Rewritten Destiny

The morning was crisp and bright as Hermione eagerly waited for Professor McGonagall to arrive. Every passing minute felt like an eternity. Finally, there was a knock at the door.

 

Opening the door, she found Professor McGonagall standing there, her stern expression softened by a hint of warmth. “Good morning, Miss Granger. Are you ready?”

 

Hermione nodded eagerly, a wide grin spreading across her face. “Yes, Professor, I am!”

 

With a nod, Professor McGonagall gestured for Hermione to follow her. They stepped out onto the street, and Hermione closed the door behind her, feeling a surge of anticipation. This was it—her first step into the magical world.

 

As they walked, Hermione couldn’t help but steal glances at Professor McGonagall, her mind buzzing with questions. What would Diagon Alley be like? Would she meet other witches and wizards? The excitement was almost overwhelming.

 

After a short while, they reached a seemingly ordinary brick wall. Hermione’s heart skipped a beat as Professor McGonagall tapped her wand against the bricks, murmuring a spell under her breath. With a soft rumble, the bricks began to shift and rearrange themselves, forming an archway that revealed a bustling street beyond.

 

 

Hermione’s eyes widened in wonder as she stepped through the archway, taking in the sights and sounds around her. The street was alive with activity, with witches and wizards of all ages milling about, browsing the shops and chatting animatedly.

 

“Welcome to Diagon Alley, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said, her voice filled with pride. “This is where you will purchase all of your school supplies.”

 

Hermione nodded eagerly, her eyes darting from shop to shop. There was so much to see—the towering spires of Gringotts Bank, the colourful displays in the shop windows, the enticing smells wafting from the Leaky Cauldron.

 

“First stop, Gringotts,” Professor McGonagall said, leading Hermione towards the imposing marble building at the end of the street.

 

As they entered the bank, Hermione couldn’t help but gape at the grandeur of the marble hall. The air was filled with the sound of tinkling chandeliers and the soft rustle of robes as wizards bustled about their business.

 

Professor McGonagall led Hermione to one of the tellers, a stern-looking goblin with a quill behind his ear. “Good morning,” she said politely. “We are here to access Miss Granger’s vault.”

 

The goblin nodded curtly, motioning for them to follow him. Hermione’s heart raced as they descended deep into the bowels of the bank, passing row after row of gleaming vaults.

 

Finally, they reached Hermione’s vault, and the goblin unlocked the door with a flourish.

 

“This is your vault, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said, her voice tinged with pride. “You may withdraw what you need for your school supplies, this was included in the tuition your parents paid for you to attend Hogwarts.”

 

Hermione hesitated for a moment, unsure how much she would need to bring and how many books she’d need (want), but then she remembered the list of supplies she needed and began to fill a small pouch with gold coins, and figured she’d worry about it after getting more information on the available books.

 

With her pouch safely tucked away, Hermione followed Professor McGonagall back out into the bustling street. Their next stop was Ollivanders, the renowned wandmaker.

 

As they entered the dusty shop, Hermione’s heart fluttered with anticipation. The air was filled with the scent of wood shavings and ancient magic, and rows upon rows of wands lined the walls.

 

“Good morning,” a voice called out from the shadows. An elderly wizard with twinkling eyes emerged from the back of the shop, his wand tucked behind his ear.

 

“Ah, Professor McGonagall,” he said, smiling warmly. “And who is this young witch you’ve brought with you?”

 

“This is Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall replied, gesturing towards Hermione. “She is in need of a wand.”

 

Mr. Ollivander’s eyes lit up with interest as he studied Hermione. “A wand, you say? Well then, let us see what we can find.”

 

He disappeared into the depths of the shop, returning moments later with a long box clutched in his hands. With a flick of his wand, he removed the lid, revealing row upon row of gleaming wands.

 

“Now then, Miss Granger,” he said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Let us find the perfect match for you.”

 

Mr. Ollivander handed Hermione wand after wand, each one more intriguing than the last. But none of them felt quite right in her hand.

 

Finally, he reached into the back of the shop and pulled out a wand made of Aspen Wood twisted with English Oak with a core of White River Monster spine. “Try this one,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

Hermione took the wand hesitantly, feeling a thrill shoot up her arm as she held it. And then, as if by magic, a warm glow enveloped her, and she knew—this was the one.

 

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, a sense of wonder filling her voice.

 

“Curious Miss Granger, very curious.”

 

“Oh? How so Mr Ollivander?”

 

“Aspen wands are usually warrior wands, great duellists and are very well versed for Martial Magics whilst the other wood, English Oak was used by Merlin himself and was said to attract those with good intuition, whilst the core is for spells of Force and Elegance, a very powerful combination, something you’d usually expect from a Soldier.” He paused for a moment and seemed almost lost in thought.. “they are usually a sign of terrible events to come”.

 

Ollivander's words hung in the air, carrying a weight of solemnity that Hermione couldn't ignore. The mention of aspen wands being associated with warriors and great duellists resonated with her, stirring a sense of determination within her.

 

"Terrible events to come?" Hermione repeated, her brow furrowing in concern. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Ollivander?"

 

The wandmaker's gaze drifted off into the distance, his expression pensive. "Aspen wands are often drawn to those who are destined to face great challenges," he explained quietly. "They are wielded by those who possess strength of character and a fierce resolve. But with that strength comes a burden, a responsibility to confront what may lie ahead."

 

Hermione's heart sank at Ollivander's words. She couldn't deny the sense of foreboding that washed over her, the weight of the unknown pressing down upon her shoulders.

 

"But remember, Miss Granger," Ollivander continued, his voice soft but resolute, "the future is not set in stone. The choices we make shape our destiny, and with the right heart and mind, even the darkest of prophecies can be overcome."

 

Hermione nodded slowly, taking in Ollivander's words with a sense of solemn determination. She knew that the path ahead would not be easy, but she also knew that she was ready to face whatever challenges lay in store.

 

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," she said sincerely, her voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling within her. "I'll keep that in mind.