Wands
'How far is it?' Helga asks curiously, picking her way through a field of corn, trying to keep up with the man walking ahead.
'About an hour's walk, from here,' he answers, throwing her an amused look over his shoulder. 'I could have just Apparated us there, you know.'
'And what fun would that have been?' She questions and gives his back an exasperated look. 'I would not feel like I earned it. Just appearing and disappearing? You never know what you would have missed!'
Salazar sighs. 'I would most certainly not have missed this,' he mutters and looks up at the sky, a light drizzle of rain meeting his upturned face.
'You could have just pointed me into the right direction and let me go alone,' she suggests and shrieks as she steps into a rabbit hole.
Salazar laughs lightly and pulls her out – her leg sunk in to mid shin – saying, 'And who would pull you out of trouble, then?'
They resume their path side by side this time.
Another rabbit hole and a lot of rain later they enter the woods, the tight-standing trees sheltering them somewhat from the rain. Salazar deems it safe to perform a spell and dry them off. As they draw nearer to the centre of the woods, they can hear noises. People talking, cows mooing, chicken, horses and also some noises Helga has never heard before.
The first look they get at the market is the cloth of the tents through the trees. Helga falls silent as they walk between two tents right into the middle of a busy crowd of witches and wizards.
There is a whole family selling herbs, an old hag selling squishy looking things that drip red liquid – Salazar pulls her away from that one – a tall, dark wizard selling scrolls of parchment, another one advertising loudly about food and drink.
It is sensory overload, all the noises and smells – the overpowering smell of fire from all the cauldrons set up in almost every tent – and the things Helga does not even have names for, yet. They spend a good time with Salazar just pointing things out to her and explaining uses of powders and plants.
After a sparse meal of dry bread Rowena had packed them with, they wander towards the most northern point of the market. There, between tents bearing cloths and furs, is a small, unremarkable tent, an old, frail looking wizard sitting on a stool just inside the open flap, dozing.
'Lazy day?' Salazar asks as they approach. The man jerks up and smiles widely.
'Salazar Slytherin! Cedar and Dragon Heartstring, twelve and a quarter inches! It is good to see you again,' he shakes Salazar's hand warmly, then notices Helga standing slightly behind Salazar. 'Oh and you brought a new customer? Lovely!'
Helga, not the boldest or most confident of people, shyly extends her hand to the stranger.
'Mr Ollivander, this is my dear friend, Helga Hufflepuff. Helga, meet Mr Ollivander, he makes the finest wands in the country,' Salazar introduces them. 'Helga needs a wand,' he adds to the old wizard.
'Of course! Come in!' he invites them into his tent, which is full of wood, various tools and a big wooden chest.
Mr Ollivander places Helga in the middle of the tent and circles her, looking her up and down. Helga grows nervous. She was born to and raised by Muggles and never had much contact with magic people before she met Salazar, Godric and Rowena.
'I see…' he mumbles, and 'Maybe…' He then scurries off to fetch something from the wooden chest in the corner. Salazar grins at Helga when she turns and looks at him helplessly.
Ollivander returns with a long thin wooden stick, which he thrusts into Helga's hand. She takes the wand and looks at him with wide eyes, but then he already snatches the wand back, putting it down on a low table.
The next five wands are discarded almost as fast as the first. Salazar watches with amused eyes as Helga does nothing but take wands and look bewildered. Finally Ollivander produces a wand from his chest and hands it to her with an anticipating glance.
And that is when an energy flows through Helga's veins as if she were Healing, but so much stronger. The force of it tingles from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair and it scares her a bit. She looks at Ollivander and then at Salazar, who smiles encouragingly.
Ollivander claps his gnarled hands together and beams at Helga, who blushes.
'Rowan, ten and three quarter inches, Unicorn Core!' He exclaims, 'Of course!'
Helga has a hard time keeping her hands from her wand on their way back home.