Title: The Ways of Old.

Summary: Basically, a fic in which the Old Ways have always been there, not really forgotten, only waiting and searching for someone who still feels the Magic of Old, someone capable of wielding it… and, well, how Harry's life changes with a single innocent asked question in Ollivander's in 1991.


Garrick's Observation


If one would ask the many witches and wizards of the Modern Age, they would mostly answer – if they knew of it, at all – that the ways of the Old Religion have long since passed, the books long since destroyed, and that the magic needed to wield it was no longer there to be wielded. In truth, and not necessarily so surprising, most witches and wizards are completely and utterly wrong. Admittedly, in was fair to say that not many could wield it, but that did not change the fact that it was not lost or faded, just as picking up a pen after misplacing a quill does not mean that all quills, as a whole, dived into the void, never to be seen again.

Foolishness, one would call that assumption.

Near idiotic, others might say.

Garrick Ollivander, as one of the last Wielders and Wand Makers, would be one of the select few who stated both, together. Repeatedly. And, honestly, quite often.

But those words, and those thoughts, did not grace his head that day, the last day of July in 1991, because, well, in all honesty, both he and the Old Ways were far too busy rejoicing.

Rejoicing, because after a full twenty-two years since the man had accidentally cropped upon another Wielder – an uncurious ignorant one, it was true – one more just happened to walk in to his store, looking awed and uncomfortable, but no-less feeling the Magic that thrummed in the air, like a calling signal to those with the right map and compass to follow it.

To seek it.

Not, of course, that he outwardly voiced the fact – it was, after all, a quest these days: if you were to ask, then you would receive an answer; if you did not… well, you would never know. It was, in that sense, much like the Hallows – another fact turned legend turned fabled rumour.

It just happened to be his good luck, his truly amazing good luck, that the boy – that boy – did ask the right question. And who, with all his humbleness, was he to deny an answer?

Oh, yes, Garrick thought, amused and intrigued for the first time in years, the boy will most certainly be great, far greater than the likes of the Modern Age has probably ever seen… IF he asks the next question tomorrow.


AN: Let me know what you think?