Harley woke the next morning and did what she did every morning. She reached for the necklace sitting on her bedside table and put it on. It was a small book on a thin golden chain. Her grandfather had told her it was the only thing that had escaped the fire that had killed her parents. It was the only link to them that she had and she made sure to wear it every day. It made her feel like her parents were still with her and sometimes she could swear that it grew warm to the touch whenever she thought about the family she couldn't remember.
After a warm shower and a light breakfast, she made her way downstairs where she turned on all the lights and unlocked the doors. It was Sunday, so her grandfather would be at morning mass. Being Sunday, it wouldn't be a busy day at the shop. In fact, she was already making her way to the back to sort some of the new books when the tinkling of the door made her halt. She returned to the front desk to see a tall man dressed in a black overcoat making his way to the desk.
"Can I help you sir?" she asked, unnerved by the man's appearance. He had very unruly jet black hair and pale skin that was swollen underneath a pair of intense green eyes that looked startlingly like her own.
The man seemed to consider her for a moment. "Why yes, I was wondering if the owner was available?"
"He's not in at the moment, what exactly do you need him for?"
"A personal matter." He spoke very softly with just a hint of an accent Harley couldn't place.
"Well I can let him know you came by, what's your name?"
"I'd rather not answer that, I'll just be on my way." The man pulled up the collar on his jacket and turned to go, but not before stopping in the doorway to give Harley a searching look that made her shiver.
The door tinkled closed behind him and he was gone. Harley stood rooted to the spot, deeply disturbed by the extremely odd conversation she had just had. What disturbed her most were his eyes. Not only were they just like hers, but it was the way he looked at her. Almost as if he knew her.
She shook her head clear. There wasn't any way that man knew her and she probably wouldn't see him again. So she made her way back to the storage room to sort the new books.
The storage room was a small and cramped room that was piled high with books. Most of them were extra copies of books that sold well, neatly stacked and arranged alphabetically. Near the back was a desk with two cardboard boxes full of the new arrivals that would be put on display on the front shelves. Harley grabbed a box cutter that was lying on the desk and cut the boxes open and put the stacks onto table. She would first get them all out and sorted before she moved them into the shop. When she went to grab the last stack, she didn't quite get the grip she needed and the stack fell with a loud thump onto the desk.
This wasn't exactly an odd occurrence, but what was odd was the softer thump that she had heard in the drawer of the desk.
Harley had never known the desk to house anything. In fact, she was sure that her grandfather had told her that he didn't even own the key to open the drawer. She lifted the stack of books again and dropped them on purpose and again herd the answering sound come from the drawer.
The strangest curiosity came over Harley. She felt compelled to know what was in the drawer. Maybe the encounter with the stranger had left her wanting some sort of real answer for the increasingly strange day she was having. Either way, she found herself clambering the steps two at a time until she reached her wand lying on the bedside table. Taking them three at a time on the way down, Harley proceeded back into the storage room. It was almost noon, so her grandfather would be home any minute now. If she wanted to see what was in the drawer without risking exposure, now was her chance.
"Alohomora!" she waved her wand at the desk drawer. Nothing happened.
"Alohomora!" she cried again and this time heard the satisfying click of the drawer unlocking itself. She gingerly reached and pulled the drawer open.
It was empty, save for a long and narrow wooden box. It was the kind that had a sliding lid, much like she had seen in Ollivander's wand shop in Diagon Alley. A sudden unease settled over her. Why would there be a wand box in her grandfather's storage room?
She picked up the wooden box and slid back the lid. Inside was an off-white colored wand that was carved with a vine wrapping around it. Instantly she felt a surge running through her arm and the wand vibrated in her hand and began to emit sparks. A small wind rushed through her hair and the room seemed to grow brighter of its own accord.
Before she could even take in what was happening it was over. Harley felt her heart hammering against her chest and her hands shaking.
"I was hoping this day would never come."
Harley jumped and turned to see her grandfather standing in the doorway. He sighed and she noticed that there were tears in his eyes. "Grandpa, I'm sorry I know I shouldn't have looked. I…."
"No Harley, I'm sorry that you had to find it this way."
"Grandpa," she blurted out, curiosity overwhelming her. "Whose wand is this?"
He actually smiled. "It's yours now, if you haven't noticed."
She gave her grandfather a confused look. "Go on child, try it." He waved towards several books that had fallen from their stacks. Harley concentrated and waved the wand. The books flew from the ground and neatly piled back onto their respective stacks. "See? The wand always chooses its master and now that wand has chosen you."
The gears in her mind seemed to jam. "But, why was it here? Is it yours?"
"Oh no, I'm afraid I have forever been a muggle." Her grandfather stepped past her and pulled out the small chair from beside the desk, sighing explosively. "That wand…..belonged to your mother."
A pit seemed to open up in Harley's chest. "M-My mother? But you said my mother…..both of my parents were muggles. I've been a muggleborn my whole life."
Her grandfather looked at her, tears now flowing freely down his face.
"Grandpa please…."
"I'm not your real grandfather." His voice cracked, "Your parents were not muggles that died in a house fire. Harley Jane Denson is not your real name."
Her ears heard what her grandfather was saying, but the words seemed to bounce off of her brain. "W-What? What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, that you are not who you think you are." Her grandfather's voice was suddenly very grave.
A loud crashing sound came from the front of the store. "In the back!" a loud voice shouted.
"The door Harley!" her grandfather was suddenly standing and pointing at the storeroom door. In the moment she took to process his order a large man in black robes filled the door.
"Freeze!" he held his wand aloft.
Harley finally came to her senses and threw the wand box towards the man. In the split second he took to consider what was flying towards him, she waved her wand and the door slammed shut and the lock clicked.
"Quick, here." Her grandfather grabbed her hand and went towards a very dusty box that she had always been told to leave alone. He opened the top of the box to reveal a large toy tractor. "Harley, I want you to grab the tractor on three."
"One…two…"
The door behind them crashed open.
"Three!" her grandfather grabbed one hand while she touched the toy with the other. The instant she touched it she felt a jerking motion around her navel and suddenly the world was spinning wildly around them.