The Wandmaker's Protégé

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. If I did, Ron wouldn't have married Hermione, and Harry wouldn't have married Ginny. Oh yeah, and Sirius, Remus, and Tonks would be still alive.

Introduction: Garrick Ollivander sends a letter to Harry Potter, thanking him for vanquishing the Dark Lord. When he receives no reply, he decides to investigate. Discovering that the legendary Boy-Who-Lived was abused in his household, he decides to adopt and teach him the art of wandmaking, while training him to be the next Merlin in order to defeat Voldemort.

A/N: I didn't like how Ollivander was portrayed as weak in the Deathly Hallows, so he may be more powerful than canon. I also didn't like how Harry's grades were so average. I get that J.K Rowling may have wanted to illustrate Harry as a child who just desperately wishes to be normal yet has been tasked to defeat the Dark Lord. Therefore, I made him smarter than he is in canon. Also, my English is absolutely horrendous, so please bear with me if I make any mistakes.

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Chapter 1

1985, July, 31st

Garrick Ollivander sat on his chair, twirling his wand idly. Of course, it wasn't professional for a wandmaker to treat his own wand with such carelessness. In fact, he could accidentally destroy his shop if he was unlucky enough! However, Ollivander didn't care. His wife, son, and daughter had just died in an unfortunate accident. According to the Ministry report, his family had been victims of a gas leak in non-magical London along with a few non-magicals, but he knew the truth. Ollivander had checked their wand history, and all of them contained stunning and shield spells, but the Ministry, as incompetent as ever, had dismissed it as useless evidence along with some foreign blood residue. He knew that due to his efforts in the war, some Death Eaters had sought revenge on his family.

Burying himself in work, he had experimented with new wand cores – Nundu heartstring, Thunderbird tail feathers and Demiguise hair. The Nundu heartstring wand was best combined with blackthorn wood, resulting in a perfect wand for warriors. Wands with a Thunderbird tail feather was even harder to gain allegiance than a phoenix feather wand due to its unpredictable nature but was best paired with laurel wood. The hardest ingredient to work with was without a doubt the Demiguise hair. Demiguise hair wands are powerful if it accepts the owner, but it the magic would gradually weaken throughout the years, and in around 10 years, the magic would be totally gone. So far Ollivanders' research into preserving the magic was not having any success.

His thoughts wandered to the defeat of the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Harry James Potter, the so-called Boy-Who-Lived. 'The Wizarding World and their monikers', Ollivander thought. Despite the fact that the Wizarding World thought they had seen the last of Voldemort, Ollivander knew that it was too good to be true. As an aura reader, he could see that Voldemort's magic and soul were split from his main body, yet were still alive. This could only mean that Voldemort had created anchors that stored his soul, therefore anchoring him to the mortal world and allowing to escape from Death's crutches. Even if he was gone (and he wasn't), the Death Eaters were still alive. If the Dementor's Kiss wasn't used on people who murdered and tortured, then what was it for? For the Death Eaters who had been witnessed breaking the law, the Ministry had no choice but to sentence them to Azkaban. However, all the Death Eaters with political clout and money had to do was plead "Imperius" followed by a hefty, generous *donation* and they could get away with anything.

Ollivander let his thoughts wander, and came to the topic of his seat on the Wizengamot. 'With Lucius Malfoy in control of the Ministry, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a new bill stating that the Unforgivible Curses were now legal!' Ollivander thought, 'perhaps now is the time to take up my seat personally.' Ollivander absolutely despised politics. He would take a battle over it any day of the week. To be honest, he had no choice. Previously, his wife had wielded the Ollivander votes, but now there was no one he trusted enough to be granted proxy to the seat, and he couldn't risk the votes falling into the wrong hands. If he took up the seat personally, he would need to find someone to run the shop when he wasn't available, and there was also no one he trusted enough.

Finally deciding, he chose to have someone monitor the shop rather than having a proxy. It made sense, as he could put a damage protection ward over the wands, and wands were rarely bought outside of August. Ollivander just...knew that a second war was approaching. With Voldemort still alive, it was inevitable. Ollivander definitely had the political power to change things, as many votes belonged to him. The first one was obviously from the Ollivander seat. The Ollivander seat alone contained 5 votes; 4 from the Most Ancient and Most Noble, one from the Wandmaker status. However, the Ravenclaw and Ollivander line had merged through the marriage of Athena Ravenclaw and Jonathan Ollivander in 937A.D. Since Rowena Ravenclaw was one of the founders of the Wizengamot, the seat contained 10 votes. There was another family with relation to Ravenclaw, the Lovegoods, but Xenophilius had not taken up his Lordship yet, so it was for Ollivander alone to wield. With a grand total of 15 votes, he could very well change the society. Although he didn't want to reveal that he had the Ravenclaw votes as it would paint a large target on his back, he had nothing to lose; his family was dead.

Allowing his thoughts to float away, it landed on one Boy-Who-Lived. To Ollivander, it was easy to guess what had happened. Judging by the Sowilo rune on his forehead, his parents must've drawn it on him and powered it using their deaths. Such magic was frowned upon in the Ministry, as it was considered Blood Magic and therefore 'dark'. In Ollivander's mind, there was no light or dark, but only intent. Sure, there was some magic that should definitely be illegal, but Blood Magic, definitely shouldn't. He also disagreed with outlawing staffs and only permitting wands. While staffs did need a bit of the owner's blood to make it work successfully, he didn't think that was the reason why they were illegal to own. Personally, Ollivander thought that the Ministry didn't want people to be too powerful. Though wands were just a conduit for magic, it still had its limits. Staffs, on the other hand, were designed to suit the needs of its owner. Nowadays, staffs were regarded as the stuff of legends, and that they weren't real. Only a few knew the truth and were regarded as old and a bit senile. The Ollivander family had a family staff that was passed down through generations, and since they had Wandmaker status, it was not confiscated, but not allowed to be shown in public either. Although the saying was the wand chooses the wizard, a staff could be changed to serve different people, but only of the same family. The staff was ancient, being more than 1000 years old. While the wand cores weren't as modern, the ancient wood and gem were more than enough to compensate. The wood was intertwined with Rowan wood and Vine-wood, both powerful in their own right. The wood was wrapped in Acrumantula Silk, providing the wood with even more power. The cores consisted of Sphinx hair, Nundu heartstring, Essence of Murtlap and Basilisk poison both frozen by an Ice Elemental (Leonardo Ollivander 937A.D). The gem tip was Mythril, a metal that was gone a few hundred years ago. Miniature runes were carved in the wood: Eihwaz for defense and strength, Algiz for protection and Uruz for speed. The staff was simply breathtaking; some would say it was the best piece of work the Ollivander's had made. The Nundu heartstring and frozen Basilisk poison were great for battle magic. The frozen Essence of Murtlap made it easy for healing magic. The Sphinx's hair was perfect for Transfiguration. The Mythril gem was already imbued with magic, adding extra power to spells. The only type of magic the staff wasn't that compatible with were Charms. However, Charms would be easily overpowered if it was compatible with a staff, so it wasn't that much of a loss.

Thinking back to the topic of the Boy-Who-Lived, he was probably living a luxurious life, being praised by his guardians for defeating Voldemort. 'James and Lily Potter should be the heroes of the war, not Harry Potter', Ollivander thought. However, the million dollar question still stood: why target the Potters personally? Sure, they had been fighting on the Light side of the war, but there were countless others: The Weasleys, the Longbottoms, the McKinnons, etc. Granted, some of them were targeted too, but none by Voldemort personally. There must've also been a reason that one of the Potters had protected Harry Potter with the rune and Blood Magic; the Potters were known to be light. What could've made them use blood magic?

Meanwhile, in Privet Drive 4, Little Whinging, Surrey

Harry James Potter sat solitary in the cupboard he called his room. He was a peculiar child; he had bright green eyes and was too skinny to be healthy. His gaze was too mature for his age; being constantly bullied, verbally abused and neglected by the Dursleys did that to a kid. His jet-black hair was messy and untamable, much to the annoyance of Aunt Petunia. Despite what his Aunt and Uncle said, Harry was much more observant than they gave credit to. One of the many things he noticed was that he was far from normal; for example, he had once overcooked the bacon by just a wee bit, but Uncle Vernon proceeded to complain, spiking Harry's anger. 'How dare they insult my cooking when they sit there and do nothing?' he thought and wished that Uncle Vernon would be quiet for once in his life. In the middle of his complaint, Uncle Vernon found himself silenced and couldn't speak a word, taking a whole hour for the effects to wear off. Harry was terrified at what he had done; while Harry didn't exactly like his relatives, he didn't like hurting anyone and was afraid he was no better than Dudley. However, from then on, Uncle Vernon was careful not to insult Harry when he was in a bad mood.

When Harry's guilt finally left, his attitude turned from terrified to curious. Just what was this power? How could he have silenced Uncle Vernon's voice with just a thought? He began trying to control this power but to no success. One day, he was trying to levitate a pencil, as he had successfully levitated things before. If someone came into his room and saw his 5-year old face scrunched up in seriousness, trying to lift the pencil with his mind, they would either deem him cute and childish or mental. However, Harry's anger was rising by the second. It was as if the pencil was taunting him by staying still; perhaps you really are a stupid freak, Harry. Quit imagining things and wasting your time, a voice in Harry's mind said. Suddenly, the pencil began spasming and floated slowly into the air. Harry's anger was quickly replaced by excitement; he wasn't imagining things! As quickly as his anger vanished, the pencil dropped back onto the floor, but he didn't notice. He wasn't crazy! The pencil actually floated into the air! After realizing the pencil had dropped back onto the floor, he came to the conclusion that his unknown power was powered by strong emotions. However, he wasn't sure if it was through negative emotions in particular or any type of emotion. If it was powered by negative emotions alone, he wasn't sure if he liked it too much. He had seen how his power responded when he was angry; what if he had wished for someone to die, or worse, suffer? Work anything ever possess him to do something like that? Sure, he disliked his relatives, but he wouldn't ever wish something like suffering or death on them. He was positively mortified when he silenced Uncle Vernon, so ho would he get over the guilt of accidentally harming someone. For the first time since Harry discovered his power, he was afraid of them instead of curious and enthralled.

For the following week, Harry tried to keep his calm as much as possible. Every time his Uncle called him a freak, he did his best to ignore it. Every time his cousin insulted him, he hummed a tune tried to block out anything he said. Every time his aunt made a snide comment directed at him, he went to his cupboard and tried to calm down alone. In his free time, he went to the library and read books about meditation. He tried; he really did. However, all things eventually broke if it was battered enough.

On a Friday afternoon, Harry was already in a particularly bad mood. His aunt had made him water the gardens, and it was a particularly sunny day. After taking a shower, he had to clean up the house. On his way down the stairs, Dudley accidentally bumped into him with the force of a rhinoceros. With little energy to spare, Harry couldn't stand still and found himself tumbling down the stairs. Suddenly, a golden bubble formed around him and he bounced safely down the stairs, albeit headfirst. After that little scene, something in Harry just snapped. Perhaps it was the week of verbal abuse, perhaps it was because he was tired, perhaps it was because of Dudley's bullying, but it didn't really matter. He stood back up, his bright green eyes glowing, full of anger and looking slightly sadistic. For a moment, his eyes flashed and turned blood-red. Dudley, thick as he was, knew that he had crossed the line. He backed away slowly and ran back up the stairs. Harry's red eyes flickering back to green, he felt intense pain in his forehead. Collapsing to the ground, he used every ounce of his strength and crawled back to his cupboard. Locking the door, he thought he heard a voice saying, I have seen your heart, Harry Potter, and it is mine! before he fainted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A/N: Please review! I welcome constructive criticism with open arms. I know this isn't excellent, but it is my first fanfiction, so feel free to offer advice - AngelofAnarchy7