As always, I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, Voldemort would have taken over the Ministry by at least the beginning of the sixth book and Harry would be more kickass.


Harry had no idea how long he had been flying on the temperamental carpet. He had fallen asleep an hour after pointless arguing and flying from the non responsive carpet from magical exhaustion and blood loss. The spells he had used were draining and he had barely trained with them at all.

By the time Harry had finally woke up, he had stopped bleeding but the carpet seemed to be losing energy as it was rather sloppy in the air and slowly drifted toward the ground. They were near a bay of some sort with a short bridge that reached a small island in the distance. The stores and houses were messed closely together, making up a small town. As it was dark, the carpet was able to land safely in a deserted alley where it gave one final defiant buck, not nearly hard enough to force Harry off, before falling to the ground lifelessly.

Harry sat crisscrossed on the ground, staring at the carpet with a vacant expression, annoyed and beyond confused at the whole situation. First Diagon Alley had been attacked and then he had been carried away by a flying carpet that didn't even seem to like him. He was wounded and had a cracked wand with no idea where he was.

Harry was having an inner struggle not to scream and rage at the loss of killing his Godfather's killer and being stranded at some bay. He took a deep, deep breath and stood. As much as he wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all, he had learned over summer, after reviewing most of his life and decisions, he could not afford to act like a petulant child in times like this.

Looking at the rug a bit unsurely, Harry nudged it with his foot. It remained immobile. It had probably used up all its magic to get away, though why it took Harry along for the ride confused him. Perhaps it had been the blood.

"First things first," Harry muttered, looking at his cracked wand. He would need to find a wizard town or find a way to contact the Weasley's or Dumbledore. Looking at his wand, Harry had a sudden idea and lifted it into the air and waited. A full minute had passed and still nothing.

"Where the heck is that Knight Bus?" Harry muttered angrily, glancing at his wand.

Perhaps it didn't work if your wand was broken. Putting it in his pocket, Harry cast a grudging glance at the carpet. Weighing the pros and cons, Harry rolled the rug up and carried it under his arm before making his way out of the dark alley.

He was lucky that he was wearing muggle clothing; otherwise he would have gotten some questions about wearing a robe. The blood stains only made his shirt look like juice stains and the cut on his side was covered by the rug at his side. Walking quickly, but not fast enough to look like he was running from someone, Harry headed toward the sea, hoping to get some information from one of the sailors.

"Excuse me," Harry said to a large, burly looking man with a bushy red beard.

"Aye, lad? Ye need somthin'?" he asked, not bothering to stop working and barely looking at Harry.

"I was wondering if you could tell me how far I am from London?"

The man gave a grunt before spitting into the sea. "That 'bout five hours bus rid. Go north and you'll reach it. Just have to find the right bus schedule or get your mummy to give you a ride."

Harry frowned at the man, not liking his tone at all. He glanced at the small island with the rather skinny stone bridge a few ways away in the distance. "And what's that small island there?" Harry pointed. "The one with the bridge."

This time the man actually did look up. "Wha' you talkin' 'bout, eh?" he demanded. "Shoot, boy, ye better no' be one of 'em crazies. There ain't no bridge." He gave a sneer. "Beat it, boy."

Harry sneered at the turned back before softening his gaze in confusion. Moving away from the man, Harry glanced back at the island, wondering just what the hell the man was smoking. Wondering, or perhaps hoping that it might be a wizards settlement, Harry made his trek toward the stone bridge that began at the edge of a small cliff. Watching from a distance as two people in front of him, Harry felt his eyes widen in surprise as they turned into blurs. Their blurs raced across the bridge at an alarming rate and were gone in less than a second.

"So it is a wizard's village." Harry grinned and stepped onto the bridge.

Immediately he felt a rushing sensation and found himself on his knees on the opposite end. Looking around in shock, Harry blushed with embarrassment as several witch's and wizards passed him with a sneer for his muggle attire. Standing immediately, Harry rushed to the side, curious to where he was.

It certainly wasn't like Diagon Alley, that was for sure. All the shops were rather gloomy looking, not to mention most of the shoppers looked like Dung's type of friends. They all had a shady, distrustful look about them that warded off some of the more innocent shoppers, especially the children.

Harry suddenly had a foreboding feeling as he glanced into a window and saw cursed candles for sale. This was probably one of those more questionable towns that Mrs. Weasley disapproved of so much. Harry could see why, especially with the way the shady customers looked like they had no problem with slitting a throat or two.

Harry edged away into the shadows, wondering what on earth he could do. It was probably late, what with the lack of customers, save for the dark characters, and the black night. A few shops were even closed. Harry felt for his wand and felt a rush of determination. He would not lose himself to second thoughts about wandering in this town. He had no other choice.

"Excuse me, but you wouldn't happen to know where the wand shop is, do you?" he asked a woman standing next to others. She had dark brown hair that was pulled into some elaborate style with a strange hat that looked old fashioned and had several bright colored feathers. The same could be said about her robes as it had a corset style and rather outrageous frills on the bottom. The other two were dressed the same.

Her demeanor turned cold as she spat at him. "How dare you speak to me, let alone look at me, mudblood," she hissed. "Be gone before I curse you."

Startled by the hostile tone, Harry stumbled back, completely bewildered as she turned her back on him as if he was worth even less than the dirt he was standing on, the other two woman giving him disdainful looks before they too looked away. He turned away with narrowed, angry eyes. Racist bitch. Harry somehow doubted she had any real talent with a wand. She looked more like a trophy wife. However, with his broken wand, he couldn't risk a confrontation. The whole place was too shady for his liking.

Wandering through the town and avoiding the few outside vendors that were packing up, but still wiling to sell, Harry almost sighed in relief as he found a wand shop. The shop looked like it was made out of rotten wood where faded out words, Wands of Power, could be barely read. The shop looked closed. The windows were tinted dark but Harry could see a small amount of light inside.

Opening the door, Harry shifted the limp carpet carefully as he entered. It almost looked like Ollivander's shop. The front was the same, though it was just the depressing atmosphere that made it different. There was also nobody at the register. Harry almost expected another crazy old man to jump out at him at any second.

"Hello?" Harry called softly, keeping his eyes and ears open. "Hello?" he said again, this time a bit louder when no one answered. Annoyed, Harry called again. "Hello?"

"Hold your thestral's!" a man barked from the back. "Or better yet, leave! I'm closed."

"Can you please help me anyway?" Harry called. "My wand is cracked and I really need it fixed as soon as possible."

"Well, ain't that a shame," the man snapped, finally coming to front. He was wiping off his face and his hands were covered in ash. He had a pale complexion with dark gray hair and dull green eyes that had a hint of blue in them. "Come back a different day, I'm closed." He glared at the door. "I told that damn Willy to lock the door on his way out. That boy is completely useless," he muttered. He glanced back at Harry. "What, still here? Get out!"

"Please, just look at it," Harry snapped back, thrusting his wand forward. "I have no where to stay and no protection."

"Too bad for you," the man said uncaringly, pushing Harry's hand away. "Your fault for being out at eleven. Come back tomorrow, and lose the rug. You look like a freak."

Harry growled and shook his head. This man… Wait, why was he widening his eyes?

"Harry Potter?" the man breathed. His eyes narrowed in anger and began shouting. "Get out before I'm caught with you! Damn kid, you'll get me in trouble if those damn Death Eater's catch me with you."

"Are you assorting with Death Eater's?" Harry demanded.

"OUT!" the man roared, actually throwing Harry out by the back of his shirt before throwing his carpet out too, which he had dropped in shock.

Harry sat on the ground and glared at the shop. Great, now what was he to do? Getting up with as much dignity as possible, Harry ignored a group in the corner that was looking at him funny. Patting his bangs down to cover his scar, Harry moved away from the wand shop.


Harry was at an all time low and he knew it. With only eight galleons in his pocket, he had no place to stay. His muggle clothing also didn't help matters, as this place was full of prejudice bigots. He was currently lying behind of some trash bins, well out of view. He leaned against the lifeless flying carpet, wondering what he could do. He didn't dare fall asleep; paranoid he would be pick pocketed or have his throat slit.

He rubbed his hands, chilled from the cool breeze coming from the sea. Sighing, Harry twirled his wand carefully, boring it with a gaze that was far too deep on such a young man. Ears perking up at the sound of a crash and angry shouts, Harry looked around the trash bins carefully. The dark night made it hard for him to see, but there was enough light from a mysterious magical source that was able to let him see a few cloaked men with masks enter the wand shop.

There was no one in sight and Harry was pretty sure that if someone had heard, no one would come to help. If Harry hadn't noticed that the masks were Death Eater masks, he would have stayed away, but as he needed information and just down right hated any follower of Voldemort, he needed to know what was going on. Someone could get hurt. He had a feeling the wand maker might be in trouble, especially with angry shouts coming from the store.

Placing the flying carpet aside, Harry brought out his wand, frowning in irritation at the crack as he crept along the sides of shops in the shadows and got closer to the wand shop. Harry kept his head low, keeping to a crouch position as he walked into the shop. All the others were in the back.

Harry glanced once more at his cracked wand and put it in his pocket. Still keeping silent, as he wanted, needed, to be unseen until, or if, the moment arose. Grabbing a random box, Harry pulled out a wand. It appeared to be about ten inches and was a light brown color. It didn't even let out a spark.

The next one was better, though not even close to good. It let off three sparks. Harry didn't have time to grab another wand as he heard the Cruciatus Curse being cast and the sound of the wand makers screams.

Disillusioning himself, though it seemed much harder and straining with this wand, Harry hurried to the back, still keeping to the shadows and corners. He peeked in the back and saw four Death Eater's standing over the screaming form of the wand maker.

"Ready to talk yet?" the Death Eater who cast the curse asked with a smirk. "We're in no hurry, are we, mates?"

The others all chuckled in amusement, each hoping to continue torturing the poor man.

"Just spill, old man. We know you have the goods Arcturus is looking for."

"I don't have anything," he wheezed, glaring up at the man. His hands formed fists as the Death Eater's guffawed at his plight.

"You know, I'm really glad you said that." The Death Eater sounded completely smug. "Cruic— Ow!" He turned to the others angrily, rubbing his raw hand. "Which one of you idiots shot a Stinging Curse at me?"

The others denied doing such a thing.

"Then someone else is here. Fan out and find who it is!" the leader barked. "As for you, old ma--" He didn't even have time to finish since the wand maker had used the moment the Death Eater turned his back on him to his advantage.

"Crucio," the wand maker intoned with an ugly sneer. "Let's see how you like it."

The others shot spells in return to help their leader. Each were blocked by a shield. Even the wand maker was shocked.

"Someone's disillusioned," one hissed and waved his wand. "Denudo!" A low breeze filled the room and Harry was now completely visible. "Is that…?"

"Expelliamus!" Harry interrupted.

His curse was blocked and that's when all hell broke loose.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the wand maker barked, his face completely furious as he traded curses with two while Harry had the other two.

Harry was doing horribly, already getting a cutting curse to the arm. The wand he had taken was performing poorly and barely had any strength. He spent most of the time dodging and running in circles. He spied a bundle of wands and tried to get closer to them.

"Helping you," Harry retorted, annoyed.

"I don't need yer blasted help!" The wand maker was pushed back a few feet and dodged a nasty spell that caused the wall to melt.

"I can see," Harry returned coldly. "Bilus Marito!" he snapped, making a pointing motion with his wand. He scowled in disappointment as a pathetic black vine with weak looking thorns crawled toward his opponents.

"Incendio," the Death Eater smirked, only to falter as the vine continued to crawl toward him. "Fax Facis!" he and the other Death Eater cried in fright, going for a flamethrower spell.

With both distracted, Harry quickly cast a hair growing charm that caused the Death Eater's hair to grow at an alarming rate. It shot out of the cloak that covered him and grew all around the man, making him look like Cousin It.

"Enodis," Harry said with a smirk, groaning as only a few knots were entangled in the hair since the wand was so weak. It was more than enough to make the man become immobile and fall in a flailing ball of thick hair.

"Crucio!" the second Death Eater shrieked.

This time it hit. Harry screamed as he writhed on the floor, heartbeat pounding horribly as the spell ended, leaving his skin twitching.

"Crucio." Again with the pain and the unoriginality. "Just imagine the reward I'll receive, Potter, when I bring you to the Dark Lord," the Death Eater boasted as he stood directly over Harry, wand pointed. "Cruc—!"

"Reducto!" Harry screamed, putting everything he had in it.

The man screamed as he was blasted away, a bleeding hole in his stomach as he fell unconscious before he even landed. The Death Eater wasn't the only one screaming. The wand maker was screaming bloody murder.

Before Harry could even turn toward the man, a wand was poking into his neck. "Don't even think about it," the voice hissed. "Drop your wand and turn around slowly."

Tense, Harry dropped the wand and slowly turned. The wand was placed under his chin now. Harry glanced at the wand maker, unable to hide a wince as he saw that the man was shaking horribly with a missing leg that went up to the knee. The leg itself was on the other side of the room. The wand dug into his neck, drawing his attention back to the Death Eater.

"Imagine my luck when all I needed was to pick up some cargo, I run into the great Harry Potter himself!" The Death Eater sounded young, just like the others. These Death Eater's couldn't be any older than twenty-one. "The Dark Lord shall reward me beyond any could have imagined."

Harry glared, a feeling of dread curling its cold tendons around him. This was the end, but why oh why did Death Eater's always have to brag about what kind of reward they would get from Voldemort?

The Death Eater started looking like he was running on adrenaline, sweating as he did as he gripped his wand tightly. "This is the end. Avada Ka--"

"Avada Kadevra!"

Harry, who had been tense the whole time and prepared for the end, gapped as the Death Eater who had had him at wand point dropped dead from the blast of green light from behind. Harry jumped away from the dead body as it dropped and looked at the owner of the curse.

The wand maker was leaning heavily against his work desk near the wands Harry had tried to reach before. His leg was bleeding all over the floor and he was panting hard. He was also incredibly angry and sad looking. It was a bit confusing when his face expressed anger but he started sobbing as he looked at his foot.

"I'm dead!" he shouted, startling Harry. "Dead!" he roared again, collapsing on the ground in aguish.

There was a tense silence as Harry watched the man. The only sounds came from the sobbing wand maker and the drops of blood hitting the floor from one Death Eater. It was the one Harry hit with the Reducto Curse. The other one was still near Harry's feet. The other two were no where to be seen, though Harry suspected they had fled.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, gaining the wand makers attention. "You," he snarled, eyes red and puffy. "This is all your fault."

Harry sneered. "In case you forgot, I saved your life!" he snapped. "I wasn't the one who brought Death Eater's here. So what if you lost a foot? At least you're breathing!"

"Not for long," the man snapped, regaining his composure as he tried standing up. He failed with a painful groan and glared at his missing leg.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, helping the man up.

He shrugged Harry off, almost falling over again. "You heard those damn cult members," he answered. He sighed. "If you won't leave, at least go into the cupboard to your right and bring out a few glasses.

Complying, Harry felt his eyebrows rise at the sight of several bottles of alcohol. Grabbing one at random, he also pulled out a cup and took it over to the wand maker.

"Er, I hate to ask this, but who are you?" Harry finally asked. "Your name isn't on the sign…"

The man scoffed. "I ain't like those braggarts who post their names everywhere. It brings unwanted attention and you're always followed." He sighed. "Call me Bert."

"Bert," Harry repeated. "Care to tell me why you think you'll be killed? Just go into hiding."

Bert sneered at Harry. He ignored the cup and took a swig from the bottle itself before grimacing. He cast an annoyed look at his leg, which had been spelled to stop the blood flow. That didn't stop the pain, however.

Bert swished his alcohol. "I have cargo that the Dark Lord wants." He glared at Harry's narrowed look. "I ain't selling for that wizard," he sneered. "My cargo was meant for Arcturus Gail." Harry had a blank look. "Wouldn't expect such a light wizard to know of him," he sneered, though his expression softened at the dead bodies. "Well, a shaded light wizard at least."

"So you think this Arcturus will kill you if you don't bring him what he want?" Harry asked, ignoring the light jibe.

Bert snorted. "No. Arcturus is a very weak wizard, but he's got connections. He's the puppeteer of a branch of the black market. He gets no respect or fear, but the bodyguards he hires does." Bert ran a hand over his face and gave Harry a deep look.

Harry gave his own look, not liking the fact that he could practically hear the gears running in the wand maker's head. "What?"

"If I die, you die."

Harry gave Bert a shrewd look. "What brings you to this logic?" He didn't like the way Bert was staring and he had the feeling the wand maker knew something he didn't.

"I saved your life." Harry could actually feel the sadistic glee.

Harry closed his eyes and groaned. He brought a hand to his head. "No. No, no, no!"

"Yes, yes!" Bert snapped angrily as he poked Harry in the chest with his finger. "You owe me a life debt."

And as soon as he said it, Harry could feel an invisible weight surround him, almost like invisible shackles. He shuddered, wondering if this was how Wormtail felt everyday. He tried to resist the feel, but everytime he did, the feeling got heavier.

"Alright," Harry grunted, immediately feeling a difference and a lighter weight. He cursed in his mind. "What do you want?"

Bert took another chug and eyed Harry up and down, sneering at his appearance. "You'll be going into The Pit and delivering my cargo."

"I'm not delivering your cargo," Harry snapped before gasping for breath as he felt an invisible hand choke him. It got harder and harder. His vision began to grow dark before he gasped out, "Ok, ok." He took a deep breath, heaving as he glared at Bert.

Bert shrugged. "That's the life debt taking effect if you don't comply. If you fail, you die, as well as I since I made an oath to Arcturus, or if you run or do anything to not comply, you die. That's the way life debts happen once a demand has been made."

Harry swore.

"Yep." Bert took a smaller gulp this time. "Now let's clean up these dead bodies. I don't want their stink ruining my store." He gave a strange sneer before chugging the rest of the bottle and looking at Harry expectantly. "Well, get going!" he barked. "I don't have a foot anymore. And get rid of that damn carpet of yours."

Harry jumped as he turned around, startled by the sight of the flying carpet hovering behind him, twitching every so often as if in a rage.

"It looks pissed," Bert said before shrugging. "Get to work."


Harry truly hated life. Bert had warded the wand store and let no one in. Harry was not allowed to send a letter or use the floo. If he left that meant he denied the life debt and would die. If he sent a letter, the owl could be traced and be taken away, once again dying because of the incomplete life debt. Harry had already stayed for two days with Bert, trying to learn all he could about this Pit.

Its true name was Barathrum, but was more commonly called The Pit. It was the ultimate underground of fights in the UK. It was filled with hundreds of thousands wards and spells that have been added for more than a thousand years and had evolved quite a lot. It was located under the town Harry was staying in. It was truly under the water, though Bert couldn't tell Harry what it looked like. The Pit was only opened once every five years.

Harry wasn't sure what sort of fights went down in The Pit, and Bert wasn't telling. He also wouldn't tell Harry what was in the package that needed delivering. It was at least a foot and a half in length on all sides and was a plain brown box, though heavily warded. The package was kept in a safe place at all times while Harry was learning from Bert.

Bert was, at the moment, trying to give Harry a new identity. His wand was healing at the moment in a potion that would heal the crack. It would be complete in the morning, the same time he would be leaving. He had until the seventh of August, which was in five days counting today, to complete the life debt. Once in The Pit, he had to find some sort of area that said or represented Arc Possessions and find Arcturus.

"Remember, don't get into any fights," Bert commanded, sitting in a chair with his leg bandaged. "Keep your head down but don't look like a pushover. Be intimidating but not cruel. You don't push people but you don't take crap from anyone. You get what I'm saying?"

Harry nodded, completely serious as he sat back with his arms folded. He was wearing a pair of black fighting pants that had many, many pockets. He also had a black shirt that had nothing special about it, other than the fact that it was made by wizards. Bert had destroyed his clothes, saying he would be killed for even associating with muggles. Aside from destroying Harry's clothes, he gave him these to wear. These were all the clothes he had, aside from eight galleons. Bert promised he'd give him some food and potions to help him hide while he was there. Thankfully, he would only be gone for up to a maximum of four days, hopefully less.

"We've discussed the laws of The Pit and unacceptable behavior," Bert continued.

"Unless of course others break them," Harry pointed out. The Pit was nothing but illegal chaos with dark wizards at every corner.

"Which is why you must always be on guard," Bert grunted as he stood. "Now, there isn't much else I can say about The Pit, and I've already explained how to reach that bastard Arcturus." Bert scowled, thinking of how he had been forced into the situation. Even if he wasn't killed by the man, he would receive the Dementors kiss for this if caught.

"So, what now?" Harry asked. "My new identity?"

"Shut it with the sarcasm," Bert said irritably. "You want to be killed on sight because you're Harry Potter?"

"Of course not."

"Then don't give me any lip. Come on, to the bathroom."

Harry helped Bert settle into the large bathroom, which was more like a lab, which meant potion supplies. A good three hours later Harry walked out, hating Bert for putting him in this situation more than ever. He hoped for Bert's sake that his new look wasn't permanent because he would kill the man after this was all done if it was.

The top part of his hair was still the raven black that was messed up, but the bottom half, which had been messed up by a dye mistake, left it a dark gray, almost black, but was still noticeable. It had lengthened into a ponytail that nearly reached his shoulder blade. A tight string wove around most of the ponytail and left a tuft poking out at the end. Harry's face was forced into a narrower, aristocrat look that he had not fully inherited from his father. His eyes could not change completely, strangely, even from spells and potions. They were simply a darker color now. Glamours were destroyed at the entrance of The Pit and would be useless.

He certainly didn't look like himself, especially based off of last year with his tan skin and larger build from working out and puberty that had not fully hit last year. His scar had been covered with a skin growing potion. It rubbed off in twenty-four hours and would need to be reapplied. The same happened for the 'I Must Not Tell Lies' scar on his hand.

"Much better," Bert said, eyeing Harry up and down as he was scowled at. "Now for a wand."

"I already have a wand," Harry snapped.

"One that can be identified by any Death Eater that might be there," Bert snapped back angrily, annoyed with how naïve the boy was.

Sure the boy was pretty smart and was a quick reactor, but this boy, this young man knew nothing about the underworld; heck, didn't even know about the real world. Bert knew Harry could hold his own in a fight, but once things got dirty; he would go down in a matter of seconds unless he fought back just as dirty. Bert didn't care one way or another in all honesty, but he did care whether or not Harry delivered the goods. Unless Arcturus died, and the life debt was off, as well as the oath he had given, he would not be sleeping well and prayed to whatever god was out there Harry grew a cunning bone. He was at least pleased when the boy nodded grudgingly, understanding the fact.

"Good. Now, your wand was Holly with phoenix feather?" Harry nodded. "Well, I don't have many phoenix feather wands. I don't use the common cores. Why do you think my store is called Wands of Power? Because I use more powerful cores, that's why. Get up now, and come to the shop."

Scowling, Harry unconsciously tugged on his new ponytail and followed, casting a glance at his wand that was still in its healing process on the table.

"Take this one," Bert commanded. "Seven inches, White Ash with phoenix feather." Harry gave it a wave, getting nothing. Bert took it back, actually looking pleased. "Well, you're definitely not the epitome of light like everyone says you are. That wand is as light as they come."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He just took the next two wands, which were the last of the phoenix cored wands, which didn't work. Strangely enough, just like Ollivander, Bert got excited. Maybe wand makers got off on tricky customers.

"11½ inches, Pond Cypress with hyrda scale." This time he got a single blue spark. "11½ inches, Black Cherry and fur from a black fox." Nothing. "13 inches, Norway Spruce with Horntail horn that was dusted into powder." This time the wand had a bad reaction and gave Harry a minor burn.

"Never was good with Horntails," Harry hissed, holding his hand.

"Stop complaining. Here's a 12¼ Maidenhair with venom of a runespoor." Again nothing. "Hard customer… Very nice."

An hour passed by before Bert finally became irritated. Tricky customers were always fun, but he had a time limit and a hope to live.

"Try this one. 10 inches, Weeping Willow with basilisk scale. This one had been hard to get." Harry gave it a wave. It felt dead in his hands but shot off dozens of sparks. "No… not by the look on your face. Forget these upfront wands; let's get to the back where my older wands are."

"Aren't wizards only supposed to have one chosen wand?" Harry asked.

"Bullshit," Bert said bluntly. "Wizards and witch's may not be able to have dozens of wands that all work well or better than the last, but we can have more. Let's take twins, for example. They both get a wand, different cores and wood. Then two more wands are made with a different length and wood, but this time it has a scale from the same snake. If it works for one it works for another. Brother wands."

Harry shifted uncomfortably at the term.

"And then reaching of age or power can also give you a new wand. Your next wand may or not be more powerful than the last. It's all luck in this case. It's only a rumor spread that wizards can only have one right wand to stop them from buying another for illegal purposes. Anymore questions?"

"No."

"Good." Bert moved a few wand boxes to the side and pulled out a few dusty ones. "9 niches, Eastern White Pine with liquidated fire from a Greyling dragon." Again nothing. "12 inches, Holly and griffon feather." Nothing. Bert sighed, rubbing his head curiously. "If this last one doesn't work, I may have to make one from scratch, which we don't have time for, so you'll end up having to take one of the better ones."

Harry prayed that this next one worked.

Bert smirked at Harry's look. "Just pulling your leg, lad. We still have three more, not one, before we come to that decision."

"Oh, because that makes me feel loads better," Harry said sarcastically, taking the next wand from Bert. It was 13¼ inches, Ivy and Chinese Fireball dragon heartstring. Some smoke but otherwise nothing.

"Two more," Bert said a sneer. "10½ inches, Yew and hardened Phoenix tears."

When Harry gave it a wave, this one definitely gave off the most heat but few sparks. It had worked the most out of all of them, leaving Harry unsure as he stared at the white wand that reminded him of Voldemort's.

"Last one." Bert stared at this one. "I've had this the longest. 13 inches, Elder tree and Thestral blood."

Harry glanced at Bert at the mention of Thestral's, his eyes trailing the pure black wand. Hesitating for only a moment, Harry felt a rush of energy as felt both an icy coldness and a burning hotness ran through him. Black and white sparks shot out of the wand, intermixing like the yin and yang symbol. Harry was completely awed by the sight and feeling. This was definitely better than his first wand, filling him with the sense of completeness.

"Curious," Bert mumbled. "Simply curious."

Harry's awe was turned to dread. "Dare I ask what's curious?"

"The wand, of course. What did we just do?" Bert shook his head in exasperation. "The Elder tree is the tree of life and death. It represents the beginning and the end, as well as creativity and renewal. This wand was made by my great grandfather, and he was the only one in the family ever to make a compatible Elder wood wand. He loved to listen to that old Hallow story of an Elder wand that was unbeatable…"

"Never heard of it," Harry said helpfully, seeing Bert's questioning gaze.

"Well, not sure if the legendary Elder Hallow wand is real, but this one is. Because Thestral's are the only creature in existence that are connected to both the living and the dead, it was a compatible core. Satisfied?"

"Very," Harry said quietly, staring at his wand intently.

The room turned silent as the both of them gazed at the beautifully made wand. It was as if a brief sense of peace had been made with the coming together of owner and wand. It was of course ruined as the flying carpet flew into the room and seemed to glare at the two humans, making them both uncomfortable from the terrible scrutiny of the flying carpet that just never seemed to leave them alone for the past few days.

"You are one creepy carpet," Harry comment, watching the flying carpet twitch in annoyance.

He barely had a chance to run before it flew at him with more fury than a scornful woman on her time of month.


Remus Lupin paced back and forth in the basement dwelling beneath Grimmauld's Place. This was the one place that had been yet to even be touched by some sort of cleaning device. All other rooms had at least been made fit for living in, but this place, this retched room, was a place that not even animals deserved to be in. The walls simmered in the candle light, reflecting watery grim coating it. The dust that covered the entire room tortured Remus's sensitive nose, but he ignored it with his continued pacing, thoughts clouding his mind.

"Remus, are you down there?" came a loud voice.

Head jerking, Remus stopped his pacing and turned to look up the rickety old stairs that led to the main floor. In the door frame was Molly Weasley, looking down at him with barely concealed pity. Her eyes were red from crying, and Remus knew she was just as sad as he that Harry was gone.

"My, is it already time for dinner?" he asked with a shaky smile, barely able to hold back a grimace as he felt the wolf inside him, Moony, urge him to go with the woman and fill his empty stomach. He absolutely loathed it when he could feel the wolf's nudges and urges, even if he was about to do the very act the wolf wanted to do.

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile as she took a tentative step forward, though not quite near the steps. She was obviously waiting for him to come up, rather than come down to this depressing room that was reserved for only a beast.

Remus went stiff as he heard Moony growl in anger as he thought of himself as a mindless beast. "I'll be up in a moment, Molly," he offered her, back turned so that she didn't see his face scrunched up in a grimace. "It'll only be a moment," he assured her when he didn't hear her leave."

"If you're sure," Mrs. Weasley said hesitantly. "Be sure to come up before the food cools."

Remus waved her away, still not turning around. When she did at last leave, his eyes snapped open, and he knew that his eyes had turned yellow. Moony was trying to come out, and he wasn't happy.

"Why are you coming out now?" Remus whispered, sinking to his knees on the dusty floor, not at all bothered that the shadows in this room seemed to slink away as if they were alive. "The full moon is still five days away."

All he received was a vicious snarl, not that he expected anything else. He couldn't communicate with the wolf in the way of human words, but simply with growls, grunts and the occasional howl, though that was so rare no a days.

Remus pondered on the strange behavior of his inner beast, yellow eyes traveling around the room. There were only a few candles that gave off a soft glow, but that didn't bother Remus. He could see perfectly well in the dark when Moony emerged or when it was close to the full moon, but usually that was the day of and before the full moon. Eyes still wandering, Remus traced little lines in the dust with a finger. Unconsciously, he made a little zigzagging line that looked like a lightning bolt and felt his breath hitch.

In the deep corners of his dark mind, Moony growled in delight.

Remus paused, unused to the wolf making such a calming sound. Usually all emotions were wild and savage with no conscious mind behind it, but now it almost sounded like the wolf was becoming – dare he say it? – tame.

"Harry is gone," Remus let out after a few minutes of silence.

Another angry growl was given, this time sounding like the old Moony.

"And so is Sirius, and he can never come back," Remus said a bit louder. He had no idea why he was hurting the wolf with these words, especially when he knew these truths hurt him just as much.

No sound came from Moony this time, but Remus had an inkling feeling that the beast was prowling back and forth, just as he had done mere minutes before.

Remus gave a rough grunt as he got to his feet and walked around the basement, trying to find some sort of device that could occupy his mind. No such item appeared, and once more he had to endure the wolf's angry barks.

Remus bit the inside of his cheek as he ran a hand over his gray hair before finally giving into his growling stomach and growling wolf. He headed up the stairs, but with a deliberate slowness as if to annoy the wolf, and finally settled in the kitchen.

"Ah, there you are, Remus," came the good natured voice of Arthur Weasley.

Remus gave a small smile that seemed more like a grimace. "Hello, Arthur." He took in the worn look the redheaded man had. He had dark circles around his eyes and his usually strong and straight shoulder's had a slight slump. "Hard day?" he asked cautiously.

Mr. Weasley shook his head, eyes glancing down at the depressed children that were already seated at the table. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were talking in hushed tones that only Remus could pick up. "Not so bad today," he offered as he accepted a steaming cup of tea from his wife. Planting a loving kiss on her cheek, he sat down next to the grizzle werewolf and stared at him carefully. "Are you alright, Remus?" he pressed, leaning closer to him. "Is the wolf bothering you?"

Remus lowered his eyes, suddenly very aware that his eyes had not ceased being yellow. Cautiously, he glanced up into the kind eyes of Arthur's brown ones. They were a chocolate brown that held so much warmth and understanding that never expressed and sort of pity. Remus was truly impressed with this man, and knew Harry had made the right choice in befriending Ron. The Weasley father always held a soft spot for Harry, and Remus knew the man was good for the boy. He was almost like a father to Harry, but Remus wondered if Harry knew how much the Weasley father truly loved and cared for him.

Remus smiled a bit wider this time and placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You're a good man, Arthur," he said quietly. "I'm very grateful that both Harry and I know you."

Mr. Weasley blinked at the response, not expecting such an answer to his question. "Remus," he said slowly, "are you alright?"

In the dark corner of his mind, Moony growled encouragingly.

"No, Arthur, I'm not," he admitted before allowing an amused smile to tug at his lips as Arthur blinked in surprise. "I need to go away for a few days."

"What?" Arthur asked, just a bit too loudly for the rest of the occupants turned to look at them. Clearing his throat and blushing the Weasley red from behind his ears, Arthur said, much more quietly, "What do you mean? The full moon is in only a couple of days."

"I'll be back after the full moon," Remus promised, already standing up but Arthur pushed him back down. Remus was surprised by how strong the man really was.

"Remus, you are no danger to us," Arthur said softly, hand squeezing his shoulder. "We support you no matter what, and we will be there for you even when you are at your worse."

Remus felt his breath hitch. Mr. Weasley, while not too much older than him, was still at least twenty or so years older than him, and could easily have been his father. The warm comfort and soft words were words that Remus himself had never heard from his family after becoming a werewolf, and to hear it from another person that wasn't his family was just too much. It was in that moment Remus truly realized how weak he was, for he truly had to fight to draw the redheaded man into his arms for a hug.

"It's not that," Remus said, taking great care not to allow any emotion into his voice. He lowered his eyes. "Harry needs something more than just a wallowing werewolf that does nothing."

"You know as well as I do that Harry doesn't see you as some useless werewolf," Arthur said sternly. Remus once more had to fight the emotions he felt when he heard Arthur treat him as if he were one of his own children. He idly wondered if that was how Harry felt each time, but he pushed that thought down right away.

"I'll be back after the full moon," Remus said again, this time using his inhuman strength to keep Mr. Weasley back. "There's something I need to do."

And before anyone could say anything, the old werewolf left. He took nothing with him but the ripped clothing he had on his back and his wand.

He had a new goal to accomplish, and this time, as Moony gave a righteous howl in his mind, Remus couldn't help but agree with the wolf for the first time in his life.


AN: Moony (Remus) needs to be more badass than a whimpering dog with its tail in between its legs. That's what me thinks.

Happy Thanksgiving!