A/N: Here's another chapter. Please don't forget to review, feedback is the best thing about writing fics.
Enjoy!
Chapter 2
Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, London. 6:00 am.
Harry awoke to the early morning light streaming in through the window onto his bed in the Leaky Cauldron. He yawned, then woke up, and left the room, thanking the clerk on his way out, and returning his key. He went through the brick wall out back to get to Diagon Alley, and made his way to Ollivander's. The old man was just arriving as Harry reached to door, and he was delighted to see Harry.
"Mr. Potter!" he exclaimed, "How nice to see you again! Do come in, and sit." He opened the door. "Would you like some tea?" Harry politely declined, and Ollivander sat across from him. "What brings you to my shop today, Mr. Potter?" Ollivander inquired.
Harry explained to Ollivander the events that had transpired, and his face had darkened considerably by the time he was done.
"Mr. Ollivander, I need a new wand," Harry said. "Draco's is no longer suitable, I think."
Ollivander got up immediately, and unlocked a cupboard full of wands. He took about twenty or so out, and brought them over to the couch Harry was seated on. He took one out, and gave it to Harry, who tried to cast a spell with it. Nothing happened. The other wands that Ollivander gave Harry to try reacted similarly.
Ollivander returned the wands to the cupboard, and said, "I've come to a conclusion. You have grown magically since I have last seen you. Usually, the wand grows with the wizard, but, seeing as yours was broken, you need another. Most of these wands here are for beginners, to grow with them as they themselves grow. Rarely does a mature wizard come here for a wand. Perhaps we should consider a custom-made wand. Come with me, dear boy." Harry followed Ollivander upstairs, to a room with a roaring fireplace, a worktable, a cauldron, and wall to wall shelves. On the shelves, in small phials, were ingredients, some solid, some liquid, some vapor. In another cupboard, Harry saw many different types of wood, no doubt for the construction of wands.
"This could, quite possibly, be the most expensive room in all of Diagon Alley, save a few vaults at Gringotts," Ollivander remarked, leading Harry over to the cupboard. "Pick a wood, and go with your instinct. You will make the right choice."
Harry was initially going to select the sample labeled "Holly," but he didn't feel that that was the right kind of wood for his new wand. He thought carefully, then examined the other woods in more depth. He held out his hand over the silver tray on which the woods were carefully arranged, and his hand drifted towards a light colored, elegant sample, labeled "Pine."
"That's quite interesting," Ollivander remarked. "Your choice of wood seems to have changed." As Ollivander reached into the cupboard, pulling out a block of pine wood, Harry replied, "I think it's because I am the last Horcrux." Ollivander looked up, as Harry remarked "As the last Horcrux, the fragment of Voldemort's soul inside of me wants to rejoin him, leaving my own soul separate." Ollivander nodded, saying, "The soul of a wizard would certainly have an effect on his wand choice."
Ollivander produced his own wand, a simple yet elegant baton of 11 inches, with detailed designs along its length. He handed the block of pine to Harry, and instructed him to hold it. Ollivander then cast a wordless spell on the block, whereupon the block Harry was holding began to burn with a cold, white fire. Harry felt no heat as the block burned, but he noticed, as the flames began to consume the wand, that a wand was taking shape in the middle of the fire. When the flame stopped burning, the wand fell into Harry's hand. Ollivander took it from his hand, carefully, and placed it on a specially designed rack on the workbench. With another brief incantation, he motioned for Harry to come to the table.
"Harry, my boy, you'll need to craft this wand yourself. You need to reach inside the wand, awaken its own magic, so that you can place the magical core into it." Harry picked up the wand, and attempted to cast a spell with it. Nothing happened.
"Don't try to cast your own magic through it. You must awaken the wand's magic." Ollivander commented.
Harry picked up the wand, and concentrated on the block of wood. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing only on the wand. He opened his eyes to find the wand was glowing at the tip. Ollivander looked as if he was on the verge of crying, saying, "You're the first person in the last 50 years with the power to do that without my help."
"Who was the last?" Harry asked.
"Dumbledore," Ollivander replied. "Now, what you must do is turn to this cupboard of ingredients. Point the wand at the cupboard, and point the tip at each ingredient. You will know when you have found the correct ingredient."
Harry did as he was asked, and searched patiently across each row of magical artifacts. But nothing seemed to happen.
"This wandmaking process is normally very time-consuming. However, your wand here in particular is becoming increasingly difficult to create." Ollivander sat down in his chair, seemingly lost in thought. Harry continued searching the shelves, but to no avail. Ollivander looked up at Harry, "Mr. Potter, there is one more ingredient available. It is incredibly rare for any wizard to possess the power to control it, however. Let us see if it is right for you." He produced a glass phial from his pocket. "I always keep it on me, because it is the most valuable thing I have ever owned." He uncorked the phial. "Here you are. Try this. One shard of metal from the wand of Merlin."
"One what? I thought that a wand had to be made from wood," Harry said. Ollivander replied, "Merlin's wand was the first wand ever. He made it out of the same metal as the sword of Gryffindor, the cup of Hufflepuff, the Diadem of Ravenclaw, and Slytherin's locket, because of its magical properties. He named it magemetal, due to it's high magical conductance."
Harry replied, incredulously, "Are you saying that Merlin made those?"
"Yes, of course! Do you think that just anything could destroy a basilisk, or withstand the extreme separation of a soul? Anything with a part of a soul that fragmented would have withered away as soon as it was filled. But not this metal. This metal is not of this world, or even of this dimension. It was from the world of Merlin. Merlin came here from another world, a traveler who happened upon the chaos of this world."
Harry brought his wand closer to the phial, and the wand glowed brightly, and the room was lit up with the pure white light. A shard of metal rose from the phial, and flew into the light emanating from the tip of Harry's wand. Harry looked at the phial, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa," and the phial promptly flew upwards. Ollivander was overcome with joy.
They made their way downstairs to the main office, where a few customers were looking at the wands. Ollivander asked, "Where are you going now?"
Harry replied, "Beauxbatons. I have to find another magical school to learn from. I need to improve before I can face Voldemort again. Oh, by the way, can I use your fireplace?"
Ollivander nodded, smiling. "Good to see you again, Mr. Potter."
Harry stepped over to the fireplace, and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the bowl in the lintel. He said, "Beauxbatons," and vanished in a flash of green fire.
Hogwarts, Northern Scotland
Voldemort and the Death Eaters had corralled the survivors into the Great Hall. The roaring fireplace of the Great Hall was the only source of light in the otherwise dark room, and the fighters of Hogwarts were silent. They were all bound, hand and feet, by dark chains. The sole sound in the Hall was the crackle of the fire, Voldemort's laughter, and the snapping of wands as Voldemort snapped the wand of every fighter of Hogwarts, and threw it into the fire.
A/N Oh, yes. I didn't want to make my writing any harder to read, so I omitted trying to phoneticize the French accent. You can imagine it.
Somewhere in the Floo Network, 6:00 PM
Harry was always uncomfortable when he took a Floo ride. It was always interesting, watching in green flame envelop himself, then the moving feeling accompanied with the journey through space. The flames began to move away, and he looked up to see not any French beauties, but a place, similar to a security checkpoint at an airport. There were some other travelers going through the lines as he scanned the room, looking for someone who could answer his questions. Without seeing anything, he moved to the line closest him, where he was stopped by a lady. "Parlez-vous français?" she asked. "Pardon?" he responded, "Where am I?"
"Oh," she said, with a definite French accent. "This a French Floo Checkpoint. The closest thing that you can compare us to is a Muggle checkpoint at an airport. May I see your wand, sir?"
He handed her his wand, and she used her own wand, tapping it against his. She said, "You haven't been in France before, Mr. Potter."
"Pardon, how do you know who I am?"
"Well, for one, you're the most recognizable person in the wizarding world, and your wand has your magical signature on it."
"Oh," he replied sheepishly.
The lady said, "Welcome to France, there are Floo fireplaces along the back wall over there."
Harry made his way through the checkpoint, past the stone-faced guards on the other side, and went over to a fireplace. He took a pinch of powder from the dispenser on the wall, and said, "Beauxbatons." He vanished in another puff of green fire.
