The Slytherin Princess

Chapter 1: Her New World

The mortal world smelled like fear and anxiety. It has taken me weeks to train my nose to ignore those two scents. Even now with every breath, I take there was a small tickle in the back of my nose. The mortal world was saturated with fear and anxiety and I hated it.

'I want to go home' was all I could think as I stared out the window of my small apartment in London. I was sharing it with my guard Pierre until the start of the school year. Only one month to go until I started my adventures at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However, today I would be receiving a reprieve from my lonely prison as I needed school supplies. Which meant a trip to a place called Diagon Alley.

"Your Highness it is time to leave," Pierre said as he bowed to me. Despite my lack of title, he refused to drop the formal act.

"Why are you still calling me that. I'm banished, remember." I sighed.

"However, you are still a princess. Therefore, it would be rude to call you by your name."

I sighed again but gave up on trying to get him to budge on the subject. Pierre has served me for generations so getting him to call me Astrid would be impossible. I took his arm and we teleported to Diagon Alley.

The roads of Diagon Alley were windy cobblestone streets lined with small shops. Wizards in colorful robes crowded around shop windows looking for the best deals on clothes or books. I noticed some anxious-looking people dressed in normal human clothes gazing around in wonder. They must be non-magical parents. I knew that non-magical parents could have wizard children, and this was proof. Pierre walked ahead of me to clear a path for me.

"First you must acquire a wand," Pierre said, holding my acceptance letter to Hogwarts in his hand.

We found a shop called Ollivanders. The old-looking shop was filled to the brim with small rectangular boxes. Each stack of wand boxes appeared as if they would come toppling down at any moment. Threatening to drown anyone in the store in an avalanche of tiny wooden sticks. An elderly man emerged from the back to greet us with a charming smile.

"Welcome! Here for a wand, I take it." The old man, who I assume is Ollivander, chuckles.

"Yes. The finest wand you have and price is not an issue." Pierre left no room for question in his tone. I could have spoken but I was too busy admiring the absurd amount of boxes in the room.

"You look far too young to be her father?" Ollivander asked as he searched the shelves.

"I am her personal guard," Pierre stated.

"From a wealthy family then?" Ollivander directed the question to me, snapping me back to the conversation.

"That is correct," I said.

Ollivander shook his head in confusion at my American accent. I'm sure he was expecting me to have a French accent because that was Pierre's accent. My natural accent was British, but I was posing as a transfer student from an American wizarding school therefore I had to speak with an American accent to sell my story.

"I am from America; you most likely will not recognize my Surname," I added, hoping to deter him from any further questions about my background.

Ollivander returns to searching for a wand, quietly muttering to himself. After a few minutes, he came back with a small box and places it on the table in front of me. Inside the box was a beautifully crafted wand.