[color=gray][h2]Delmare Montague [/h2][/color][hr][sup]Mid-August  |  Diagon Alley[/sup]

Floo powder made Delmare’s nose itchy — it always had — but she held back the sneeze as she stepped into the fireplace with a fistful of the gray-green dust. [color=gray]"Diagon Alley!"[/color] she shouted, casting the powder towards the floor of the chimney. In a flash, she landed in the main Floo entrances at the most famous wizarding hubbub in Britain. 


“‘Scuze me,” a man said, rushing past Delmare and pushing her out of the way in order to get at the Floo exit, grabbing a handful of said powder from his pocket and throwing it down before disappearing in a flash. 


“Delmare!” Lorraine Montague’s voice called, breaking Delmare out of her daze. Sure she’d used Floo before, as had she explored the bustling sidewalks of Diagon Alley, but this time it was slightly different. This time, she was here to buy supplies for herself — for her first year at Hogwarts.
	
[hr][sup]Six days ago, Early August  |  The Montague Mansion[/sup]

[i]Breakfast was going as usual, and the owls were arriving promptly as the family house elves poured tea. [color=gray]“Thank you, Lenny,” [/color]Delmare told the elf who was filling her teacup. Lenitas nodded respectfully, a smile flashing across her features before she retreated into the kitchen with the other house elves. Another round of wingbeats called Delmare’s attention to the space above the large dining table where the owls made their rounds, depositing their charges in semi-tidy piles around the seated trio. 


[i]No way, a new Bertie Bott’s flavor?[/i] Delmare thought, eyes wide as she skimmed through one of the articles in the Daily Prophet. The new flavor was nicknamed “electric lemon” and was “sure give you a sour shock.” Flipping through the other pages of the paper, Delmare almost didn’t notice the tawny owl depositing a red-stamped envelope in front of her.


“Delmare, honey,” her mother called from her left, “you’ve received a letter.”


Delmare’s head snapped to her measly letter pile in surprise. As Delmare didn’t have much contact with kids her age, she had never really received letters other than the odd “will you be my friend” or “come celebrate my birthday”, so she was definitely surprised to receive any letter. [i]Especially one with such an official-looking seal,[/i] Delmare thought, picking it out of her pile and feeling its weight in her hands. [i]Rather light,[/i] she thought, frowning. Her parents set down their papers, recognizing the emblem as their daughter lifted the seal. It came off with a ‘pop’ that was followed by a very uncharacteristic squeal from the eleven-year-old.[/i]


[hr][sup]Present day, Mid-August  |  The Montague Mansion[/sup]

The list had been laid out on the letter, and the list they would follow — with the exception of the last item on the list, the wand. Easily the most important item on the list, the wand was more of a necessity than a mere piece of “equipment,” as it had been labelled, and so Delmare soon found herself walking the narrow aisles to the back of Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 328 BC. Boxes upon boxes were stacked on the shelves, some sleek and others large and bulky in size despite what they contained inside. In front of Delmare the white-haired man known as Garrick Ollivander was muttering to himself, picking seemingly random boxes from the shelves and carrying them with him. 


“Ash with Unicorn hair,” the man said, unboxing a wand and offering it out to Delmare. Taking the thin wooden piece into her hands, Delmare gave the wand an experimental flick and promptly sent out a burst of magic that bounced off the wall and fizzled out on the floor. “Alright,” Ollivander said, snatching the wand in Delmare’s hand and replacing it with another. “Cypress with Dragon Heartstring.”


Sparks flew out and clattered against shelves, shaking them into a clatter as the wandmaker against replaced the wand in Delmare’s hand.


“Elm with Phoenix Feather.”


A brief red fizzle.


“Pine with Dragon Heartstring.”


A stream of delicate yellow bubbles flew out, popping simultaneously as the wand was again replaced.


“Walnut with Dragon Heartstring,” Ollivander said, a tinge of finality in his voice this time. Delmare took the wand uncertainly, afraid of what might come out of it this time, but a calm silence followed. Sitting calmly in her hands, the wand was content to brood in the dim lamplight as the girl holding it stared at the slim wood in amazement. “Well,” Ollivander said, dusting off his hands and closing the box from which he retrieved the wand, “I do believe we’ve found a match. How funny — I just received that wand yesterday. Shipped over from a famous wandmaker in Asia.”


“Seven galleons it is then,” Delmare’s mother said, handing the golden coins to Ollivander. “Wonderful work as always, Garrick. Thank you.”


“My pleasure,” the wandmaker said just as another mother-daughter pair emerged from the rows of boxes. “Madam Sewlyn,” Ollivander said, recognizing the woman.


“Natalia?” Lorraine asked, recognizing the woman as well.