Emily Potter - Book 1 - The Sorcerer's Stone

Chapter 2: Emily Turns Eleven

It had been an exhilarating day for Emily. She had been measured for her school robes which proved to be a troublesome affair since she fidgeted and squirmed at every passing moment. Afterward the prickly fiasco at Madam Malkin's, Aunt Minerva bought her a striking Tawny owl for Emily to send out correspondence as she pleases. She fell in love with her pet within the snap of a second, naming her Hayley after the comet for how she appeared to look like a blurred ball of feathers when she took flight.

"Do I even need an owl when I get to Hogwarts?" She asked meekly, "I doubt that I'd have anyone to write to since you'd be there with me." Aunt Minerva looked at Emily, remembering how this girl next to her never felt true friendship in all those nine lonely years. "Owls make for great companionship, you'll need her as much as she will need you." 

The two were now on their way to a shop Emily had much-anticipated of going ever since she found out that she was a witch. Aunt Minerva opened the shop door, the little bell ringing jovially as the two went in the premises and approached the front desk of Ollivander's Wand Shop. An old man with voluminous white hair looked up from his desk, his eyes appeared aged but still twinkled nonetheless. He seemed to light up the dimly lit room with his warm smile.

"A wonderful afternoon isn't it, professor?" Ollivander said, putting away his books. The woman nodded in agreement, "Emily, this is Mister Ollivander." The girl smiled bashfully at the man and introduced herself with a handshake, she was a precocious girl since she had only seen two wizards one of them being her Aunt and the other being her frequent visitor, Severus. But there was a kindness to Mr. Ollivander that even she couldn't doubt.

"Charmed and honored to meet you, at last, Miss Potter," He said taking a closer look at Emily before turned to Minerva, "She bares some of James' looks, I dare say! Although, you do have your mother's eyes," Ollivander commented as he took a box from below the counter, "I can still remember the day your parents came in for their first wands, Miss Potter."

Emily felt her ears perk up like a dog being invited for a walk in the park. The idea of complete strangers knowing her parents seemed to starve her, craving for more information on what they were like at her age. Would I have a similar wand to one of my parents? Do I really look that much of my father? Her brain focused on the photograph of her mother and father, admiring both their beauty and bravery, I would consider myself lucky enough to grow up half as great as they had been. 

Ollivander handed her a wand, snatching her away from her private thoughts, "Try this. 9 inches, cherry wood, and Dragon heartstring," Without hesitation, Emily took the wand in her hand and felt the power that radiated to her palm and fingers, she gave it a twirl and caused a vase of water to freeze into solid ice, creating a frost that snaked up to the stems of chrysanthemums, "Is that a good thing?" She asked anxiously as she glanced over her shoulder to the adults behind her.

The wand in her hand was replaced with a new one, "This wand is Hawthorne and unicorn hair." He said transfixed on what may be the outcome. With a flick of her wrist, the wand produced absolutely nothing. Emily swished it a few times, but alas, no magic was produced. Ollivander took the wand from her and examined it dutifully, "It seems like this wand likes you, Miss Potter. But dear me, it will not work for you under these circumstances." He shook his head and replaced the wand back into its box.

"Try this one. 10 inches, Yew, and unicorn hair," He said handing another wand. This time, Emily made a miniature tornado and sent boxes of wands in the air. Luckily, the professor was quick enough to dissipate the tornado and return the store back in its rightful order. Ollivander went to the back of the shop and several minutes later, he came back with another box. The girl wanted to wait for him to say the item's description, but none came. The wandmaker kept his silence as he held the open box for her.

 Emily took the wand and immediately closed her eyes as she waved it in front of her, hopeful for a welcoming outcome. The vase of frozen chrysanthemums she had accidentally hexed early on had bloomed back to its former floral glory, the flowers seemed to hum with the vibrant life coursing within it. If she listened closely, Emily could make it out as Beethoven's Fur Elise, a composition she was familiar with due to an unknown pianist living in the apartment complex opposite the orphanage had played it so often at night. It was one of the few things that soothed her to sleep during cold, restless nights. 

She grinned upon her victory and turned to look at Minerva McGonagall and Mr. Ollivander, "What is it?" Emily asked excitedly. Ollivander gently took back the wand from her grasp and wrapped it in its box, "11 ¼ inches, Mahogany like your father's. Very good for Transfiguration, if I say so myself. I like to think that it is one of the most potent wand woods, especially for carrying and guiding a wizard's magic to use." He said with a wink, sliding over the packaged box to Emily. 

Minerva paid him for the wand and leaned close over the counter, whispering, "Mister Ollivander, we would appreciate it if all that had happened in the four corners of this establishment did not go out to the public." The wandmaker looked down at the girl and then back to the professor, livid.

"You have my word, Minerva! I'd rather have a Dementor suck my soul out before I tattle to anyone." Ollivander said as they nearly made their way to the exit. "Not necessary but thank you!" Minerva replied. She considered the effects it would hold over her adopted daughter if the news had spread that Emily Potter had survived the night of her parents' murder all those years ago. Minerva wanted to protect and give the girl a chance to have a regular witch's childhood as much as she could before reaching adolescence. 

Emily tapped her Aunt's shoulder and looked at her bug-eyed, "What's a Dementor?"

~

They ate their supper at their home; a simple hearty meal of Lamb stew, rice, potatoes, and a chocolate pie for dessert. Emily began to mash her potatoes with her fork, a habit she often executed when deep in thoughts and worries, "You mentioned before that you visited my parents quite often. And that you also taught them in Hogwarts."

"That I did."

"What kind of students were they?"

Minerva started to clean up the table as she spoke, her memories from Lily and James' school years reeling in, "Your mother was a diligent student. She was sorted in Gryffindor with your father though they didn't get on very well. When I look at you at times, I see her spirit in you in those eyes of yours. Smart as she was, Lily had the sharpest of wits that only your father could challenge, and that sometimes ended up with both of them getting into detention." The woman took a side glance at Emily, smiling briefly. "You have your father's hair, I have to say. But I do remember that you were quite auburn at birth."

Emily sat up straight, intrigued, "Really?" She asked imagining herself with hair as red as her mother's.

Minerva could not help showing her amusement, "Really. As for your father, he was a menace, which explains your attitude young lady," She said, reminding her the time she accidentally cursed the elderly woman next door, who had nicked their newspaper, to go temporarily bald. "Your father was intelligent in his own chaotic world. He and your mother seemed to be polar opposites of the same coin. Always at each other's throats despite being so alike. Your poor father almost always lost against Lily."

Emily laughed, "Oh, poor dad. What happened next?" She asked, her eyes glittering with excitement, her heart growing full.

"He grew up," She simply answered, "For your mother. Fewer trips to detention, little to no pranks on teachers and students... Later on, James became Head boy, imagine that? He and Lily eventually gotten along and became quite close."

That's sweet. She thought to herself, releasing an uncontrolled yawn that made her bones go tired and weary, "Thank you, Aunt Minerva." Emily whispered as she hugged her. There were so many things to thank the professor for - for saving her, for standing in as her mother, and for loving and protecting her as her own daughter. In her heart, Emily felt like Aunt Minerva already knew what she wanted to say with only her hug, so both stay silent for a moment.

"You're welcome, sweetie." Minerva whispered back, kissing the top of Emily's head, "Carry on and go to bed now, we have a big day ahead of us."

~

June 22, 2020 Edit