home (reader at hogwarts)

sixteen

stepping out in to the littered street of spinner's end and feeling the fresh air brush past your face made a tingle run up your side.

you looked back to minerva and she held out her hand.

"are we going to apparate?" you ask.

"yes, now hold on tightly, y/n. we don't want to leave your head behind."

you let out a laugh as you take a few steps closer to her and she peers around for muggles nearby.

when she realises the coast is clear, she nods to let you latch on tight to her grey sleeve and the pair of you are ripped from one place in the wizarding world to another.

your eyes are shut and you feel queasy as you feel your feet land again on to solid ground. your head pounds and your teeth clench, trying to refrain from letting out projectile vomit.

"are you alright?" minerva says, taking her hand up to your cheek.

you smile and slowly open your eyes before letting out a gasp.

you are in diagon alley. the same rows of shops all full of magical items, cauldrons, brooms, self cleaning dishes, owls, self writing quills and whole bunch of other magic things on display.

very few people are walking around which amazed you. if you had the chance you'd come here everyday.

"what do you think?"

you look at minerva and smile. "i love magic."

she laughs, and walk on wards looking up at a sign on a shop to the left.

OLIVANDERS

"go on, y/n." she says. "go on and meet mr. olivander, i'll just be back."

"oh, don't- leave." you say softly but she doesn't hear. minerva is already walking away.

you sigh, feeling queasy now that you're all alone but shake it off, looking back to the door of the shop.

it's pretty dim in the shop. you wonder if he's closed it already.

you push the door open and the sound of a tinkling bell sounds as you do so. you look up but there is no bell at the door.

you carry on your walk forward, taking in the shelves of barely see-able stacks of long rectangular boxes each with scribbled labels. your hand goes up, instinctively to your arm as you peer into the darkness to see a face.

"mr. ollivander?" you call out softly. "are you there, sir?"

then, a light turns on in the darkness you were peering into and a head of white curly hair makes it's way towards you.

mr ollivander is a frail man and looks no younger than 100 years old. his eyes are aged, and a mysterious silvery colour much similar to the colour of his hair.

he is dressed in fine enough clothing and has a multitude of gold rings stacked up on his skinny fingers. he stares at you, trying to figure you out and finally, after what feels like a whole minute of staring, his lips break into a smile.

"ah!" he says, suddenly in a crackly aged voice similar but rougher than dumbledore's. you nearly jump in suprise. "so you are the one minerva mentioned!"

"y-yes." you stutter. "my name is y/n."

"last name?" he asks.

you bite your lip and look down at the broach on your chest. what should you say?

are you y/n l/n?

or are you y/n snape?

"no matter, no matter," mr. ollivander waves a hand dismissively. "last names can be a touchy subject in the wizarding world y/n. though, i assume you are muggle born?"