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HP Chapter 4: The Wand
🕑 Added 2025-07-31 06:36:33 +0000 UTCAfter reading Aaron’s note, Anne glanced suspiciously at the letter on her desk. Could that Ministry letter be a fake? She shook her head, dismissing the thought. Her eyes drifted back to the small box in her hands. It was pale blue, secured with a clasp. She unlatched it carefully, revealing a small crystal orb nestled quietly inside.
Tilting her head, Anne tried to recall what crystal balls were used for, divination was the only thing that came to mind. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the orb, and the moment her skin made contact, her surroundings shifted.
Though she was clearly still in her room, it felt as if she had stepped into another space. Before her appeared a cozy sitting room. On the couch sat a man and a woman, the woman cradled a baby in her arms, while the man was gently teasing the infant, his face beaming with joy.
Anne blurted out without thinking, “Dad… Mom…”
“Hehehe, just look how adorable Anne is,” Lambert chuckled as he played with the baby, speaking softly to Sonia. Sonia responded with a warm, silent smile, her eyes full of tenderness.
“Look at her eyes, they're just like yours. She's bound to be just as beautiful as you…” Lambert said, glancing at Sonia with a hint of shyness as she adjusted the cloth wrapping around the baby.
“I just hope she grows up happy,” Sonia whispered. “A peaceful, ordinary life would be enough.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Lambert agreed, then continued with mock indignation, “But I was talking with Aaron the other day, and that guy actually wants our daughter to go to Gryffindor! A bunch of impulsive, hotheaded lions? No way. I’d much prefer her to follow in your footsteps and go to Ravenclaw.”
“Isn’t it a bit early to be thinking about all this?” Sonia teased. “Besides, I thought you’d want her in Slytherin.”
“No chance,” Lambert said with a laugh. “I know those boys too well. If my daughter went there, they’d have it way too easy!”
Sonia giggled, drawing out her words: “But you were a Slytherin… and their Prefect, no less…”
“Exactly! I know what they’re like. Any boy who wants to marry my daughter will have to pass many tests first. If she really ends up in Slytherin, those punks would get off too lightly!”
“What if she ends up in Hufflepuff?” Sonia teased again.
“Then I’ll make sure the Prefect of that year knows: if anyone bullies Anne, they’ll have to answer to me! Oh, and we’ll definitely have to notify Aaron, he was Gryffindor’s Prefect, after all. That way, no one would dare mess with her.”
As Lambert finished speaking, a fog rolled in, washing out the image until it completely faded away.
Anne sat there holding the crystal orb, tears brimming in her eyes.
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The next morning, Anne woke up and immediately glanced at her desk, the pale blue box still lay there, exactly as she had left it.
After getting dressed, she went downstairs holding a neatly written note in one hand. The note politely informed Hogwarts that Aaron would be escorting her and that she didn’t require assistance from their assigned witches or wizards.
In the dining hall, Headmistress Odette was busy clearing the table. Anne greeted her politely and slipped outside. Not far from the house, a cobbled path led to a long, dusty concrete road. At the edge where the paths met stood two white mailboxes, and perched atop one of them was a brown owl.
Anne approached, and the owl flapped its wings before extending a leg toward her. She slipped the note into a small pouch tied to its leg and thanked it. The owl took off immediately into the sky.
After breakfast, Anne told a small lie. “Mrs. Odette, I made plans with Jill to go out this afternoon. I might not be back until evening.” She didn’t want the headmistress to know anything about the magical world, so this was the best she could do.
Mrs. Odette nodded without suspicion and reminded her to stay safe.
Back in her room, Anne sat at her desk and pulled out an old, half-used notebook from the drawer. The first half was filled with notes; the second was still blank. She began scribbling down everything she could remember about the Harry Potter series using a code only she could understand.
Thanks to her photographic memory, she retained much, but many memories from her past life had faded with time, especially the Harry Potter films she had watched back in high school. Even though she had seen them more than once, she only remembered the rough outlines of the eight movies.
By the time she finished organizing her notes, the whole morning had passed. After reviewing her work to make sure no one else could understand it, she closed the notebook, returned it to the drawer, and headed downstairs for lunch.
When Mrs. Odette left for a meeting in London and Grandma Ida took the younger children out to the lawn to play, Anne stayed behind, waiting in her room with her satchel slung over one shoulder.
About fifteen minutes later, a folded paper airplane fluttered in through the window and hovered right in front of her nose. Anne immediately recognized it as the Ministry’s usual form of correspondence. She caught it, unfolded it, and read the hastily scrawled message:
Dear Anne,
Sorry! I forgot to mention, today I can’t use magic. Could you come out to the road in front of the orphanage? I’ll be waiting there.
Aaron Hall
After reading, the airplane flattened into a blank sheet of paper. Anne tucked it into a drawer and jogged downstairs.
When she reached the road, she spotted Aaron across the street, waving at her in a white shirt. A black sedan stood parked beside him.
“Good afternoon, Uncle Aaron,” Anne greeted as she approached, eyeing both him and the car.
“Ah-ha! Good afternoon, Anne.” Aaron opened the passenger-side door for her, and once she was seated, he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Surprised?”
Anne nodded. “Why…?”
“Why would a wizard have a car, right? Well, we operate in the Muggle world too, so the Ministry provided me with one. We can’t use magic all the time.”
“Then last night?”
“Er… about that…” Aaron looked momentarily awkward. “Let’s keep last night between us, okay?”
Anne blinked. “Wait, so the letter was fake?!”
“What? No, no, of course not! That Ministry letter was real. I just… might have moved the date forward a little bit…” he muttered, cheeks flushing as he averted his gaze.
Anne shook her head with a sigh. “You’re really bold, Uncle Aaron.”
“Alright, enough about that. Today, we’re off to explore Diagon Alley and pick up all your school supplies. Did you bring the Hogwarts list?”
“Yes,” Anne said, patting her bag.
They parked outside the Leaky Cauldron. Compared to last night, the pub was nearly empty, only four or five people quietly chatting inside.
Stepping through the archway, Anne once again entered Diagon Alley. In daylight, the street was far more lively than it had been at night. Sunlight bathed the cobbled road, and shopkeepers shouted as they hawked their wares.
Wizards in black robes bustled past, while children around Anne’s age trailed behind adults, staring wide-eyed in all directions. Some people dressed in obvious Muggle clothes also mingled in the crowd.
“We’ll get your wand first!” Aaron said, tugging the wide-eyed Anne toward Ollivanders.
A group of boys was crowded around a glass display case, admiring a broomstick. One read aloud, “The latest Nimbus 2000! Fastest in the world! The best companion for any Quidditch player, own it now!”
Anne leaned closer, curious about the broom, but Aaron gently pulled her back. “Ah-ah, little first-years can’t bring broomsticks, remember?”
A nearby shop displayed stacks of parchment in every color imaginable, and another was releasing faint green smoke that smelled like bitter melon. So many wizards in the UK? The magical economy is booming, Anne thought. Diagon Alley must be the wizarding world’s version of a central business district.
They stopped in front of a small, weathered shop. The sign read:
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
In the dusty window, a single wand sat alone on a faded purple cushion.
Aaron pushed open the door, leading Anne into the cramped shop. There was only a single bench and rows upon rows of narrow boxes stacked on towering shelves that reached the ceiling.
“Have a seat, Anne. Mr. Ollivander should be, ”
Before he could finish, a soft voice said, “Good afternoon.”
Anne and Aaron both jumped. An elderly man stepped out from behind a shelf. His silver-white eyes seemed to gleam.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander,” Aaron greeted politely.
Anne quickly echoed, “Good afternoon.”
“Ah yes, Aaron Hall. Hawthorn wood, phoenix feather core, eleven inches. A fine wand,” Ollivander murmured.
Aaron gently nudged Anne forward. “Sir, this is Anne Reeve. She needs a wand.”
“Of course, of course. Another year at Hogwarts. Let’s see…” Ollivander pulled out a long silver measuring tape. “Which is your wand hand?”
“Right hand, sir,” Anne replied, raising her hand.
“Reeve… Reeve… Ah yes, Lambert Reeve, eleven and a half inches, camphor wood, unicorn hair, firm... Every Ollivander wand contains powerful magical substances, that’s their essence. We use unicorn hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring. Each wand is unique, as no two magical cores are exactly alike. A wand that truly belongs to someone else will never perform as well.”
As he spoke, he began measuring Anne, while the tape continued moving on its own.
So this measuring tape is magical too, Anne realized.
“Try this one, beechwood, phoenix feather, nine inches.”
She barely touched the wand before Ollivander snatched it back. “No, not that one. Try this, ebony wood, dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches.”
Again, he took it back immediately. After testing thirteen or fourteen wands, none satisfied him.
“A picky customer, how delightful. It’s been a while,” he muttered, disappearing deeper into the shelves.
Anne glanced nervously at Aaron, who quickly reassured her. “Don’t worry, Anne. Finding the right wand isn’t easy.”
“Oh, oh, it’s not you who chooses the wand, but the wand that chooses the wizard. Here, try this: eleven inches, sycamore wood, dragon heartstring.”
The moment Anne held the light-colored wand with fine wood grain, her fingertips tingled. She gave it a gentle wave, and a flash of silver light burst out, knocking all the nearby boxes onto the floor.
Anne gasped. “I’m so sorry, sir!”
But Ollivander didn’t seem to hear. He just nodded. “Wonderful. A fine wand. It has chosen its wizard. That’ll be twelve Galleons.”
Aaron pulled some coins from his pocket, counted out twelve Galleons, and handed them over. “Thank you, Mr. Ollivander.”
Anne quickly added her own thanks. Together, they stepped out of the shop, wand in hand.
“Uncle Aaron, Mr. Ollivander is…”
“That’s just how he is, Anne,” Aaron said with a laugh. “Alright, let’s get the rest of your supplies.”
Anne cast one last glance at the small, dusty shop behind her. The wizarding world really isn’t something you can understand with Muggle logic.
Not long after they left, a little girl arrived at Ollivanders, flanked by her Muggle parents. She had a bushy mane of brown hair and two large front teeth. Beaming with excitement, she pushed open the door.
