Solara Lovegood and the Shadow of the Dragon
Chapter IV: The Wand of Destiny
The night before her eleventh birthday, Solara lay awake, hands tightly clasped over the covers as though grounding herself in the moment. Moonlight streamed through her window, casting silvery shapes over her desk, cluttered with carefully selected spellbooks, worn notes, a well-used play wand, and several intricate dragon sketches done in charcoal. But her thoughts had already flown far beyond her small room, darting into the unknown possibilities that awaited her. This night wasn't ordinary; it was the threshold of the life she'd been preparing for since she first felt magic stirring under her skin.
"Tomorrow, it truly begins," she thought, heart pounding in anticipation. Tomorrow, she would finally hold the invitation that marked her entrance into Hogwarts. "Hogwarts," she whispered, feeling a thrill at the word itself, as if she could already feel the hum of ancient magic calling to her from across the world. She imagined walking through Ollivander's door, breathing in the scent of polished wood and aged parchment as she searched for the wand meant for her. Not just a play wand—her wand. Her own, true conduit of power.
The house felt different tonight, smaller somehow, as though it were tightening around her with each new thought of what lay ahead. It reminded her of the teachings of the Valyrian dragonkeepers: Nykeā zaldrīzes daor mazverdagon lo ziry iksos āzma isse belma. "A dragon cannot grow if it is raised in chains." And here she was, no ordinary witch—and certainly no ordinary child. She could feel the pull toward something bigger, grander, and Hogwarts was her first step.
Her gaze drifted down the hall, to the rooms of her siblings. She pictured Gaius curled up with his stuffed bear, dreaming of innocent mischief, oblivious to the gravity of what tomorrow held for her. She smiled at the thought of his chubby face peeking around her legs, trying to catch a glimpse of her letter. He might not grasp its importance, but his excitement would be infectious all the same.
And Luna—sweet, intuitive Luna. Her sister always seemed to understand, in her own quiet way, the things Solara never spoke aloud. Luna had insisted on waking with her at dawn to watch the letter arrive. It was a comfort Solara hadn't realized she needed: Luna's gentle, unwavering support, grounding her, rooting her here even as she strained toward what was to come.
"But I know," she thought, "I'll have to walk this path alone." At Hogwarts, she would finally have a world all her own to conquer. "At least for a year, until Luna joins," she reminded herself, feeling a spark of amusement. Yet she was thankful for that year of independence, a proving ground for her skills and her vision.
Her mind raced with scenes of the year ahead: mastering spells and charms, unraveling ancient secrets tucked away in the school's oldest books, pushing her magic to limits others would hesitate to test. She could see herself lost in the Hogwarts library, poring over texts few had touched, her fingers tracing the delicate, faded letters of spells she intended to make her own. She wouldn't be just another witch among many—she would leave her mark, something undeniable and indelible in the history of that place. "I will be remembered," she thought with fierce determination. "Not for lineage or talent alone, but for what I achieve. For who I become."
Every tick of the clock seemed louder, each moment stretching like eternity as she lay there, straining to hear the soft beat of wings outside her window. She pictured an owl gliding through the night, talons clutching her letter, carrying with it the promise of a new life, a future she had worked so hard for. "Miss Solara Lovegood, The Second Bedroom on the Left, The Lovegood House." The imagined address made her lips twitch in a faint, satisfied smile. That letter was more than parchment; it was a promise, a pledge to herself that she would never let slip from her grasp.
Her anticipation spiked as she imagined opening it, the scent of fresh parchment, the Hogwarts crest gleaming at the top. Each line would be a step toward the life she was meant for. "Dear Miss Lovegood, we are pleased to inform you…" She could already hear the words ringing in her mind, each sentence drawing her closer to her destiny.
She turned her gaze toward the window, her eyes tracing the stars gleaming in the vast night sky. Each one seemed like a distant magic, ancient and unreachable, but not for long—not for her. "No magic will be unreachable," she thought, fingers clenching the blankets in quiet resolve. The thought filled her with a heady mix of anticipation and fierce determination.
When the clock struck midnight, she sat up, holding her breath. But the house remained silent, save for the quiet sound of Luna's breathing in the next room. Slowly, she lay back down, willing herself to wait a little longer. She had been patient for years—she could endure a few more hours.
Just as dawn's first light began to touch the sky, she heard it: a faint hoot from the main room. Her heart leapt as she slipped out of bed, padding down the stairs as quietly as she could. There, by the window, was a large, elegant owl, its golden eyes gleaming in the morning light. It held a single, cream-colored letter in its beak, the parchment thick and official.
The owl dropped the letter, and Solara reached out, catching it almost reverently. Her fingers brushed over the deep green ink that spelled her name:
Miss Solara Lovegood
Second Bedroom on the Left
The Lovegood House
She paused, savoring the weight of it, the reality of the letter finally in her hands. Then, she broke the wax seal, pulling out the crisp parchment and scanning the words with fierce focus.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
Dear Miss Lovegood,
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 September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"Accepted at Hogwarts." The words echoed within her, affirming what she had known all along—this was her destiny, her path toward reclaiming a semblance of the life she had once had.
She turned the letter over, reading the list of required items:
First-Year Students Will Require:
Uniform:Three plain black work robes and one plain black pointed hat
Books:
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 Potionsby Arsenius Jigger
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protectionby Professor Quentin Trimble
Other supplies:
One Wand
A standard-sized pewter cauldron
A set of glass or crystal phials
A telescope
A set of brass scales
Protective gloves made from dragon hide or similar materials for Herbology classes
"One Wand." Her fingers lingered over the line. She had been preparing for this moment, this first, true step into the wizarding world where she could finally begin to build the power she knew lay within her. The books had not interested her, for she had read them all, and owned them all. She had practiced her stances, using her play wand to mimic the flourishes needed for wandwork. Her parents had provided her some of their books from when they had attended the school in their youth. All that mattered now, was her wand, and soon, her own conduit of power would rest within her eager hands. It was a vision she had held onto through countless nights, a lifeline that had carried her through the slower, quieter moments of childhood. She would return to Ollivanders, step through its shadowed doorway, and claim the wand meant for her. She would be no ordinary witch. "No, she would push beyond."
"Sister?" a small, sleepy voice drifted down from the stairs. Solara turned to see Gaius, his figure framed by the shadows at the top step. He clutched his beloved stuffed bear, his brow wrinkling in sleepy curiosity as he rubbed his eyes.
"Did it come?" Luna's soft voice followed, her face open and expectant, a glimmer of excitement lighting her gentle gaze.
Solara's heart warmed, her smile deepening as she held up the letter for them to see. "Yes," she said softly, her voice steady with the weight of it. "It came."
In an instant, her siblings flew down the stairs, surrounding her in a flurry of small arms and eager laughter. Gaius gripped her waist tightly, his enthusiasm overflowing. "Big sis is going to Hogwats!" he declared proudly, mispronouncing the name with a triumphant grin that made Solara chuckle.
Luna looked up at her, quiet yet sure, her arms wrapped gently around Solara's shoulders. "You'll be a great witch," she whispered, her voice carrying a certainty beyond her years.
The words struck Solara more deeply than she expected, touching a part of her she had carefully locked away. For a moment, she let herself feel the warmth of their pride, the rare connection they shared. She could almost feel the walls she'd built around her heart loosen, as if Luna's simple, genuine belief was a balm against the sharper edges of her ambition. "How strange," she thought, "to feel so held by a family that wasn't her own."
The Lovegoods weren't the blood kin she remembered; her first life's family still etched its shadows across her heart. Gaius and Luna weren't Aegon or Rhaenys, but in their own way, they were hers. Aegon had been a rock but always distant; Rhaenys had brought joy yet craved attention. She, as Visenya, had been forged to wield power, sharp and cold, and unyielding. But here, in this second life, in the embrace of her siblings, she felt a warmth she had never allowed herself before.
She was no longer merely the calculated Visenya Targaryen. She was Solara Lovegood, with a new path—one she would carve through the stones of Hogwarts, just as surely as she had once wielded Dark Sister. This life had not bound her, but set her free.
"This is real," she thought, her heart quickening as her path stretched out before her like a road lit by a thousand torches. Soon, she would walk the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, her power growing with each step, until the world knew her name and her strength.
As the first light of dawn crept over the hills, filling the house with a soft glow, Solara knew: this was only the beginning. Her excitement finally erupted. With her siblings still clinging to her, she threw back her head and called out with all the force she could muster:
"Mother! Father! Awaken! We march to the Alley of Diagon to seize my destiny!"
The walls seemed to echo her declaration, and her voice carried through the quiet house. She felt Gaius's little hands tighten around her waist, and Luna's quiet laughter vibrated against her shoulder. The thought of her parents' reactions filled her with equal parts exhilaration and mirth. She could already picture them stumbling down the stairs, disheveled and blinking away sleep.
In moments, she heard the hurried footsteps of her parents coming down the hall. Xenophilius appeared first, his pale hair falling in wild, haphazard waves, his eyes wide and blinking, still adjusting to the morning light. Behind him came Pandora, who, even in the early hours, had a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, as if already in on the joke.
"Marching to seize destinies, are we?" Xenophilius asked, scratching his head in mild confusion. "Is there a prophecy we missed, or just a rather impressive letter?"
Pandora stepped forward, taking in the sight of Solara holding the Hogwarts letter with her siblings at her side. Her gaze softened with pride, and her smile bloomed into one of pure delight. "Well, it seems the time has finally come," she said, glancing knowingly at her husband. "Our daughter, the mighty Witch of Diagon Alley."
"Indeed!" Solara proclaimed, her chin held high. She brandished the letter as if it were a royal decree, stepping forward with mock-seriousness. "A destiny awaits, filled with magic, spellbooks, and—most importantly—a wand chosen just for me."
"Chosen?" Xenophilius echoed, a twinkle in his eye. "Or will it be choosing you?"
"That's yet to be discovered, Father," Solara said, eyes alight with anticipation. There was always some kind of mystery wrapped around Ollivander's, one she couldn't wait to unravel.
"Well, it wouldn't do to keep destiny waiting," Pandora said, smiling, her gaze meeting Solara's in silent understanding. "Come now, gather what we need, and we'll make our way to Diagon Alley in style."
Her siblings squealed with excitement, bouncing up and down around her. Gaius tugged on her arm. "Does that mean we're coming too?"
"Of course," Solara said with a wink, "Who else will carry all my books?"
"But you already have all the books," Luna pointed out, her tone a mix of amusement and exasperation.
Solara turned to her younger sister with a dramatic flourish, holding her chin high. "Yes, dear sister, but I am always eager for more! The book is the whetstone upon which the mind is sharpened!"
Luna rolled her eyes, though her lips quirked into a smile. "So you're planning to turn yourself into a sword, then?"
"Precisely!" Solara declared, striking a noble pose, one hand on her hip and the other clutching her letter. "A sharp, unyielding blade of intellect, forged in the fires of learning, and tempered by the weight of knowledge!"
From across the room, Xenophilius chuckled, the sound warm and affectionate. "Well, my dear sword of intellect, do try not to cut yourself on the parchment edges."
"Or trip over all the extra books," Pandora added with a teasing smile, though her eyes glimmered with pride.
Gaius, still struggling to shove his tiny feet into his mismatched shoes, piped up eagerly. "If you're a sword, Solara, can I be your knight? I'll carry your books and fight off all the bad wizards!"
"You'd make an excellent knight, Gaius," Solara said with a grin, ruffling his messy hair. "Loyal, brave, and always ready to defend his sister's honor. You shall be the first knight named to the 'Witch's Guard.'"
Gaius puffed out his chest, beaming with pride. "Yeah! Nobody messes with big sis while I'm around!"
Luna leaned against Pandora's arm, smiling softly. "He's going to need more than a stuffed bear to fight bad wizards, though."
"Don't underestimate the power of cuddly charm," Pandora replied, picking up the bear and giving it a little wiggle. "Even knights need their trusty talismans."
The family laughed together, their teasing and camaraderie filling the house with warmth. Solara felt the corners of her mouth pull into a genuine smile, a rare moment of lighthearted joy settling over her. She took a deep breath, looking around at her parents and siblings, and thought, "This, too, is part of my destiny. To be loved, to belong."
"Enough chatter!" she finally declared, her voice full of playful command. "To the Alley of Diagon we march! My sword must have its sheath, my intellect its tools, and my destiny its first triumph!"
With that, the Lovegood family bundled out of the house, ready to take the first step on Solara's grand journey.
The Lovegoods arrived at Diagon Alley amid the morning rush, the cobblestone streets alive with the hum of magical activity. Solara led the way, her stride purposeful and her head held high, her Hogwarts letter secure in her pocket. Ahead of them loomed Ollivanders, the legendary wand shop. Its weathered sign creaked faintly as they approached.
"Wands," Solara announced dramatically, pausing to let the moment sink in. "The tool of power, the companion of destiny!"
As they approached the wand shop, Solara noticed a boy about her age stepping inside ahead of her, accompanied by a towering man with wild hair and a beetle-black coat. When she entered, the tinkling of the bell heralded her arrival. She froze for a moment, taken aback by just how tall the wild-haired man was up close. He smiled at her but said nothing, turning his gaze back to the boy he had entered with. Looking ahead, she spotted the boy in the middle of the shop, his back to her. He was slender, with messy black hair, and seemed slightly out of place in the dimly lit space.
Solara's curiosity sparked, but she quickly dismissed it. He was merely another student, here for his wand just as she was. No doubt he'd fade into the background like so many others.
"Come along, Lovegoods!" she called over her shoulder. "Destiny doesn't wait!"
The boy turned slightly at her voice, his green eyes briefly meeting hers. Solara paid him no mind, striding past to stand beside him with an air of authority. "Here for your wand?" she asked casually, as her family finally finished piling into the shop.
The boy nodded, seeming a bit uncertain. "Yes," he said softly, before looking towards her jubilant family with a downcast expression.
Before the conversation could continue, a pale figure emerged from the shadows, his silvery gaze sharp and assessing. "Ah, two new students," said Ollivander, his voice soft and precise. His eyes flickered between them, lingering on Solara for a moment before settling on the boy.
"Mr. Potter and Miss…?"
The name 'Potter' hit Solara like a lightning bolt, and her mind whirled back to a moment, years ago, in the Leaky Cauldron and the man with greasy black hair sitting in a dark corner.
"Potter?" she heard her parents say.
"Lovegood," Solara replied smoothly, cutting them off, before reorienting herself to the conversation and forcing the name Targaryen back down her throat as if it were a blade she refused to draw. Her posture straightened instinctively, regal even in restraint.
"Ah! Yes, Miss Lovegood," Ollivander said with a small, approving clap of his hands. "Apologies, how could I have forgotten? Pandora Moon, silver lime and unicorn hair. And you…" he stared at her father. "You did not purchase your wand here," the old man said with a frown. "Well, fortunate timing, indeed. Two wands, two eager customers," he said, before disappearing in the back of his shop.
"Potter," she whispered under her breath, the connection clicking into place. This boy standing beside her—this unassuming figure—was the same child whose name had graced that headline. The Boy-Who-Lived. At her back, she could feel the excitement of her family directed towards the unassuming boy, and frowned.
"Pardon my parents, Mr. Potter," Luna spoke with an endearing resolve, though Solara knew Luna had read much on the Boy-Who-Lived, her tone had not betrayed her. "We are here to see my sister claim her wand. If you would permit us to speak with you later, we would appreciate the company. Perhaps lunch?"
The boy seemed confused, then stared towards his giant companion, who also seemed flabbergasted at the sudden invitation.
The large man, who had been quietly observing the interaction, let out a deep, hearty laugh, his bushy beard trembling. "Aye, well, we've already eaten, thanks, Miss Lovegood," he said with a grin, his booming voice filling the shop. "And we've got much to do today, Mr. Potter here's got his shopping to finish. But perhaps another time, eh?" He gave a small nod toward Harry, who was still looking slightly bewildered.
Luna smiled, unfazed by the abruptness of Hagrid's response. "Another time, then," she said warmly, her voice almost musical. She turned to Solara with a subtle glance, signaling for her to focus on what was important now: her wand.
Solara smiled back to her, before she shifted her gaze back to the so-called 'Boy-Who-Lived,' her composure steady but her mind racing. So, this was the legend in the flesh. She folded her arms, arching an eyebrow as if unimpressed, though she couldn't quite quell the curiosity simmering beneath the surface.
After the conversation had ended, Ollivander returned, carrying several slender boxes stacked precariously in his arms. "Now then," he said, setting them down with a practiced grace. "Which of you shall go first?"
Solara stepped forward, ready to answer, her head held high.
"Mr. Potter was here first. So he should go," Gaius said innocently, taking the wind out of her sails.
"Excuse me, sir," the boy said, his voice wary and soft. "But how do you know me?"
Ollivander's expression shifted to something unreadable. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, and you have your mother's eyes. Now, let us begin."
Solara stepped back, intrigued as she watched the boy try wand after wand. Each attempt resulted in strange bursts of energy—one wand caused the lamps to flicker wildly, while another knocked a stack of boxes to the floor.
Finally, Ollivander produced a box from a high shelf, his movements deliberate. "Holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather core," he said softly.
The moment the boy touched it, the shop filled with a radiant golden light. Solara arched an eyebrow, mildly impressed, though she wouldn't admit it aloud.
"That's quite the spectacle," she remarked, her tone casual.
The boy glanced at her uncertainly, but before he could respond, Ollivander murmured, "Curious. Very curious."
"What's curious?" the boy asked hesitantly.
"The phoenix that gave this feather produced only one other," Ollivander said. "Its twin resides in the wand that gave you your scar."
The boy paled, his hand tightening around the wand. Solara tilted her head, watching him with interest. There was more to this Potter than met the eye, but she filed the thought away for later.
"Fascinating," she said flatly. "But now it is my turn."
Ollivander's piercing gaze shifted to her, studying her as though seeing more than what was before him. "Very well, Miss Lovegood. Let us begin." He pulled a wand from the nearest box and extended it toward her. "Hawthorn, ten and a quarter inches, unicorn hair. Give it a wave."
Solara took the wand, feeling a faint tingle but nothing remarkable. She flicked it, and a shelf of wand boxes rattled ominously. Ollivander snatched it back with a tut of disapproval. "No, no. Not at all."
As Solara cycled through wands, her frustration grew, though she kept her expression neutral. Each wand rejected her, sometimes with harmless sparks, other times with small disasters—a toppled stack of books, a puff of acrid smoke. Finally, Ollivander paused, his silvery eyes narrowing as though considering a great mystery.
"I wonder…" he murmured, disappearing into the shadows of his shop again. When he returned, he held a box of deep, polished ebony. "Perhaps this," he said, opening it with care. "Blackthorn, eleven and three-quarter inches, unyielding, with a core of dragon heartstring. Try it."
Solara took the wand, and the moment her fingers closed around it, a surge of power raced through her, fierce and exhilarating. A crimson light filled the room, swirling around her like fire. She felt as though the wand had always been hers, waiting for her to claim it.
"Extraordinary," Ollivander breathed, his voice reverent. "A strong and loyal wand for a determined and ambitious witch. Dragon heartstring wands bond most powerfully with those who have strength of character and the potential for greatness. This wand will demand much of you, Miss Lovegood. But should you rise to meet it, it will serve you like no other. Treat it well."
Solara's lips curved into a triumphant smile as she lowered the wand. "Naturally," she said, her tone brimming with confidence. "Anything less would be unworthy."
As Solara stepped aside, her dragon heartstring wand humming with energy in her grasp, she glanced down at it thoughtfully. The weight of it felt right, as if it had always been a part of her. Turning back to Ollivander, she tilted her head and asked, "Mr. Ollivander, can wands be named? Like swords?"
Ollivander blinked, clearly intrigued by the question. "It is uncommon," he said slowly, "but not unheard of. A wizard or witch who feels a particularly deep connection to their wand might give it a name. It is more of a personal choice than a tradition, though."
Solara nodded, her gaze dropping to the sleek, dark wood of her wand. A flicker of memory surged within her, of a blade she had once wielded with pride and purpose. "Then I shall name it," she said softly, almost to herself. Her fingers brushed over the wand's surface, and her voice gained strength as she declared, "Dark Sister."
Ollivander's sharp gaze flickered to her wand, and then back to her face, a faint spark of recognition flashing in his eyes—though not of the name itself. "An interesting choice," he said, his voice tinged with curiosity. "A name of personal significance, I presume?"
Solara's smile was quiet, almost secretive. "Indeed."
Ollivander nodded slowly, as if weighing her words. "Wands often choose their wielders. Perhaps yours chose you as much as you chose it?" he murmured, his voice trailing off as if pondering the idea. He refocused his sharp, silvery gaze back toward her, a quiet understanding passing between them. "I trust you will wield it wisely, Miss Lovegood."
Solara's grip on Dark Sister tightened, a sense of certainty settling over her. "I intend to."
Ollivander studied her for a moment longer before giving all a small nod of approval. He turned toward the shelves, his hands already moving to prepare the necessary paperwork. "Very well, then. I believe that will be all for today, Miss Lovegood. Mr. Potter," he added, turning his attention briefly to the boy and his giant companion still standing near the door.
As they left Ollivanders, she overheard her parents addressing the giant as Hagrid, a fact she tucked away as Solara found herself walking beside Potter again. He glanced at her curiously, his brow slightly furrowed.
"You seem... very sure of yourself," he said, his tone neutral but tinged with interest.
"I am," Solara replied with a wink, twirling her new wand lightly between her fingers. "Confidence is the knowledge of one's capabilities, Potter. You might find it a useful trait."
Harry frowned slightly, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. Behind them, Gaius tugged on Xenophilius's sleeve. "Father, does this mean Solara's wand is the strongest?"
Xenophilius chuckled. "Oh, Gaius, your sister already believes it is."
Solara grinned at that, not bothering to deny it. Her gaze flickered back to Potter, who had turned to the large man at his side—the one she now recognized as Hagrid. The half-giant rested a hand on Harry's shoulder and nodded toward the shops ahead.
"Well, Harry, we've still got a bit more to grab," Hagrid said kindly, gesturing toward the bustling crowd.
Harry looked back at Solara, his green eyes thoughtful. "I hope I'll see you at school," he said, a small smile breaking through his earlier wariness.
"You will," Solara replied smoothly, inclining her head like royalty bestowing acknowledgment.
With that, the two of them split down the path, Solara and her family heading toward Eeylops Owl Emporium to purchase a familiar, while Harry and Hagrid disappeared into the bustling alley, the giant's booming voice echoing as he shepherded the boy to parts unknown. Solara watched them go, feeling a strange ripple of curiosity settle within her. It was fleeting, quickly swallowed by the weight of her own ambitions, but the encounter lingered at the edge of her thoughts. She turned back to her family, her confident grin firmly in place. "Well then," she said briskly, "let's move on. The day is young, and there's still much to prepare for."
The cool, dim interior of Eeylops Owl Emporium was filled with the soft rustle of feathers and the occasional hoot. Luna and Gaius immediately darted toward the enclosures, each pointing out their favorites.
"Ooo, look at this one!" Luna exclaimed, admiring a delicate golden-masked owl with striking amber eyes.
Gaius pressed his face to another cage, captivated by a tiny elf owl that flitted back and forth with wide, curious eyes. "This one's so small, Solara! It's perfect—it can sit on your shoulder!"
Solara, however, was drawn to the far corner of the shop, where no cage sat but rather a sturdy perch with a solitary owl atop it. The bird was massive, a great horned owl with piercing yellow eyes and a commanding presence. Its feathers were a striking mix of dusky brown and charcoal black, and its ear tufts flared as Solara approached. The owl turned its head sharply, fixing her with an unblinking gaze that seemed to challenge her.
The shopkeeper approached with a nod. "Ah, miss, you've got an eye for the difficult ones. That's Andra. Though she doesn't seem to respond to the name."
"Why is she uncaged?" Solara asked, her eyes never leaving those of the large owl.
"She's not like the others," the man replied. "She just doesn't tolerate cages, doesn't get along with other owls, and barely tolerates people. She's aggressive, stubborn, and likely to make your life more trouble than you'd expect. Still, an excellent choice, Miss."
"But why? Has she been mistreated?" she pressed, curious to see why the majestic creature was deemed irascible.
"Great Horned Owls originate from the Americas, but curiously, I found the old girl here in Diagon Alley," he sighed wistfully. "Eleven years ago, if memory serves. Barely larger than my palm, likely thrown from her nest, with a gash across her neck. Nursed her back, I did. Nearly clawed my eyes out with those talons of hers when she woke up," the man chuckled. "And she's smart, and eats far more than you'd think. A few have tried to purchase her, but she always clicks her beak at them. A warning if ever there was one. And one not to be ignored coming from a bird that large. Alas, she's a good companion. Feed her, if she lets you, and leave her alone and she can scare away burglars. She's scared off a few here and there over the years."
"Perfect," Solara said with a faint smirk, stepping closer.
"Are you certain?" the man asked, incredulous. "She's not easy to handle. Most customers avoid her entirely—some say she's cursed, though I wouldn't go that far. Even feeding her is a challenge."
Solara met the owl's fierce gaze with equal intensity. "I don't need a compliant pet. I need a companion who values freedom as much as I do."
The owl fluffed her feathers slightly, letting out a sharp, commanding screech that made Luna and Gaius jump.
"That's my girl," Solara murmured.
"Let's see if she takes to you," the shopkeeper said, and before he could even move to grasp the owl, the large bird flew over and landed heavily on Solara's left shoulder, her talons digging slightly into the thick material of her black sweater. The weight and wild presence of the owl sent a familiar thrill of exhilaration through her.
"Well," the man uttered, still dubious but resigned, as he stroked his beard. "If she's willing to go with you, then I suppose that's a sale."
"She knows quality," Solara said, stroking the owl's chest feathers with cautious respect. The owl allowed the touch, though her eyes remained sharp, watching everything around her.
"She won't let just anyone near her, let alone perch on them. I'll throw in a discount on top of the regular price of fifteen Galleons."
"You do not have to, sir," her mother said, though she could see the pleading look in her father's eyes.
"Nonsense!" the man scoffed, waving her off. "The poor girl's been cooped up here for far too long. I'll sell her to you for eight."
"To what age will she reach?" Solara asked, stroking her new companion's feathery chin.
"Feed her well, and keep her out of danger, and she should live for another forty years. Fifty, if she's stubborn."
"Fifty it is then," Solara replied with a smile, remembering the shopkeeper's earlier remark of the owl being stubborn, her fingers gently curling around the owl's sleek feathers.
While Gaius and Luna continued to explore the shop, Xenophilius paid for the owl, and soon Solara was holding an empty cage, the large owl still perched comfortably on her shoulder.
"What will you call her?" Pandora asked, her tone soft but curious.
"Vhagar," Solara answered with confidence, disregarding the name given to the owl by its former owner. The owl immediately perked up at the sound of the name, nuzzling her neck affectionately, a low click sounding from its beak as if in approval.
"What a strange name, but she seems to like it," Pandora smiled, clearly amused.
Solara's smile widened, her connection to the bird growing stronger by the moment. It felt right—but she did not know why.
"Yes, she does." Solara felt a quiet thrill of satisfaction as she stepped outside. The sunlight seemed brighter, the chatter of Diagon Alley a little more vivid as they continued their shopping. Solara cast a final glance down the alley, where Harry and Hagrid had vanished into the crowd.
"Let the games begin," she thought, a small, knowing smile curving her lips as she turned her attention back to her family.