Monster Lord
Chapter 9: Light Wands Dark Wands
Summary: Step by step, plans come together.
Sometimes, Lucius wondered where he went wrong.
His thoughts on it varied.
Sometimes, he believed it was when he had decided to pursue his agenda overtly instead of covertly. Instead of funding the Dark Lord, he had made the mistake of openly supporting and, most damning of all, taking on the mark that branded him a criminal. He respected his wife and her silver tongue, for it allowed her to remain out of the clutches of the lunatic madman that would bring about the destruction of everything they held dear, and hoped, dared hope rather, that she would make it out of this entire mess with a good enough standing to keep pushing for their dreams and ideals to become reality.
Now, now that he was a mature adult and not a young, irresponsible and moronic teenager, he could look back and wish he could slap himself to prevent that stupid idea of the glamour of the Dark Mark from taking hold.
Lucius Malfoy was a man of many regrets.
However, as he signed Astoria Greengrass' life away, he held none, for he could feel no pity for a man and woman so callous with the life of their child. He himself was signing away Draco's own life... or he would be, hadn't he been the one to write the engagement contract that Draco could very easily slip out of after getting anything he wanted out of the Greengrass lass, but the lass herself could not do much about it, whether it be to deny her husband to be his wishes or get out of the contract entirely.
He had raised Draco better than to abuse Astoria Greengrass and create an enemy out of her, for hell hath no fury like a woman, scorned or not, but the fact was that neither of the Greengrass parents knew that. They'd been so eager to be connected to the Malfoys and their vast coffers that they'd been willing to sign away both of their daughters.
Sometimes, Lucius wondered where he went wrong.
His thoughts on it varied.
At this moment?
At this moment he was fully aware that the ideal that he had always pursued, of an utopian pureblood society, could never come to pass, and he felt the disillusion sour his mood even more than he already was.
For how could he tolerate people who cared so little about their own offspring, their legacy, their future?
He felt no regret as he set them up to face either an ignoble death as a mere faceless servant or a lifetime of inprisonment in Azkaban. No judge in the world would allow the Death Eaters to slip away twice, no matter how well bribed. At least, not one that wanted to keep their job.
At least he was making arrangements to protect their daughter from their own stupidity and greed. If nothing else, Astoria Greengrass would be safe from the Dark Lord, so long as he understood his son well enough to predict his movements, and so long as his wife performed her role as well as she had been doing up until now.
The rest?
The rest would be up to Draco and Astoria themselves.
Garrick hummed a merry song as he ate a pink, fluffy-looking cupcake, sitting back on a plush, dark red armchair, watching a small, white cylinder of wood, tappered to a point on one end. He finished his cupcake and sighed, looking at the prototype wand. "What are you?" he asked himself, frowning deeply. "I can find nothing distinctive about you... It just feels like a piece of inert material, as if I were working on metal," he continued, standing up from his armchair.
He began to pace relentlessly, not stopping for a while, tapping a rhythm on his chin with his right pointer finger that went to the same staccato beat of the wooden soles of his shoes against the wooden floor below them. It was calming, droning, monotonous- distracting.
Focus, focus, he had to focus. Strange materials, brought by a strange individual. Veela? Unlikely. He had seen Veela hair before, had worked with it before discarding it as unviable. Veela hair cores were terrible for wands not destined to Veela hybrids or close friends to the donator. Not very powerful, either, and temperamental. Unviable for standard wands. Perfect for a custom made wand given to one's granddaughter, of course. Resonance increases power of spells with no loss of control. Risky with poor matches.
Not Veela hair, by any stretch.
Colour and consistence similar, feel different. Almost... ethereal. Power completely different. A veela is a creature of fire and air, of freedom and passion. Even their hair reflects this, creating passionate, temperamental wands unwilling to submit to weak willed users. Also good with fire. Usually tempered with a hardy, sturdy woods to allow a controlled and more submissive wand. A shame, really, as a truly strong willed user could benefit very much from such a wand, but those were rare.
This hair was different. He'd put a small fragment of it, as it was quite a bit longer than what he required to make a proper core, inside a variety of woods, ranging from mahogany to holly to hawthorne to even yew and elderwood. Some were surprising. Holly hardly ever made for a good wand, and even then, almost exclusively with unicorn tailhairs. So much so that he knew of only the one Holly and Phoenix Feather wand that worked flawlessly. Holly had been incapable of containing the hair's power properly, and the wood had dissolved after the first cast of Lumos.
Mahogany was much sturdier, but it was a very weak wand that it made, and Ollivander found himself witnessing the very first wand that made one actively weaker by using it. Such a poor match was rare. Still... Precission had never been his forte, and yet... with such weak, subdued and controlled magic... he found himself capable of feats of magical precission that would cause even the greatest masters envy.
Hawthorne produced a strangely average wand, that felt as if it had no influence from either material... until Ollivander tried to test its capabilities. All across the board, the wand performed excellently.
Elderwood failed to react entirely. Not surprising. There was only one core that worked with Elderwood, and obtaining willingly given Thestral hair to make a copy of the Elder Wand was... a few hairs short of impossible, pun intended. Unwillingly given thestral hair simply dissolved, as did most of the animal's leavings. Thestrals were ethereal creatures, straddling the line between the physical and the imaginary. Some thought they were the most vile and darkest omen. In a sense, they would be correct.
As far as his own research discovered, Thestrals were descended from the Pale Horse that Death rode as it went to meet the Brothers Tree, and they were so irrevocably tainted by their close association with death that it was theorized no Thestral was ever truly 'alive' to begin with.
He had not researched further into them. Garrick hadn't liked Thestrals since a flight of them flew over his wedding, practically announcing the tragedy that would soon take his beloved from him. He bore them no ill will for that, as he knew they were not the cause, but they were a grim reminder of times long gone by.
Yew...
He discarded Yew.
That combination would be terrible, and the foreboding feeling he got just from holding the resultant wand in his hand was enough to destroy it immediately. While he had kept the other failed projects, the ones that survived, at the very least, he had destroyed the blasted yew wand as soon as he'd gotten the chance. It would do terrible things, even worse than the most famous wielder of Yew, regardless of who its owner was.
Finally, it was time, once he had the technique down, to try the mysterious wood he had been given. He had not tested it with other cores, as unlike the hair, he had no surplus of wood to waste.
He'd use the entirety of what was left of the single hair he had been given, the maximum he could stuff of it into the wand. He supposed that was what he'd been paid for, and couldn't truly do any less than that. Even if taking a fraction of the hair for further study was tempting... He was a businessman, and a businessman like him could not afford to anger the creature that had produced such a magically potent hair.
"Let's see what comes of your request, fair lady," Garrick muttered to himself, vanishing the crumbs of his cupcake that remained and summoning a magically expanded toolbox.
"Rules are simple, lassie, s'long as yer out ther' wit' me, yer name's Alice," Moody commanded, crossing his arms and using both eyes to deliver an extra powerful glare at Harry. Then he cleared his throat, seeing Harry's puzzled face. "I mean, as long as you're out there with me, your name's Alice," he repeated.
"I suppose I'll have to answer to that," Harry said, sighing.
"We'll go with your true name. We'll see who recognizes you and how they treat you. See if we can sow a little discord into Voldemort's camp through it. Plenty of death eaters or sympathizers out there, should be good to see how many try to suck up to you or recognize you as their de juro leader," he said, nodding. "So, Alipheese Fateburn the XVII, or Alice for short."
"I don't like it," Harry admitted, freely.
"Also, you'll have to get used to female pronouns," Moody added.
Harry sighed, shaking her head and making her silver hair whip around madly, following her movements. "It's still difficult. I've felt more comfortable in this body than I ever did in the one I had before, probably because I was born with it, but... it's hard to remind myself that I am not and never was a man. I still think just like a boy-"
Moody laughed openly. "No you don't, lass," he corrected, grinning nastily. "You're not even aware of the differences between girls and boys, so it doesn't surprise me you don't notice a difference. Tell me, did you ever have the slightest inclination to crossdress as a boy?"
"Not really," Harry admitted. He never would've gotten the chance to anyway.
"And yet now you have absolutely no issue with wearing cute little girl knickers, a bra and a mini skirt. Also, I don't need this magical eye to see those, you really should consider a longer skirt and either a lighter color bra or a darker shirt. Black really stands out from white," said Moody, dispensing sagely advise.
"Why do you keep describing my panties like that!?" Harry asked, blushing slightly.
"'Cause those are the same kind my granddaughter Luna used to wear. When she was six," Moody supplied.
"Oh..." Harry said, in somewhat mild disappointment. Luna? She could remember someone named Luna from somewhere... maybe someone had mentioned her or something. "That's... kinda sad," she said.
"Well, better that than a thong. With such a short skirt, that's just be inviting trouble," Moody explained, shaking his head. "Just between you and me, I'm not a fan of the Wizengamot agreeing that a muggle who wears the same clothes you do is asking to be raped, and I'm not the only one. If you ever do go into Auror or Law Enforcement work at all, don't be shocked if you see their, ahem, weapons being lost when they try to 'resist' arrest," he said, making air quotes as he did.
Harry frowned. "I knew they were corrupt and racist... but to that extreme!?" she said, somewhat shocked by the darkest part of the wizarding legal system.
"We sometimes manage to outright derive those cases to Muggle Justice. The queen is much less forgiving than her ministry of magic."
"This is kind of a dark conversation... is there anything else that I should know? I haven't really been to Diagon Alley since I changed," Harry said, frowning in slight anxiety.
"The presence of the Dark Lord is subtle, but it's felt. He's slowly strangling us, killing us little by little. Businesses are declining everywhere, Knockturn Alley has more visitors than ever and people mostly keep to themselves. Don't look anyone in the eye, don't look at their arms. Both can be considered a challenge at this point, and we don't need to draw unwanted attention to ourselves. The Light Side outside of the Order of the Phoenix is composed of ignorants, idiots, unreasonable bigots and those tied up to a decaying ministry and trying to salvage it with everything they have. We've tried to recruit some of the last category, but we've been unsuccesful."
"Okay. So we're gonna get a new wand for me. What else?" Harry asked.
"I hoped you'd tell me, lass," Moody said, rolling his eyes. "I suggest we visit a pet shop or two. Maybe we can pick up another monster girl like your owl. I myself suggest the Headmaster's phoenix."
Harry frowned. "When I did visit Diagon Alley, I went straight to the bank. I talked to the Goblin King," and then she paused, but Moody gestured for her to continue, signalling he'd ask later, "he had some information for me. His knowledge of Monster Lord biology was limited, but he did say I could transform female creatures and animals into monsters, and he had a vague idea how to do it... But Fawkes isn't female..."
Moody chuckled. "Kids these days, don't pay the slightest bit of attention. Fawkes is of indeterminate gender, as are all of his kind. Because when they are reborn, they are reborn entirely, and it's not rare for that to involve changing sexes. If sex is an issue, all you have to do is kill Fawkes a few times until he is reborn as a female. Don't think the ruddy bird will mind. It was a darn good sport about being used for target practice, back in the day."
"I suppose I can ask Fawkes," Harry said, sighing. "A Phoenix Girl could probably be really useful. Hedwig might get a bit jealous and think I'm replacing her, though..."
"Unlikely," Moody countered. "Your owl should very well understand we need an army... and shouldn't be particularly averse to the idea of sharing."
"How can you be so sure?" Harry asked.
"Trust me. I know that your owl doesn't mind sharing," Moody said, scowling as if to encourage Harry NOT to continue digging for an answer.
Harry pouted, but decided not to press the issue. "Anyway, I'd been thinking of becoming an Auror when I grew up, so... what's it like?"
"Bein' an auror both sucks and is great, lemme explain to you why," Moody began, launching into a long explanation of the pros and cons of being an auror, explaining most of the cons as being forced to respect protocol and procedure instead of being able to apply vigilante justice like he'd been doing during the first Voldemort rising. This was particularly strict and enforced under the current head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, who really didn't tolerate that sort of shit. That was the reason he'd quit the auror corps and joined the Order of the Phoenix full time, since Dumbledore had far less restrictions on how they could act.
The young Monster Lord wondered why Amelia would cripple the auror corps by subjecting them to an outdated and restrictive code of conduct that basically ensured they were ineffective when they were needed. Apparently, it had to do with Fudge watching her like a hawk, waiting for a reason to sack her. All in all, it was better for her to be restrained like that than removed from her post entirely. She had no trouble tolerating Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks working under her while at the same time belonging to the Order so long as they weren't stupid enough to announce it to the world, and there were a few other aurors that sympathized with the Order.
Moody had just felt like he could do more good in the order than as an auror, since his expertise worked far better as a freelancer with no restrictions than it did as an auror. He'd never been very good at following the rules like that. "Technically castrating rapists' against the rules, y'see?" he explained, and then continued on to say that Amelia generally looked aside (particularly when a female auror did it).
"Being an auror sounds like a lot of trouble," admitted Harry with a frown.
"Well you don't have to worry. You couldn't be an auror as you are, and besides... you're the Monster Lord, you're supposed to be some sort of queen to all monsters. It wouldn't look good if you worked as a low level auror while they're supposed to follow you blindly, now would it?" Moody explained.
Harry sighed. "I guess you're right..."
"Always am, lassie," Moody said with a lopsided grin. "Let's get movin', lass. First we'll get you a wand, then we can pick up a few groceries and if we've got time, we'll see about gettin' you a new pet to turn."
"Hm... Miss Potter, it's good to see you again," Garrick Ollivander said, turning to face his customers with a flourish and a twirl, smiling at the surprise etched in their faces. "Surprised?" he asked, seeing the shock in Harry's face he centered in on her, invading her personal space. "Hm. Legilimency, Miss Potter," he said, "yes, I can read your mind like a proverbial book. Just an expression, of course, minds are complex and complicated things, rarely being as simple as a book, and while most of yours is incomprehensible, 'Harry Potter's' memories are still there and discernible. I believe I should call you Miss Fateburn now, shouldn't I? Oh, it's been so long since there has been a Monster Lord! I thank you, Miss Fateburn, for allowing me to see your rise to greatness in my lifetime, and I look forward to the changes that you will bring to this world. Like I said when Mr. Potter first came in, great things await you. Whether terrible or not, that, shall be up to yourself."
Moody coughed.
"Ah, yes. Alastor Moody. My father sold you your three wands, did he not? I recall selling one to you, as well. Oak and Dragon Heartstring, ten inches. Strong, but inflexible, defensively good," Ollivander rattled off, "has she survived?" he asked.
"Yes," Moody said, "anyway, we need a wand for the lass here," he said.
Ollivander shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "Ah yes, I imagine that the wand of a light creature such as a phoenix wouldn't work very well with the very master of Darkness, would it?"
"I hadn't really thought it'd be because of that, I just thought that I changed so much that I'm practically not Harry Potter anymore... and never really was, now that I think about it," Harry said, frowning. He would miss his first wand.
"Unfortunately, the darkest it gets in this shop is dragons. Both ministry regulation and because it is simply easier to work with light creatures' parts. Less chance of the wand wielder using the dark arts if their wand actively fights them when they try, or so the ministry says. A load of bollocks. I've never seen a wand more able to use the dark arts than the one I sold Tom Riddle, and that was a Phoenix Feather wand," Tom Riddle said, matter of factly, "except perhaps the Elder Wand, but then, it is practically a myth. But I digress, what I meant to say is that it's doubtful that I may find a wand that suits you perfectly, as your Holly and Phoenix Feather wand did to Harry Potter," he said, sighing. "Regardless, we shall try."
And so it began, Ollivander darting in and out of the back of his shop, bringing wand after wand after wand, for Harry to try out. None of which received a reaction like the one he'd received from the wand made with Fawkes' tailfeather. He hated that he had to replace his old companion, one that had served him so well, but it refused to work for him, and so did practically every other wand in Ollivander's store.
"This might not be the best option to get a wand," Harry said, after Ollivander wandered into the back of his shop for a gajillionth time.
"Ollivander is the best wand crafter, bar none. If he has no wand that fits you, then he will make one," Moody explained. "He's not the only wandmaker whose services I've used over the years, but he IS the best."
"That I am, Miss Fateburn," Ollivander said, carrying a small, ornate box with him, eleven inches long and three inches deep and thick, before putting it in front of Harry. "This wand, I am not too sure of. It was comissioned by a client who told me that its owner would come shortly, and she gave me one of her hairs and the wood it is made of. I have not yet had a chance to properly test its capabilities, and as such, it is as much of a mystery to me as it is to you. Give it a try," he said, popping the lid off the box and showing the immaculate white wand to Harry.
Nodding to Ollivander, Harry grabbed the wand and... just as quickly let it go with a shriek, pulling her hand back and cradling it to her chest, tears already forming in her eyes. "What the bloody hell was that!?" she nearly yelled, massaging her aching hand. "It felt like I'd just put my hand in lava!"
"Oh dear," Ollivander said, looking genuinelly stunned, "I could not have expected this. Like I said, I have no idea what elements went into this wand. My deepest apologies for your injury, Miss Fateburn,"
Moody growled. "It best not be intentional, Garrick," he said, casting a glance with his normal eye at Harry, who seemed to be in incredible pain even as she nursed her hand, and keeping the eye that had given him the 'mad eye' nickname trained squarely on the wandmaker.
"Of course, of course. As beautiful as the dame was, I had suspected the wand made from Veela hair, and those suspicions had doubts cast upon them by the test wands' magical properties. However, this clears them entirely. Veela are dark creatures, and would not have caused such a powerful rejection from the Monster Lord. Whatever creature donated a hair for this, it was not a Veela, and was, in fact, a creature of such powerful Light that it reacted violently to the Monster Lord's touch. Most interesting, yes... I shall have to check old tomes and make some experiments, but as for now, we should return to the matter at hand. I am afraid that the wands I have will not react well to you, Miss Fateburn, as they all proceed from creatures rather firmly on the light side of the spectrum," Ollivander said, sighing, "even Dragons would most likely not be Dark Enough to withstand your dark power."
Harry frowned for a second before pouting at Ollivander, looking somewhat ashamed. "I'm sorry I'm no good, then," she said with a huff, sounding halfway between sarcastic and honest.
"Still, there is hope for you yet. I do not usually do custom jobs, as I rarely, if ever, need to," Ollivander admitted, freely, "and yet I find myself doing it more often these days. Ah, well, lemons to lemonade. Would you kindly lend me one of your hairs? I can make wands forcibly attuned to someone by adding a piece of them, usually a little blood, hair or even a nail clipping, but in your case, your hair should be magically potent enough to create a wand capable of working with a creature as dark as yourself."
Harry nodded, and then seemed to get an idea. Instead of taking a single hair, she grabbed a small handful of them and yanked them off her head with a small yelp. "That hurt more than I thought it would," she admitted, as she held a fistful of silver hairs in her hand.
Moody and Ollivander blinked and Harry felt the tingle of something strange going. Her hair had grown back, pretty much instantly.
"I thought you might want to experiment a bit," Harry admitted, "and I thought that wands made with my hair could probably benefit a lot of people who don't have very good connections with 'Light' wands. If I'm gonna be the Master of Darkness, I've got to remove the stereotype of 'Dark is Evil' from everyone's minds," she said, nodding to them both, "if good people use 'dark' wands, and 'dark' wands are good for non-violent purposes, then people will slowly start changing their minds. I need to start somewhere, and this looks like as good a place as any. At least, until I can become Headmaster of Hogwarts."
"Sounds like a good and worthy goal," Ollivander spoke, nodding. "I hope that I might help in this endeavor. May I ask, periodically, for new and fresh hairs? I shall test them with a variety of woods and begin producing them more earnestly. If you have any friend that might donate a part of themselves, I shall be willing to test that, as well."
"How about Harpy feathers?" Harry asked.
"Harpies are extinct, Miss Fateburn," Ollivander said, raising an eyebrow, "if you could get me a few tailfeathers, I would be most thankful, as no Ollivander has worked with them for nine hundred years or so. I do believe this to be the beginning of a beautiful partnership, Miss Fateburn," he said with a smile.
"Tha's good, lassie," Moody said with a grin, returning to his over the top accent.
"Yeah... I'll see if I can get people to use all sorts of cores from 'Dark' creatures so they start getting the idea that 'Dark' doesn't equal evil, and that I'm not the exception, but it's the other way around. I think I can get a few tailhairs from the Thestrals at Hogwarts, too..."
Ollivander looked positively giddy. "If you could, Miss Fateburn, I would work for you at no charge for the rest of my life. Working with Thestral Hair has always been a dream of mine. Recreating the Wand of Destiny has been every Ollivander's task since Death first crafted it."
Harry nodded, "I'll try," he offered with a smile.
Ollivander smiled as well. "You might want to keep that smile to yourself, Miss Fateburn, why, I bet it could steal a young man's heart with just one glance!" he warned, a somewhat disturbing grin on his face as he did.
Harry looked puzzled.
Moody shook his head. "Le's get a move on," he said, "we'll stop by the grocers and then by the pet shop, if we'v got time."
"Okay," Harry agreed. "Good bye, Mr. Ollivander," she said, waving at the old man as he left the shop.
"Most interesting," Ollivander said to himself as they left, "yes, yes, most interesting," he said, then looked at the white wand still in its box, almost completely undisturbed since Harry could barely bring herself to touch it. "I wonder who your owner will be, if it's not Mr. Potter? I had suspected... Ah, perhaps... That would be most unfortunate," he said to himself.
He wondered, for a minute, if he should destroy the White Wand, if he should twart this plan during stage one.
Then he supposed that whoever comissioned it would not leave such a thing to chance, and that destroying it might not be a very good idea, for the time being. As such, he decided against destroying the wand. Ultimately, he had to look out for Garrick Ollivander first and foremost. One doesn't get to stay in business for two thousand years by being altruistic, after all.