What Came After

Preparations

Dear Mr Arcadius Northe,

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 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Filius Flitwick,

Deputy Headmaster

The list contained uniform, the basic textbooks you'd expect for first-years, and, the main area of excitement for me, a wand. My family were moderately well-off, and so my parents could afford to buy new copies of the books for me – they elected, however, to provide me with my sister's copy.

"Waste not want not," my brother jeered, grinning.

"You're one to talk, Magnus, you used it too," my sister Saphira interjected in my defence; she winked subtly at me, and I failed to contain a smile. Magnus was in fifth year, Saphira in seventh – she'd leave at the end of my first year, which I must admit terrified me; she was far and away my closest confidant and friend, and it would be difficult to adjust to living most of the year without much contact.

The three months between my birthday and the end of August passed in a flash, such was my anticipation to start school; I was inexplicably torn between excitement and nervousness at the thought of it all.

We floo-travelled to the Leaky Cauldron, where my father was greeted warmly by Tom, the barkeep.

"Another one, eh, Corvus?" he joked.

"The last, my friend, the last," my father responded, "He's positively champing at the bit, aren't you, Arcadius?" he smiled, looking down at me.

"Mmhmm," I mumble.

Tom just laughed at this and bid us a good day; out we went through the back door to a solid brick wall. My father tapped the bricks in a simple pattern with his wand, and the wall split down the middle and slid apart, revealing Diagon Alley in all its majesty.

The first stop, naturally, was Ollivander's.

It's difficult to put into words quite how excited I was for this; a wizard's wand is part of his identity, after all, and I was absolutely itching to get my own, and maybe learn a little about myself in the process.

Ollivander was standing in the back of his shop, sifting through the many boxes of wands that graced the walls – there were stacks upon stacks of them, piled from floor to ceiling, each eagerly awaiting a witch or wizard for its partner. My family filed out, until it was only my father and I standing by Ollivander's desk – this was a personal moment, after all. Saf gave me a thumbs up of encouragement as she left, which did little to abate my nerves – this was all happening, all at once, after so long waiting, and I must confess my knees were knocking.

Ollivander caught my gaze, and a small smile flickered across his face.

"Ah... Mr Northe. I admit, I have been looking forward to your arrival. Come, come with me." He turned and paced further into his shop.

"Go on, lad, I'll be here when you get back," my father whispered, giving me a gentle push.

I followed the wand-maker, going deeper, deeper into the shop than I thought possible, until you could only just make out the door behind me. It was then that Ollivander stopped and turned.

"I think... I may have the perfect wand for you, Mr Northe." He pulled a box from the row to his left, around waist height – the box looked entirely unexceptional. His description, however was to the contrary.

"This wand has been in my collection for many, many years, since before the First Wizarding War. I have hoped that it might come to an owner many times, yet nobody... nobody has seemed... quite... right. Even the great Harry Potter, I passed over... I thought that considering his destiny... it might be too volatile." He paused, took a breath. "You, however... Let us see what we shall see."

Slowly, he withdrew the wand from the box, and held it in the light for me to see. It was sleek and black, with engraved bands running in a spiral around the length, tapering to an elegant point.

"Elder wood, fourteen and a half inches, with a core of dragon heartstring." Almost reverently, he handed me the wand.

As soon as I held it, a warm feeling ran through my body, from my head to my toes; I felt... complete, like I had been missing a big part of myself and the wand filled the space.

"Give it a wave, then, my boy. Go on," the old man urged, plainly excited.

I obeyed, and pointed the wand at the box in Ollivander's hand. Carefully, I repeated the movement that had revealed my magical ability; the wand lifted from his hand and into the air – I held it there for a handful of seconds, before the wand-maker plucked it up again.

"Very good. Very good. You may be the first wizard in many a year that has been chosen by the first wand he held... and I must admit, it is remarkable that you have an affinity with this wand. Your destiny is somewhat unclear... however, I have great confidence that it will be great... whether or not it is for the better or for the worse, I think, depends on you." With that, he called to my father that we were ready, and we went to complete the sale.

After buying the rest of my things, we headed down to King's Cross station, through to platform nine and three quarters. The train was as resplendent as ever; at five minutes to eleven, my siblings and I said our goodbyes to our parents, and, swallowing my fear, I followed Saf and Magnus onto the train.