Hello Everyone! I'm so sorry for the long gap between this chapter and the previous one. I sprained most of my foot so I had to hobble around, plus APs and such... sheesh. Either way, I'm back! I promise there won't be any extremely long hiatuses for a while!
Enjoy!
Swish and Flick
"I am Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Harry shifted his dirty bare feet, gazing through him curiously.
"Are you… a ghost?" He whispered.
Tom looked at his transparent hands and glanced back at the child, "I do not know. I do not think I am ghost." His voice was still hoarse from lack of use, coming out in a mere whisper. He wondered if this was a normal starter for conversations… if only he remembered.
Harry perked up, wondering why Tom wouldn't be a ghost.
"But you're see-through," he pointed out, his eyes wide, his usual submissive demeanor vanishing. Tom's lips curved upwards a bit.
"Indeed."
"So then what are you?"
"I am not sure, I do not know who I am." Tom wasn't sure why he was telling this little boy concepts he most likely wouldn't understand. The pull in his heart was humming comfortingly.
"So you lost your memories." It was more of a statement than a question.
"Indeed."
"Do you know how long you've been like this?"
"I would assume eight years."
"How old are you? Why are you wearing funny clothes?"
The innocent question sent the humming in his chest to jerk painfully.
The spirit's eyes widened to the pain and then narrowed, the next statement coming out in a whispered snarl, "I do not have to answer you, boy." The dark wavy locks shadowing around his aristocratic face as he towered over Harry.
Harry subtly flinched at "boy," but that was enough for the observant spirit to notice. A twisted smile began to form on Tom's face.
"I—I'm sorry," the nine-year old stuttered, falling back as he saw the man before him start to advance towards him with a smirk.
"Boy," the name rolled off Tom's tongue experimentally, and he observed Harry's reactions. He saw him stiffen.
"Boy, come here." Harry scooted further away. Tom felt something stir inside of him, his vision began to fog.
The air grew colder.
Wide eyes staring at him. No one called him Boy except Uncle Vernon, and Vernon was always giving him lashings for no reason whenever he called that despicable name.
Tom reached his transparent hand out to Harry. His eyes flashed red for a moment.
"Boy."
The child shivered, suddenly feeling very afraid.
His breath came out in clouds as the temperature continued to drop.
The man took a step forward, his smirk turning into a sneer, Harry stumbled back and tripped. He could feel something inside of him stir. Something rush outside of him, snapping at the glowing eyes of the ghost.
Tom jerked. What—?
Suddenly, his hand dropped to his side. The menacing look on his face was wiped away with a sheet of sheer confusion.
The spirit stared at the boy, feeling a vibrating fear emitting from the child.
What in Merlin's name was that?
He focused back onto the figure in the grass, and after a couple moments he heard a small murmur.
"Harry." The youth corrected him as quietly as he could.
An instinctive fear washed over him as he waited for the stranger to beat him. Harry shied away when he saw Tom snap his eyes into his at Harry's assertion. He lowered his own to the wet grass. Swallowing audibly.
Tom's features shifted slightly, from confusion to something softer. He kneeled down and pushed his hand closer to Harry, making a beckoning motion, like coaxing a small animal.
"Harry." And the addressed boy looked up, a bit shocked. The stranger hadn't run away! But… would he be beaten instead?
Harry didn't know if he could trust Tom.
"Harry." Tom's voice a bit louder than the hoarse whisper he had been talking in. Harry felt a dull nudge in his mind, subtle but persistent. He realized he was locking eyes with the spirit, the deep blue in Tom's eyes seemed… hollow.
There was that subtle nudge in his brain again and it felt more foreign by the second. Harry couldn't look away, and he lost himself in the emptiness of Tom's eyes.
The nudge became a poke, and then a tender pull until Harry felt a rising annoyance and swatted away the foreign prodding in his mind.
Tom pulled back, his mouth slightly open in shock.
"You…You fought it?" Tom muttered. Harry tilted his head and tried to decipher what the strange spirit was saying.
"Fought what?" The spirit did nothing but shake his head slightly. Warily eyeing the boy that shuffled his feet nervously. He seemed afraid of some kind of punishment.
Tom ran a transparent hand through his transparent black locks, messing up his usually tame hair.
The human gesture and the sigh that escaped the spirit's lips relaxed Harry a little bit. Perhaps the soul wouldn't punish him like Uncle Vernon usually did.
Before he could say anything, however, he heard the telltale sound of the front door opening.
"Freak?" the grating voice of his horse-faced aunt sounded in the cold air.
Harry turned back to the ghost, still curious about what had happened, but having no time, he whispered to the spirit.
"Umn, I have to go!" He raced back to the back door and entered as quietly as he could; The hinges of the door giving a little squeak as he closed it behind him.
Tom was left standing in the lawn, wondering.
It was dark. The nightlights in the hallway gave little light through the slot on the door of his room. Harry stood behind that door, contemplating.
Maybe he could go outside again tonight? It had been a couple of days since his last excursion into the wilderness of the night. Perhaps he would meet that ghost, despite how intimidating he was.
He still remembered the way the ghost had looked so… lost. Lonely? His ruffled black hair falling into a mess around his sculpted face. The obviously pale (despite transparent) skin and lips stretched to a firm line.
But his eyes, his eyes were as if… there was nothing in them.
Harry had to find out.
The curious child turned the knob to his door, holding his breath.
Please, please be unlocked!
The doorknob completed a full revolution with no jerk of the lock to stop him. He exhaled in relief.
Phew.
He crept out the back door, smelling the cool fresh air and enjoying the wet grass beneath his bare feet.
"Mmn," Harry closed his eyes and smiled. It was so rare to have a moment of peace these days. He sighed contently and let out a small laugh, twirling a bit in the grass. Oh how he loved fresh air.
He plopped onto the grass and laid down, enjoying the sight of the moon gazing over houses. He had to enjoy as much freedom as he could while it lasted, really.
A levitating figure viewed the boy laughing and lying on the grass. He noted Harry's content sigh and the smile that lingered on his face, his unruly hair lying soft on the grass, and surprisingly refreshing…something about him. A look that seemed too relieved to be on a child so young. Why was he out so late in the first place? Do his parents not care about him?
Tom placed a hand to chest, surprised by a sudden pang of disgust at the mention of parents. Remorse for something he wasn't quite sure why.
No matter, he brushed the pain aside, he had to talk to this child, he still felt that calling, that wonderful warmth that gave him feeling. Emotion?
But how to approach him? What would one normally do?
Tom couldn't remember.
So he resolutely walked towards the child laying on the grass, cleared his throat quietly to get Harry's attention, and forced, as cheerfully as he could, a hello.
Harry's eyes snapped open to meet the spirit's. Blinking, and then realizing he was staring through his new found ghost, he sat up with a hello.
"I…" the spirit paused, trying to grasp what to say next, "Hello...Harry"
Blink. "Hello."
"Umn, Hello"
"Hello Sir."
"Hel—"Tom mentally smacked himself for sounding like some kind of broken doll.
He took a deep breath, and forced his pretend smile (that was more of a baring of teeth than anything) to relax into his normal cold mask.
He sighed, and started over.
"May I sit here?" Harry gave a nod and Tom sighed again as he sat through the grass.
"Harry," Tom started, his tone hesitant yet soft, "How old are you? Where are we?"
"I'm nine Mr. Riddle, sir." Tom brushed away the boy's attached "sir" at the end, thinking nothing of it.
"And we're in Little Whinging, Private Drive…sir"
"Private drive?" Tom spotted the rusty old sign at the end of the sidewalk.
Harry did nothing but nod.
"And where are your parents?" Harry stiffened. Tom took notice.
"They're dead." He whispered, his eyes lowered to the ground.
There was silence in the air and Harry had thought that Tom had left until he heard a quiet shuffling of the stranger's odd clothing. He heard a clearing of throat once again and felt a strange tingle near his arm. He looked up to see Tom leaning close to him.
"I'm sorry." Tom whispered back, looking into those bright green eyes.
Harry shook his head, "It's okay. I don't remember them. They died when I was little, in a car accident." He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the little tingles in his arm.
Tom said nothing, but felt a sudden urge to touch him comfortingly.
So he did.
A hand swooped down and lifted to caress Harry's cheek.
It connected.
Harry's eyes widened and Tom jumped back in shock.
It… connected? Tom stared at his hand. No, still transparent.
"Mr. Riddle?" Harry's eyes still large.
"Strange," the beautiful soul breathed, "that has never happened before."
"So… that doesn't happen at all?"
"Does it look like it happens a lot?" Tom questioned, snapping.
"Sorry sir."
There was a long pause.
"Why did this happen?" Tom demanded in a quiet voice, staring down at the boy who had started to quiver, his eyes still large. He looked afraid.
"I'm sorry sir! I… "
"This is extremely curious, what did you do?"
"I…strange things happen to me—not that I meant it! I—I'm a freak." He stuttered out as Tom towered over him.
The boy was short, now that Tom noticed, and malnourished. He looked dirty and very pale, like he hadn't been in the sun often. The boy shook, tears leaking out of the nine-year-olds eyes. He continued rambling on.
"I'm a huge freak! I can move things without touching them. I can control animals without training them. I can speak to snakes; they find me, whisper things. Uncle Vernon says he has to punish me because what I do is unnatural. I shouldn't be born, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" He felt himself being picked up.
Tingling turned into warmth, and he cried into the transparent soul's clothing, not noticing the teardrops stained the spirit's robes instead of falling through them. Long, pale fingers ran through his tousled black hair. Tom stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do besides run his fingers through the boy's hair and rock him gently as the green-eyed boy sobbed into his robes.
He processed the information the boy had given him. Speaking to snakes? Controlling animals? Tom could do that as well… did this mean they were alike some how? Perhaps they were connected…with magic?
The pale spirit had no true understand of what magic was. All he knew was that there was magic and he could use it. He could list off familiar words from the top of his head that he had no concept of and move that strange stick he had in his pocket about to form the movements. But the last time he tried something called Wingardium Leviosa, the rabbit he had come across began floating upwards and then Tom had blacked out from exhaustion. He sighed once again, and as he rocked the young boy who, if seen by anyone else at this moment would appear to be levitating off the ground by some unseen force, his pale fingers moved from Harry's hair to rub circles on the youngster's back.
"Shhh," Tom whispered a bit in parseltongue, hoping that the child wouldn't be frightened by the serpent's language. Harry just snuggled into his robes even further, wiping his eyes on the transparent cloth.
"Harry, the man you are living with… Uncle Vernon? Does he punish you often?" Tom petted the youth's messy hair, and Harry sniffed.
"Yeah…"
"What does he do?"
Harry bit his lip, averting his eyes, "I can't tell you. He told me I couldn't tell anyone."
Tom nodded, a solemn look on his face when inside he reared back in disgust. This Vernon was a monster for treating such an innocent child this way.
Harry looked at Tom, the spirit's face seemed to morph from cold to pensive, a sharp biting look was in his eyes though. Harry scooted back a bit and opened his mouth to say something.
"BOY? Where is that disgusting brat?" Harry's head whipped towards the house so fast Tom absentmindedly wondered if he would get whiplash. Quickly, the boy struggled from Tom's robed arms and dropped to the grass in haste.
"I have to go!" He exclaimed in a whispering tone to the confused soul and then ran off to the back of the house to enter the back door instead of the door where his Uncle was waddling onto the front porch. The fat, sweaty man stared straight through Tom, his sneer as disgusting as he was pitiful.
If looks could kill, Tom thought while he glared holes through the lesser man:
Then he would die in an instant
"Shhh! Quiet!"
"Harry, it's not like anyone could hear me anyway."
"Oh yeah," The nine-year old scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"If anything, shouldn't you be in that wretched house right now?"
"Aunt Petunia has guests, so Uncle Vernon told me to stay outside and out of sight."
"Hmn," Tom responded in Riddle like fashion. His marble face roamed across the scrawny lawn of the Dursley's. He had been here for a month, keeping himself entertained by this young boy.
"Tom? Tom did you hear what I said?" The soul cocked his head to one side to show that he was listening.
"I was wondering, have you figured out who you were in the past yet?"
Tom shook his head.
"Oh…" Green eyes casted downwards, "I'm sorry."
Tom sighed.
"What are you sorry for Harry?" His voice paternal, soothing, and melodic. Harry colored a bit before peeking a quick glance at Tom.
"I want you to get better." The spirit allowed his mouth to quirk in a small awkward smile, rarely did he allow Harry the sight of his smile. Although he didn't know why, he just felt uncomfortable with any emotion besides anger and disgust. He patted the boy's head, already used to the warm tingling sensation he got from touching Harry.
"I hope that I can remember my past as well. But there is no need to rush. I am sure it will come to me eventually." The bare snippets that Tom could even remember were something about a green flash, a beautiful black cobra, and pain, so much pain.
The small boy fought the urge to hug his friendly resident ghost, but decided against it. Tom was not a touchy feely sort of person.
"Tom?"
"Hmn?"
"I… I wish you could come inside the house with me. It would make Dudley's bullying a lot easier."
Tom sighed. He'd been doing that a lot the past month.
"You know I cannot enter Harry, although I am still curious as to why."
When the handsome spirit had tried to enter, he suddenly felt agonizing pain ripping him apart, his flesh felt like it was dissolving, which seemed impossible since he didn't have real flesh in the first place. He was then thrown back and with a scream, blacked out, half of his body through the pavement. Harry had of course, cried Tom's name and rushed back to his friend, although Aunt Petunia scowled at his "insanity" and his "imaginary friend."
Later that night, Harry had been beaten by Uncle Vernon, called an insane freak who drew too much unwanted attention to their family, and threatened that if he ever mentioned "Tom" again, there would be worse consequences than a couple lashes with a belt.
Sometime during the stray hours of the morning, Harry had snuck out of his closet since Vernon had forgotten to lock the cupboard and curled up in the lawn behind the house, nursing his burning back with the cool wind.
Tom had found him in that fetal position and immediately began healing him with spells that popped into his mind…
"Tom?" and the spirit realized he had been staring off into space for an awkward amount of time. He shook his head to clear it.
"Sorry," the apology still felt a bit foreign on his tongue, although he wasn't sure why. He tread through the grass as Harry jogged a bit to keep with his long strides.
"What should we do today?" Tom "hmned," which Harry interpreted as an "I don't care."
Even though it was quite dark out and Harry wasn't supposed to be making any noise, he wanted to play with Tom anyways. Harry was conversing with another snake that had complimented the wonderful scent of the flowers he had planted, while Tom stood by and watched silently as always, fascinated by the excited expressions that lit the boy's entire face like the sun.
The spirit, in an uncharacteristic motion of laziness, flicked a hand to the boy's hair and allowed his rain-scented wave of magic pass from his fingers to make waves in Harry's jet-black hair. Harry gave a half-shout, and turning from the snake to Tom gave a look of horror; placing his hands in his locks to keep them from waving about wildly.
"Tom!" The spirit smirked at him. His magic was coming much more easily now, although he couldn't understand why it hadn't been so easy before when he had been wandering around for years. Perhaps it was the boy? He looked around him to see if anyone was looking, and opened the well to his magic wider. Harry gave a half-yell, muffling himself with his hands, as he began to levitate off the ground. The snake he was talking to was hissing in pleasure to the smell of magic in the air.
"Tom, put me down!" He whispered loudly. The spirit smirked at him, almost evilly, and then dropped him on the soft grass. Harry landed with an "oof!" and rubbed his abused behind.
"That's no fair Tom. I wish I could do such cool magic like you." Tom had attempted to teach him basic spells, but the boy had difficulty with them. It was like he barely had any magic at all, which was confusing since he seemed to speak to animals just fine and he once magic-ed himself onto the roof when his cousin was trying to beat him. Which reminded him, Harry's birthday was tomorrow or today… soon enough.
Tom's fingers trailed over Harry's gift, he had decided it was high time he gave the gift to him; it wasn't like he needed it anyways. He flicked a finger and the tempus charm stated it was 12:00am. The child was still sitting on the floor, watching with amazement at the ease which Tom could perform magic with a simple movement of his hands. The spirit smiled despite himself and kneeled down to the boy.
"Happy Birthday Harry," The boy's face lit up, "I know that you may think you don't have magic, but trust me young one, you do." He knew it; he could feel it curled, sleeping inside the boy. "Even though it seems that you can't do any of the spells I've tried to teach you, it may be because you do not have a proper conductor." The boy nodded slowly, not knowing where this was going. "So…" The spirit paused, "I have decided to give this to you, since I do not seem to need it anyways."
Tom pulled out his wand, seemingly transparent.
"Happy Birthday," Tom shoved his wand towards the boy who looked at it in confusion. Awkwardly, the boy looked at Tom, then back at the wand… then back at Tom.
"Um-"
"What?" The spirit snapped, feeling a blush creeping towards his cheeks.
"Tom. It's see-through, and it's not real and is the wand a ghost or something too?" The boy eyed the wand, not knowing how he should take something that couldn't be grasped.
"Look Harry, this wand is a part of me right?" The boy looked confused but nodded anyways.
"You can touch me, so that means you can take the wand too."
"But- how would I use it? "
"I'd assume you would flick it with the motions I showed you, and you would do spells."
"But how does that work?"
"Just take it Harry!" Tom snapped, irritated beyond his usual demeanor, peeved that Harry wasn't accepting the wand immediately.
Harry immediately obeyed and touched his gift. His eyes widened when he held it; feeling no weight in his hands and a pleasant humming coming from the wand. What?
"What?" Harry voiced aloud.
"I told you it would work out Harry. Here, try doing the Levitating spell I showed to you… Now hold it this way, swish and flick." Tom urged, a satisfied smile lighting his face as he saw the boy furrowing his brows in concentration.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" the snake who had been watching began to wobble upwards, hissing at the boy to put it down. The boy's mouth split into the widest grin he had ever had the pleasure of seeing, and waved his wand to the left and right, levitating the snake up and about—to it's displeasure.
"Tom! Tom look!" His jet-black hair tousling as he ran about with the snake bouncing in the air. Tom chuckled as the boy cheered quietly.
His chuckle turned into a rare laugh when the serpent began yelling obscenities at Harry.
"Congratulations Harry, I knew I was right." Tom grinned, satisfied that Harry enjoyed his gift so much and that he could finally do a bit of magic.
"Thank you Tom! Thank you! Thank you!" Harry flung the snake back into the grass and ran to the spirit to try and tackle him to the ground in a hug. But with his meager weight, all he could do was knock the wind out of Tom.
"Oof!" Tom smiled gently—albeit winded—at the boy who was hugging him with all his might.
"…fwank…oo…" he muffled out from Tom's robes.
"You're welcome Harry." The spirit fondly patted the boy's back. He looked at his previously owned wand; it was still transparent, 13 inches he could guess. It seemed to love Harry though, it echoed to his magic.
"Remember to take care of it Harry, and try not to lose it. It is still transparent to others so if you lose it you can't ask other people to help you find it." He warned Harry.
"Okay."
"And… try to keep this gift a secret from others."
"Okay, of course!" Harry nodded vigorously.
"Alright-" He heard laughing from inside the house and footsteps reaching the front door.
"Harry, the guests are leaving, you must get to bed. Here, hide your wand."
The boy hid the wand under his shirt, making sure that the bump was invisible.
"Good Night Harry, and Happy Birthday."
"Thank you Tom." Harry hugged Tom once more and then ran as quietly as he could to the house, the spirit watching him leave.
"What are you FREAKS doing here?" Harry roused from the cot in the cupboard, rubbing his eyes.
"Get OUT!" He could hear the ugly sputtering of Uncle Vernon, his pudgy self backed into a wall with a loud thump.
"We are here representing the Ministry of Magic, our orders are to investigate a burst of underage magic committed somewhere close to this vicinity." A calm, stern voice replied.
"Now listen here-"
Harry could hear his Aunt rush in from upstairs, the dust from under the stairs watering his eyes.
"VERNON!"
"Mummy?"
"Get out of my house you FREAKS! I'll call the authorities and-!"
"Sir, we are the authorities-"
"Like hell you are!"
"We would just like to investigate your home-!"
"NO!" Harry heard the crash of a vase hitting a wall. He heard some strange word, which sounded vaguely like "Merlin."
There was a scuffle.
A loud bang. It sounded like a gunshot.
"VERNON! STOP!"
"Stop this at once, by order of the Ministry of Mag-"
"Don't you dare say that word in this house!"
"Merlin—!"
"Mummy!"
Another gunshot was heard.
"NOW GET OU-"
"Stupefy!"
All was silent.
Kingsley Shackelbolt was not having a particularly good day. It had started in the morning when he had overslept. A rarity for him, since he almost always woke before his tempus charm went off. In fact, he had struggled into his robes and had immediately apparated to an apparation-safe zone near the ministry; but had forgotten his briefcase that contained all of the paperwork he had spent last night going over. He apparated back into his home and through the strong wards around his house, grabbed his briefcase, and then apparated back to the ministry. It turned out that while he was gone, the line of ministry workers that stood for the pheletone booth, or whatever the muggle contraption was called, had gotten longer. He stood behind a chattering worker in front of him, trying to keep his exasperation from showing.
"Yeah, I was a top student when I was at Hogwarts; I was in Gryffindor and everything! Dumbledore even favored me, asked me to meet him a couple times in his office and offered me some of his lemon drops. Ha! It was then, of course, no surprise that I would pass the Auror's Exam." He continued to chatter on, the woman in front of him trying her best to ignore the man.
"New recruits," Kingsley muttered to himself, and then with a sigh, placed a hand on the man's shoulder.
The man stopped mid-sentence and turned around to spot Kingsley staring at him menacingly.
"S-Sir! Senior Auror Shacklebolt Sir!" He gave a stumbling salute, his face pale.
"Auror Ramsey," he gave a nod, "we are still in a public, muggle area. Please keep that in mind." Ramsey nodded furiously, his floppy chestnut hair getting in his eyes.
"Yes sir! Sorry sir!" He stuttered as he walked forward, the woman in front of him glanced back at Kingsley and gave him an appreciating smile.
When he finally arrived at the ministry, entering the expanses of the black marbled building, he entered the lift to send him up to the Auror Department. A young woman got into the lift, and stood professionally beside him. Silence ensued as they rode the lift further up, she got off, and finally Shacklebolt arrived at the office, albeit a bit late.
The Aurors in the office were running about, filing papers and signing contracts. A group of Aurors were crowding around the Tracker, the device that tracked all underage magic. Shacklebolt strode down around the group of Aurors, and through the cubicles, getting to his own office, and set down his briefcase. His eyes weighed heavily as he was still sleepy from the night up before. He barely managed to take a seat in the leather chair, when Auror Dawlish came through the door, carrying a stack of papers.
"Shacklebolt, more papers for you from the Minister." Dawlish stared at the tired Senior Auror, and chose not to say anything, opting to shrug and step out of the office, closing the door behind him.
Kingsley sighed and reached for the top paper and quill, "This document is made as a proposal to formally increase the amount of security at Azkaban through the use of more dementors…" Kingsley read the paper as it droned on, obviously not something he should pass. When he had signed up to be an Auror, he did not imagine his life to be spent behind a desk and countless amounts of documents to read, file, and sign.
As he stamped his rejection onto the Azkaban proposal, and as he put it away and reached for the next paper at the top of the stack, Auror Ramsey stumbled in, the door slamming open and shaking the office. The pile of papers shook precariously, and Kingsley pulled out his wand and stabilized it before it fell. He gave Ramsey a pointed look that the new recruit took immediately as a threat and he settled down.
"Auror Shacklebolt, Sir!" He saluted again, "There is something strange about the Tracker, sir."
Shacklebolt resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, "the alarm is a bit faulty, go and find one of the Unspeakables and ask them to come here to fix it. They should know what to do, since it is on of their inventions in the first place."
Ramsey shuffled slightly, "Sir, I don't think that this is something that an Unspeakable can fix."
The Senior Auror tilted his head, curious, and stood up, walking around his desk and out of his office.
He arrived at the Tracker, the group of Auror splitting so a path was formed for him. He looked at the words carefully, and his eyes widened.
Tracked: Harry James Potter
Spell: Wingardium Leviosa
Wand: 13 ½ in-Ye—-Phoenix—eathe—
Previous Owner: ?
The group of Aurors whispered to each other, all staring at the name of the hero of the wizarding world that had been missing for the past nine years.
"The Boy-Who-Lived," a voice was singled out from the crowd. Olivander, still gazing at the name, his demeanor as creepy as Shacklebolt remembered.
The wand maker walked up to the Tracker, looking at the strange malfunction of the words. He cocked his head, and then slowly his eyes widened so much it seemed as though his eyes could pop out of his skull. He turned to Kingsley, and in an ominous voice, he asked, "Does this contraption usually list a 'Previous Owner'?"
"Yes, but it has always been able to identify the person."
Olivander pierced him with a foreboding stare, "I remember that wand, 13 ½ inches, Yew, a phoenix feather core." His eyes were vacant, as if he were remembering something from long ago.
The group was silent.
His voice carried through the department.
"Tom Riddle was the previous owner of that wand."
How was it? Review review and tell me what you think! :D
Petaldancer
