❞ 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐫
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Margaret 'Maggie' Potter, unlike her older brother and every single girl in school, despises the cocky, self-absorbed Sirius Black.
Sirius Black himself has never been very fond of t...
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MAGGIE sat quietly on one of the living room's loveseats watching through the window tiny drops of snow fall into her frozen garden. Her bare feet were tightly buried between the bottom cushion and one of the loveseat's armrests, her back perched onto the other side. She sipped tea and once in a while she looked back at the dark wooden wand that rested on the coffee table.
The house was completely quiet, everyone enjoying that peaceful period after midday in their respective bedrooms. Margaret however, was unable to rest her eyes for a nap, her mind very much awake with thoughts. Just that very morning, as Margaret was playing with Harry, Remus had approached her holding nothing other than her wand.
"Is this your wand?" Remus had asked, and Margaret could see the dark wooden stick resting in the older wizard's hand.
The moment had stricken her because she suddenly realised she had completely forgotten her wand, lost between the messy rooms and bookshelves the big house enjoyed of. It suddenly occurred to her that a good deal of time had passed since she had lost performed magic, and that, to any dedicated witch, was not to pass unnoticed.
"Yes," Margaret had answered with a dried throat. It was clear she had been astounded.
"I found it next to a pile of used parchment," Remus continued, and Margaret could tell he was biting his tongue not to inquire her any further. He placed it at the coffee table and left with a warm smile.
That was Remus at his best. He would never pester anyone with questions. Just warmly accept people with their issues and let them be. Margaret was glad it had been Remus who had found her abandoned wand, she didn't know what explanations she would give if it had been anyone else.
The blue-eyed witch looked back at the wand, left untouched. It was ten and one-third inches long and had thick and thin lines that formed alluring shapes, engraved and carved into dark wood. She could still vividly remember the first time it fitted right into her hand. To have a wand choose you –that was a feeling she never experienced twice. Her heart swelled with so much love as she recalled moments she had thanked Godrick for having a wand to call her own.
When Margaret first had a taste of magic she understood why there are people that give up their entire lives for passion. She was good at school because she wanted to learn everything known about magic, to be able to perform all types of tricks and to be called a skilled witch. She had learned to pour water into a mug in the first year and perform a Patronus at the beginning of her fourth. Magic filled her lungs in a way not many other things did. And to her, renouncing magic seemed impossible.
