Chapter 3: The Quiet Between

Magic hums differently once it's yours.

Not the kind you watch from a distance, tucked behind your parents' robes. Not the kind you read about in secondhand books or see flicker in a stranger's wandlight.

But yours.

Mine was resting on the bedside table now. Just within reach. Still inside its slim, dark box.

And yet—I felt it. As though part of it hadn't left my palm.

Even after we'd returned home, after I'd washed the soot from my neck and scraped toast crumbs from my sleeves, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. The world felt tilted. Or maybe I did.

I lay in bed, arms tucked behind my head, staring at the ceiling.

No ticking clock this time.

Just silence. Heavy. Watchful.

---

The day had gone by in a blur once the wand chose me. We'd bought robes—black and heavy, stitched with tiny runes I hadn't noticed until Mum pointed them out. We'd picked up books that smelled of old leather and candle wax, their titles gold-embossed and intimidating.

Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.

Magical Theory.

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration—which sounded like it really didn't want to be read by beginners, judging by the way it groaned when I tried to open it in the shop.

We stopped by Eeylops Owl Emporium too, just to look. I pressed my face to the glass and watched them—sleek barn owls, regal snowy ones, a burly-looking horned owl that gave me a look like it wanted to debate politics.

I hadn't chosen a pet yet. I wasn't ready. I wanted to listen first. To the wand, to the strange rhythm of this new life, to myself.

---

That night, dinner had been quiet. Even Dad didn't make any toaster jokes.

They knew.

They could see it in my face.

Something had clicked. Something big.

I kept thinking about Ollivander's words.

> "Phoenix cores bond deeply… and often, their owners are destined for great things—though not always in the way they expect."

What did that mean?

Great things. But in strange shapes? Wrong colors?

What if I wasn't ready?

What if I never would be?

---

I rolled onto my side. The moonlight filtered through the curtains now, pooling on the floor in silver puddles. I could hear the wind again. This time, it didn't howl. It whispered.

I sat up, slowly. Walked to the window.

Somewhere, out there in the sky, a phoenix had shed a single feather that ended up in my wand.

Somewhere, magic had decided me.

I didn't know what that meant yet. But I wanted to.

I closed the window quietly and crept back into bed.

And this time—finally—

I slept.

Not a full, dreamless sleep.

But a beginning.