The Topaz Awakening

I headed back to Olivander's just as the shutters were starting to come down on the other shops. Doors shut, open signs turned to closed and the sky faded to lilac as I walked down the cobbled street. I pushed open the door warily, it was half open, the lights off inside.

The first thing I saw was the destruction.

The second was Olivander's dead body. He was lying partially hidden by the counter, surrounded by thousands of wands and their empty boxes. Like broken twigs abandoned by a woodcutter. His face was ashen, a grey tinge had crept into his skin, giving a pewter tone beneath the broken blood vessels that had come with age.

Dust motes floated gently through the air, his milky eyes stared at me unblinking, and for a second, just for a second. I thought I saw a shadow moving behind me, reflected in his irises like they were pale blue mirrors. I shook the shivers from my spine as I bent to examine his surroundings. I had never seen a dead body before that point, the numb feeling I got, like nothing really mattered if all we had to look forward to was death, it never really went away.

But I could never tell if that was because I never shook it out of me, like I would have if I'd have been a stronger child, or because I was just always surrounded by death.

The wands I guessed had been spilt from stacks or piles he'd made whilst looking for my wand. But beneath his head a strange liquid, almost gold in colour, and less dense than water, vapours shimmed around his white hair like a mocking halo. I reached out gently and touched it, the gas twirled around my fingers like strangling vines. The temperature of the room dropped to freezing. My breaths came in short gasps as an overwhelming sense of fear enveloped my mind.

It was suddenly very dark and I was very alone. Flashes of Olivander's- I had never learnt his first name- last minutes on this plane took over my vision. A black shadowy figure and a green light. But then just as I was beginning to regain feeling in my feet, I saw his last thought, a wand.

I opened my eyes which I had not even realised were tightly clenched. I reached out and touched his hand, his skin was cold and clammy, it felt like the skin on legs of pigs I had cooked for the Dursley's, fleshy and fake. Clasped in his fingers was a wand.

The wood felt rough to touch, like it had been freshly cut, and was waiting to be varnished, but its weight was strangely reassuring to me. The wood itself was dark, but had a red tinge, like it could have been made of Cherry wood. Expect it was darker than that, shadows seemed to dance across it with a life of their own.

As soon as it was firmly in my grasp, I felt a warmth burn through my blood like I was on fire. Like very cell inside of me was burning, every nerve ending screaming at me. But it felt nice, it hurt, but it was safe, it was a promise to me, a sacrament of the power I could wield with it. My wand's way of saying, you. You are the one I have chosen. You.

Slipping the wand into my pocket I sighed, Olivander was the first person to have looked me in the eye, and not turn away in disgust, and now he was lying dead at my feet. With the first and second fingers of my right hand I gently slid his eyelids closed. I did not notice the gold gas had disappeared. I did not hear the almost silent laugh of the impossible man.

I ran.

I booked a room at the leaky cauldron, strangely no-one seemed to give me a second glance. That night was the first time I slept on a soft bed. It was also the last. As I lay down to sleep I could feel the soft mattress supporting my weight, but every time I moved I sank a little into it. Like it was a bed of mould or moss that would suffocate me. It wasn't long before even I grew tired of my discomfort and threw myself onto the floor.

It was on the hard wooden floor that I found refuge, I dreamt I breathed magic out like a dragon breathed fire, and I had forgotten how to read because the magic consumed every fibre of me, words and digits no longer held any meaning, because I was beyond flesh and bone and pain, I was beyond language . I found myself awakening to sunlight filtering through the blinds the next morning.

I could hear people in the rooms above and below me, but no-one came for me, no-one asked me to do anything. Maybe they knew I was a freak? I rolled over onto my stomach and pulled my textbooks towards me. The cover of my first, a beginners guide to defence against the dark arts, was a thick burgundy tome. The colour of dried blood, the cover felt heavy and reassuringly real in my hand, like it would anchor me here.

I couldn't practise magic outside of school, I wasn't stupid. But there were things I could do. I read through my books first of all. I started with the school required ones. The words were old fashioned, but they carried more weight that way, nothing was said without careful consideration, not like the half arsed footnotes in modern school books. I liked that, the way I could separate my life into a before and after. Subconsciously I brushed the scars on my stomach with my fingertips as I turned the page.

I tried to commit as many spells as possible to memory, but there were so many. They squirmed inside my brain like worms trying to break out. Accio...Wingardium Leviosa....Lumos....

My head was spinning but I couldn't stop reading, I'd never felt so alive, so full before. My wand felt like a hot stone in my pocket. Heavy and radiating warmth.

It was late when I had finished reading through all of my purchases, although I had not learnt all I could from the dusty tomes. I was ravenous with hunger, my stomach felt like I hadn't eaten for weeks, so I wondered downstairs into the noisy pub, a heavy smoke hung in the air, a quiet had descended on the bar.

I heard Olivander's name whispered in hushed tones.

I sat and ordered a small meal, mentally reviewing the mammoth tasks ahead of me, firstly I needed to work out a way I could practise magic undetected, I had read something vague about warding in my beginners guides to runic wards, which could be cast without a wand if the users will was strong enough. And God knows I was stubborn.

I thought about how I could make the runic wards work. It would be easy enough I thought, firstly I would need some more books on the subject; I only knew basic runes, not nearly enough to complete the complicated strings of them needed for any interesting works. Blood wards were always the strongest, which I guess explained the historic traditions regarding purebloods. But they were closely followed by those based on sacrifice, I tried to think of a way to combine them without hurting myself, by drew a blank. A blood ward might work ok on it's own, but if I wanted to hide my magical signature as well as block any sort of tracker based on my wand it would have to be cleverly structured.

From then on it was simple, I would have to learn occlumency of course, some history texts had suggested the current headmaster Albus Dumberore was a skilled legimens. Wandless and silent magic were also on my list, but they would come with time, like all good things. I would make a difference, I would be more than just a collection of bones and flesh. I would be remembered.

I padded up to my bedroom, the corridors were empty, my feel slapped bare against the carpet. I tiptoed up the stairs, unnerved by a portrait watching me closely. I paused for a moment, the whole situation was so stupid, I must have been dreaming. But shook the thought from my head, my dreams had never seemed this real. Before I reached my room, I heard a sobbing from a nearby room.

The door was shut, and made of old oak, but I could still here muffled cries. My insides twisted uncomfortably. Before I carried on to my room.

Sorry this chapter's been in the pipeline longer than I'd expected, exams and load'sa shit you don't really care about. Hopefully chapters will be a bit more regular now I've got my arse in gear. Thanks to the person that reviewed, you knowing spike's song made my day 8-) so yeah, reviews= good...