Well, here we are again. I must say, I rather enjoy reading the reviews you guys leave, but reviews are sort of like chocolate for me, and I'm a chocoholic, so I think you can draw an accurate conclusion from that.

Now, I'm not sure if I've done it in any of my other chapters, I don't feel like checking, but Harry Potter and all affiliated people, places, things, and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling, and Lara Croft and all of her associated people, places, things, and ideas belong to Crystal Dynamics.

That being said, let's get the show started!


Apparating felt exactly like how Mr. Potter had explained. I felt like I was being pushed through a tube of toothpaste that was far too small, and I felt my eyes being pushed back into my skull rather painfully, and my chest compressed in a way I didn't like, and it was everything I could do not to let out a scream.

Then it was over, and my feet were back on solid ground. I collapsed immediately and retched, splattering my hands with sick, and heard the same next to me, along with the distinctive coughing from Sam's throat.

"Little dramatic, don't you think?" I heard Mr. Potter say above me.

"Ignore him, Little Bird." Jonah said, one of his enormous hands resting on my back, rubbing soothing circles on my back. "Your reaction is not uncommon for first time apparators, and trust me when I say that side-along apparation is even worse. Once Mr. Potter teaches you how to apparate on your own, you'll be popping all over the place."

"If you start popping from one room to another, I'll erect anti-apparation wards on the ship and make you walk everywhere." Mr. Potter shot back.

It took a few moments for Sam and I to collect ourselves, by which time I'd heard quite a few people come up and greet Mr. Potter, and ask about me and Sam. His responses were non-answers that seemed to satisfy everyone, before Mr. Potter hauled me to my feet and began walking towards the back of the grungy pub I found us in. As we stepped through the back door to a seemingly enclosed back step, I wondered what Mr. Potter was doing.

"Watch carefully." He said, and I moved closer to the wall he was facing to see him raise what must have been his wand, and tap it on specific bricks in a certain order. I startled back a step when the bricks started folding back and formed an archway, through which I could see a fantastical alley, filled with stores I couldn't quite believe were standing upright without external support.

"Whoa." Sam said next to me. "Is everything so dirty in the magical world?"

Mr. Potter snorted. "You would think so wouldn't you? But no, most houses and important public places are clean. This place is protected by various magics, but everyone lets the outside of their shops and such get run down looking so that in the unlikely event that the magics fail, the muggles won't look further than the outside and think Diagon Alley isn't worth investigating."

"I guess that's smart." I shrugged. "So, where are we going?"

"To Ollivander's Wand Shop." Mr. Potter said, pointing at a store front.

"382 BC?!" I exclaimed, staring at the small, gold painted letter above the store. "This store has been around for almost two and a half thousand years?!"

"Not the store." Mr. Potter said, and I relaxed a little. "The Ollivander family has simply been making and selling wands for that long. I'm sure their family genealogy can be tracked even farther back than that in their private family records."

I came to a stop in the middle of the street, trying to reconcile the fact that Mr. Potter had stated this so casually as to make it seem normal. In the normal, non-magical world, most people have trouble tracking back past the relatives their grandparents remember, so about a hundred fifty years. Really, only royalty and various nobles can go back farther than that, but once one's genealogy gets into the Dark Ages, accurate tracking of relatives becomes damn near impossible, even for royalty!

"I can see where our next stop is going to be." Mr. Potter said, nudging me to move towards the store. "Come on now, we're on a tight schedule to make sure we get there and get our stuff before all the stores close."

I stumbled along, trying to understand how a family could track themselves back as far as Mr. Potter was implying, before stepping into the smell of a bookstore. Blinking, I looked up, and saw, instead of books, shelves upon shelves upon shelves of small boxes, filling up any and all available space. There was that smell of old, dusty books, a smell that reminded me of my childhood before my mother died, when she used to read me archaeology books in the manor library…

I shook my head to bring myself back to the present, only to jump as a gaunt faced older man slammed to a stop on a rolling ladder at the bookcase nearest us.

"Ms. Croft." He said, silver eyes wide, staring at me, and then Sam and Jonah as he spoke. "Ms. Nishimura, Mr. Maiava. I see that Mr. Potter has finally brought you three to me. It's about time."

"How do you know the names of everyone that walks into your store, Mr. Ollivander?" Mr. Potter questioned behind me.

"Trade secret." The old man smiled benignly.

"Family secret, you mean." Mr. Potter shot back. "Anyways, I'm–"

"Headed to Yamatai." Mr. Ollivander said, cutting off my new teacher. "Yes… Yes, dangerous place that. I would recommend stealth and attack skills as the first order of business for your young charges, followed by those wonderful wards you, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger used all those years ago."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir."

I noticed the tightness in Mr. Potter's voice, but didn't comment on it.

"Very well." Mr. Ollivander said. "Ms. Croft, step forward please."

I looked back at my teacher, who simply nodded, before bracing myself and stepping closer to the counter.

"Which is your casting arm?" Mr. Ollivander said, a cloth tape measure floating towards me, before beginning to measure me randomly.

"My what?" I asked.

"Which hand do you write with?" Jonah supplied.

"Oh," I said, startled. "I write with my left hand, but I shoot with my right, I have better distance vision in that eye."

"I see." The wandmaker, if that's what he really was, said. It was only then that I noticed the tape measure whipping about my body. I snatched it and threw it away when I realized it was measuring the distance in between my nipples. "We wandmakers have always had a touch of the Sight. However, we do not see what will be, rather, we see what could be. Hence, why we make so very many wands. Decisions can greatly change a person's future, Ms. Croft. Your decision to learn magic from Mr. Potter will lead you to greatness, of this, there is no doubt. However, your survival magic is so very similar to Mr. Potter's that the number of wands I can See choosing you are very few, as compared to Mr. Potter's numerous multitude of potential wands."

Throughout his speech, Ollivander had been flitting between shelves, long, slender fingers spidering their way around as they selected boxes, until about two dozen sat clutched in his arms as he made his way back to me at the counter.

"As Mr. Potter well knows, the wands chooses the wizard, or in your case, the witch."

"You make it sound like the wands are alive." Sam states. "Like they have their own minds."

"To us wandmakers, Ms. Nishimura, the line between having a mind of its own, and simply attaching like to like, has always been a very thin line to tread." Ollivander said, voice suddenly very grave. "A wand is a reflection of its owner, either in part, or in whole. Treat your wand well, and ensure its continuous wellbeing, and it will channel your magic far better than if you treat it as a mere object, or tool."

"Try this one, Ms. Croft." The wandmaker said, holding a wand out to me. "Twelve inches, wormwood and unicorn hair. Rather swishy, and good for charms and jinxes."

I took it, and held it, unsure of what to do.

"Well, give it a wave." Mr. Potter said behind me, right as Ollivander opened his mouth to speak. I blinked, and did so, only to jump when some drawers full of paper shot out of their places and paper went flying everywhere.

"Well, that's not it." Ollivander said, snatching the wand out of my hand, only to shove another into it. "Eleven and a half inches, vinewood and dragon heartstring, durable, and good for curses and hexes."

I carefully pointed it away from anyone, and when I waved the wand, I got blown back onto my butt from a sudden surge of wind.

"Definitely not that one." Ollivander said, once again taking the wand from me, but before he could shove another into my hand, Mr. Potter spoke up, drawing my attention to him.

"Mr. Ollivander, I know you do enjoy your tricky customers, but, if I might make a suggestion?" he said. At Ollivander's curious expression, he continued. "I do believe Ms. Croft and Ms. Nishimura would be quite near to matching with those wands you recently made. We are on a tight schedule right now."

The shop was silent, as the wandmaker and my teacher seemed to hold a silent conversation with their eyes.

"I see." Ollivander finally said. "Those were my last resort, but since you are on a tight schedule, I suppose I can hurry the process along. Ms. Croft, if you will?"

I stood up and dusted my bottom off before walking back up to the counter.

"Try this one, Ms. Croft. Fourteen and a half inches. Hazelwood and basilisk venom twinned with the tail feather of a phoenix. It is excellent at transfiguration and conjuring, but it is no slacker at cursing and hexing."

When I took the wand, I was startled when golden sparks shot out of the end, before a sudden rush of euphoria tempered by contentment slammed through my body, from my toes to my hair.

"Hah!" Ollivander suddenly cried out, startling me out of my sudden happiness that I had no explanation for. "A perfect match! Oh, Mr. Potter, after your trip to Yamatai, I wish you would reconsider my offered apprenticeship! You would make a fantastic wandmaker!"

Mr. Potter laughed, before responding. "And I keep telling you, with my luck, the store would burn to the ground inside of a week."

Mr. Ollivander just shook his head good naturedly.

"I'm assuming you want her to have a holster?"

"Muggle and magical oriented notice-me-not, anti-summoning, impervious, conscious removal only, and a mole-skin pouch built in please."

"Expensive, but not for you. I'm assuming you want one for all three of them?"

"Of course. Ms. Nishimura, your turn."

I stepped back, still examining my wand, intrigued by the patterns on it even as a feeling of warmth continued flowing from my wand hand, down my arm, and into my chest. About five minutes later, I looked up when I heard birds chirping in the air, only to startle when I saw skeleton birds frolicking in the air around Sam.

"Thirteen inches. Elderwood and unicorn tail hair, twinned with that of a thestral. I believe this will fit you most well, Ms. Nishimura." Ollivaner said. "Unfortunately, your ancestor's magic has long tainted her descendants, and even you are not untouched by her corruption. This shows itself in your wand's penchant for death. You are a very pure soul, Ms. Nishimura, else, you would not be capable of using any wand with a unicorn hair core, however, the amount of death and destruction that your ancestor has caused over the millennia, gives you a close connection with symbols of death. Thestrals are supremely magical creatures, but they are only capable of being seen by those who have witnessed death. Not seen a body already dead, but seen the life leave a person's body with your own eyes.

"However, you are a strong girl, who can recover from almost anything with the right care and compassion. Mr. Maiava, I believe you now need a wand."

Sam stepped back towards me, and we stood next to each other, staring at our wands with a bit of apprehension, but no small amount of wonder.

"I believe it is time for me to simply give you the wand I have been holding onto for almost two decades now. Twelve and three quarter inches. Tanekaha wood and the claw of a taniwha. Very powerful, and good for transfiguration and charms, Mr. Maiava." Ollivander said.

When Jonah waved his wand, a gout of water exploded from the tip of it, quickly forming into a small, oriental styled dragon that roared before flying out the door that opened in the nick of time.

"Ah, wonderful." Ollivander sighed. "Now, Mr. Potter, I believe that will be sixty eight galleons for the wands, and the requested holsters. Also, I believe that you and Ms. Croft have important matters to discuss."

"Yes, thank you, Ollivander." Mr. Potter said. "The holsters, please?"

Ten minutes later, we walked out of the wand shop, my wand held securely in a holster that was hidden on my right forearm. Mr. Potter said that he would explain the magic that hid it, but the short version was that the holster was invisible and unnoticeable to anyone but me, even if someone touch searched me.

"Now, I believe the book shop is a good place to go next." Mr. Potter said. "Your head will get so full of information like my own that you will forget what you know, like I have."

When we walked closer to a store that had enormous tomes displayed in the front windows, I was skeptical of whether or not we would find anything of use. That thought went out of my head as soon as I stepped inside and saw the floor to ceiling shelves and stacks of books, some of the latter of which twisted and leaned so precariously, I could only assume magic was how they stood upright.

"Ah, Harry!"

I looked in the direction of the voice that had called Mr. Potter's first name, and I saw a beautiful woman in an attractive blue dress move out from behind the counter. She was probably Indian, judging by her skin tone and facial features, although South Asian wouldn't have been off either, I think.

"Padma, how are you?" Mr. Potter asked, accepting the hug from the woman.

"Oh, I'm doing great, Harry." The now named Padma said. "I see you picked up a couple of strays."

"Hey now." Sam interjected, obviously interested in Padma's dress.

"Strays they may be, but these two hooligan girls are now my apprentices, since they're too old to attend Hogwarts." My teacher said, and I shot him a look conveying my displeasure at being called a hooligan. "And the gentleman behind them is a Pacific Mage."

"Is he now?" Padma said, leaning to the side to see Jonah behind us.

"Hi." He said.

"Padma, I need three sets of students books for years one through seven, and a set of the same for teachers, and a book on warding, curse-breaking, and dueling. Oh, and Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes, with the necessary reference materials."

"That'll be expensive." Padma said, raising an eyebrow at Mr. Potter. The man in question just raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh, fine, ruin my fun."

And with that, Padma whipped out her own wand, and made a few seemingly errant waves as she turned and moved for the counter. Within a minute, there were several dozen books stacked up on it, and I knew my eyes weren't the only ones popped wide.

"That'll be six hundred galleons total, Harry." Padma said.

My teacher moved forward and pulled a slip of paper and pen out of his seemingly bottomless trench coat. He scribbled on it for a moment, before handing it to the woman, who inspected it for a moment.

"Thank you, Harry, I didn't want to spend the next hour counting galleons." She said. "I'm so glad the goblins figured out cheques. At least muggles figured out how to transfer large amounts of money without wasting time."

"No problem." My teacher said. "And yeah, I'm just waiting for when the goblins figure out how to magically recreate credit and debit cards."

I watched as the book keeper blinked in confusion. "I guess I'll have to ask Hermione about those. Preferably when Ron's around, so he can derail her before she gives me information overload. How those two are married, I'll never know. Let alone with kids."

"Lots of angry sex, and make up sex, from what I figure." Mr. Potter said plainly, eliciting a heavy blush from the woman he was talking to, even as he started putting book after book after book into his trench coat. "How else do you think they have so many children?"

"Not what I want to hear right before I go see them, Harry!" Padma scolded, shooting a small red flash of light at his chest.

"Stinging jinx, really Padma?"

"Hurry up with your books and go! I need to close up shop before your fan clubs catch wind of you being here!"

"Fine."

It took him a couple more minutes to drop the last of the books into his trench coat, and then we were off.

"So, where exactly are we?" I finally asked. "I mean, where is this place in England?"

"Well, the pub we apparated into is called the Leaky Cauldron, and that's on Charing Cross Road." Mr. Potter responded thoughtfully. "I suppose Diagon Alley is located in about a six inch wide gap between various buildings, but rune anchored space expansion charms are quite handy, honestly, you could put a football stadium in the same six inch space if you worked the expansion charm right."

"I always heard you British magicals were more than a little crazy, but this just proves it." Jonah said next to me, shaking his head.

"Blame the rampant inbreeding." My teacher said, and I started when I realized he was being serious.

"Inbreeding?" I questioned. "There's inbreeding in the magical world?"

Jonah and Mr. Potter shook their heads.

"That'll be a several hours long discussion." The latter said. "Jonah, think you can take Sam back to the ship, and I'll take Lara?"

"Sure." Jonah said, placing one huge hand on Sam's shoulder. "Same as last time. One, two, three–"

There was a crack, and I was startled to realize that I could actually see their bodies twist and compress on themselves in a minute fraction of a second, seeming to swirl around a pinprick of a drain, before that too, disappeared.

"You see it too, then."

I blinked and turned to look at Mr. Potter.

"See what?" I asked.

"The warping and twisting." He said, gesturing to where Sam and Jonah had disappeared from. "An upside of survival magic is the increased reflexes. This also means we see a bit more of the world than other magicals, like what happens in the fractions of a fraction of a second it takes for us to apparate. Most other people will call you stupid or crazy if you bring it up, so it's best to just keep it to yourself."

I nodded to show that I understood, before allowing him to put his hand on my shoulder, and I automatically held my breath.

He didn't even count.


And that's that. Let me know what you guys all think about the wands! I actually researched the materials in Jonah's wand, don't think I'm just making shit up, because I actually looking up Pacific Islander mythological creatures, though I can't remember if the taniwha is Maori, or other... Jonah's from New Zealand, FYI.

Now, review!