The Scamander ✧ Harry Potter Year 1

Chapter 1

In a mythical world, on an unforeseen street of Diagon Ally, in a peculiar pet shop called Magical Menagerie, a youthful girl aged 5 sat in playful delight, giggles brimming the air with joy as creatures of all kinds clambered over in hurried happiness to treasure the girl with an enthusiastic welcome. Cats, frogs, toads, and baby pixies were amongst the lot as they all rushed to the front of the shop while owls hooted gleefully in cages - the shop uniquely a boom with noise. The shopkeeper looked in disbelief at the commotion, never having seen anything quite like it. The ethos of the room was replenished with jubilation.

"I'm sorry, it seems to happen everywhere she goes." There was a joyful rasp to the man's voice that could only come from a well-lived man. This particular figure went by the renowned name of Newt Scamander. He smiled somewhat apologetically, but in his eyes, he shared the same wonder with the shopkeeper. Newt Scamander made quick work of inspecting the owls the shop offered in an effort to return the shop to its pleasant silent keeping, and the shop-keeper amongst her bewildered delight would barely remember to collect the golden coins that were extended to her in trade for her finest brawny owl.

A girlish laugh echoed again through the room as the young girl delighted in the soft licks off a Maine Coon cat while a frog sat content on top of her tiny head. With a surprisingly able body for his ripe age, Newt Scamander gently lifted the girl from her position off the floor, carrying the owl in one hand, the animals hooting in despair to see her go.

"I'm sorry, Mathilda, but we must be off." The girl nodded her sadly in understanding, waving a melancholy goodbye to the animals as she got led into the cobbled autumn street abound with leaves.

"Goodbye, Miss. Silverberry, Goodbye! Goodbye!" Her voice extended even as her body was almost already out the door, stretching to be heard by all the manner of creatures that hooted and barked at her departure. When the pair finally became accustomed to the quiet of the cobbled-stoned street, the girl's bright brown eyes looked up sweetly to her old man, inquisitive in her gaze. "Are we going to Ollivander's shop now?" A curious girl looked up at her grandpa; hand latched tightly onto him. His wrinkled eyes looked down to meet her own.

"Yes, clever girl, we are." Grandpa Newt kneeled beside her, straightening her jacket to shield her from the cold, pointing a gloved hand towards a dark corner shop with a powerful sense of magic seeping out its walls. "Are you excited?" Mathilda nodded drastically enthusiastically, looking on with doe eyes towards her Grandpa.

"Then...away, we...GOOO!" Grandpa Newt picked up the unexpecting girl, lightly swinging her round once round as she fell into fits of laughter before placing her back to the safety of the ground. Hand in hand, they both proceeded onwards, Mathilda looking up in adoration for the old man as they walked towards the black door.

A chime sounded as they stepped in from the biting cold, warming up instantly in the hug of the shop's heat. Mathilda sighed as she shook off the autumn leaves wildly, stomping the wetness of her shoes into the mat by the door. But once she became unoccupied with shaking off the outside weather, the shop's silence caught her attention. Her eyes remained apprehensive as she looked upon the seemingly empty and dark rows of shelves. But perhaps when the first sound of footsteps echoed from the back of the room, her anxiousness only did double knots in her stomach.

Her hand clasped tighter onto her grandpa's. The footsteps sounded more apparent, a small click of the heel produced from the small heel of a businessman. A leg stepped out of the darkness, and then as did a head of greying hair, and then such a welcoming smile as the warmth of the shop hugged Mathilda. The young girl relaxed instantly as Ollivander nodded in friendly acquaintance with her Grandpa.

"Hello, Mr Scamander; it has been a while."

"A while indeed, Ollivander." The smile they shared seemed to showcase a hidden past of memories.

Ollivander moves his attention to the young girl by the side of an old friend. "Well, what do we have here," His voice held a rasp familiar to Mathilda, "are your parents perhaps Nephela and Gareth?"

The young girl nodded enthusiastically, tugging Grandpa Newt's arm - a wonder with how the wise man knew such a thing. "Your parents were great wizards, Ms Scamander, yes, a peculiar talent for taming beasts if I remember correctly. I am intrigued to see what wand will be your fit." His wrinkled hand wavered over identical boxes littered around the room as if sensing a connection bound between the wand and himself. "Ah - here we go." He hastily returned to Mathilda, leaning to connect eye to eye with the girl - opening the case gently and placing the simple black wand with two balls designed at the end for grip. "Beech wand with a dragon-heart string-core."

Mathilda looks between Ollivander and her Grandpa a few times before apprehensively grabbing the wand in her petite fingers after an encouraging gaze from her Grandpa. With one flick, a heavy wind blew the room around, knocking chaotically over paper and boxes; Mathilda erupted in giggles at the commotion, looking about happily, and her hair twisted in front of her face.

Ollivander took the wand out of her wand, standing to his full height, "Not that one, no." After a few minutes of him scrummaging about, he returned, "Chestnut wood with unicorn hair." The wand was placed carefully in her hand, a dim light emitting from the wand, boxes behind the man slamming open and close, open and close.

"Almost..." Ollivander looked curiously at the wand, recognising its connection with the girl. Although weak, this wand was nearly her own. It wasn't until Ollivander looked behind him again to his boxes did he understand what it meant; he hurriedly, without a word, walked over the collapsed boxes before standing in front of the only black box that remained open on his shelf. His enlightened eyes gazed upon a confused Mathilda, "I never thought this day would come." His hand shakily picked up the black box engraved with an unusual gold, setting himself down next to Mathilda one last time. He did not immediately hand the wand over to the girl, placing serious eyes on the innocent brown orbs of Mathilda.

"This wand is unique, Ms Scamander - it was made from the horn of a dying unicorn, Chestnut wood and unicorn hair core. It is a powerful sacrifice for a unicorn to lay bare his horn for a wizard's taking, it is very powerful indeed, and I was always intrigued to see who the wand would choose. This wand cannot perform a spell with evil intent and stems great loyalty towards its owner." He opened up the box slowly in front of Mathilda's enraptured gaze.

A small hesitant hand reached up from her side, her chubby fingers encasing themselves around the wand's root- which resembled a unicorn's horn. Upon the very first touch of the wand, a beautiful magic stemmed from the tip, a blossom of a Gerbera daisy, her favourite flower; she had been helping Grandpa Newt grow them in the back garden for the past month. It was the wand's gift to Mathilda, who stood in shock with a hand covering her agape mouth as she looked upon her wand. She raised her eyes in adoration to her Grandpa, who smiled happily down at her.

"Wow." She whispered, gaze encased back the wand as she felt herself become moulded as one with the beautiful creation. Her glossy eyes fell onto Ollivander as his mouth raised in relief at finding the wand's owner.

"I will be interested to see how this wand finds you, young lady. Powerful magic can emit from such a sacrifice, use this wand wisely - with love and loyalty - you may never find yourself without company."