At the age of eleven, Desiree David is surprised to learn that she has magic. That doesn't mean that she isn't a powerful witch, just like her father was, however. She has always wondered who her father was, and she wonders if she may learn at Hog...
'I always knew that I was different. I just never realized how different I was...'
---Desiree David
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Desiree's P.O.V.:
On my eleventh birthday, I woke up happy and excited, as I always did [on my birthday]. I hopped out of bed, happily humming a random Taylor Swift song quietly to myself. Shaking out my long, silky sheet of strawberry-blond Shirley Temple-like ringlets, I put on one of my favorite outfits, [a white silk blouse with a hot-pink leopard pattern heart, and a pair of torn, tight black jeans with different shades of pink paint splattered, artfully interspersed].
Skipping down the stairs two at a time, I happily plopped myself gracefully down on a red and gold leather stool at the black speckled white marble [yes it is real marble!] kitchen counter. After waiting patiently for a whole ten seconds (wow, I am sooooooo hyper!!!) I sighed dramatically and went to make my own breakfast. Jeez, must I do everything around here? *sighs*
I decided on some sort of sugary cereal and my beloved chocolate milk. Hmm. Cocoa Puffs sound great today I thought, smiling to myself. Chocolate with chocolate. Boy---I am turning into a chocoholic! I happily started chowing down on my breakfast. When my Mom, who preferred to be called Chloe [because 'Mom' was a name you called old people, according to Chloe! *cue the eye-roll*] came into the kitchen. "Hey, kiddo," she said, ruffling my hair lovingly.
"Mom," I cried out in exasperation.
She widened her large, violet eyes oh-so-innocently. "Yes, darling?"
Sighing at her 'innocent act' [which sucks, by the way. It's a good thing that she doesn't have to act for a living.] I replied, "I told you not to do that, like, a million times!"
Just as my Mom was about to reply, a frikin' owl flew into the window. What on earth, I thought to myself?! I jumped [literally], which only made my mom chuckle. "Finally," she exclaimed happily.
I gave her my best [and very authentic] confused look. Sighing, she said, "Dez, I think it's time we discussed your magical genealogy."
"Wait--what," I said oh-so-eloquently. "Magic doesn't exist. Except in faerie tales, maybe."
"Yes it does. And those are based on sightings from the middle ages, warped through the years to fit muggle perspective. I was worried, since you are a slightly late bloomer [Mom!! No, not like that, dear.] It was most likely due to being 1/2 Veela and 1/8 Siren. But magic will out in the end," she said as if to reassure me. I just stared at her, violet eyes wide. She smiled back lovingly.
"You are going to need a whole bunch of school materials, if you are going to be attending Hogwarts," She sighed happily. "The only thing that you won't need is a wand. This was your Great-Grandmother's."
I took it carefully between my thumb and forefinger and felt a warmth suffuse my whole body. I looked at the wand in wonder. It began to glow a soft violet and silver while the occasional gold sparks shot out of the end. Startled, I nearly dropped the wand.
My Mother gracefully caught it just before it reached the snow-white marble floor. She turned to me, a scowl marring her otherwise perfect features. "That is a family heirloom, Dez. You need to be more careful," She scowled at me.
"But Chloe, it almost burned me," I whined, in the most mature manner possible.
Chloe just sniffed. Pouting, I hesitantly took the [apparently] dangerous wand from her grasp. Trying to change the subject, I said, "So what is my wand made of, Chloe?"
"Your 13 3/4 ", yieldingly flexible wand is composed mainly of Apple wood, with cherry wood and dogwood used as designs. It contains the hair of a Veela (your ancestor's, from my Mother's side). Not much is known about Veela hair, other than it is tricky to deal with, unless you have Veela blood in you. Which, luckily for you, we do. The wand holder is comprised of a single, intricately carved Opaleye Dragon's claw, embedded with moonstones and fire opals."
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I just eyed her weirdly, with a bored expression and went back to eating my Cocoa Puffs. Before you ask, I am obsessed with Cocoa Puffs. Random, I know.
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Three days later, I was finally convinced that I was, indeed, a witch. What can I say, I'm stubborn. As in Tea Party Stubborn. Thankfully, I am not stupid, as well. "Well, since you are finally convinced," my mom drawled, "Why don't we go shopping?"
"For what," I asked rather lazily, as I skimmed through a recent issue of Teen-Beat magazine. Disgusted by the useless garbage, I threw the magazine in the bin.
"For school, silly!"
"Must we," I whined, giving her my best, wide-eyed puppy face.
"Yes," firmly from my Mom. "We will be leaving for Diagon Alley tomorrow. You can do most of the shopping yourself, that way you can make friends before school even begins."
"Sounds good to me," I mumbled, as I started to re-read Anne of Green Gables for what must be the millionth time. Literally.
"Great! Now off to bed. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."
