62. The Second Wand

The morning air in Grimmauld Place was charged with anticipation as Sirius, Apollyon, and Harry prepared to set off for Diagon Alley. Apollyon's heart raced with excitement, though tinged with a hint of nervousness. The trip would be a significant step into the world she was striving to understand, a world she was part of yet felt oddly distant from, as if her memories of it were slipping through her fingers like sand.

"Right," Sirius began, holding a small jar filled with a glittering green powder. "We'll be using Floo powder to get to Diagon Alley. It's a bit disorienting the first time, but you'll get the hang of it quickly." He unscrewed the jar and scooped a pinch of the powder.

Apollyon listened intently, her mind working to grasp every detail. "You'll step into the fireplace, throw the powder down, and clearly state your destination. It's important to speak clearly; the network won't take kindly to mumbling," Sirius explained, demonstrating the stance one should take in the fireplace.

Harry, already familiar with the process, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and keep your elbows in," he added helpfully. "Wouldn't want to knock anything off the shelves on your way through."

Apollyon's thoughts drifted as Sirius explained. She couldn't shake the feeling of her memories becoming more fragmented, details of her past life blurring at the edges. It wasn't just the loss of her memories that troubled her; it was the sensation that they were being stolen, erased by an unseen force. This fear drove her to study, to latch onto knowledge as a lifeline, a way to anchor herself in a world that seemed to slip further away with each passing day.

"Ready?" Sirius's voice pulled Apollyon back to the present.

"Yes," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. Taking a pinch of Floo powder from Sirius, she stepped into the fireplace, her heart pounding.

"Diagon Alley," she announced clearly, her voice echoing slightly in the hearth. She threw the powder, and the flames erupted into a brilliant green, enveloping her in warmth. The sensation of spinning seized her, the world blurring into a whirlwind of color and sound. Then, as quickly as it began, it ended, depositing her gently on the hearth of the Leaky Cauldron.

Tom, the barman, gave her a nod of acknowledgment as she stepped out, her legs slightly shaky from the journey. The Leaky Cauldron buzzed with the chatter of witches and wizards, a cozy hub of activity that served as the gateway to the magical world. Apollyon took a moment to steady herself, the reality of where she was—the very heart of the wizarding world—washing over her.

As Sirius and Harry joined her, stepping out of the fireplace with practiced ease, Sirius clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's head through to Diagon Alley."

Passing through the pub and into the small courtyard behind it, Sirius tapped the correct brick in the wall with his wand. Apollyon watched in awe as the bricks began to shift and rearrange, revealing the bustling street of Diagon Alley.

The sight of it all—the shops, the people, the sheer magic that permeated the air—struck Apollyon with a wave of wonder and a pang of sorrow. Here was the world she was meant to be a part of, vibrant and alive, yet she felt as though she was seeing it through a veil, her connection to it tenuous and frayed.

As they ventured deeper into Diagon Alley, Apollyon forced herself to focus on the present, on the task at hand. She was determined to make the most of this day, to build new memories even as the old ones faded. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, she clung to the hope that understanding the magic of this world might somehow bring her closer to reclaiming what she had lost.

As the bricks rearranged to form the opening into Diagon Alley, the trio stepped into the bustling street, merging with the flow of witches and wizards going about their business. Almost immediately, Apollyon noticed the subtle shift in the atmosphere as people began to recognize Harry. Whispers filled the air, and many stole glances or outright stared, their eyes drawn to the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead—a mark of his unique place in wizarding history. Harry, accustomed to the attention yet always a bit uncomfortable, kept his gaze fixed ahead, a silent resilience in his step.

Beside him, Apollyon drew a different kind of attention. Her striking eyes—one purple, one red—captured the curiosity of passersby, marking her as someone out of the ordinary. Unlike Harry, whose fame was sealed by his past, Apollyon's allure lay in the mystery of her presence, an enigma wrapped in the youthful innocence of her face. She felt the weight of the stares, a reminder of her own unresolved history, yet she walked with a quiet confidence, her focus on the path ahead.

Sirius, ever the protective guardian, positioned himself so as to offer them both a buffer from the more intrusive onlookers. His presence alone was enough to deter any who might overstep, his reputation as both a formidable wizard and Harry's godfather preceding him.

Their first destination was Flourish and Blotts, the famed bookstore known for its extensive collection of magical texts. The bell above the door jingled as they entered, the scent of old parchment and ink welcoming them into its depths. Shelves upon shelves of books stretched up towards the ceiling, their spines a tapestry of colors and titles that promised untold knowledge and adventure.

Apollyon's eyes lit up with wonder as she took in the sight, her heart quickening at the thought of exploring the rows of books. She had always found solace in the written word, and here, surrounded by the wisdom of ages, she felt a sense of belonging.

"Take your time picking out your school books," Sirius told her, a warm smile on his face. "And if there's something else that catches your eye, something that calls to you, let me know. Consider it an early Hogwarts gift."

Grateful for the offer, Apollyon nodded, her excitement barely contained. She made her way through the sections listed on her Hogwarts letter, selecting the required texts with a careful eye. Yet it wasn't long before her curiosity pulled her towards the other aisles, where books on advanced spellwork, ancient runes, and magical creatures beckoned.

As Harry browsed alongside her, occasionally pointing out a book he thought looked interesting or recounting something he'd learned from Sirius, Apollyon's gaze landed on a particularly intriguing volume: "The Arcanum of Magical Theory." The book was old, its leather cover worn with age, but it radiated a sense of depth and knowledge that immediately drew her in.

"This one," she said, her voice filled with a quiet reverence as she held the book out to Sirius.

Sirius took the book, examining it with an approving eye. "An excellent choice," he said, his voice carrying a hint of pride. "This will serve you well, Apollyon."

As they made their purchases and stepped back into the sunlight of Diagon Alley, Apollyon clutched the book to her chest, a symbol of the journey ahead and the mysteries waiting to be unraveled. The stares and whispers of the crowd seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a sense of purpose and the promise of discovery that lay within the pages of her new book.

Continuing their journey through Diagon Alley, the trio next visited the Apothecary, where the air was thick with the scents of herbs, potions, and the earthy tang of magic in the making. Apollyon, with her newfound book securely under her arm, was drawn to the rows of ingredients, each with its own story and magical properties. Sirius and Harry followed closely, the former imparting knowledge about various ingredients and their uses in potion-making.

"This is powdered dragon scale," Sirius explained, picking up a small, shimmering bottle. "Very potent for strengthening potions." Harry's eyes widened in fascination, while Apollyon took note of the ingredient, mentally cataloging its properties for future study.

Their next stop was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, where Apollyon was fitted for her Hogwarts robes. The process was a new experience for her, standing on a stool as Madam Malkin's tape measure zipped around her, taking measurements with an efficiency that bespoke years of experience.

As Apollyon admired the fit of her new robes in the mirror, she felt a surge of reality wash over her. She was really going to Hogwarts again.

Leaving Madam Malkin's, Sirius suggested a visit to Quality Quidditch Supplies next, knowing Harry's passion for the sport. The shop's window display featured the latest broomstick models, and Harry pressed his face against the glass, his expression one of pure longing.

"Maybe next year," Sirius murmured, a hint of promise in his voice. Harry nodded, understanding the implication. Though disappointed, he was grateful for Sirius's support, knowing the man did everything within his power to make him happy.

Throughout their time in Diagon Alley, Apollyon felt the weight of her lost memories less acutely, her focus on the present moment and the excitement of preparing for Hogwarts. Yet, beneath the surface, the mystery of her past and the fear of her fading memories lingered, a silent shadow amidst the brightness of the day.

Their final stop before heading to Ollivanders was the Magical Menagerie, where Harry was momentarily distracted by the various magical creatures on display. Apollyon found herself drawn to a small, solemn-looking owl, its gaze wise beyond its years. She considered the practicality of owning an owl for sending messages and decided against it, for now, feeling it was a responsibility she wasn't ready to take on just yet.

As the afternoon waned, they made their way to Ollivanders, the anticipation building with each step. The shop, renowned for its wand craftsmanship, held the promise of a pivotal moment in any young wizard or witch's life—the choosing of their wand.

The bell over the door of Ollivander's Wand Shop chimed softly as they entered, announcing their arrival into a realm where magic was not just studied but intimately crafted. The shop was narrow and long, the walls lined from floor to ceiling with thousands of narrow boxes, each containing a wand waiting for its rightful owner. The air was thick with the scent of wood and an undercurrent of magic that seemed to pulsate from the very walls themselves.

Mr. Ollivander, the shop's proprietor, emerged from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and age-old wisdom. "Ah, Sirius Black and company," he greeted, his voice carrying a note of intrigue. "I've been expecting you."

Apollyon felt a flutter of nerves as she stepped forward, her gaze locked with the wandmaker's penetrating eyes. "I'm here for my wand," she stated, her voice steady despite the turmoil she felt inside, her chaotic magic a silent storm within her.

Mr. Ollivander nodded, a spark of interest lighting up his features. "Yes, indeed. Let's see what we have for you." He turned and began to pull boxes from the shelves with a practiced hand, each chosen with a specific purpose in mind.

One by one, Apollyon tried the wands Mr. Ollivander offered her, but each attempt ended in disappointment. Sparks flew in unintended directions, objects around the shop rattled unnervingly, and at one point, a small vase even shattered. With each failed attempt, Apollyon's frustration grew, and a sense of despair began to take root. Her chaotic magic, so unpredictable and powerful, seemed to reject the wands as much as they rejected her.

"Curious... very curious," Mr. Ollivander murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. He appeared intrigued rather than deterred by the challenge. "Your magic is... unique. It requires something special."

He disappeared into the depths of the shop, leaving them in a tense silence. Moments later, he returned with a box that seemed older and more worn than the others. "Try this," he said, presenting the box to Apollyon with an air of quiet anticipation.

Apollyon lifted the lid and took out the wand that lay within—a long piece of Alder wood, polished to a soft sheen, with a core of dragon heartstring. The moment her fingers wrapped around it, a warm sensation spread through her, a feeling of rightness that was both surprising and comforting.

She gave it a wave, and instead of chaos, a stream of bright, beautiful sparks erupted from the wand's tip, swirling around the room in a dazzling display. A smile broke across Apollyon's face, mirrored by Sirius and Harry, and even Mr. Ollivander seemed pleased.

"Ah, yes. Alder wood with dragon heartstring. Eleven inches. A wand of true potential and, I dare say, loyalty. It will take a firm hand to master, but I believe it has found its match in you," Mr. Ollivander declared, his voice imbued with a sense of profound satisfaction.

The bond between wand and witch was established, a union of magical forces that promised to grow and adapt as Apollyon did. She felt a surge of gratitude towards the wandmaker, and even towards the universe, for guiding her to this moment.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Apollyon said, her heart full. "I'll take good care of it."

As they left the shop, Apollyon's new wand safely tucked away, she felt a sense of completion, as though a missing piece of her had been restored. Even if her memories faded. She still felt like things were familiar when they lined up. Letting her learn extremely quickly, and with the wand, something felt right and wrong at the same time. But she was happy to have it none the less.

Stepping back into the bustling vibrancy of Diagon Alley, their departure from Ollivander's marked by the tangible shift from the solemnity of magic in its purest form to the lively commerce of the wizarding world. The sense of completion that Apollyon carried with her, cradling the newly acquired wand, blended seamlessly into the cacophony of the street.

Amidst the throngs of shoppers and the cacophony of haggling and laughter, Sirius suggested, "How about we grab something to eat? I know a place just around the corner that serves the best pumpkin pasties."

Harry's face lit up at the mention of food, his earlier reverie about Quidditch supplies momentarily forgotten. "That sounds great," he said, his stomach rumbling in agreement.

Apollyon nodded, the warmth of her new wand in her pocket a constant reminder of the newfound connection she felt to the magical world. "I'd like that," she replied, curious about the culinary delights Diagon Alley had to offer.

They found their way to a quaint little café tucked away from the main thoroughfare, its windows fogged from the warmth inside, contrasting sharply with the brisk air of the alley. The smell of fresh bread and spiced pumpkin filled the air as they took their seats at a small table by the window, offering a view of the bustling street outside.

As they waited for their order, Sirius initiated a conversation about the coming year, turning to Harry with a smile. "Next year's going to be a big one for you, Harry. Your eleventh birthday, and then off to Hogwarts. Anything in particular you're looking forward to?"

Harry's eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect. "I can't wait to be sorted into a house and start learning magic for real," he said enthusiastically. "And Quidditch! I hope I get a chance to play."

Apollyon listened intently, her thoughts drifting to her own anticipations and fears for her first year at Hogwarts. Despite the confidence she felt in her academic prowess, the social aspects of school life—a world where her chaotic magic and fragmented memories set her apart—loomed large in her mind.

"And you, Apollyon?" Sirius asked, turning his attention to her. "What are you most looking forward to?"

Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Apollyon replied, "I'm eager to learn, to immerse myself in the studies Hogwarts has to offer. But I'm also... apprehensive about finding my place, making friends." She hesitated, then added, "And, I suppose, discovering more about myself and my magic."

The conversation drifted towards lighter topics as their food arrived, the trio sharing laughs and plans for the remaining weeks of the summer.

As they finished their meal and made their way back into the afternoon hustle of Diagon Alley, the day's experiences lingered in Apollyon's mind, a blend of excitement and uncertainty. But surrounded by Sirius and Harry, with her new wand by her side, she felt ready to face the future