Chapter 6
Two days had passed since Zeta sent her letter to Hogwarts, applying under the alias of Lilim from Russia. In that time, she had meticulously continued her research, delving into the stolen books and the newspaper articles she had gathered. Her mind was a whirlwind of plans and contingencies, each detail carefully considered and stored away. Today, as the sun broke over the horizon, a letter arrived, confirming her acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Zeta read the letter carefully, noting the list of required school supplies. She would need robes, books, a wand, potion ingredients, and various other magical items. Without wasting any time, she prepared to venture out into Diagon Alley once more, her feline grace and keen senses on high alert.
Diagon Alley was bustling with activity, filled with witches and wizards going about their business. Zeta moved through the crowd with purpose, her eyes scanning the various shops. Her first stop was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, where she was fitted for her Hogwarts robes. The shop was filled with students and their parents, all preparing for the upcoming school year.
As Zeta stood on the fitting platform, she listened to the conversations around her, her acute hearing picking up every detail. She overheard snippets of discussions about the latest broom models, upcoming Quidditch matches, and the excitement of returning to Hogwarts. But one conversation caught her attention.
Nearby, a family with worn-down clothes was discussing the arrangements for the Quidditch World Cup. Zeta recognized them from her research—the Weasleys, a family known to be close to Harry Potter. She focused on their conversation, her sharp ears picking up every word.
"Harry's muggle relatives are so dreadful," said a plump, kind-looking woman who Zeta recognized as Molly Weasley. "I'm glad we're inviting him to the Quidditch World Cup. He deserves a break."
"Yes, but we should be careful talking about it openly," said Arthur Weasley, her husband, looking around cautiously. "There are people who would want to harm Harry."
Zeta couldn't help but think how careless it was to speak of such matters in public. If she had ill intentions, it would have been all too easy to learn valuable information about Harry Potter’s whereabouts. Her respect for the family diminished slightly, though she knew their hearts were in the right place.
Next, Zeta made her way to Flourish and Blotts to purchase her textbooks. While browsing the shelves, she felt a sudden impact against her side. A red-headed boy had bumped into her, his arms full of books. He dropped them, stumbling and falling to the floor.
"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, his face turning a deep shade of red. He looked up at her, his eyes widening in surprise and confusion.
Zeta stood still, her expression calm and unreadable. "No problem," she said in a monotone voice, her eyes briefly meeting his before she turned back to the shelves.
The boy, Ron Weasley, scrambled to his feet, his embarrassment palpable. He couldn't help but stare at Zeta, captivated by her beauty but unnerved by her striking purple eyes. They seemed to pierce through him, making him feel both intrigued and wary.
As Zeta paid for her books and left the store, she could hear Ron's mother whispering to her husband. "Did you see her eyes? I've never seen anything like it. She must be a dark witch."
Zeta smirked slightly at the comment but paid it no mind. She had encountered far worse suspicions in her life. Her next stop was the Apothecary for potion ingredients. The shop was filled with an array of jars and vials containing all manner of strange and exotic ingredients. Zeta carefully selected the items on her list: powdered root of asphodel, bezoars, dragon liver, and other essentials for her potions class.
The shopkeeper eyed her curiously but said nothing as she made her purchases. With her potion ingredients secured, Zeta moved on to the final and most important item on her list—a wand.
Ollivanders was a narrow, dusty shop filled from floor to ceiling with narrow boxes containing wands. The air inside was thick with the smell of aged wood and old magic. Zeta stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly.
"Good afternoon," a soft voice greeted her. An elderly man with silvery hair and piercing eyes emerged from the shadows. "I am Ollivander. I have been expecting you."
Zeta inclined her head slightly. "I need a wand."
"Of course, my dear," Ollivander said, his eyes twinkling with interest. "Every wand is unique, as is the witch or wizard it chooses. Let's find the perfect match for you."
He began pulling boxes from the shelves, handing her various wands to try. Each one felt wrong in her hand, either too heavy, too light, or simply not resonating with her magic. Ollivander watched her closely, a frown creasing his forehead.
"Curious," he murmured, pulling another box from a high shelf. "Perhaps this one."
He handed her a wand made of blackthorn wood, intricately carved with runes and inlaid with silver. As soon as Zeta took it in her hand, she felt a surge of power. The wand was perfect, responding to her touch with a warmth that spread through her fingers.
"Ah," Ollivander said, his eyes widening. "Blackthorn and dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches. Very unusual, very powerful. This wand has been waiting for someone like you."
Zeta nodded, satisfied. She paid for the wand and left the shop, feeling a new sense of completeness. The wand felt like an extension of herself, amplifying her magical abilities.
She returned to her safehouse in Knockturn Alley, storing away her newly acquired school supplies. The house was becoming more and more like a secure base, thanks to her efforts to enhance the wards and protections around it.
As she settled in for the night, her thoughts turned to the future. The challenges ahead were daunting, but Zeta was confident in her abilities.