May 30, 1977
8:58 pm
Diagon Alley

As Anneliese walked down the lantern lit streets of Diagon Alley, the euphoria of the station was slowly wearing off, and the weight of what had happened was steadily trickling back in its place.

She knew that Sirius's parents were rather extreme examples of blood purists, but it was still a harsh awakening that the more sheltered world of Hogwarts simply wasn't realistic.

By no means was every student completely void of any prejudice towards muggleborns, half bloods, and blood traitors, but at least within the walls of the castle there were rules and punishments if you committed one of these offenses.

Well, technically, the Ministry was supposed to be controlling these kinds of people, but everyone knew that most of the high ranking officials were either the cruel purebloods themselves or were too scared to do anything.

There was the constant fear that if you spoke up, one day your loved ones or yourself was going to mysteriously vanish, or your small shop you owned in Hogsmeade would have been destroyed in a tragic accident.

That fear, however, was surprisingly absent in Diagon Alley this night.

Every shop was crammed full of students and their families celebrating the end of another good school year with either a gift for their child or a large serving of evening ice cream in the warm summer air.

It was so noisy and chaotic that Anneliese and Leo had linked arms very early on in their walk to make sure they weren't separated from each other. Leo's height did them quite a bit of favors with making their way through the crowd as well.

Anneliese's eyes were drawn to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, the place that Alice's dad owned and one of the busiest shops of the night.

She could see Alice herself adding a generous amount of color changing sprinkles to a cone for a little boy from behind the counter, and then giving Frank a short kiss and then a long laugh as Longbottom came out wearing one of the store's bright pink aprons and goofy grin.

"Aaaaa," Leo groaned, nudging her shoulder his with forehead as he followed her gaze into the parlor. "You have to tell me what's going on between you and Sirius now, because you looking at couples with that sad expression is going to make me sad."

"You have no right to be sad," Anneliese countered. "You have Remus, and you two are like the cutest couple I've ever seen. Like, come on, yall are like some hardcore Disney true love at first sight shit."

"Yes, and from the letters you sent me, you and Sirius are like if Aurora tried to stab Philip when they first met instead of dancing in the woods," Leo said thoughtfully. "Well, a very southern and temperamental Aurora, but you get the point."

"Yea, except I am not planning on having a Prince Philip in a leather jacket kiss me while I'm sleeping," Anneliese said with untamed disgust. "Have we ever really thought about how nonconsensual the whole true love's kiss thing is?"

"I think it just adds onto how fucking straight Disney is," Leo said, nose wrinkled as he rubbed one eye, smearing his black eyeliner slightly. "Like, where are the gays? I can totally see Pinnochio and one of the Lost Boys hitting it off. I mean-"

"Don't you dare make a wood joke," Annneliese cut him off, and Leo just gave her a shrug and sly grin that implied he was about to before she stopped him. "Bro, what if all the seven dwarves were just like.. gay."

"Aren't they all brothers?" Anderson replied, dark brow furrowed. "So like.. gay incest. That would be a big step for the company."

"Maybe they're purebloods," Anneliese mused, and Leo snorted in amusement. "I'm not even joking, L. Like, I'm eighty percent sure that Narcissa and Lucius are related in some way and I still walked in on them in a broom cupboard."

"Wait.. what?" Leo asked, turning his head slowly to Callaway in shock. "I deadass thought that they were siblings bro, like when I came to Hogwarts. They're both so pale and shit-"

"That's what I'm saying!" Anneliese exclaimed, happy to have someone on the same wavelength as her. "And right when I thought I was out of the south, it's like sweet home Alabama all over again up in here-"

"Don't hate on Alabama," Leo said. "You grew up like a hundred miles away, so might as well hate on Tennessee too."

"Literally, not the same thing," Anneliese sighed as they turned a corner. "We don't have a song written about us that's all like incest-y."

"That's not an adjective," Leo said in a matter of fact tone just to annoy her. "So therefore your point is irrelevant because you used made up words."

"Literally anything is an adjective if you add a y to the end," Callaway countered. "Or esque, because that makes it more British and proper and all that."

"Is that the kind of genius logic that got you the apprenticeship?" Leo asked in amusement as they finally arrived in front of Ollivanders. "By the way, I want to kill whoever wrote that little exposé."

"I do as well," Anneliese said with a deep sigh as she looked up at the shop. "You have enough money for a room at the Leaky Cauldron, right? I would offer to spot you, but I literally have none."

A small smirk formed on Leo's face as he pulled out a small bag from his pocket and scooped out a handful of around ten galleons with a small jingle. Anneliese's eyes widened in shock.

"And that's just pocket money," Leo said, putting the gold back in his pocket. "I have more in my bag, shrunk in my pocket just like yours, by the way."

"But you never had a job," Anneliese said, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Where the hell did you get that? You didn't steal it from your mom, did you?"

"See you tomorrow, A," Leo said in response over his shoulder as he walked away, not answering her question. "Good luck."

Anneliese just stared at his retreating back in disbelief until he rounded a corner. Then, she took in a deep breath and transferred her gaze to the storefront before her.

The whole thing was very statuesque and cozy looking at the same time.

It had enormous windows with imposing black wood and gold paint around them, but also with warm lighting coming from the inside and rows and rows of different colored boxes that Anneliese assumed had wands in them.

She took in one last inhale before wrapping her hand around the gold handle and pushing the surprisingly heavy door open.

There was a slight ring of a tarnished bell from above her. The melodic sound echoed through the store for a few moments, the only thing breaking the silence besides the quiet crackling of the lamps.

Anneliese stood there for a few minutes before starting to wander slightly, looking for the man who had written her the letter. There was a large wooden desk with a cup of still steaming tea on it, along with countless papers and diagrams that she recognized from all her studying.

Callaway slowly traced her finger over one of the thick, yellowed sheets of parchment, studying it carefully with narrowed eyes.

The ring of the bell that had just been fading away from her entrance rang again, snapping Anneliese out of it so that her eyes flew upwards and feet took her straight to the door to help the man.

He was completely overridden with a stack of books in his arms, along with about a dozen scrolls bound by thin bands of neat leather. The armful was all precariously stacked in a mess of parchment and covers, about to topple before Anneliese rushed over to stabilize them.

There were a few moments of chaos as they got everything situated so that all of the knowledge wouldn't crash all over the floor, and then they both finally got a good look at each other.

The man standing in front of her looked to be around Queenie's age, but certainly hadn't aged as well as her.

His hair, although not quite balding yet, was a pure white as clean as clouds on a summer day, with hazy blue eyes to match like the sky. Upon closer inspection, they were actually such a pale blue that the whites of his eyes almost seemed to blend in with them.

Although his skin was wrinkled and his eyebrows were scraggly, there was still some sort of mischievous elegance about the old man that made Anneliese instantly like him.

His clothes were properly up to fashion and well tailored, and his mouth wore a smile that looked like he knew more than he was going to tell you in the best way possible.

"You must be Anneliese," he said, holding out his hand for you to shake it. "Welcome, Miss Callaway, and you may call me Garrick if you please. I don't believe in an excess of formalities here."

Anneliese shook it. His hands were incredibly calloused just like hers, although they were both for different reasons.

"Well, let's get right to it," he said, extending his palm flat out in front of him, orange lace cuffs sticking out slightly. "Your wand, please."

Although Callaway was hesitant about putting her wand in the hands of a near stranger, she still placed the wood in his wrinkled palm. Ollivander was known across the world for being one of the best wandmakers to ever exist. He wouldn't mess it up.

Still, Anneliese couldn't help but feel vulnerable without it right by her.

"How old were you when you received this wand?" he asked, eyeing it carefully. "And from whom did you receive it from?"

"Oh, I, uhm, that one I actually got around two years ago, right before my fifth year at Ilvermorny," Anneliese explained with a small frown. "It was school given to me, so I didn't get it directly from the maker."

"Curious," Ollivander mused, still not looking up from her wand that he was now holding up to the light amber, glowing lamplight. "And may I ask what happened to your previous wand?"

"I've had four wands," Anneliese said honestly. "They were destroyed every summer, so I had to get a new one at the beginning of every school year."

"Destroyed?" Ollivander asked, face turning mildly angry at the mention of his art being so frequently disrespected. "And why would someone be destroying your wand every summer? Could your school not do something to change that?"

"Well, I lived in an orphanage over the summer," Anneliese explained, trying not to let emotion crack through her voice. "And the kids there were rather.. relentless. They didn't know what the wand was, so they were scared of it and.."

Anneliese took a deep breath in, and suddenly found herself wishing for Sirius.

She wished that he was standing by her side and holding her hand tightly with the silent signal that she was strong enough, and she could do this no matter what her creeping doubt was whispering in her ear.

"And they found ways to find and destroy it every summer," she said after the pause. "I stopped fighting against it eventually. There were bigger problems to deal with. I like to think that it was actually a good thing, otherwise I would have hexed them if the temptation was there."

Ollivander's expression was completely unreadable.

"As for my school, some of the teachers might have cared, but the headmistress sure as hell didn't," Anneliese sighed, once again the cold truth. "She actively hates me, so not much could really be done unless they wanted to get fired."

"Well, after that tragic story, I am truly sorry to do this," Ollivander said with genuine remorse in his eyes, holding either end of her wand in his fist. "But I can promise you that this is the last time your wand will be snapped."

Anneliese's eyes widened in shock, and before she could do anything, there was a loud crack as the birch was split into two clean pieces. The dragon heartstring in the middle was danging out slightly, rendered completely useless.

Ollivander looked down at the halves, gave a careless hmph, and walked behind his desk to the narrow hallway of wands stacking all the way up to the ceiling, completely unbothered.

Anneliese had to shut her mouth and force her legs to move after a few more seconds, and then furiously followed him behind the desk.

"What the hell?" she shouted after him as he hummed mindlessly. "What was that for? Am I going to get a new one from you, I don't understand-"

"You are going to get a new one, do not worry," Ollivander said as he began to climb up a set of rickety wooden stairs, moving surprisingly fast so that Anneliese had to chase after him. "Just not from me."

"Well then from who?" Anneliese cried, pausing to catch her breath. "My wand was fine-"

"And that, Miss Callaway, is where you are wrong," Ollivander said, stopping suddenly in front of a door so that Anneliese ran into him slightly. "There were many things wrong with it, as it was not made by me."

Anneliese was about a split second away from calling him a pretentious asshole, but kept her mouth shut because she really didn't want to get thrown out within the first ten minutes of the apprenticeship.

"Well then, pray tell, where am I getting one from?" she asked, barely restraining her anger. "If not made by your so gifted hands?"

"You will be making yours," he replied casually. "What better motivation to create a wand then the lack thereof? My father did the same to mine when I was just your age, and look where I am now."

"B-but I don't-" Anneliese started, but he cut her off abruptly with a raised hand inches away from her face.

"I picked you because of your ability to work with concepts, Miss Callaway," Ollivander said calmly. "And that on top of the many things you had to memorize. I admire that your skill set includes that, but is also not limited to it."

"I think you overestimate me," Anneliese said in a slightly desperate tone. "I need my wand, sir, I don't think that you quite understand what I'm saying here-"

"Your room is below the shop down the stairs for maximum privacy," he interrupted her yet again, completely ignoring her previous statement. "I think that you'll find it quite comfortable down there."

And he shut the door in her face, wandless and alone.

Anneliese stared at the dark teal, chipped, and painted wooden door for a solid five minutes unblinking until her eyes watered. Eventually, she snapped out of it and forced her legs to move down the stairs, and then another flight.

She barely remembered the details of the room as she sunk onto the bed, only that it smelled vaguely like lemon dish soap and it was nicer than her dorms at Hogwarts in a quaint, homey way that the castle didn't have.

Anneliese reached out to grab a pillow, faced the door, and pressed the pillow against her back for the familiar pressure that she knew wasn't going to come, because Sirius was miles and miles away.

At Hogwarts, she had begun to take for granted that he was always a few corridors apart from her, that his presence was easy to access and she could slide into his arms whenever she needed to.

It wasn't that Anneliese still wasn't furious at Sirius for him turning a blind eye to her problems. Her own desire for her to be laying in his arms was actually frustrating her, and she knew that it was weak for her anger to fade the second she was without him.

Callaway didn't know how long she lay there staring up at the ceiling in her moments of weakness, but she did know that it was too long and it was too early for her to be even trying to sleep yet.

Thank the lord he has the sense to keep these hinges quiet, Anneliese thought as she looked warily up at the brass bell. As long as that thing stays silent.

The cobbled streets of Diagon Alley hadn't changed the slightest bit since she walked into the shop an hour ago. Things were still busy and bustling, and it was comforting in a way to see that something remained the same after her wand had been taken from her.

But then, as she was wandering and about a half mile away from Ollivanders, the thought just then stupidly hit her that she didn't have a wand.

I am walking alone as a muggleborn girl without a wand in Diagon fucking Alley, Anneliese though with panic, steps freezing. What the hell am I doing?

The comfort of the streets instantly changed to coldness. All of the sudden, every person walking by was like the Blacks, every look in her direction was a threatening one, and all of the chatter turned into a roaring of panic in her ears.

There was a line to be crossed at bravery and stupidity, and Anneliese had just put her foot over a little too far.

And from inside the very ice cream parlor that Leo and her had been looking into earlier, Alice noticed her friend sitting down heavily on a bench outside and immediately served three scoops into a bowl with two spoons and rushed outside.

Fortescue owed her that much, at least.

"Anneliese, are you okay?" she asked softly, sitting down next to her. "You look a little.. off."

"Yea, no shit, I wonder why," Anneliese snapped, running a hand down her face and sighing deeply as Alice scooted a little closer. "I'm sorry, I'm not angry with you, I'm just.."

"You miss him, right?" Alice prompted with a gentle smile. "You're furious with him, but you still miss him and it's all very confusing for you. You want him to hug you, but if he was actually here-"

"I'd probably punch him," Anneliese finished, giving Fortestcue a suspicious look. "Maybe you listen in a little too much, Alice. You figure things out oddly fast."

"I actually knew what happened in New York the second you two got back," Alice said with a tiny shrug. "Why do you think I never went looking for you when I saw that you didn't come back to the dorms some nights? I knew you were with Sirius and safe."

Anneliese slowly turned her head to look at Alice, completely taken aback. She had thought that no one simply cared enough to see where she was, and certainly not this.

"Oh," she said simply, not knowing how else to reply.

"The ice cream is melting if you want some before it's a puddle," Alice said, feebly gesturing it forward. "It's blueberry lemonade, our best selling flavor."

"I'll come back to get some later," Anneliese said with as much of a smile as she could muster. "I really need to be getting back before it gets too late.. good night."

Callaway stood up so quickly that she didn't see how sadly Alice was looking at her with her wide eyes, upset for her friend and not knowing how to help besides the weak peace offering of ice cream.

That conversation, although short, had put Anneliese in some kind of cold trance.

She didn't even care that the bell rang that had been such a concern to her upon exiting, and she slammed the door rather hard to her room as she buried herself under the covers.

Once the tears started, they didn't stop.

Anneliese fought to keep her eyes open, but the burning hurt so bad that she had to blink, and then again, and then she was finally asleep.

Except when she opened her eyes again, it wasn't morning. She found herself back in the orphanage yet again, watching her younger self. This wasn't the normal dream, though, because Anneliese was fourteen instead of out of her second year.

She had a backpack with all her things slung over one shoulder, made of denim with about a dozen different patches depicting everything from a middle finger to the Queen logo that Leo had bought for her in a muggle store.

The girls waiting in the room for her all looked furious that Anneliese had taken