The Kin of the Death Eaters

Chapter One

"Emily! We are going to be late to Diagon Alley!" I heard my mother scream from downstairs. Today was the day my parents took my shopping for my first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft. I looked myself in the mirror of my bathroom, I saw a tall, skinny twelve year old staring back at me. I have black hair that reached down to the bottom of my shoulder blades and my eyes were so brown they almost looked completely black. I got dressed in a black, tight dress and put on my black heels. My parents disapprove of how I dress, but I don't care cause I look better, older, and more threatening this way. When I walk to school the girls part ways and the boys' heads turn. Well, at least that's what happened at my muggle school. But Hogwarts is a whole new ballgame. I walked down the stairs into my living room to see my parents wearing their robes that they normally wear when they go to the wizarding world. My parents both work at the Ministry of Magic. My mom looks exactly like me, but more tired and older, while my dad has light brown hair and always a goofy look on his face. My mom is very serious at most points, while my dad, although innocent, is completely too naive and trusting. 

"Sweetie, do you have to wear that?" My dad asked, truly concerned.

"Yes, Dad, I do." I replied swiftly. "Shall we go?" I gave my mother my hand and in an instant I felt like my stomach was being yanked and a gust of wind hit me in the face. A second later we landed in the entrance to Diagon Alley, my heels struggling slightly to find a comfortable place on the cobblestone. My dad appeared seconds later behind us.

"I love apparation," my dad exclaimed. "Should we go to wands first or pets or robes or the bank or what?"

"How about I go and shop alone while you two wait for me at the pub?" I can tell that my parents are slightly frightened by me. In silence, my parents handed me and handful of Galleons and Sickles. 

"This should be enough for everything." My mother said flatly as she handed me my school shopping list. I could see her eyes about to tear and I kind of felt bad that I pushed them away so quickly. 

I decided to go walk to Ollivander's wand shop first, as a wand is the most important thing to a young wizard. Of course, Ollivander himself passed away a few years ago, but his son apparently took over the shop. As I walked down the cobblestone, I could see out of the corner of my eyes boys staring at me and girls staring at me in admiration. This is the attention I like. As I turned the corner to Ollivander's, a young boy stopped me in my path.

"Hello," he said in a flirtatious tone. He was young, probably my age, with shaggy blonde hair and an impish smirk I could tell was always on his face. "I haven't seen you here before. Shopping for school I see?" His eyes glanced over to the huge coin purse in my hand. 

"Yes I am. Now if you would excuse me I would like to buy my wand." I pushed past him and made sure to strut away in such a way that accentuated my butt. I walked into Ollivander's to be greeted by a young boy, probably twenty. He had scruff and a defined face. 

"Welcome to Ollivander's. First year student I presume?" I nodded in confirmation. "Let's see..." He went into the back of the shop and away from eyesight. I leaned on the cashier desk and waited impatiently, tapping my feet loud enough for the man to hear. He came out with three wand boxes, all identical with purple velvet and a wooden box. He opened one of them and handed a wand to me. It was the lamest wand I have ever seen. It was basically just a stick. I flicked it and an end table across the room fell over. I put it back in the box, relieved that that lame piece of wood wasn't the wand I was spending my life with. The man opened the next box and handed the wand to me, and at first sight I new that this wand was mine. It was black, but if you held it in the light a certain way you could see small lines of dark green. The butt of the wand was a snakes head and the tail of the snake spiraled around the sleek, black wand. The second I put it in my hand, it felt right. The handle was perfectly formed to my hand, and when I flicked it, a vase at the end of the room hovered slightly over the table it was resting on and then was gently put back down. 

"Congratulations," the man behind the counter said. "You, my friend, are a witch."