White Heather for Protection

Choosing and Being Chosen

Magic swirled so thickly in the air that Heather had to force herself to take slow, deep breaths. It was almost suffocating. Long rectangular boxes were piled carelessly in all corners of the room while some were stuck halfway into shelves lining the wall. She looked around; there wasn't sign of anybody else in the shop.

"Ahh, it was about time you showed up."

Heather jumped and spun around. Standing there was a wizard staring at her with unnervingly focussed eyes.

"Mr Ollivander?" Heather ventured a guess.

Nodding distractedly, the wandmaker commented, "Miss Potter and Mr Potter."

Heather's eyes widened and she darted a glance at her brother. Hadrian shrugged helplessly and shook his head. So the enchantments on the cap were still working. How did Mr Ollivander pierce through them?

The eccentric wizard seemed oblivious to this exchange and continued on, "I remember when your parents walked into this very shop, as if it were just yesterday! James Potter favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable, excellent for Transfiguration. Now, Lily Potter - of course, she was still Evans back then - paired with a ten and a quarter inch willow wand. Swishy and good for Charms."

Hadrian was listening raptly to this bit of information on their parents. Heather felt a pang of grief. Rian had never really gotten to know their parents. She resolved to talk more about them, no matter how painful she found it.

At this point, Mr Ollivander started rummaging amongst the scattered boxes. "Now, let's get you your first wand, eh?"

Shoving one into Heather's hands, he said, "Try this one, ten inches, pine, rather springy." He frowned heavily and shook his head. "No." He snatched it back before Heather even gave it a little twitch.

"Ash, eleven and a half inches, stiff." It was pulled out of her grasp again.

"Nine inches, cedar and pleasantly firm." An explosion sounded.

"Twelve inches, willow." Some sparkles flew. "Hmm, close...but still not right."

The wizard muttered under his breath and looked through another pile. "Ah hah! This one, I can feel it!" he shouted triumphantly. Gently, he handed the wand to Heather. "Ten and a half inches. Laurel with unicorn hair core. Just a mite bendy."

Heather held the wand reverently. It warmed comfortably in her hands and her magic sparked excitedly. She didn't even need to try it - she knew this was hers. Nevertheless, she gave it a little flick, channelling her familiar magic through this new tool for the first time. A shower of confetti erupted from the tip of her wand. It felt so different from her wandless magic, but it also felt right.

"Interesting. Very interesting," Mr Ollivander mused airily.

"Sorry? How so?" Heather questioned.

The wandmaker smiled mysteriously. "The laurel joined with the unicorn hair will produce some...intriguing effects, to say the least."

Heather frowned thoughtfully at her wand. "What does it mean, then, that I got this wand?"

He hummed lightly. "Each wand is different, Miss Potter. And every wand is paired with the person they suit best. I say that, of course, but really, it is the wand which chooses the wizard or witch."

"It rather felt like we chose each other, actually," Heather refuted mildly.

The man just chuckled, still with that maddeningly cryptic look. "7 Galleons please."

~~~

"That was brilliant! What do you think my wand will be? D'you suppose I'll take as many tries as you?" Hadrian was still raving about their trip to the wand shop, even after the whole walk to the Leaky Cauldron.

Heather listened with half an ear while pondering on the odd encounter. What did Mr Ollivander mean by 'intriguing'? She would have to look up on wands. Didn't Rian buy a book on wandlore back at the secondhand place? Perhaps the answer to her question could be found in there.

Heather was brought out of her thoughts by the arrival of Professor McGonagall. "Miss Potter, Mr Potter," the Professor greeted curtly. "Glad to see you two completed your shopping without trouble."

Hadrian nodded eagerly and mentioned a few interesting books they had bought. He went on to fire off a few questions while they ordered their dinner. The Professor answered all the questions patiently, seeming to enjoy Hadrian's bubbly nature. Eventually, during a lull in the conversation, the Professor enquired, "I notice you didn't purchase a familiar. Most young witches and wizards tend to be very excited to find one to bond with. Did you two encounter any problems procuring yours?"

Heather barely managed to keep from grimacing when she was reminded of the discussion she'd had with Rian. He'd been enthralled with the idea of an owl or a dog, especially after learning about Familiar Bonds. She had hated disappointing him, but it was necessary.

"Our Aunt has severe allergies." She left it at that.

Rather, Heather refused to inflict the Dursleys upon any other living being. Petunia didn't even feed Heather and Hadrian properly. How would a pet be treated in that household?

Professor McGonagall just gave a sympathetic look and went back to her stew. And that was the end of that discussion.

~~~

Standing next to the fireplace, they said their farewells. "I'll be seeing you come September then, Miss Potter. Remember: Platform Nine and Three Quarters at King's Cross Station." With that last reminder, the siblings were urged through the floo.

Once again stumbling out of the fireplace, Heather was saved from another embarrassing tumble only by Hadrian's quick reflexes. She quickly righted herself, ignoring her brother's teasing smirk.

"Good evening Mrs Figg. Thank you for letting us use your floo."

Sitting in the midst of all her cats, the woman (recently revealed to be a squib) smiled warmly at them. "My pleasure dearies," she said and stood abruptly. "Sit, sit! I have some fresh apple pie somewhere around here."

"Oh, that's alright. We've just eaten," Heather demurred. "We really should be heading back. Our relatives will be returning any minute now."

The cat-loving woman just tutted and sent them off with the whole pie.

~~~

The siblings quickly snuck back into the house and cleaned themselves up. The bland normality of Privet Drive was a harsh contrast to the colour and vibrance of Diagon Alley. They were both still lost in their thoughts when they locked themselves back into their cramped cupboard.

"Heather?" Hadrian's sombre tone snapped her out of her reverie.

"Yeah, Rian?" Heather answered, wrapping her arms around her brother.

Hadrian snuggled closer and began, "It'll be alright, you know. When you go to Hogwarts, I mean." His grip tightened briefly before continuing, "I'll learn how to get food like you do and I'll use my magic to avoid getting hurt." He leaned back a little to look straight into Heather's eyes. "So don't worry about me, okay? Go to Hogwarts and learn lots of magic. Ace all the classes. Write letters every day."

Quiet sniffles were the only sounds heard for a while as Heather tried to stop crying. "I'll be the first in all my classes and I'll write at least three pages of letters every day," she promised when she finally collected herself. She took a deep breath. "And to do that I'll need to study. Pick a book and I'll read it to us," she whispered in forced teasing. It worked - Hadrian rolled his eyes and groaned but did as asked.

"Hogwarts, a History. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded in the 10th century by four very powerful wizards and witches..."

The siblings read until they fell asleep hours later, not even noticing the Dursleys' return. Both dreamt of a majestic castle with a large hall overlooked by the heavens.