Thank you everyone for the reviews! I think I've managed to break myself of my anime binge, though I did start an interesting one that I intend to finish... ^^ Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

"speech"

'thoughts'

-parseltongue-

Voldemort watched from the doorway as Harvey puttered around the room he'd chosen for his workshop. Finally everything was moved into the room, after days of traveling back and forth to that dingy studio apartment; it turned out even he had to legally acquire portkeys if he didn't want to draw suspicions…

The boy had taken a whole day just to choose a room - he'd slowly walked the whole of the manor with an elf trailing him, seemingly more interested in sightseeing and snooping than deciding on a workspace. Several times he'd been summoned by a hysterical house elf because the boy had touched something cursed. After the fifth time, he stayed with the boy and accompanied him, suffering through an endless stream of personal and outrageous questions in the meantime. 'What was he even thinking? The color of my favorite pair of underwear….' Voldemort snorted. It wasn't that he was embarrassed - it just caught him by surprise. The boy hadn't even flinched at his incredulous stare, but met it straightforwardly as if nothing was amiss. He'd blinked and answered, and the questions had continued.

'Somehow I managed not to kill him,' Voldemort thought tiredly. He'd held out through the long interrogation, sometimes avoiding certain questions, when Harvey had suddenly announced that he'd found the room. Voldemort hadn't even known that the boy was paying attention to his surroundings, but it was a rather nice room in retrospect. It was large with large half-moon windows that faced the North-east, on the third floor and almost above his personal office. The boy said it was perfect and had immediately demanded several structural changes - the room now had a slanted skylight in the ceiling along with recessed shelves on opposite walls. He'd had to look up construction spells to complete the list of things, feeling like a mere handyman instead of a Dark Lord at the end of the day.

Yes he'd been annoyed, but he was helplessly curious as well. Even now the boy intrigued him, which was why he was lurking outside of the workroom. They'd moved all of the boxes into the room yesterday and Harvey had immediately unpacked everything. He'd filled the shelves with hardly a pause, only stopping a couple of times to check the contents of a box or jar before confidently putting them away. And yet now, as Voldemort watched, Harvey was wandering around the room with a jar under his arm, looking around for a spot for it. He'd spent the last ten minutes rearranging jars and boxes one by one. 'He's just so eccentric,' Voldemort mused to himself. 'He definitely fits as that damn augurey, yet he must be incredibly smart to make wands...' Harvey had finally found a spot for the jar - one meter away and two shelves down from its original spot! Voldemort resisted pulling on his hair and was about to return to his office when Harvey called out to him.

"What are you doing out there?" Harvey asked curiously.

"...I'm trying to understand your method of organization," Voldemort admitted grudgingly. "Did you not sort it adequately yesterday?"

"Oh I did, but sometimes things complain about their spots - it's better to give them attention now or they'll upset all of their neighbors with their whining," Harvey answered.

Voldemort stared at the boy. "They...talk to you?" he asked dubiously. 'Is the boy all there? Or maybe he's what the muggles call a savant?' Voldemort wondered.

"They do - in a way," Harvey said with a smile. "I know it sounds strange and it's kind of hard for people to explain?" He scratched his head thoughtfully. "It's like someone who sleeps most of the time, except sometimes they wake up and tell you things. And then fall asleep again."

"Is this something every wandmaker can do?" Voldemort asked. He really didn't know that much about wandmaking, and he'd never tried to explore it. But maybe this was his chance to learn and possibly master the craft. Depending on how much the boy knew…

"I think all wandmakers connect to the parts in some way," Harvey interrupted his thoughts. "My father always said that he could hear light chimes when he paired different pieces that were compatible."

"Can one develop these senses?" Voldemort probed. His eyes were focused intently on Harvey who tilted his head to watch him.

"Of course you could learn the basics about general piece compatibility, there are some rules I guess. I don't know if you could completely make your own though, or be able to hear them," Harvey answered frankly.

Voldemort frowned. 'Was I that obvious with my thoughts?' He opened his mouth but Harvey turned away.

"Would you like to try it? We can see if you have any ability…" Harvey offered. He waved his hand beckoning Voldemort, who glared at the gesture but complied. He walked into the room and circled the empty boxes that were scattered on the left side, coming to a stop at the waist-high table in the middle of the room. Harvey walked over to the left wall and scanned the boxes before quickly taking one from one of the lower shelves.

"I've been thinking about this combination for a couple of weeks but I haven't tried it yet - this might be a good example…" Harvey muttered as he brought the box to the table and stood across from Voldemort. "I usually don't bring the whole box - there's no need to get them all riled up - but they should be fine."

Voldemort took in the boy's shining eyes and small smile, then looked down as the lid of the box was removed. Inside were several thin branches of mixed length, some even with small blue-green leaves attached.

"This is Himalayan Cedar - it has a very strong yet subtle presence," Harvey lectured. "I imagine the owner will be dedicated and influential, even if it's only in a small way. Possibly someone shy, but who can stand up when they really need to be heard. Someone gentle."

Voldemort raised his eyebrows at the small speech and the change in attitude.

"Can you hear them? They've started to wake up, the light is really bright," Harvey murmured.

His voice held affection and warmth, surprising Voldemort. 'This must be his true side - the side that's deeply in tune with magic,' he thought. The everyday Harvey seemed scatterbrained and childish, but this was something new. He forced his attention back to the sticks, and tried to pick up something.

"I don't hear anything," he said after waiting several moments.

Harvey was smiling down at them, but turned to Voldemort with a vague look of surprise on his face.

"You can't? Maybe you need to be closer?" he said thoughtfully. He grabbed Voldemort's hand and held it over the box.

Voldemort stared at the small hand holding his, the long fingers curled around his palm. He'd noticed that Harvey often invaded his personal space with no fear - usually while asking personal questions about his daily routine. 'Maybe I'm not harsh enough with him?' he thought with a slight scowl. 'Or he's no longer intimidated? But..'

"It's warm," Voldemort murmured out loud, twitching his fingers in the grasp.

Harvey glanced at him with raised eyebrows, then returned to the sticks. "Is it? I guess, I've never paid attention to how it feels," he answered.

Voldemort coughed. "What about the wand core?" he asked, shaking Harvey's hand away.

Harvey bent over the box and whispered into it, then chose a branch without a leaf attached. He returned the box to the wall and then crossed to the other side, starting in the middle and examining jars from the top shelf to the bottom.

"I think a good partner will provide strong support," Harvey said over his shoulder as he continued to look. "They're partners, and it's critically important that this core not be too overpowering - not like dragon heartstring or phoenix feather," he added with a smile.

"Something wrong with phoenix feather?" Voldemort asked sharply. "I haven't forgotten that you ate the wand you're currently mocking."

Harvey returned to the table with a jar tucked under one arm, his other hand scratching the back of his head as he smiled sheepishly.

"I didn't eat it - I was testing it! At that point I didn't know what its makeup was and it was the only way for me to examine it…." Harvey babbled. "It's just an interesting core for you," he added quietly, staring into Voldemort's eyes. There was a long silence until he cleared his throat and placed the jar on the table.

"Anyway, these are severed Crup tails - somewhat hard to get since not many people save the second one after they remove it," Harvey continued. "But they're excellent as wand cores," he insisted at Voldemort's doubtful look.

Harvey opened the jar and pinched out a bloody snippet. It was quite gruesome, and if he was anyone else he probably would have felt sick. But he watched with indifference, feeling a small sliver of pleased surprise at Harvey's similar look of unconcern. Harvey placed the tail in the marble tray on the table and returned the jar to the shelf.

Voldemort quickly placed his hand over the tray and tried to focus. "I still don't hear anything," he grumbled.

Harvey shrugged carelessly. "Maybe you don't have any wandmaking ability," he said bluntly. "Or maybe you need to meditate more - sometimes meditation helps?" He seemed blind to the dark look Voldemort shot him.

"And now to bind them together," Harvey announced. He placed the stick in the other marble tray and placed them side by side. Voldemort watched intently as Harvey closed his eyes and held his wand loosely over the trays.

'Is he meditating? Or is he in a trance?' Voldemort wondered as he watched. Harvey muttered under his breath as he held still over the trays, continuing the chant even as he occasionally waved his wand in circular patterns.

Voldemort could sense the magic rising but he had no idea how. It was no spell he'd ever heard, but he knew different cultures had unique methods of doing magic. It was fascinating that the boy could go from impudent to worldly in an instant. He couldn't look away.

Suddenly a bright flash blinded him briefly; he looked down at the table and saw that there was one large tray with a lovely amber wand lying inside. Harvey bent close to the tray and examined it before picking it up and twirling it between his fingers.

"It turned out well," he said with a smile, offering it to Voldemort. He took the wand and also looked at but he didn't feel a strong pulse from it.

"It feels weak," Voldemort commented, handing it back.

"It's not as strong as your wand," Harvey agreed. "But a wandmaker has to think of everyone - not just the few that are powerful. One day the perfect owner will find this wand." He went to the boxes close to the door and found an empty box for the new wand.

"So have you made any progress with my wand?" Voldemort asked, changing the subject. He'd enjoyed the demonstration, but his mind was returning to his own goals.

"Not yet, I need to prepare more for that," Harvey said brightly as he settled the wand in the box and gave it a pat. Voldemort held back a sigh - it seemed the childish side of Harvey was back.

"What else do you need?" he asked as he searched once again for his patience.

"I need to go collect the wand core - I want to use a manticore stinger - and I need you to come with me," Harvey answered. "The man I want to visit won't give it up easily, so maybe you can intimidate him." He smiled at the shocked look on Voldemort's face and returned to admiring the new wand.

'...This boy might be the death of me...' Voldemort thought, letting out a deep sigh.