she asked sweetly, giving the goblin her best smile, and he blinked down at her.
"Is this your first time withdrawing gold?" croaked their bank teller, and she nodded.
"Yup," she replied, digging into her pocket for the key. "Here you go."
The moment the goblin noticed the brass 'B', his non-existent eyebrows shot up and he grabbed blindly under the podium for an even larger book, replacing it with a slam. The bang reverberated off the walls, drawing the attention of a few of the bank's inhabitants. Lyra tried to peer over the desk to try and read the pages but it didn't take her long to spy the familiar names.
"We've been expecting you, Miss Black," announced the goblin after he found his place in the text. "As per the law, there is a limit on what you can acquire at this age but you will be informed by Gringotts when you can start accessing your entire inheritance. As you are joining a rather extensive unit of longtime customers, I have no doubt that you'll be rather overwhelmed when that time comes but we do offer support services here." Lyra soaked up every word, trying to pick up any technical terms as he continued to read out additional terms and conditions. It was rather a lot of information to receive all at once and she started to question whether anyone else her age was as naive as she was.
"I'm really sorry," interrupted Lyra politely, "but I don't suppose you have any pamphlets with all of this information?" She earned another one of the goblin's slow blinks and he sighed.
"Indeed we do but they are reserved for Muggleborns," he informed her, visibly sizing her up.
"Does that mean I can't have one?" she asked blankly, and Danielle took another deep breath, hiding her smile behind a strategically placed hand. It was common knowledge to not question the temperament of a goblin and she was intrigued to watch how they would react to a cheeky eleven year old.
"No. We do not give them out to Purebloods. We see no reason," he explained, his voice dripping with derision.
"But that makes no sense. What about Purebloods who come from a Muggle background? Can't you offer them to everyone?" she shot back, feeling rather eloquent as she used her new vocabulary.
"That's not how this works. That is an occurrence that we have not experienced so cannot respond on the matter," he sighed back, "No Pureblooded wizard comes from a Muggle background."
Lyra shook her head, pointing to herself.
"Surely you've seen the news? Can't you make an exception?" she pleaded, trying not to annoy the bank teller too much. His frown was deep but he couldn't look past her logic.
"Which pamphlet would you like, Miss Black?" he asked, pulling a bunch of folded parchment from beneath the desk, and she clapped her hands together excitedly.
"I'll take the lot!" she beamed, to the goblin's disapproval. Danielle pinched the bridge of her nose and scolded herself for not bringing a bigger bag as Lyra turned to her with a huge armful of multicoloured parchment.
Just as Danielle predicted, the shopping trip took up the entire day thanks to Lyra's excessive need to visit every single shop in the alley. She didn't realise just how much equipment she needed until they dropped off their third load of packages to her bedroom in the pub and Lyra couldn't resist tipping their contents out onto her bed to fully indulge in her purchases.
"Don't crease anything!" Danielle warned, dumping the last of Lyra's school books on the rickety dresser. It shook violently as they dropped which was unsurprising since Lyra had tried to buy a copy of every book that caught her eye. Danielle glanced down and tutted at the sight of a grizzly Manticore ripping the head off of a flinching wizard on the cover of an advanced magical creature guide. The sneaky minx must have slipped that one onto the counter when she wasn't looking.
"I won't," puffed Lyra, dragging her brand new leather trunk into the centre of the room, her face screwed up in concentration. It was getting rather heavy and she hadn't even put the books in yet. This could be a problem.
"Do you need some help packing?" suggested Danielle, observing the girl's bizarre method. Lyra shook her head and pulled out the broken Walkman from her now abandoned sports bag and transferred it into her shiny new school backpack, hoping to find a way to fix it in one of her new books. Danielle cringed awkwardly at the sight of it — she had forgotten to warn her about the lack of electricity.
"Uh, you were better off leaving that in Weymouth," she divulged, watching Lyra organise a dozen rattling CD cases. "Muggle devices don't work at Hogwarts, too much interference."
Lyra slumped, looking crestfallen. "You've got to be kidding me — I chose these over my paints!"
"It slipped my mind, I haven't thought about Hogwarts in a very long time," she said, perching on the end of the bed. A smile played at her lips at the thought of the magical school and she couldn't be happier that Lyra was about to discover all of its wonder. "You'll be way too busy with everything else you won't even miss it," she insisted, which brought the pouting girl out of her sulk.
Lyra picked up the chunky copy of Hogwarts: A History from the pile and threw it on the bed beside Danielle for some light bedtime reading, she felt anxious for the new day tomorrow and needed to know what to expect. Her stomach twisted in anticipation of meeting other kids her age, other kids that may have had as hard a time fitting in as her. She'd make some friends, right?
"Let's hope so," she wished.
A sullied chrome clock chimed from above the stark fireplace reminding them of the dinner that was calling them downstairs but a new sound cut through the air.
"He's awake!" Lyra cried, rushing over to the bell birdcage that sat in the corner of the room. She peaked under the black fabric cover and watched her baby bird gaze back at her in awe, quiet chirps escaping its small beak. Her heart started to melt as she cooed at him, sticking her finger through the bars to stroke his wispy feathers. "Danielle, look! Isn't he handsome?!"
She looked back at Danielle who stared at the cage, a mixture of revulsion and forced agreement written evidently on her face. She had objected to Lyra purchasing the baby barn owl for many reasons, and yet again appearance was a big concern. Lyra ignored her objections and bought the owl anyway, determined to care for the owlet from the beginning of its life.
Baby barn owls were very questionable and were thought to bring bad luck; they looked like tiny, fuzzy pterodactyls until their third month when their beautiful golden plume started to form. All of the customers inside the pet shop were aghast at the baby bird's appearance which, naturally, spurred on Lyra's inspired purchase.
"Mm, he's something… Have you named him yet?" wondered Danielle, hastily changing the subject. Lyra poured her pet treats into the cage and left him to peck his way through his dinner, the cover protecting him from the bright lights.
"I think I'm going to go with Apollo, like the sun god. It'll make more sense when he grows his feathers," she decided, turning to many books she had to cram into her trunk.
"You know, he won't be up to flying for a few months," warned Danielle, and Lyra shot her a wink.
"Three months, to be exact," she proudly interjected.
"The point is we won't be able to write to each other for a while, how do you feel about that?" questioned Danielle, forever in her professional mindset.
"I think I'll be okay. Hopefully I'll have some exciting stories to share with you," she suggested, organising her small library by subject as she spoke. "It'll be really boring if I don't have anything to write about."
"That's the spirit!" cheered Danielle, climbing to her feet. "Although I wouldn't be surprised if I received a letter home from your head of house before then. There are a lot of rules to follow while you're there and I know you have a special retention for rule-breaking. Please try to behave."
"That won't be a problem, this is a magic school. Does my private library not prove my interest in learning and behaving well in class?" Lyra gestured to the growing piles that were beginning to surround the pair.
"Yes but I know you tend to keep your grades separate from your shenanigans so I'm not holding my breath," said Danielle, rolling her eyes and she headed towards the door.
"I'll be downstairs in ten minutes," she told her, giving the room one more glance with a wince, "and I'm not expecting miracles here but you do have a lot of work to do so do remember to come down and eat!"
Lyra promised to join her soon then watched the door close softly as Danielle waltzed out. She immediately left the books on the floor and collapsed on the bed, groaning as she stretched from exhaustion. It was her own fault for not going to bed early, and she tried to scold herself for thinking about repeating the mistake but it was pointless. She lay there for a second, listening to Apollo's soft shuffling from the corner, and began to imagine all of the manual labour she wouldn't have to do once she mastered a bit of magic. Her eyes shot to her backpack by the bed's clawed feet, and she scrambled to grab it. One hand dove inside and promptly pulled out her new favourite possession.
Her wand. Her very own.
The clear highlight of her day was visiting their last shopping destination, Ollivander's — the wand shop that had quite the reputation, according to Danielle. Every witch and wizard across the nation went to Ollivander for their wands, she had told her, and he always found the perfect match. Lyra clicked her tongue and rolled the wand between her fingers, soaking in the rich colour of the wood that she would remember forever. Ollivander didn't find the perfect match for her.
She wasted her last hours of daylight in the wand shop with Danielle and Mr Ollivander, going through every box and trying the wand that lived inside. The wandmaker had stripped the walls bare searching for the wand that was calling her, and she could see the frustration and despair set in the cracks in his face and felt as though her lungs were deflating. Wandboxes littered the floor, pictures had been accidentally torn, vases of flowers were set alight and Lyra had never been more embarrassed in her life. Terrible assumptions ran through her mind and dragged her down from her pedestal and Jane was slowly seeping back into her soul. Maybe you're not a witch, the voices whispered within, maybe you are just a freak. You don't belong here.
As a last attempt Mr Ollivander unlocked his cellar trapdoor, wiped off the cobwebs as he climbed down, and emerged a few minutes later with a thin, pale wood wand in his fidgety fingers. Lyra noticed how piercingly bright his eyes were when he stopped before her, his pruned lips forming a hard straight line.
"I'm afraid I don't have a box for this one," he told her, watching with his ever growing intense gaze. Lyra frowned up at him.
"How come?"
"Because this wand isn't for sale," he revealed, twirling the wand in his delicate fingers. "Miss Black, I've never struggled this much with a patron before. I can't seem to find a combination that agrees with you and all the wands seem to know this, thus their refusal to choose you. The wand chooses the witch and, for reasons that I wish not to divulge into, I believe this wand wants you."
Ollivander looked as though he were in extreme pain, his demeanour had switched from wise and mysterious to disturbed and annoyed. He was clutching the wand rather tightly, hesitant to let it go.
"If you don't want to sell the wand then can we keep searching?" Lyra suggested, not wanting to upset the wandmaker as he looked like one loud yell would shatter his bones. He shook his head and held the wand out with a heaving sigh.
"That's not how this works. I have no power over the wand's decisions," he told her. "If you may, Miss Black?"
Lyra accepted the wand and felt her fingers curl around four thick knots that made up its handle. Straight away this wand felt different from the others. It shivered and lost all warmth, turning colder than an icicle, but it was refreshing rather than threatening. Lyra felt as though a long lost limb had finally been reattached to her body, and she twisted it in her hands mesmerised by its beauty. A creeping chill grew inside her chest when she waved around, testing it out like she had done with the others.
The entire shop glittered, glowing white sparkles floating through the air illuminating everything they touched. Lyra gasped and grabbed the wand tighter, grinning at Danielle who clapped in amazement, cheering her on.
"That was incredible!" she whooped, and Lyra gave a small curtsey and turned back to the still solemn Ollivander. He didn't seem to be impressed by her theatrics.
"This brings us to the end of our search," he announced, walking behind her glass counter, swiftly rearranging the mess as he went. "We have found your wand - thirteen inches, unique temperament, made of reed, and contains specks of hair," he described vaguely, beckoning her over. She glanced at the light coloured wand and admired its design. It was strikingly smooth until its interesting handle and her finger felt a small engrave at its end.
"It's perfect, thank you for letting me have it," she gushed, hoping to cheer Ollivander up slightly. His lips curled into a kind smile but his eyes stayed cold, unwelcoming almost.
"Again, if I had my wish that wand wouldn't be in your possession," he repeated, and she dropped her gaze.
"I'm sorry," she muttered. She didn't mean to upset him so much. "Can I ask why you don't want me to have it? Since I'm its new owner I want to know if it will spontaneously combust one day." She knew her question was valid, but she tried not to seem so nosy.
Mr Ollivander's anger melted away as though he realised he had company and leant forward, gazing at his creation with content.
"My humble apologies if I seem a tad insensitive but I have invested a lot of my time and love into that particular wand. I styled it after a wand I heard about once in an old poem and wondered if I could recreate it, a silly childhood dream of mine. The components were very tricky to work with and sadly I didn't succeed - the wand malfunctioned and has since refused to channel any magic… until now it seems," he recounted, smiling at the memories he had once forgotten. "Very strange…"
"What's the name of the poem?" she tried to ask but Ollivander suddenly became very forgetful and rushed to get through his final transaction for the day, muttering about previously arranged engagements he had to attend to. Lyra handed over her gold galleons and slipped the wand into her dungaree pocket, relishing in the satisfaction when it fit perfectly.
Coming out of her thoughts, Lyra continued to examine the wand, rolling over towards the nearest oil lamp and thrusted its handle into the light, trying to get a better view of the engraving at its tip.
A miniscule rune gleamed back but couldn't figure out if it was a cross or some sort of spiral, time had long smoothed its rough outline. Either way, she commended the odd wandmaker's attention to detail, he really did put a lot of care into his products.
Lyra swished the wand once more before shoving it in her dungaree pocket; she might as well get used to carrying it all the time. With Hogwarts: A History under one arm, she headed downstairs for her final meal with Danielle before she departed for her first day as a witch.