A/N This was written for Hogwarts online homework. With the Prompt. "Show me a little respect please, that's all I am asking"
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, that would be the lovely J.K. Rowling.
R&R please, this is my first story (: Thank you to my awesome Beta, softballpitcher!
"Show me a little respect please, that's all I am asking,"The old wand-maker begged of the figure in front of him.
He merely stared back, with his snake-like red eyes. They seemed to be piercing his soul. It was like he was reading the very thoughts in the man's head. His long, thin, pale fingers gently played with the black sleeve of his robes. "You do not deserve respect. You lied to Lord Voldemort. I should kill you...but as you know you have some valuable information that I find to be quite important."
"I thought I told you that it is not in my possession. So kill me; do it. You'll never get the wand!"
Voldemort was now getting angry. His eyes were now slits, more than usual at least, glaring with intense fury. He could not believe that obtaining the legendary Elder Wand, Death Stick, Wand of Destiny, or what ever it was truly called, could be such an obstacle to get. This was the second wandmaker that he believed to have it, and had been wrong. If Ollivander didn't know where it was then it seems as though he had hit a dead end. Where would he go from here? He had to go about this differently or his anger would get the better of him and he would lose control again.
"Oh, believe me when I say I do not want to have to hurt you, or worse kill you but I will if need be. I am not, however, going to beg. I am not some filthy muggle animal. You're going to have one last chance and you will cooperate."
Ollivander looked up into his red eyes. He was not afraid of Lord Voldemort. When they first met of course, he was very different. A handsome young boy, eager to take on the Wizarding World with all of its wonders. A spectacular place that he could barely believe existed, yet. That was more than 50 years ago he had stepped into the Wand Maker's shop, and purchased a lovely wand, yew and phoenix feather, 13 and a half inches. He knew that this wizard was going to be different than any others, he had the power to control and manipulate, something which many others did not come to possess in their entire lifetime. Yes, surely this boy would be trouble, and he was right.
Imagine his surprise, when years later came the very boy who had defeated him only as an infant, and was chosen by the very wand that shares a core with the one that attempted to destroy him.
He was silly to think that he could try to hide it from the Dark Lord. Ollivander suspected that he already knew the whereabouts of it and was simply messing with him in his cruel ways. Yes, Olllivander was quite sure it was obvious that Dumbledore had the wand. Ollivander knew that Dumbledore taken it to his grave, buried with him ten feet under in a white casket. Dumbledore had known of its powers and the Dark Lord's yearning for it, he was always good about things such as that. The more the old man thought about it, there was really was nothing to prevent him from taking the wand, so what was holding him back then?
Ollivander had always been deeply against the Dark Arts and was ready to prove it to anyone, including the most terrifying of them all. Even if it meant facing death himself. Facing it like children and mother had faced it before him. The only difference is that they were scared. They may have even begged for their lives. Ollivander would face death in the face, without fear, and without begging for mercy.
"I know nothing." Was the last simple sentence out of his mouth before a flash of green light struck him, the old man fell silent, with a content and knowing smile forever etched on his face.