🍹 ( a short fanfic/headcanon of our muses )

Calla was in Ollivander’s the day Fiora was given her wand, rifling through the extensive books Ollivander kept tucked in all corners of his shop in search of the name of the dragon that was at the core of her wand. (She didn’t find it, not for several years, and then it only told her what she already knew: her wand was more than unnecessary. Her wand was useless.) She was a small thing, and Calla was a tall thing who lifted her chin as per always and walked past her to leave without what she had came for. Clearly, Fiora was another first year buying her first wand; there were so many people at Ollivander’s in the days before classes began that she could hardly move, and breathe, let alone take notice of anyone stood at the counter. Calla didn’t see her, not really, but Fiora was written in her diary in blue ink before she went to sleep, the record of their first meeting far more permanent than those of the few people Calla cared for, ‘Ollivander’s. Five people spoken to. Four acquaintances. Ollivander. One who did not speak and was undoubtedly enamoured with her new toy.’, and stood across from her with their wands raised, she did remember, from the depths of that frighteningly long memory of hers, little first year in the wand shop who had lit up as though having a wand meant having the entire world.