The Black Witch

A Tale of Two Wands

Diagon Alley, as a whole, was really very fascinating.

McGonagall had first taken her to Gringotts, where she had acquired two shiny heirship rings - Potter and Black, though the relationship with the second name she did not know - and found out that secretly, all this time, she had a wealth of money left to her by her parents.

Their next stop was Ollivanders, and the part that Grace was most looking forward to, as she would get her wand there.

Professor McGonagall told her that she would much prefer to wait outside, as sometimes, being matched with a wand was a very long and tiresome process, and she would rather like for Grace to find her wand without a teacher hawking over her. Grace rather liked the professor.

Walking into the dusty, old shop, she was greeted by rows and rows of tall shelves, crammed to the brim with long, thin boxes, most of which she presumed held wands yet to be matched. A man with silvery eyes and white hair appeared.

"Ah, Grace Potter," he said, eyeing her as if she was a particularly interesting object. "I have been waiting for you to come." It was like in those fairytales, but Grace only smiled politely.

"Let us find a wand for you, shall we?" Ollivanders disappeared, coming out again with an armful of boxes. He handed a smooth, long wand to her.

"Fir, with a unicorn hair. Flexible, but firm."

She waved the wand, feeling foolish, and jumped back when it immediately expelled an explosion of foul-smelling sparks.

"Not that one," Ollivanders muttered, handing her another wand.

"Red oak, a phoenix feather core. Brittle."

And so it went on, the pile of wand-boxes at her side growing higher and higher with every failed match. Grace was, internally, growing desperate, though she observed that Ollivander looked happier and happier.

"A tricky one," he said, looking delighted as he passed her what must have been the thirtieth wand.

There was one that she felt distinctly connected to, but the connection seemed broken, and the wand jerked in her hand when she held it.

"Holly wood, with a phoenix feather," Ollivanders said, watching her intensely. "Strange, I thought it might be your wand."

'Her' wand seemed to become more and more non-existent the more they cleared out the front-row shelves and moved onto the back. Until finally, Ollivanders passed her an intricately carved wooden box, painted black. Inside was a sleek, rather beautiful wand, a dark grey.

"Yew," Ollivanders whispered. "Dragon heartstring. Slightly bendy." There was a strange look in his eyes as she gripped the wand, waving it, expecting the same results as before.

But a trail of silver sparks came from the tip of her wand, bright and pretty and Grace never thought she had seen something ever so beautiful. Ollivander clapped, though he looked solemn.

"Strange, strange," he murmured, staring at her. "This wand was crafted out of the same yew tree as another wand."

He fixed his gaze on the wand, watching as she drew patterns in the air. "He Who Must Not Be Name's wand."

It took ten minutes for McGonagall to explain Voldemort to her.

To be honest, Grace didn't really care about anything. Especially the Girl-Who-Lived stuff.

"But it's stupid," she argued as they sat, eating ice cream. Her strawberry cone was untouched. Despite the various other unique flavours, she had opted for a purely muggle flavour.

"Is it?" McGonagall asked, looking thoughtful. "Well, you were - are - a symbol of the end of the Wizarding War, in which countless people died, magical and muggle. It was a terrible time, you see."

"Did my parents die in it?" Grace had never really thought about her parents. They had always been a faint shadow in her mind, whenever Petunia mentioned Lily or the freak she had married. "Aunt Petunia always said that they were good for nothing drunks and had gotten themselves killed."

Professor McGonagall looked so shocked it would have been comical.

"Absolutely not! Lily and James, oh, Grace, some words could never have described them fully..."

In the span of a few minutes, Grace learnt three things:

-Lily and James Potter were respectable people of society

-Lily and James Potter had loved Grace very much

-Lily and James Potter had been killed trying to protect her on Halloween, 1981.

Grace didn't know what to do with all that information, so she sat silently.

"How did they die?" she asked.

McGonagall looked uncomfortable.

"A betrayal," she answered vaguely. "Now, Miss Potter, we ought to get you back to your aunt and uncle."

As she was ushered back to the wall, Grace vowed that one day, she would find that traitor and kill him. Because it was he who had given her this life.

She couldn't help but think what ifs.