Hello! My name is Nikki and this is the beginning of my first fanfiction in a long, long time. I hope you like it, all comments and criticism are more than welcome. All Harry Potter characters and things are of course copywrited to Miss JK herself.
The Wand, The Fang, and the Wizard, : Chapter 1
It was a chilly autumn day, the last of the summer flowers were dying out, and leaves began to crack and waft around the tethers that had held them for the past blazing months. It had been five years since that fateful day, the day his family was put to shame under his eyes. A growing, angry fire grew lapping at the edges of his stomach, though who, exactly, his buring hate was directed to, did not know exaclty. He knew it was partially their fault, for picking the wrong side, but still the old ways and repulsion that he was raised with pulsed through his mind without end.
He couldn't help it. When you are raised with something so ingrained into your very being, to change yourself is impossible. It was their fault, he reasoned, why his family had fallen from such grace. Their fault, that a person of pure blood was no better than a rat on the street. Years of magical pride, of accomplishments, power, promise.. lay at his feet. A pure white peacock ambled by him, and he kicked up dirt at it angrily. The bird squawked and rushed away into the bushes. He made his way toward a grand mansion, covered in gold and white paint, ancient symbols imbued into the almost Victorian design, practically screaming pride at him.
Once inside, infuriation licking around the edges of his face, he moved quickly to a grand, spacious room filled with moving posters, dark magical items, and splashes of green and gold. Gingerly picking up a cloth item on his beside, he fingered it, about to open it, when a POP disturbed his peace.
"Master Malfoy," a small, terrified creature squeaked, its large gold eyes wide, "Master Senior and his wife have sent an invitation for dinner. Inca is supposed to make sure Master comes to dinner this time. Please master," the tiny being begged, it was so ugly it was almost cute, with a sharp protrouding nose, high cheekbones and ears a good half a foot in length that flapped nervously around its face.
The blonde boy stared down at the creature with disdain, daring it to come any closer, and try to touch him with its own brand of underling magic. His gray-blue eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a forced line, "I have other things to do. Tell them no."
"But.. but.. " spluttered the house elf, tugging at its faded pink pillow case with stitched red roses, "If Master does not come.. oh.. " it wailed, "Master has not come to any dinner, Master does not eat, and his father and mother become angry and Inca must punish herself for her failure. Please, Master Draco, if you do not eat you will become weak and frail, when Master Draco does not eat, neither does Master Senior's wife."
Momentarily, guilt tugged at his heart strings, but he pushed it away immediately, steeling himself. He had other things to do than waste his time, sitting down eating, pretending his father was still the great, respected wizard he had once been. Notions of pretense were forlorn to him, and he had no desire to sit at the long, ornate table, and fake a smile, "Tell them I've other things to do," he repeated once more, before scrutinizing the look on the house elf's face,"Do not tell them what," he added suspiciously, she eyed the cloth in his hands, "Tell them I've gone out to dinner and I will not be back until much later."
The elf looked up, as though about to beg and pleade some more, but Draco's expression left the elf's whines die in her throat. It nodded unhappily and with another CRACK, it disappeared. After a few moments, Draco too, disappeared with a crack, disapparating into the darkness. After a moment or two, he reappeared in front of a humbly decorated shop, the words "Olivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." in newly-adorned gold. The old man must have re-vamped his store after his near-death experience. Draco pushed the door open, a faint tinkling sound overpowered the noise of his foot steps, looking up to see an old fashioned bell hung next to the door which magically reverbrated upon enterance. The blonde turned his head to the spindly chair in the corner, and eyed an old, aged, white-haired man who had a tired expression on his face.
"You have sent owl that it is ready," Draco stated a-matter-of-factly.
"Yes, but are you sure you want it? There is no telling what kind of control it will have, I have never, ever used this as a wand core before."
"It has taken two long, impatient years for me to wait, Mr. Ollivander, and I have paid you every step of the way. You mean to tell me you're just going to take my money and not give me the wand, when I have ultimately pioneered the use of a new wand core?"
The old man shook his head, "I have your money, Draco, and I have not used it. Do not think me so foolish. Though I have many specimens to make new wands, yes, this is by far the most dangerous, even more so than the Sphynx wands Gregovich had told me about. If you are sure you want it, you may have it, but my warning stands now: this wand can be controlled and used for great good, but if you let it, the blood rage and violence of this creature's embellishment will control you."
Draco laughed hard and cold, "Be that as it may, it is still my wand, my galleons, and you will do it not just for advancement in your creation but because you are curious as to my outcome. Give me my wand, and I will be on my way."
The old man sighed, defeated and turned to face Draco, while pushing up his glasses. Draco took note of them, they were odd spectacles, with several additions of eyeglass added on to them, no doubt each glass with magical properties. For a moment he had the urge to violently giggle, because the widened eyes of the old man reminded him a particular batty school proffessor he had during his years at Hogwarts... but as the man raised a container with a purple cushion inside, he immediately became serious, looking down at the magnificent peice set before him.
"11 inches precise, rare madagascar rosewood, used to house a peice of its kindred creature, a canine from the mouth of a Chimaera. Bendable, but ultimately rigid, suited best for the production, and defense," he added, a bit of a surprise in his voice, "of dark magic."
"Thank you," Draco murmured quietly, reaching in to grasp the wand. It was a dark red, almost purple color, with veiny, red lines running through it like a spiders web. The moment he touched it, it was as something gripped him, and began to invade his hand, a feeling of an insect crawling up his arm, encasing in a web, began to overtake him. He jumped slightly and held the wand firmly, concentrating on his hand, he exerted a strong mental control, "INCINDIO", he roared, creating a small, contained fire on the floor. Mr. Ollivander shot him a look, but Draco merely brushed it off with another boom of "AGUAMENTI", and the fire was exstinguished via a magical jet of water. Slowly he felt the creep feeling recede, and instead ravel itself around his wrist.
"Perfect," he said slowly, before fishing in his pocket to pull out another, more withered looking wand, "You can take this. I don't need it anymore. It doesn't work nearly as well since Potter," he said the name with slight disdain, "Disarmed me and used it to fight."
Mr. Ollivander took the wand, turning it over in his hands, showing no reaction to the mention of Harry Potter, and the fiasco of living in Draco's basement for months, knowing that it was not his fault, appreciative for the extra food snuck down to him when possible by the young man infront of him, "10 inches precise, hawthorne with unicorn hair. Springy, good for potions and offensive magic. Are you sure you want to hand this back to me?"
"I have no need for it, and it seems to not take much affinity to me anymore. Nevertheless, I have a new, more powerful wand."
"This wand has seen abuse, and was not rightfully won from you, but because of the efforts of Mr. Potter, seems confused as to its allegience. I shall take it and work on it, if you want it back, you are welcome to it. If not, I suppose I could find another master for it, though it will be very difficult," the elder man looked at the stick with a bit of discomfort.
Draco handed him a pouch full of galleons, the last installment of his pay, before turning to leave. Ollivander watched his back as it began to leave, adding quickly "Remember my warning, Draco," before the last echoes of footsteps disappeared and the chiming bell tapered off.