Chapter 6

Oliver Ollivander was no spring chicken.

That was Hermione's first thought when she saw him. The last time she'd been in Ollivander's shop had been when she took Hugo a few weeks before he started at Hogwart's. Archie had still been running the shop back then. She remembered how very old he had seemed twenty-five years ago.

If Archie Ollivander was about one hundred and fifty years old today, his grandson Oliver must be one hundred and ten. A very long time to wait to take over the family business.

Young Ollivander, as her former colleagues at Hogwarts referred to him, was busy taking her measurements with a fabric measuring tape so old and worn that she could barely see the marks on it. The Dictoquill on the counter top scratched out words and numbers onto a piece of parchment.

Carrying the parchment and Hermione's vinewood wand to his uncle, the two men consulted in tones too low to hear with any confidence.

"Willow," declared Olivander.

"I concur," remarked Young Olivander. "Excellent for charms and quite flexible. It will bend, but resists breaking."

He turned to Hermione and commented, "Now we will begin the trial and error portion of our search for just the right wand."

"Trial and error, indeed," sighed Hermione, putting the willow and dragon heartstring wand back into the box. That one had sparked a few times and set the floating feather on fire. This was still better than the willow and unicorn mane wand that sent the feather crashing to the floor. She was certain there was a small dent in the wood plank where it had landed.

Young and Old Olivanders exchanged a look.

"I told you so," said Archie, his wispy voice sounding decidedly superior. "Now, are you ready to try?"

"Very well," replied Oliver, rolling his eyes. He reached up and pulled out another box from the teetering stack. He lifted the lid and removed another willow wand.

"Eleven and one half inches," commented Oliver, "Rather whippy, this one, but an elegant design." He held it up to display the pattern of willow leaves, carved delicately into the light colored wood.

"Most elegant," echoed Severus, admiring the detail.

"That was one of the first wands I made after the War," remarked Archie. "I wanted to test my eye hand coordination by doing something delicate. I was feeling particularly inspired at the time.

Hermione accepted the proffered wand. The light wood felt alive in her hand, different from all the others.

"What is the core?" she asked.

"Try it first," answered Archie.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

The pristine white feather floated delicately, as if lifted by an angel's hand.

Reaching into her handbag, she took out a bit of parchment. Numbers and sigils in a formula covered the surface as she unfolded it. She tapped the new wand to the page and murmured softly in Latin. The symbols reshaped and rearranged themselves.

"Motutu's Proof as applied to the space/time distortion in the Veil Room in the Department of Ministries," announced Hermione, holding up the parchment.

With a swift sureness that would have been impossible even a month ago, Severus snatched the parchment from her hand. He perused what was written there.

"So that is why the people who work in that room age an extra 7.6 days per year?" he asked.

"I've suspected it for a while, but couldn't get the equation to balance out," replied Hermione, smiling in triumph. She held up the slender, pale wooded wand. "The magic worked perfectly this time. Tycho's Factors are diminished by Merlin's Ratio, resulting in localized time distortion."

"That's impossible," argued Severus. "Tycho's factors are immutable."

"Apparently not," observed Archie, with a smirk.

"We have never determined what that arch is made of," commented Severus. He looked up at Hermione, brow furrowed in thought. "Is it possible that Time itself is one of the components?"

"We'll have to work that into the equation," replied Hermione, grinning in anticipation of a challenge. "Just as soon as we figure out how."

"What's the core?" she asked both Olivanders.

"Phoenix feather," replied the elder Olivander. "After Dumbledore's funeral, Fawkes must have come to the shop. I found a dozen feathers on the counter of my workroom. Your new wand contains one of them. The ones that worked for you today have a phoenix feather core."

"Rebirth," murmured Hermione.

"Tempered in the crucible and reborn," added Olivander, nodding confidently. "This is why Severus should try the next one in that same stack."

"What is it?" asked Severus.

"You tell me," challenged Archie.

Young Olivander held out a slender box. Severus accepted it and carefully opened the lid.

"Oak with phoenix feather core," commented Severus, lifting the wand to examine it.

"Thirteen and three quarter inches," added Archie, nodding.

"No carving on this one," observed Severus.

"None was needed," said Archie, confident of his trade. "The wand is sturdy and its beauty lies in the grain."

Severus pointed the wand at the feather, proceeding to make it float in figure eights.

Hermione handed Severus the parchment. She had added another formula.

"Try this one," she said, encouragingly. "The symbols for time and physicality should be added here.

Severus took the quill and added the symbols. Pausing, he scratched in the alchemical symbol for Mercury. Hermione looked at him, quizzically.

"A hunch," he replied to her wordless question. Looking down, he touched the oak wand to parchment and repeated the incantation Hermione had used.

Numbers and sigils took new forms. The formula was now six inches longer than it had been after the first incantation.

"It is unfortunate that we cannot take a sample of the stone from the arch," remarked Severus, resigned.

"No," replied Hermione, "but we have more information about a theoretical composition of the arch than we have ever had before."

"It is amazing what the right wand can do," said Young Olivander.

"The perfect match channels the magical energy with the greatest purity, producing the optimum result," added Old Olivander.