Chapter Two: The Wand.

Life, an eight year old Harry Potter reflected, was much better.

He now had his own room, howbeit the smallest, but through the use of his magic (actually approved by Aunt Petunia as long as they didn't see it happen!) had turned it into his own cosy retreat. Like Aunt Petunia had said the day he stood up to Uncle Vernon, he practised his magic every night. Realising he could fix things after the glass, Aunt Petunia had helped him arrange to buy excellently designed but broken down furniture for his room from charity stores with his budget of thirty pounds a month for an allowance. Buying them on the cheap, then using some of the same raw wood bought in after at a close Lumber Yard, he'd work on making his magic fix the furniture to it's original state by using the raw materials to fill what was in need of repair and replacement.

Willingly using his magic was by far the hardest part. His magic had a mind of it's own at the best of times, and as a result it took him weeks of nightly effort to succeed in coaxing it to do what he needed without burning the tips of his fingers, an unfortunate side effect of overuse. Even then when it co-operated, it still took hours to actually made the, in reality, small changes he attempted.

It usually took him a weeks worth of effort on a well used piece to get it sturdy, usable and presentable, although some like his cherry wood bed took ages. It was a low down single bed, and was an absolute ruin when Aunt Petunia brought it in. It took him five weeks worth of nights to fix. It may be simply built, but with the designs hand carved in and the blankets he'd manage to accumulate it was snug.

He had some simple drawers, unfortunately he never found any made from cherry and had to settle for oak.

His pine desk however, was his absolute favourite. He hadn't found it anywhere, he'd actually made it himself with his magic! Seeing so many different designs, he couldn't settle on what one he wanted. So as his first major project, he built it himself, incorporating all sorts of things into it. Hidden drawers (so Dudley didn't go snooping for his private stuff), and a little raised area lined with a single row of pigeon holes, drawers at each end. He just loved sitting there and messing about with his magic to try and build things, or cosy up to read. It was hard, but fun and rewarding work.

Now, he didn't do as many chores and Dudley took them over, with much complaint. But Aunt Petunia stood firm, telling him that it would be a good way to build up muscles and grow big and strong. Of course, this didn't work for Harry as he didn't exactly have a good diet. However, Dudley did not retaliate against Harry for having given him chores to do for the first time.

Dudley didn't bother him much now though in school too, ever since the night of him moving in. He threw a tantrum, expecting as always to get his own way, only to be harshly put down by Aunt Petunia. Apparently she had always knew Dudley bullied him, but was only putting a stop to it now after his violent display with the glass. She explained to Dudley that if he kept hurting Harry, his cousin could make freaky things happen to him. Painfully.

Dudley and his gang left him alone, and Harry was happy to not be bothered. 'Freaky' things didn't happen anymore at school, and as such his aunt said he deserved a treat for it. Every month when they went charity store shopping, they'd stop by the local reptile house for Harry to see.

He had asked her in his excitement without thinking after a few visits if he could get a pet, as he had discovered that some of them he could actually talk to, though he had better success with snakes. He'd managed to keep it a secret from his aunt, as he knew it had to be magic related.

Aunt Petunia's lips thinned, but simply said that his school allowed them, so she'd think about it. Admittedly, she couldn't remember what the list of accepted pets where, although she could remember two houses having something to do with snakes and birds, but it would be the school's problem, not hers.

Harry still did a multitude of chores around the house, but his aunt and uncle were more neutral to him now. After seeing his work with the furniture Petunia had, however begrudgingly, said magic had some uses.

Aunt Petunia had eventually explained to him the true circumstances behind his parent's deaths, though he was very angry about being lied to about it. In his aunt's words, an 'evil freak' blew up his parents and their home, and their old teacher dropped him off without warning on their doorstep. The 'black freak' who lead the evil freak to them was in their 'freaky prison' somewhere on the ocean.

Aunt Petunia confessed to not having anything of theirs as all their worldly belongings were took by the freaks into storage in their world. Something she was both paradoxically pleased about and resentful of.

She would answer, although hesitantly, some of his questions about this hidden world. After being told they had magic wands, Harry wanted his own.

And this led him outside, looking for a good stick to use. Wandering the neighbourhood, he was trying to find a nice tree to get a stick for his own wand. His search led him to the road near the entry to Privet Drive, having decided he didn't want an oak wand. His drawers were bad enough to be made from the bland wood.

Finally, after growing a bit bored, he found a tree he found suitable. It was a big pine tree planted nearly eight years ago. Unknowingly to Harry, it fell on just the edge of the wards guarding Privet Drive. Harry began gently snapping sticks off one of the low hanging branches; after cycling through the pile, he found one that fit his had relatively nice. He figured he could make it nicer once he got home, it was a bit short and thick but he could easily make it longer by elongating it.

Happy with his find, he returned home and began his work on it's design. Sitting at his desk, he laid it gently on the open workspace. Biting his lip in concentration, he willed the wood to smooth, shaping it slowly into a handle. Slowly over the hour, he managed to get a smooth, straight wand with a nice handle that he could make wider as he grew.

The next part of lengthening it took another three quarters of an hour to get it from a near five inches to a respectable ten inches. This was the reason it took his repairs so long, it was a slow going and gentle process. The one time he attempted to rush fixing his bed slates, they simply snapped and shattered in the concentrated area. He was slowly but surely speeding up the process from sheer practice and knowledge of the woods, but he wanted to be careful with his wand. Every couple of centimetres he lengthened, he'd gently alter it until it smoothly flowed with the already finished pine.

Now with the shell made, Harry paused. What was it his aunt said made a wand again? Wood, and something else. Something had to be inside it. Unicorn something? She mentioned his mother having a wand with a unicorn something in it.

"Hoof? Heart? No..." He muttered to himself. "It was a 'H'... Oh, the mane! Hair!"

Grunting, he yanked a long hair out of his head and laid it neatly beside the wand.

"Now how do I get it inside?... Where's that thingy for wool, the needle."

Eyes furrowed, now biting the inside of his mouth, he hesitantly brought the wand closer in one hand to the long silver needle in the other.

Without warning, his door was thrust open.

"Dinner is re-"

"GAH!"

The bang had startled the eight year old into thrusting the needle into the top of his fingers. Whimpering, he removed it, blood dribbling onto his desk, matting the hair.

"What are you doing?!" Aunt Petunia squealed, rushing forward to examine his hand.

"Making a wand." Harry answered innocently, letting out a small noise as his three fingers that were pierced stung.

Glaring at them, forgetting Aunt Petunia's presence, he willed the pinpoint stabs to heal over. His aunt gasped as the skin knit itself over, good as knew.

Realising his mistake, Harry looked up, panicking.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

"No, no. It's fine." Petunia gasped, swallowing. "Just... clean up and come downstairs. You can finish your wand after."

Petunia decided to not actually tell Harry that wands are sold in the Freak World, preferring to let him do as he wanted. He'd find out himself it didn't work.

While Harry ate downstairs with his relatives, the blood he spilled dried over his single hair.

Full of fish and chips, Harry returned to work. Slowly piercing the wood with the silver needle and aided by his magic, he cleanly made a thin hole for about three thirds the length. Ignoring the specks of blood, he gently poked the hair into the slot burrowed with the needle. Slowly pushing it along, he finally got the whole hair inside. Now he had a core!

Willing the wood to seal over, he watched as the small entry melted into smooth grain over the course of the next few minutes, blending seamlessly with the rest of the wood. He now had a fully functional wand! Pleased with his work, Harry paused. How do you even use a wand?

Harry picked up, nearly dropping it as it spluttered deep red and green sparks before heating in his hand. It felt like he was being hugged (though he was guessing, having never had one), in his hand. What a strange sensation.

Shrugging, he pointed it loosely at his desk.

And realised he had no idea how to use it. He didn't know any magical incantations, so what could he do? Make his own?

That wouldn't seem very safe, nor easy. Instead, he tried focusing on the concept of cleaning. The hard work that went into wiping down a surface, the ache in the elbows, wrist and back, and the end result, a glistening surface.

Without warning, the wand tip flashed white for the briefest of moments, the light enveloping the desk. Once he could see again, Harry saw the surfaces that looked as if they were just freshly polished and scrubbed down.

Jaw hanging, Harry stared at the result. That would have took him ages to do without a wand! Sweet!

Giggling madly, he started cleaning every inch of his room. No more chores! Pausing in his pursuit of the thing beside godliness, Harry scolded himself. He had magic, and he only used it for making things float, repairing, a touch of building and now cleaning! Well, and fusing, he supposed. But still! Now, the question was, what could he do with a magic wand?