Hello!
I'm very sorry for not updating sooner, school and orientation and all that jazz kept me extremely busy. Not to mention the computer was out for a while, had to clean off a few programs that were slowing it down. But, now I'm updating.
Superfrog: I've been reading a lot on the character, Neville, and I know what you're saying. He is a bit bold. Although, I think that gradual change would cause Neville to second guess his decision. So I decided on radical change, meaning that he came to the decision on a whim. Since he made the decision, he won't back down on it; I wouldn't think Neville would forget a promise made to him self. I do plan to show little Neville relapses. He does have the guts to get things done, that's what makes him Gryffindor, but he is shy while doing it. In this chapter he's thrown off by Ollivander, which I put in as a Neville moment. Thank you so much for reviewing, thanks even more for commenting! Tell me what you think!
Naima: I love your name! Thank you so much for reviewing, I promise I'll update more; I have a lot planned for this story (If I can get off my lazy butt and write it down).
King Genbu of Thunder: I do that too, the anonymous review thing. I guess I'm too lazy on some days. Thank you so much for reviewing twice and thank you again for the anonymous review hint! Sorry for the late update.
Never Will Give
The bell on the top of the door rung as Neville stepped through to the threshold of Ollivanders. It was an old shop, everyone in the wizarding world knew. Neville knew this too as he observed the shelves upon shelves of long thin boxes. He knew that every long, thin box contained a wand of power and value to a witch or wizard out there, alive, or yet to be born.
Dust was piling up in small corners of the shop, yet it never seemed to reach the air, which smelt clear and cold. His eyes drifted to the ceiling. Not many noticed, but the ceiling had to have been as extraordinary as the Great Hall. Old runes were molded into the top. Neville stopped to gaze at it a little longer before his head lowered at he stared straight into the pale, distant eyes of Mr. Ollivander.
Neville jumped and felt his heart flutter. The wizard's face had to have been only a few inches away. Mr. Ollivander's eyes of silver could kill a werewolf should he dare approach. Neville fixed his gaze with Ollivanders and raised his chin.
"Admiring the ceiling...?" Mr. Ollivander said, "Nice rune work, eh? My ancestors did that. Marvelous work... marvelous work, you're in here to buy a wand." He said his last phrase as a statement, not a question. "Yes, yes... I remember your father's wand... You're still in possession of it, correct?"
"Er—" Neville pulled his father's wand out. The crack through the center was visible when you turned the handle upside down. He shifted his feet under the silvery moon eyes and furrowed his eyebrows. He hoped that wandmakers took their work being damaged lightly. Mr. Ollivander could be unnerving. "It's—it's cracked and all. But it still works. Some powerful charms don't function properly. T-they're too much for it and nothing happens." He watched Mr. Ollivander's reaction carefully.
The old man had a thoughtful expression on his face, other than that he remained motionless. Neville's hand was still twiddling his wand nervously. "Yes," Ollivander said. "The core is exposed slightly, this wand is no good." He took the outstretched wand swiftly. His hands were a blur he placed a box on the desk and the wand vanished in its velvet lining.
"Now, for you," said Ollivander. He took out an old tape measurer. It jumped to life and began measuring Neville's height, waist, wrists, feet, everything. He saw soon that the tape measurer had been doing this on its own. Ollivander was sliding through the shelves, pulling out various boxes and adding them to a large pile in his arms. When he ran out of arm space, he piled them onto his head, balancing one on top of the other.
Returning to Neville, he placed the boxes in a neat pile next to him. The tape measurer disappeared with a pop; Neville jumped and turned his attention back to the wandmaker. He was sizing up a wand he held in his hand. It was light brown, similar to his old one.
"Here," Ollivander said curtly. "Try this one." Handing over the wand, he stepped back as a precaution. Then watched as Neville stood there, feeling very foolish, holding a wand. "Well, wave it around! Swish and flick, as our Professor Flitwick would say. Don't just stand there dawdling."
Neville wasted no time in pointing his wand at the old oak desk in front of the back room. He flicked his wrist ever so slightly. The desk burst into flames. Neville was quick to hand the wand back to Mr. Ollivander, now unnerved at how his wand choosing was coming out. "Not to worry, not to worry. We have plenty of wands to go through. I was wondering about that one, though. It seems you aren't as much like your father as I would think. Or as the world thinks, especially your grandmother..."
Ollivander tossed the wand he was now holding at the wall carelessly. Neville almost laughed from nervousness. The wand clattered to the floor. It seemed odd that he had taken so much time carrying and stacking them carefully, and then when he was finished he had simply thrown it against the wall. Ollivander pulled out another box from the left side of the pile and gently took of the top.
Neville had a weird premonition of what Ollivander was doing. "I-I'm not at all like my mother," he said. "I don't think that wand will do. I know what you're thinking and I don't want to be entirely like my parents. Everyone is always... comparing me to them; I don't want my wand to do that, too."
Ollivander stopped, seemingly heeding the boy's word and tossed the box to where the other wand was lying on the floor. Taking out his own, extremely long and bleach white wand, Ollivander flicked his wrist. Almost all of the boxes he had selected were thrown violently against the wall. Ollivander remained calm and acted as though it were everyday that hundreds of wands were tossed against shops. Neville, however, jumped in surprise. Does he do this everyday? He was beginning to think it would have been a better idea to just have owled Dumbledore.
Now, only a few wands remained in the neat small pile on the floor. Ollivander stood and addressed Neville. "Every Ollivander wand is hand crafted to perfection for the individual. Each wand has a core. Each core is unique in its own properties. Several more known cores are unicorn hair, dragon heartstring, and phoenix feather. These are the strongest." He regarded Neville. "But do not underestimate the value of the rare and unknown. Veela hair, mermaid scales, sphinx vein, and others could make a powerful wand for a witch or wizard."
Neville stood silent as Ollivander began his speech. He did not see how relevant it was to his statement about his mother's wand, but listened anyway. A man as old as Ollivander must have had many hard lessons in his life. Through those lessons, knowledge must have been gained. Neville listened as intently as he could on this little tidbit of information. One never knew when it might come in handy; the war was making everyone wary of what they didn't know.
"Brother cores will not fight each other," Ollivander continued, reaching down to pick up another box. "Two of the same cores, from the same animal, person, creature, body of water and, depending on the situation, even from the same country, are considered brother cores. Two wizards who duel with brother cores are doomed from the start. They cannot fight, they will not fight. In fact, they end up damaging themselves in the duel through Priori Incantatem."
He did not elaborate on the subject. Instead he stood silent, waiting for Neville to catch up to what he had just said. Neville nodded in understanding, he stored the information in his mind for safekeeping, this was important, and Neville could feel it. Ollivander stood still, holding the box in his wiry old hands.
"No two wands are the same," he said, opening the box he was holding. It was a dark thin box that looked old; the inside was of purple velvet. "Try this one; I think you'll find this to your liking." He outstretched his hand, the wand placed in the middle of his middle finger and his index finger. Neville wondered why he never noticed that before. Was that a wand-maker's way of presenting wands?
He shrugged it off. Then he gently relieved Ollivander of the dark, long wand and grasped the handle. A warm feeling spread throughout him. Neville smiled, this was the one; he could feel it. Nervously, he waved the wand at the ceiling; it began to sprinkle red and gold confetti from the ceiling. Soon, the shop was bright. He had no idea why he had ever thought that the shop was dark and scary. It must've been a trick of the eye. Neville grinned happily and turned to Ollivander.
"I'll take it." he said, still smiling joyfully at the wand. His father's wand had never felt that way in his hands. The magic came simply and easily for him. It felt good, not awkward as it had been for years. This made all the difference, he wished he had gotten a wand for him self earlier. Ollivander nodded and held out his hand.
"Eleven galleons and a Sickle," he said emotionlessly. Neville dug through his pockets and found the money; he just scraped through with what he had. Now, he had no Galleons, a few Sickles and ten Knuts. His situation was desperate now, he needed to find someplace to earn some money and quickly too. While he was thinking, Ollivander had rung up the order, handed Neville the box the wand belonged in and stood in the mess of wands on the floor.
"Do you know what the core to that wand is...? Mr. Longbottom?" he asked in a whisper. Neville looked at him, confused. Did he know the core... did he know the core? What kind of question was that? It wasn't, "Do you want to leave for the robe shop?" or "Are you going anywhere?" Ollivander was not pressuring Neville to leave now that he had wrapped up their order. He was wondering if Neville knew the type of wand he bought.
Neville thought hard and long. Did he know? No. That was the simple answer. How was he supposed to know? Was this a test? He supposed that Ollivander must do this to every customer. Neville held the wand lightly in his hand. He felt a tingling in his hand and closed his eyes.
Ollivander's words echoed back at Neville. "Each core is unique in its own properties. Several more known cores are unicorn hair, dragon heartstring, and phoenix feather." Neville thought hard on this. The feeling he had in his heart was wispy, like the unicorn hair, light and pure. He knew the answer now, the feeling within him wouldn't allow his to answer any other way. His eyes shot open and he regarded Ollivander who was watching him eerily.
"Unicorn Hair... and its cherry wood, I know that from Herbology." He watched Ollivanders moon eyes widen and take in Neville with a new level of appreciation. Ollivander recovered quickly and nodded his head.
"I thought so... but couldn't imagine," He said, Neville had no clue what he was talking about. "You see, Mr. Longbottom. You are the only wizard to ever question me or comment on which wand I chose for testing. That is odd. Let me tell you more."
He folded his arms behind his back. Neville could have snorted, no matter how inappropriate the timing was, Ollivander didn't even give Neville a chance to say 'no'. "You knew what wand I was about to choose. It was a wand similar to your mothers. You second guessed me, and as it turns out, you were right. I was wrong to assume you would be like your mother just because your personality wasn't like your father's. Life isn't black and white. There's that grey area everyone is talking about.
"I find it curious and odd that you could have foreseen this. I think you may have ability, ability quite like mine. You see when I was young, my father knew when to pass the store to me, and it was when I had proven him wrong. He was shocked, you see, to be wrong. Next thing I knew, I was selling wands in this old shop."
Ollivander stroked the wall fondly and sighed, suddenly very old. "You remember what I told you about brother cores?" Neville nodded. "Good. Don't forget that. I saw your pockets, you're low on money. Care for a job?"