Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling. Furthermore, the timeline of events may deviate from canon.

"What if I'm not magical, Jamie?" I whispered anxiously, and immediately regretted voicing my worst fear. When the words left my mouth, it was like the idea was given sustenance, closer to becoming reality.

"You are" my older brother Jamie immediately comforted me, "Remember when our parents left us and Sola in the car for a short time to grab us drinks and it was ridiculously warm inside the car… right up until you unintentionally made it snow inside."

"It could have been you or Sola" I pointed out, "You're both magical, you've both received your Hogwarts letters."

"No, it wasn't us. I'm six years older than you, I was already in my third year of Hogwarts, and I wasn't allowed to do magic. I would have gotten in trouble. And Sola was sleeping… It was you." Jamie reached over and mussed up my hair, "Don't worry, Ray, I know you'll get your letter."

I looked up at him worriedly, but his kind smile blew away all my fears for the moment.

As most fears are, mine were unnecessary, and my Hogwarts letter arrived on my eleventh birthday that December. In August, seventh-year Jamie received his letter first, which came with the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain badge.

"That's wonderful!" my mother fawned, "Um… what does it mean, exactly?"

A few hours later, my fifth-year sister, Sola, received her letter and the Ravenclaw Prefect badge.

"Darling, we're incredibly proud of you! But… what exactly is a prefect?" my father asked.

My siblings laughed exasperatedly, but sat down my adorable parents and explained it all to them. There were a lot of "oh"s and "ah"s and "wonderful"s for the next few minutes.

"Sola and I both have a few new books to buy this year" Jamie commented, looking over his book list.

"I need to restock on quills, ink, and parchment as well" Sola added.

"And Ray, you need your wand and robes and all that" my father said, smiling proudly at me.

"Well, sounds like it's that time of year to pay a visit to Diagon Alley", my mother announced.

The muffled pitter-pattering and bustling of feet and the incessant clanking and groaning of old wagons on an old cobblestone road mixed with the fresh smell of chocolate, baked bread, and new textbooks as well as that slightly musty smell of old, forgotten merchandise.

That was my first impression of Diagon Alley.

"Why don't we start at Ollivander's?" my father suggested, "Since its Ray's first year?"

"Nonsense, Madame Malkin's has to be our first stop. Sola's a prefect this year, which means we need to get her some beautiful robes. People will be looking at her this year, you know! And if we don't hurry, all the silk robes will be gone!"

"Mother, I don't really need silk-" my sister tried to protest, but my mother pulled her away immediately.

"Well, Jamie, shall we go to Ollivander's?" my father asked him, but Jamie was staring lovingly, wide-eyed, and half in a daze at something past my father.

My father frowned and looked behind him, looking for some gorgeous, long-legged girl, but instead found Jamie staring at the newest Quidditch broom- Jupiter Model G640.

"I think I'm in love" Jamie voiced breathlessly.

My father rolled his eyes and said, "Son, as your father, I'm all for you playing sports, but this… obsession is a bit too much…"

But my brother didn't even hear him. Instead, Jamie continued in his reverie, saying, "You see those sweet curves on that broom? Perfect to the touch, smooth, glamorous…"

"You sound completely perverted" I told my brother, half-laughing and half-concerned.

Jamie's nose was right up against the window, his breath fogging up the glass.

My father finally threw his hands up and dragged me away from my crazy family, to Ollivander's.

We entered the tiny store just as another young boy had discovered his rightful wand.

"Dogwood mixed with Aspen, phoenix feather, eleven and a quarter inches long", I heard the wandmaker declare.

A beautiful array of black and white ribbons shot out of the end of his wand. The woman who came with him, presumably his mother, for they shared the same aristocratic features and dark eyes, scowled and said nastily, "Dogwood mixed with Aspen, eh? Pitiful. We Blacks have always prided ourselves on choosing powerful Yew and Blackthorn woods only."

"How arrogant of you" the young boy snarled, "to think that you chose your wand. Don't you know that the wand chooses the wizard?"

There was a pause and then a loud smack! as the woman slapped her son without mercy.

"Madam!" my father shouted, horrified.

"As respectable a witch as you undoubtly are, I must ask you to leave the premises if you are going to behave in such a way, Madam Black" Ollivander, an ancient man with eyes like silver, said, and though his words were civil, his voice and eyes were strikingly sharp.

Heaving a deep breath, nostrils flaring, Madam Black said angrily, "Fine, very well then. You won't get a wand!" And she grabbed the little boy by the arm and dragged him out the shop, leaving the wand on the floor where the boy had dropped it.

Ollivander sighed, staring at them pitifully, and then turned to us, "Here for your first wand, I presume?"

I nodded half-heartedly, still worried about the young boy.

"Very well, stretch out your wand arm, please."

As the measurements rolled out, Ollivander began to pull different boxes from the shelves, muttering to himself incoherently.

"Here" he finally presented me a wand, "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

I took the wand hesitantly and then flinched when a blast of fire erupted from the end of the wand, catching Ollivander's cuff. Ollivander simply pointed at his cuff and water sprouted out, dousing the flames. He calmly took back the holly wand, but I was extremely shaken.

"No worries" Ollivander reassured me, and presented me with another wand, "Maple, dragon heartstring, ten and a half inches, sturdy and dependable…"

Before I'd even gotten a firm grip on the wand, Ollivander had whipped it out of my hand, shaking his head. "Here, Spanish Cedar, unicorn hair, twelve inches, majestic and strict…"

I'd laid one finger on it when he'd shoved the wand back into its box.

"Rosewood, unicorn hair, ten inches, regal and feminine…"

I waved it the tiniest bit and the entire store window shattered loudly. My father flinched badly, even Ollivander raised an unimpressed eyebrow, and I immediately shoved the wand back into its box.

"Haven't you got a misfit wand or something? One that no one else wanted?" I finally asked as the number of wands I'd tried grew higher and higher… but I felt that it was because Ollivander kept giving me wands that never matched me (supple, sturdy, dependable, majestic, strict, regal, feminine… none of these words described me).

Ollivander suddenly paused at my words and looked at me, his silver eyes searching deep into my soul. I shifted, uncomfortable with his penetrating gaze.

I wondered for a second if I'd insulted Ollivander, after all, this was his area of expertise… and I was suggesting he was totally wrong.

Ollivander walked over to the deepest depths of his shelves and cabinets and began to move boxes. Dust began to sift into the air and when Ollivander unlodged one final box, a huge cloud of dust burst into the air. He reached into the box and pulled out a small wand box, from which he produced a wand.

"Here" he murmured and handed it to me.

With the wand came a soft smell of mint, stifled by the dust on this obviously old wand. I gripped the wand and for a moment, nothing happened. But then an unmistakable warmth flooded through me and my eyes widened when suddenly the entire store was bathed in a warm glow the color of an orange-pink sunset. No light had been produced from my wand and yet, unmistakably, that light had been produced from my wand… from me.

"Pine mixed with pink ivory, phoenix feather, twelve and a half inches. Poignant and illuminating. Subtle yet rich."

He took the wand back from me and put it back in the dusty case, "It has stayed in this store for over fifty years. I believed I had miscreated it, but it seems that it was waiting for you."

And those words made me feel indescribably happy.

"I'll treat it well" I promised and Ollivander gave me a ghost of a smile.

We bought the wand and left the store, but about a block later, that nagging sense was still tugging at my mind.

I abruptly suddenly told my father, "I forgot something at Ollivander's. I'll be right back!" and raced off back to the wand shop.

The bell dinged again as I shoved open the door.

"May I help you?" Ollivander asked, looking at me sternly.

Slightly breathless, I said, "That wand that chose the boy before me… how much is it? And what was his name?"

A few seconds later, I walked out seven Galleons poorer, but with the dogwood mixed with aspen wand and a name: Sirius Black.