Authors Note

This collection of stories will follow the life of Jenavive Gregorovitch, an original character of my own creation. Jenavive is written is as the current owner of the Elder Wand instead of Albus Dumbledore. Her father, Mykew Gregorovitch (famed wandmaker) successfully created a convincing duplicate of the Elder Wand which was enough to fool Gellert Grindlewald and even Albus Dumbledore for a little while.

This is book one of a seven part novel series. I look forward to sharing Jenavive's full story with new publications when I can! I would love your feedback and reviews whenever you get a chance.

Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone
Chapter One - The Girl Who Survived

Another cold, dark, and rainy evening reflected off the window panes, raindrops pattering against the broken glass that let what little light there was from the shrouded half-moon into the damp and dusty bedroom. A library of worn spell books lined the other walls, all engraved with the strangest of names and covering up the peeling wallpaper that was evidence of a past grandeur. One could quite literally hear the magic trying to escape the loosely bound pages if one were paying close attention. In the center of the room there was a large four poster bed, the sheets carpeted with holes from the countless number of Cornish Pixies that infested the home, the wood barely holding together. A girl of nearly eleven years old lie in the bed, her arms covered in tiny scratches no doubt from the countless number of encounters with the vicious, troublemaking Pixies. It was cold. Despite her shallow wounds she did not shed a tear in fear that her captors would use that moment of weakness to fuel their cruel and torturous games. Instead she slept soundly, exhausted from the days lessons that left her body aching in pain. For what it was worth, time had hardened her body to the pain she knew all too well, but that was a secret well-guarded.

Somewhere in the endless empty rooms of the mansion a grandfather clock struck midnight. The pendulum bell echoed in the deserted hallways and reached the locked room with little more than a faint echo left behind it. It was enough to wake the girl who had been sound asleep. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment and then she was wide awake. Ten years. Ten years she had been confined to that dark and dusty room with no chance of escaping and nowhere to run even if she somehow managed to leave. She didn't even know who she was. All they ever called her was 'girl'; she didn't even have a name. For a long time, she questioned who she was and where she came from since her blonde hair and hazel eyes didn't match that of the dark haired Carrows. She knew she wasn't one of them, but that only left her with more questions. Eventually she stopped asking questions because every time she did it got her into trouble.

The clocked continued to ring as the rain began to abate into the night; and then a moment of silence. Twelve'o 'one…a soft hum began to tickle her ears before fading away. She might've thought to prepare for another battle with the ever-tormenting Cornish Pixies, but this sound was different. The hum began again, only this time it was louder and lasted only a moment or two longer. It came from the necklace that hung around her neck. It was a small golden locket that was sealed with what she could only guess was some sort of binding spell. Even she couldn't find a way to open it and yet it had been entrusted to her. Funny little object it was; she had it since she could remember. It was the strangest thing, almost alive for it grew whenever she grew and no matter how hard someone tried to take it from her neck whether by force or by magic, it simply would not budge. She could remember a slew of mysterious and dangerous looking visitors dressed in black robes attempting to tear that cursed thing from her neck. It was the one thing she was sure protected her from a certain death since it was obvious that they all feared that her death might have unintended and perilous consequences for them. The hum continued to grow louder, this time accompanied by a violent vibration; she sat up in the bed and grabbed the necklace hoping she could silence the noise pulsating from the locket. If it was discovered that for the first time since her arrival the necklace decided to go through a change her life would no longer be protected by its secret. Quickly she moved the moth eaten covers to cover the space between the floor and the door muffling any sounds that tried to escape the bedroom.

Suddenly, the locket began to lift itself from her neck and floated in front of her for a moment; then…click…the lock opened and a shimmering light brightened the room, hovering for a moment as if waiting for the girl to reach out into the light and so she did. At first, it seemed as if she was reaching into empty air, but then she felt her hand brush against a thin, solid object. She pulled her hand from the light and grasped between her fingers was a wand. It was made of elder wood and bared the markings of elder berries. It was beautiful and had a power to it that quivered through her fingertips all the way down to her toes. Distracted by the wand she held in her hand she almost didn't notice a small piece of parchment paper that fell to her feet. Slowly, she bent down to pick it up, untying the ribbon wrapped around it proving the authenticity of the seal that had been placed on it. Silently, she read the letter to herself:

To my dearest daughter,

By now eleven years have passed and all traces of me will have gone from your memory. Today, I am a stranger but I look forward to a future where we can be reunited once more. I regret that my actions in the past have led to this moment, a moment in which I should have been there for you as a father, but alas my selfishness has made it impossible for me to witness this moment. For in this moment, you, my dear Jenavive Emma Gregorovitch, become a witch. You are of Pureblood descent, your heritage from a long line of powerful and talented witches and wizards. You are the daughter of a wandmaker who let his work overpower the love of his family. To you I leave my greatest and most powerful possession: the Elder Wand. Its power and influence is what cost me your life my dear Jenavive, and for that I will regret its inheritance for the rest of my life. Know now that the wand will never truly be yours until you have either defeated its previous master of whom I do not know the whereabouts, or you earn its loyalty, a magic that not even the most powerful of wizards and wandmakers understand; for it is the wand that chooses the witch or wizard Jenavive. I have faith, my daughter, that one day you will master the wand, a task in which I have failed. I know I do not warrant your forgiveness nor should I expect anything from you because of my absence, but you must promise to fight for your freedom if not for me then for yourself. The wand you now possess is the most coveted piece of magic in all the Wizarding World and no one will think twice about your life should they learn of your possession of it. Even an untrained witch or wizard with this wand can cause more damage than a trained wizard with a wand that is faithful to its master…take care in where you aim it. If I could find you, I would set you free. But for now, you must trust no one and rely only on yourself.

Forever your father,
Mykew Gregorovitch

Jenavive read the letter over and over again, her tears staining the parchment that was as old as she was. She had a name. She had a name…Jenavive Emma Gregorovitch; daughter of the wandmaker Mykew Gregorovitch and owner of the Elder Wand. She turned the wand over in her hand and studied it. So this was the famed Elder Wand as described in the Tales of Beedle the Bard? Jenavive knew the story well as it was one of the many books that lined the walls of her bedroom. She always thought it was a children's story, but if her father believed the stories there must have been some truth to it. If this was truly the Elder Wand, Jenavive knew that there was no way she could let it fall into the wrong hands. She realized now that was probably why they kept her for so long, they knew that her father had the wand and wanted to use her leverage to somehow get the wand from him. They had no idea that it was under their very noses this whole time, but if she stayed in this prison it wouldn't take them long to find it. Jenavive had to escape.

Jenavive turned around quickly and ran towards the bookshelves, searching through the countless names to find the exact magic book that held the spell she needed to escape. It would be in a charms book, something that was a little more complicated than children's magic. Jenavive grabbed the first Charms book from the shelves and began flipping through the pages furiously. There was no use in using an unlocking spell for the door; she would never make it past the guards if she did. Her best chance was the window and the storm pipe that extended down to the gardens. Beyond the gardens there was a dark forest that seemed to stretch endlessly into the night. She had seen one of the men that lived there head into the forest during every full moon and return bloody and tired in the mornings. Jenavive suspected that he was a werewolf but she had never been able to prove her theory. They called him Greyback; she had only heard his name once or twice before during the shouting matches between him and the brother and sister that seemed to own the place. Jenavive tore through the book, desperately hoping to find the right spell when her eyes settled on a spell that she had seen before: Bombarda. It was an explosion spell, one that could take the bars off the windows if she used it correctly. Still, it didn't seem enough to create a big enough hole for her to climb through. Jenavive had once read in a spell book that if you added maxima to the end of any spell, it would increase the intensity. Of course, she had never actually performed any magic herself, but she had studied a countless number of spells and potions in the books that she had access to, her only form of escape and entertainment. Luckily, this spell was not as complicated as some that she had read about; it was a simple point and aim your wand in the general direction and pronunciation. "Bombarda maxima…. Bombarda maxima…. Bombarda maxima," she repeated silently to herself. She would only get one chance at this and if she failed she would regret it if she lived to see those days.

Jenavive shut the book and put it back in its placed before positioning herself before the lone window in her room. She held out the Elder Wand, hand shaking, as she repeated the words in her mind. It was now or never. Pretty soon there would be no time left and she would never get another chance at it. Her hand stopped shaking. Jenavive took a deep breath and closed her eyes, imagining the wall bursting wide open to the cool night air. "Bombarda MAXIMA!" Jenavive enunciated the words as best as she could, but with the Elder Wand it didn't take much to make what she wanted to happen. With a quick bang, the wall exploded outwards onto the grounds, bits of glass and stone flying everywhere. She could feel bits of glass stinging her face, but she kept her eyes tightly shut until the dust settled. She opened her eyes. Instead of a hole, however, the unpracticed spell left a flaming gap in the wall, spreading purple flames quickly to the damp book shelves, destroying everything in its path. Where there was once a wall, there was now a giant gaping hole that let the rain and wind from the storm into the already damp room. It was a cold refreshing air and it stirred up the must that usually curdled the air around her. Jenavive took a deep breath inhaling in the fresh air. It was freeing. A menacing screech from the floor below snapped Jenavive out of her reverie as her mind began to focus on the task ahead. Clearly someone heard the explosion so there was no time to waste. Jenavive ran to the edge of the gap wincing from the hot flames and stared towards the grounds below her. She was three stories up from the grounds with only a storm pipe to guide her way down. The flames kept the storm drain just out of reach as they burned through the flooring quickly. She was going to have to jump. There were footsteps on the stairs that led up to her room, rattling the walls like an escaped troll let loose in the mansion; she was out of time. Jenavive turned back to the drainpipe and focused. On the count of three, Jenavive put all her trust in herself and jumped from the ledge, grasping the pipe just barely with the fingertips before clasping her other hand around it and holding on for dear life as she began to slide too quickly towards the ground. Weak from her years of being cooped up in that fiendish room, Jenavive lost her grip and fell a full story onto the wet grounds below. Thankfully the soggy grounds softened her fall, knocking the breath from her lungs for only a moment. Eleven years of torturous games trained the young witch to ignore enormous amounts of pain in the face of fear.

There were shouts from above her, Alecto Carrow staring angrily down at her from the burning flames that now nearly engulfed Jenavive's entire room. Determined to get away, Jenavive rolled over onto her stomach and quickly scrambled to her knees, then to her feet. She was in the race for her life. Jenavive took off in the direction towards the forest, wherever that lead her she didn't care as long as it was far away from the Carrow torture mansion. There was a long stretch of green grass that lay before her and in the distance Jenavive saw her freedom. She was no more than three-quarters of the way across the lawn when she heard the quick and heavy footfalls behind her. Greyback was fast on her heels. She only needed to make it to the trees for cover.

Seconds later she was through the trees, Greyback still on her trail, but Jenavive still had her hand gripped tightly around the Elder Wand. Jenavive raced through the trees, ignoring the screaming pains coming from her bare feet and she zoomed past the unkept bushels of thorns. She didn't know how close the werewolf was on her heels, she only knew that she was lucky it wasn't a full moon. Jenavive heard a throaty snarl close behind. She made the mistake of looking over her shoulder, causing her to lose her footing over an exposed root. Jenavive fell to the forest floor. She rolled onto her back and watched as Greyback prepared to pounce when she aimed her wand towards his chest and screamed, "No!" She knew it wasn't a spell, but for some reason the wand seemed to respond anyways. A bright flash of purple light struck the man square in the chest and sent him flying up and through the trees. The last thing Jenavive heard were his screams as he disappeared into the blackness. Shocked at her own doing, Jenavive wasted seconds trying to recover as she pushed herself up off the ground and began to run again.

Jenavive didn't know how long she had been running, or where exactly she was running to; she finally made it into a clearing when the sun began to rise just over the distant hill. She could barely breath, her heart nearly beating out of her chest as she slowed down giving into her fatigue. She was trying to make it up the hill. As she ascended, the scenery around her begin to fade as her body swayed. One more step… Jenavive completely blacked out as she reached the very top of the hill, her body falling heavily to the ground making a soft thud under her small weight. Wherever she was, she finally felt free.