Previously called TWO OF THE SAME
❝ It's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. ❞
Living with her godmother, Dorcas Meadows, and her uncle, Remus Lupin, 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 lives a pretty good life. That's unt...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
DIAGON ALLEY WAS CROWDED. Harper held onto Dorcas and Remus' sleeves as the three of them made their way towards Ollivanders to buy her first wand. To say Harper was excited would be an understatement.
"Now remember, the wand chooses the witch," Dorcas told her, as they entered the small shop. "Don't be sad when the first wand you try isn't the one."
"It took me five different wands before the wand finally found me," Remus added.
Harper nodded absently as she looked around the shop. The display consisted of a solitary wand lying on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. The shop was tiny, empty except for a single, spindly chair in the corner. Thousands of narrow boxes containing wands were piled right up to the ceiling of the tiny shop, and the whole place had a tiny layer of dust about it.
"Here are some Galleons," Dorcas said, handing her a small bag. "Remus and I will get your books while Mr Ollivander will help you look for your wand."
"I'm sure we'll manage," Harper said, as her hazel eyes trailed over the boxes.
The two adults left and Harper was left alone in the shop. She was about to move closer to the boxes to observe them more closely, when a man appeared from the back.
"Ah Miss Potter, I was wondering when we would finally meet," the man said, smiling down at her. "It seems like yesterday that both of your parents walked in and received their wands."
Harper eyed him curiously. Apart from Dorcas and Remus, no one really talked about her parents.
"My parents, sir?" she asked eagerly.
"Ah yes, Lily Potter, then Lily Evans, ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." He tilted his head, observing her carefully. "Apart from the hair, you don't really look like her. You're more like your father. Mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration."
Harper nodded, having heard that already before. "So they say."
"But today it's about you," the man said, smiling. "Let's see which wand chooses you, Miss Potter, because the wand chooses the witch. That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore . . . These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the witch, the witch from the wand."
