Chapter 2 : In which numerous unnecessarily details were given

"We might as well get your uniform." Aunt Petunia gestured to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Dear, I need to walk down to the public owlry on Horizont Ally to send a reply to your acceptance letter. So wait for me here if you get done before I'm back ok?" Clover assured her Aunt that she wouldn't explore the ally on her own even if it was incredibly interesting and walked into Madam Malkin's shop alone.

Madam Malkin's was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. She saw Clover walk into the stored and asked, "Hogwarts dear?" She didn't even wait for Clover to reply before continuing, "Got the lot here - Another young lady being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a girl with beautiful eyes and long tresses of wavy bond hair. Clover felt a moment of irrational envy, why couldn't she ever get her hair to look like that? The moment of envy was followed by an intense desire to know if their was a such thing as magical hair care. The girl was standing on a footstool, thankfully unaware of Clover's thoughts while a second witch pinned up her long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Clover on a stool next to her, slipped a long robe over her head and began to pin it to the right length.

The girl gave her a soft smile and said, "Hello. Hogwarts too?"

Clover quashed another bout of jealousy and replied with a smile, "Yes."

"So what house do you think you are going to end up in?"

"Don't know."

"Well no one really knows until the sorting, but father expects me end up in Slytherin. On the other hand my little sister thinks I will end up in Ravenclaw since I read so much." The girl finally took a breath. "Did you know Merlin himself was in Slytherin?"

"No, I didn't realize Hogwarts was that old."

"It is, they say that Merlin was taught by Salazar Slytherin himself, though all of the other houses deny it. Father says that the other houses don't like Slytherin very much because they are jealous of our success. So what are you looking forward to at Hogwarts the most?"

Clover realized she didn't know enough about Hogwarts to really answer the question so she followed her uncle's advice and gave a really general answer, "Learning magic."

The girl was obviously not fooled. "Oh." Clover watched as the girls face ran through a vague sense of unease to hopelessness then determination. Clover was wondering if the girl had mood swings by the time she asked, "Are you here with your parents?"

"My aunt. My parents are dead."

"Oh." The girl winced and the conversation died awkwardly. The girl obviously worked up her courage again and asked, "Were your parents our sort?"

Clover felt out of her depth and vaguely annoyed but answered anyway, "They were a wizard and witch if that is what you mean. I grew up with my squib aunt."

Relief spread over the girls face. "I'm Daphne Greengrass. Its really nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too."

"Did you know that the Malfoy heir is going to attend Hogwarts this year too? They say that his family is the richest in England. He's a distant cousin of mine, I got to meet him once when father took me to a party at the Malfoy house before mother... I wonder if he will remember me. I can't wait to meet him again." A sudden horrified expression spread over Daphne's face, "Oh no, I'm talking to much, this always happens when I get to excited. Please don't let it turn you off, I'm normally not like this."

Madame Malkin's intervened before Clover had to come up to a response to Daphne's latest worry. "All done dear." Clover was grateful for the excuse to end the conversation before she embarrassed herself or Daphne had a mental breakdown.

Clover hopped down from the footstool and told Daphne, "See you at Hogwarts."

The girl smiled back, "I'll save you a seat on the train."

Clover had time to mouth, "Train?" before she saw Aunt Petunia sitting on a bench outside. Aunt Petunia waved when she saw clover and they set off together to the Slug and Jiggers Apothecary. The inside of the apothecary was interesting enough to make up for the rancid smell. Like old cabbage and rancid eggs mixed with a thousand other unpleasant things that Clover couldn't identify. The store was filled with thousands of vials and jars. Labels marked the inventory: stewed fairy wings six Sickles a spoonful, spinach muscle clams twelve Galleons a piece and fresh wigglewumps five knuts for vial.

Aunt Petunia collected a first years potion kit from the stack the store had laid out and let Clover pick out her own set of vials. After her aunt refused to let her get a diamond one she sullenly found a nice set of crystal ones that were charmed to be unbreakable. Aunt Petunia threw in a brass scale she saw on one of the shelves. They left the Apothecary a few galleons lighter.

Aunt Petunia insisted that their next stop was for a student's trunk since she didn't want to carry a dozen bags. Clover decided the trunk shop on Diagon Ally was to crowded so they found a smaller one called Charles Timber's Trunks on Vertic Ally. When they walked inside a lady who couldn't be older than fifteen greeted them with an enthusiastic, "Welcome!"

Clover looked at her aunt then said, "Hi, we're looking for a student trunk."

The saleswomen looked at her a moment before asking, "Hogwarts?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The girl started laughing and shouted into the back of the store, "Did you hear that dad? I'm a ma'am now."

A huge man in overalls with pieces of sawdust stumbled from the back of the store and muttered, "Not bloody likely." loud enough for everyone in the store to hear clearly. His daughter threw a book nearby the register at him. He ducked underneath the leather bound projectile then expertly turned his duck into a bow and said, "Welcome to my store. The student models are on the left wall. My daughter, Jane, will be happy to help you and explain our enchanting services."

They wandered over to the indicated wall and started looking through the trunks that were stacked till they reached the ceiling. Clover almost jumped when Jane's voice rang out behind her, "Know what house your going to be in?"

"No."

"Then stay away from the ones that are green or red. Don't want to end up with a trunk of the wrong color if you get caught up in the perennial Gryffindor Slytherin rivalry."

"What house are you in?"

"Never went to Hogwarts. My dad home schooled me so I could help him in the shop. But if I had gone, I would have probably ended up in Hufflepuff. I'm afraid I'm not very courageous or smart or ambitions, but everyone can work hard you know?"

Clover gave the girl a genuine smile. "I do." She resolved to find out more about Hufflepuff house. Jane helped her find a nice trunk of heavily stained wood and silver fastenings. Clover thought it looked grand, like the ancient furniture you saw in the palaces. Once she convinced her aunt that was really what she wanted Jane produced her wand and floated it out of the stack and over to the counter.

She trust a list into Clover's hands and gave another list to Aunt Petunia. "This is the enchantments we offer here. Ignore the ones without a price listed, those are only for custom jobs."

Clover stared at the list like it was in a strange language. Featherweight, shrinking and locking were obvious enough, but the rest had Clover thoroughly confused; what on earth did hopping mean? And who would want a casket conversion ability? Clover eventually gave up understanding and just decided to order what she understood, "Can I get featherweight and locking please?"

Jane smiled and said, "Yes, ma'am." As soon as Clover paid Jane turned to the back of the shop and shouted, "Dad!"

The huge man reappeared from the back a second later with an irritated expression on his face. Jane didn't give him a chance to complain. "These people need locking and featherweights on a number thirty six student."

"Follow me back to the workshop please, be done in just a moment." The trunk floated off the counter and vanished through a door in the back of the shop. Aunt Petunia nudged Clover and they followed a moment later. The workshop was impressive; it was a room twice as large as the shop itself covered in tools and planks of wood and more exotic materials. In the center of the shop was a huge spiraling staircase with carvings running up half of its length. The man noticed them staring and answered their unspoken question, "Goes in an expanded trunk for a lady at the ministry."

The trunk Clover had purchased came to a rest on a clear workbench nearby. The owner produced his wand and tapped the trunk in a dozen places while muttering spells over it. He looked over at Clover and said, "You have a wand yet, I need to key you to the security."

Clover gulped, "No, sir."

"Well we'll have to use a blood key then." He searched around the bench until he found a small needle. "Prick your finger with this here needle and then smear the blood on this silver plate and say your password clearly." He tapped the small silver plate where a lock would sit on a normal trunk. Clover wondered why every bit of magic seemed to involve her getting cut or poked or sliced. She handed the needle to her aunt and stuck out her hand before looking away.

Barely a moment later her Aunt jabbed the needled into her index finger. Clover winced and turned back around to see a bead of blood forming on top of the finger. She moved carefully so the drop didn't fall off her finger before she pressed it on the plate and said, "Narpas Sword." When she moved her finger it left a bloody finger print behind.

Then the metal started to hiss and the blood started smoking. A few seconds later the blood was gone and a copy of her fingerprint had been etched in the plate. The owner muttered a final few charms on the trunk and turned to her, "All you need to do to open it is tap the plate and say the password. Now why don't you try it out?"

Clover reached over and tentatively tapped the plate while saying the password. There was an audible click and the top of the trunk swung open. Emboldened Clover grabbed the trunk by the side and lifted it over her head easily. It couldn't weigh more than a pound or two. She gave the owner a big smile. "Awesome."

"Glad your happy." The owner gave them a cheap cart for free so they could wheel around the trunk. It might be light, but it was still awkward to carry otherwise. Aunt Petunia sat down the potion supplies in the trunk and to Clover's delight she couldn't feel a difference in the trunk's wait.

"Clover we have time for one more shop before lunch. What else is on your school list?" Clover wordlessly handed over the crumpled piece of parchment to her aunt. Aunt Petunia skipped past uniform and course books and read the list of other equipment. "Wand shopping takes a long time. We already have your vials. We should save getting a pet for last. That leaves a cauldron or a telescope."

"I saw a cauldron shop by the Leaky Cauldron."

"That can wait as well then. So a telescope." The walked until they found a store with great globes mapping out the various planets hurtling around the ceiling. The telescope section of the store was disappointingly tame compared to some of the other displays. One other section even had a giant apparatus with a hundred whistling pipes and spinning cogs that promised to distill captured moonbeams. Aunt Petunia wouldn't let her go anywhere near it out of fear that Clover would stick her hand somewhere it shouldn't go.

The found a small telescope and stand that matched the scales that they had bought earlier. Aunt Petunia let her splurge another five galleons on an extra lens that promised to let her see through cloud cover. After paying and stowing the telescope in the trunk they had a disappointingly mundane lunch at a small restaurant on Norm Ally.

After lunch they walked back to Diagon Ally and picked up the robes from Madame Malkin's. Clover stole the pointed witches hat out of the bag of clothes and pulled it over her head. Aunt Petunia couldn't help but start laughing when Clover asked, "Does it make me look dashing?" They both walked into Florish and Blotts with big smiles splattered across their faces.

Thousands of books covered the shop in odd vertical stacks where the owners had given up trying to shelve them all. Clover wandered through the store looking at the wondrous titles. She watched as a copy of the Invisible Book of Invisibility vanished right before her eyes. Other books were full of strange silver symbols that she couldn't identify. She opened one book to find only blank pages that made her head hurt if she looked at them too long.

Her aunt called for her when she had just started to read Magical Languages of the World. She tucked the book under her arm to find Aunt Petunia waiting at the counter with a stack of school texts. After a few moments of arguing Aunt Petunia consented to buying the language book, but adamantly refused to get a book about magical trees that played music. Right before they checked out Aunt Petunia set a copy of A Muggleborn's Guide to the Wizarding World on top of the stack. "Lily swore by it during her first few years at Hogwarts."

Clover circumspectly signed the mailing list for the Florish and Blotts catalog when her aunt wasn't looking. Clover convinced herself she was saving her Aunt Petunia the trouble of an argument she would eventually lose anyway and nodded firmly in satisfaction. They paid for the texts a moment later and stacked them carefully inside the trunk before walking out of the store.

The stationary supply store was right across the ally from Florish and Blotts. The most exciting thing in the store was one huge red quill sitting on a pillow under a glass case for six hundred galleons. Aunt Petunia wasn't interested in buying it; she loaded Clover down with a few heavy reams of paper and a pack of nondescript quills. After her aunt passed her ink in four different colors, Clover argued with her Aunt until they got a well of color changing ink even though it was 'terribly unprofessional.' Clover made a mental note to only write home in color changing ink out of spite.

After a quick respite at Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor, Aunt Petunia had Clover pull out the list again. She read through the list and said, "I guess you should go ahead and get a wand. I'll pick up your cauldron while you wait." Her aunt left her in front of a small shop with dusty windows and peeling gold leaf that read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A bell rung somewhere within the shop as Clover stepped inside. It was a tiny place. Clover sat on the store's single chair and waited. She looked at the thousands of narrow boxes that covered every surface of the store. The hairs on her neck started to stand up from the sheer ambient magic the store radiated.

"Good Afternoon." said a soft voice. Clover jumped out of the chair and whiped around to look at an old man with wide pale eyes that shimmered through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello sir."

"Yes, yes I thought I would be seeing you soon. Harriet Potter." Clover nodded dumbly. "You have your mother's face, but your father's hazel eyes and the classical potter hair. Though you have done a much better job of taming that hair than some of your predecessors."

"Thank you sir."

The old man didn't seem to notice her response and continued without pause, "It seems only yesterday your mother was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Mr. Ollivander gave her a creepy smile and continued, "Your father on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander reached out and brushed her bangs aside revealing the small lightning bolt scar on her forhead and tapped it before she could flinch back. "And that's where... I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful, very powerful."

"You sold Voldemort's wand." Clover blurted out.

Mr. Ollivander flinched away as if stung. "We do not speak his name."

"Sorry sir."

"Yes, I sold the wand that you know who used to terrorize England until he met you that fateful night. Of course he wasn't always the dark lord. How could I have known that quiet young Tom Riddle could have become what he did?" Clover opened her mouth to apologize but the old man didn't give her an opening, "He was always so respectful. I knew he was marked out for great things you see. And I suppose I was right. He did do great thing, terrible yes, but great."

"Sir." The word hung in the air a moment, an unspoken apology and acceptance rolled into one.

The old man rallied and pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which arm is your wand arm?"

"I am right handed sir."

"Hold out your arm." Clover held out her arm with great trepidation more than a little worried that she would be bleeding again by the time she got a wand. The tape measure sprung from Mr. Ollivander's hand and began to measure Clover. Shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, then the length of each of her fingers and the width or her hand.

As the tape measured he rummaged through the boxes covering the walls of the shop. "Every Ollivander wand has the core of a powerful magical substance, Ms. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course you will never get such good results with another witches wand."

The tape measure was tightening around her waist when Mr. Ollivander called out, "That will do." The tape measure floated to Mr. Ollivander's desk and fell motionless. "Try this one Ms. Potter. Oak and the heartstrings of a welsh green. Nine inches. Very stiff. Just give it a wave." Clover took the wand from the old man's hands and gave it a wave. She dropped it with a startled cry when the wand banged like a gun.

"I think not." Mr. Ollivander collected the wand and handed her another, "Willow, fourteen inches. Unicorn hair, excellent for the more subtle charms. Go on try it out." Clover had hardly begun to move the wand when Mr. Ollivander yanked it from her hand. She tried another and another as a stack of tried wands mounted higher and higher on the counter of the shop. Clover was getting worried but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer...Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere-I wonder, now - yes, why not - unusual combination. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Clover took the wand. It felt awkward in her hand, but a ray of golden sparks that cracked in the air shot from the end almost as soon as she clasped her hands around it. Mr. Ollivander frowned and said, "Give it a wave please." Clover flicked the wand in front of her producing another ray of sparks.

Mr. Ollivander rubbed his impressive beard and muttered, "How very curious..."

"Excuse me sir, but what is curious."

"You see that wand has indeed chosen you, but you have not chosen that wand. Most unusual. Most of your power is fluttering about instead of being focused properly."

"What does that mean sir?"

Ollivander shrugged and dismissed the question with false levity, "I'm not really sure." He frowned at the wand in Clover's hand and said, "I'm afraid that wand is the best match for you in my shop." His eyes widened with a sudden thought. "Unless...but I shouldn't."

"Shouldn't what sir?" Clover felt vaguely uneasy at the eager expression spreading across Mr. Ollivander's face, but the phoenix wand just felt wrong.

"I loathe to recommend it but your best option is a custom wand." Clover noted he didn't sound like he loathed it. He sounded more eager than ever. He sighed dramatically, like a small boy caught doing something unpleasant by his mother. "I must warn you, custom wands are not covered by the ministry's student wand subsidy, constructing one will be very expensive."

"You would have to discuss it with my Aunt sir."

"Yes...well would you like to come in the back an pick out the materials in case we can convince your aunt?"

Clover couldn't help it, she wanted too see what she would get. "Yes sir."

Mr. Ollivander held open the small door behind the counter for Clover. "Did you know that once all wands were once custom pieces? Then my father revolutionized the wand business you see; he developed the then novel idea that the wand chooses the wizard. Then he proved the idea by successfully matching wizards with preconstructed wands. Changed the whole game. Drove those that wouldn't change right out of business. You see, a perfectly matched preconstructed wand serves just as well as a custom wand for a fraction of the cost." He shook his head. "It has been a great boon to the business, but a terrible blow to the art."

The back of the shop was cramped. Thousands of drawers covered every available surface barely leaving enough room for a small workbench. Three great jars sat at in the free space making climbing over the desk the only way to reach the back of the room. Mr Ollivander didn't seem perturbed by climbing on the furniture. "There are three parts to every wand maker's career. First he is an apprentice, learning the craft from a master. When that master finds him satisfactory he becomes a journeyman and wanders the world looking for materials while refining his craft. Then he becomes a master and takes on apprentices of his own."

He gestured to the shelves, "This room holds the materials collected by sixty two generations of Ollivander journeymen. It is perhaps the greatest collection of wand materials in the world, and somewhere in the room are the materials that will become your wand."

Mr. Ollivander pulled what appeared to be a glove of woven silver out of one of the drawers and tossed it to Clover. "Put it on, it's a tool my sixteenth great uncle developed to help refine a witch's aura, making the selection of materials easier. It will also protect you against some of the … more harmful items." The glove felt more like silk than metal and reached her elbow. When she pulled it on the metal started to contract until it felt as though she was wearing a second skin.

When Clover looked up Mr. Ollivander had on a truly massive pair of brass glasses with a dozen different lenses set in wheels. "Hold your hand over each drawer for a second, start on the left side of the room. Wand bodies are easier to match than cores. She held the silver gloved hand over the rightmost drawer and Mr. Ollivander clicked his glasses, "No, No your not a fire type at all. Six rows over two down coral taken from an Atlantian grove before its destruction." Clover moved her hand over to the indicated shelf. "Two more rows over. One up, wood from the famous floating forest of North America."

"Most curious. Equal parts wind and water. What did you say your birthday was?"

"July thirty first sir."

"One row to the right, bottom most drawer." Clover bent over to the drawer and held her hand out front. "What are you waiting for open it." Clover felt foolish and quickly pulled a what appeared to be a piece of bone, dull brown with age. "Antler of a Japanese Sea King. Gathered by the younger sister of my twenty nine times great grandfather. A most curious species of eastern dragon that exhibits very few of the normal dragon properties. All extinct now of course."

Clover sat the strange antler on the small workbench and followed Mr. Ollivander to the other side of the room. "These shelves house the cores. Be extremely careful several are as deadly as they are valuable." He stared at the wall for a moment and said, "Lets start with phoenix. Twelve rows from the right, ten up from the bottom. Egyptian Blossom Phoenix." Clover held her hand over the drawer a moment and Mr. Ollivander clicked away at his glasses. "Hmm, that same strange reaction. Maybe a different type of phoenix. Four down one over, feathers of an Spartan Fishing Phoenix." Clover reached for the indicated box. "No, no not at all. But definitely an avian though. Back to the right, two down. Indian bird of wonder. Signifies kingly might."

"Closer, but I can do better. One up, go ahead and take it out." Clover pulled out a blue white feather, a small bolt of electricity danced along its length, startling her into dropping it. She reacted instinctively and grabbed the falling feather with both hands. She blacked out the instant her unshielded hand touched the feather, and hit the ground without ever realizing her mistake.

;

Clover woke up lying something very hard and cold. She opened her eyes and to her horror couldn't see anything. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and cursed herself for being so stupid before asking the black surrounding her, "Anyone there?" She felt very foolish waiting alone in the darkness.

She shivered and wrapped her hands around her chest to ward off the cold. A few moments later she hopped up and started walking, the floor was too cold to sit on. A soft light glimmered at the edge of her vision, barely visible through the gloom. Clover rubbed her eyes. The light was still there. She walked towards it and felt a smile spread across her face as the darkness around her dissipated and the cold became less biting.

She could see that the ground beneath her was rough stone sheet that occasionally dropped off into black holes Clover couldn't see the bottom of. She gave silent thanks for not falling in one of the holes while wandering around in the dark.

Their was an occasional dull rumbling sound that Clover thought might be wind through the mountain bluffs. She accelerated her pace, maybe that sound was the way out. The number of holes in the floor increased until their was little more than a narrow bridge suspended above the abyss.

Then the bridge rounded a sudden corner and Clover found the source of light. It was not the exit. The bridge joined the floor of a large round chamber, and in the center of that chamber roosted a bird larger than any animal Clover had ever seen. It had a cruel black beak and wicked claws which Clover was sure could rend her in two with little effort, but most unusual of all the bird was covered in softly glowing blue white feathers. Clover's breath caught at the sight, but the bird rumbled with another death breath and continued sleeping unawares of its guest.

Clover walked into the center of the room and around the bird but found no exit. After her futile search Clover stood in front of the massive bird and tried to shake the feeling that she was about to do something incredibly stupid. She took a deep breath and shouted, "Mr. Bird!"

The bird snapped its wings open and craned its long neck up to the ceiling of the chamber. Clover's breath caught as the air was filled with the hum of high voltage wires and the bird's four green pupiless eyes locked on her. Its beak opened and Clover saw rows of teeth inside of it. Her terrified mind couldn't help but wonder why a bird would have teeth before images crashed through her head.

A searing pain in her head drove Clover to her knees, but she couldn't break free of the bird's four eyed gaze. She ancient chiefs in leathers and furs kneeling where she was, offering sacrifice to their protector. She saw some bestowed with a blessing and others destroyed in a bolt of lightning. Their were no words, but some how the bird asked a question. Clover collected her thoughts the best she could and said, "I am lost."

Another series of images blasted through her head. A collection of a thousand different men lost in a thousand different ways and how they became found. She grabbed her forehead in pain and her hands came away bloody. She looked at them in horror a moment. Tears flowed from her eyes and she desperately screamed at the bird, "Help me!"

The four great green eyes blinked. A final painfully clear image floated through her eyes. A picture of her staring at her own reflection in dirty water that carried with it a question Clover couldn't understand much less answer. The bird blinked again. The images were suddenly gone.

The bird snaked its long neck towards the end of its wing and pulled loose a single pinion with its beak. Its neck reached out to Clover and hung unmoving a few feet from where she kneeled. Clover reached out and grabbed hold of the feather.

;

Clover woke to the sound of Aunt Petunia screaming. She moaned and touched her forehead. She almost cried in relief when her hand came away free of blood. Mr. Ollivander saw her move and desperately shouted, "She's awake!" over the noise.

Aunt Petunia bent over the small chair Clover was sitting in and said, "Are you alright honey?"

"Ugh, what happened."

Before Aunt Petunia could launch into another rant about unsafe business practices Mr. Ollivander replied. "You accidentally touched the pinion of an Alaskan Thunderbird and your aura went completely haywire before vanishing entirely. Imagine my fright when I thought I had made the girl who lived into a squib."

"I saw it, the thunder bird."

"Unusual. Such a strong reaction with a core. The last known thunder bird turned its lightning upon itself centuries ago. I wonder did you briefly pierce the veil? Maybe you were sent a vision through time instead...But then again it could all be a hallucination caused by the perfect synchronization..."

Clover ignored the old man's ramblings. "It wanted to help me...But we were so different..." There was a moment of awkward silence after Clover trailed off.

Mr. Ollivander couldn't be kept down for more than a minute though. "Well yes, among the screaming your Aunt and I came to an agreement about the custom wand. In exchange for not mentioning this little incident I'll only charge you for the labor required. I'm already eager to get started. Dragon horn and thunderbird pinion. What a wonder."

Aunt Petunia still sounded bitter when she asked, "So how long will it take to complete."

"Six months to distill the feather and carving the antler into a blank. Then the antler must be infused on with the essence of the feather over a year and a day that starts when the sky is filled with both Jupiter and Mars. Then a few proprietary steps in finishing the wand. Assuming no complications I should have the wand finished by the summer before your third year, Ms. Potter."

Their was another awkward pause as Aunt Petunia and Clover stared at Mr. Ollivander's ecstatic face. Clover finally broke the silence and irritably muttered, "I still need a wand."

Clover ended up leaving the shop with the holly and phoenix feather wand. Mr. Ollivander had given her a strong warning to not attempt to force excess magic through the wand accompanied by descriptions of what could go wrong. Clover thought the old man gave a rather horrifying level of detail.

The last stop on their shopping trip was Eeylops Owl Emporium. Clover found the hundreds of eyes looking at her from the darkness incredibly disconcerting after her recent experience with the thunderbird. She didn't want to stay in the place a moment longer than necessary and followed the Dursley method of impromptu decision making. She closed her eyes and pointed randomly.

Three minutes later she walked out of the store with a small snowy owl and a few items to help with caring for it. The trip had exhausted Clover and she ended up falling asleep against her Aunt's shoulder on the bus ride back to Surrey.

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Author's Notes:

I thought about including the Draco scene, but decided to switch him out for Daphne. She is going to end up one of the more important characters in the fic along with hermione so I thought it would be best to go ahead and introduce her.

The shopping for trunks was fun to write.

Had fun with playing with the cannon street naming theme. Diagonally=Diagon Ally and Nocturnally= Knockturn Ally.

What happened to the hats they had to buy. They buy them in year one then they are never mentioned again for seven books. Seems a waste of money to me, thus Clover will wear the hat.

Ollivander gives away Tom's name early. He had to have known it, its not like the eleven year old Tom Riddle bought his name under the alias lord voldemort. Its a wonder no one bothered to ask him in canon.

My personal theory on the phoenix wands: They want to comfort the unhappy. Such as young Tom Riddle or canon Harry Potter. Three guesses why Clover who is a fairly normal child gets such a strange reaction from a phoenix wand.

The custom wand scene was too fun to write and Ollivander seems like the sort that would have an untrained child handling various dangerous ingredients.

I tried to write the Thunderbird as a sort of abomination. That scene was also fun to write and dropped a few hints to Clover.

Updates for this will be intermittent since I plan to prioritize Danzo's Team and Finals are coming up. Thanks for reading.