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Ollivander leaned against the ragged bark of an ancient oak tree and began. "My father was an unusual wizard. Precocious to the extreme, he desired to learn the secrets of alchemy at a young age, and so he did. Born of parents with means, he studied with the best potioneers and alchemists in his teenage years till he became a master in his own right." He paused, surveying the two.

"But I've never read about a potions master with your last name!" Hermione was clearly running through mental lists in her head.

"Yes," Ollivander acknowledged. "Before he was fully grown he mastered the secrets of the philosopher's stone."

Harry's eyes grew wide at this. If Ollivander had a philosopher's stone...

"While granting a limited immortality, limited in that he lived as long as he drank its elixir, it also changed him."

"How?" Harry asked.

"He was still maturing, still growing when he first partook of that elixir of life in triumph, without thinking. All of his children were blessed, or cursed, with a near immortality. I can be killed, but I won't grow any older than you see me now."

Harry looked closer at Ollivander. He had grey hair, but his wrinkles were fine. His face was firm with none of the sagging that invariably came with age as gravity began to win its lifelong battle against the human body.

Ollivander smiled knowingly at Harry's examination. "My father itched to discover the world, as many young men do. Armed with his newfound wealth, he did so. Until he met the oracle at Delphi. My mother."

Hermione's lips slowly formed the word oracle. Harry had the sneaking suspicion that her belief in the quackery of divination would shortly come crashing down.

"She took a brief stint as an oracle mostly for the entertainment value. She was a dryad, you see."

If that wasn't a conversation bomb, Harry didn't know what was. As the silence stretched on, Harry blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Then why aren't you green with leaves in your hair?"

Laughter burst out of Ollivander. His face grew red before returning to its normal aged pallor. "Excuse me, my dear boy. I needed that." He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes, raising his glasses off the bridge of his nose. "The current myths and legends have very little bearing on reality, although it is true that the life of a dryad is closely tied to its birth tree and the subsequent trees produced by that mother tree."

"They must have planted those trees far and wide," Hermione mused.

"Oh yes. As you might guess, America's legend of Johnny Appleseed actually stems from a dryad ensuring his survival." Ollivander's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"But if your mum was a dryad, what was she doing as an oracle?" Harry asked. Perhaps if he understood Ollivander's divination better, he'd know if he could trust guidance from it.

"Dryads are magical creatures first and foremost. But like humans, they vary from person to person in ability." Ollivander explained. "While my mother had the basic skills all dryads do with growing things, she excelled at foreseeing the future."

"But the future changes with each decision we make," Hermione protested. "No one can possibly keep track of it all."

"That no one can is perfectly right." Ollivander was undisturbed by Hermione's logic. "But magic can."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed once, then twice. Magic as an information repository for what is and what would be completely blew her away.

Silence reigned over the little group for several minutes before Hermione hesitantly said, "If I change a hedgehog into a pincushion, then I'm simply changing the defining information in the magic itself about that hedgehog. Right?"

Personally, Harry was rather horrified at the implications. If magic was a huge database, no wonder they could track all registered wand usage. In fact, what prevented the ministry from monitoring every bit of their lives?

"Why can't the ministry just track us instead of using our wands? And why hasn't the ministry captured Voldemort when he was using his wand?" The questions tumbled out of Harry in a rush.

Hermione, eyes bright, sat up straight, closely watching the old man as he responded.

"Sensible questions. Thankfully, the ministry doesn't understand the nature of magic well enough to directly access pure magic to track people or make changes. Instead, they use archaic rituals boiled down into spells to access magic. All for the better, in my opinion."

Ollivander pulled his glasses off and cleaned them with the handkerchief still crumpled in his hand. "As to your second question, there are two possible explanations. The most benign one is that Voldemort somehow managed to extract the core of his wand and embed it in a different piece of wood. This is nigh near impossible to do without damaging the core. I could do it. Presumably there are other wandmakers in the world that could do so as well." He perched his glasses back on his slender nose. "It's the wood, you see, that carries the ministry tracking spell embedded deep within it."

"The second explanation is much more troubling. Collusion and corruption within the ministry. Wouldn't the minister have posted a watch on Voldemort's wand-tracking charm? He must have received it like all Hogwarts first years at the welcome feast."

Harry frowned. He didn't remember any spell cast on his wand that first day.

Observing Harry's confusion, Ollivander explained. "That's one reason why they separate out the first years. A disillusioned ministry employee non-verbally casts the charm before they get sorted. The students are nervous and excited - they never notice a thing."

Harry pushed aside the disturbing implications of a ministry that would cast spells on unsuspecting children without their parents' permission. Perhaps the ministry used the ban on magic for students during summers as an excuse to cast the tracking charm. Any magic done in front of muggles would then trigger an automatic alarm. The fact that the ministry couldn't remove the tracking charm once the students graduated was a bonus.

There was no time to delve in to all the injustices perpetuated by the ministry, unfortunately. After taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Harry said, "In any case, Professor Dumbledore said few knew Voldemort's true name -" Harry stopped, grief and regret washing over him in waves. There was so much he wished he'd done differently the night Dumbledore died.

Hermione placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Yes, and Tom Riddle went traveling for quite some time. When he came back he was Voldemort. It seems likely he had his wand altered then."

Ollivander's troubled face cleared. "Perhaps then the ministry is not so corrupt as I feared."

Harry would have sighed with relief if he could get anything around the hard lump in his throat. The ministry was certainly not to be trusted, but perhaps it hadn't gone over to the dark side entirely. Yet. Harry grinned humorlessly.

Hermione began to speak, then stopped. Uncertainty colored her movements as she settled herself into a more comfortable sitting position. Finally, she asked, "We know you must be really old." Hermione blushed at her gaffe. "I mean, you've lived a long time," she amended. "But when were you born?"

"I'm not sure." Ollivander smiled at their confused reactions. "Time keeping was not so exact then as it is now. But I did open the original Ollivander's store, if that gives you an idea."

"382 BC?" Hermione squeaked.

Harry wanted to laugh at how high her voice went, but he also wanted to live longer. He could see the headlines: "Boy-Who-Lived Whacked to Death by Best Friend!" and "Muggleborn Accomplishes What You-Know-Who Couldn't!" Harry's arm hurt just thinking about it, and he consoled himself that he was taking the high road by not laughing at his friend. He wasn't henpecked at all. Just preserving the use of his very important wand arm.

Oblivious to Harry's internal byplay, Ollivander nodded at Hermione. "I inherited an affinity for wood and magical creatures. Wandmaking became both my hobby and my passion."

"What about your mother's divination?" Harry asked. "Did you inherit that as well?"

"I sometimes wish I had. Instead, because I am part human, I can only look into the glass darkly, as it were. I can catch glimpses, but that's all." He smiled wistfully. "Still, it's saved my life a fair few times. Mortal injury will kill me."

Ollivander looked beyond Harry. "I see it's almost time for lunch."

Harry, startled, turned to Hermione.

"You slept in quite late, Harry." Hermione shrugged.

Late, indeed. Harry turned his attention back to Ollivander. "So now we understand how you conquered death. But what is the Elder Wand?"

"Briefly." Ollivander glanced once again over Harry's shoulder, monitoring Molly's progress with the food. "The Elder Wand bonded with its original owner, a ruthless, war-like, and cunning man. The wand amplified those traits in the eldest Peverell brother, to his ruin."

Fear rippled through Harry, and he closely examined the wand he'd twirled in his hand throughout the conversation.

Ollivander correctly read the apprehension on Harry's face. "If the oldest Peverell brother had possessed a spark of good in him, that would have been amplified as well. But he didn't. In contrast, you possess goodness to a depth I rarely see in humans."

Harry struggled to not blush at the compliment. Judging by the heat in his face, he most likely failed.

"Finally, the bond between you and the wand will also reflect and amplify your desire to grow and continue to become a better person. Always cultivate that and this wand will become a great tool in your quest to aid mankind." Ollivander leaned forward, eyes boring intently into Harry's.

Always grow and continue to become a better person. That's all. Harry's thoughts were colored with sarcasm.

"Sir? What if Harry gets angry? Will the wand amplify that?" Hermione's voice had become small, as if she expected her question to elicit from Harry the very response she asked about.

This time, Harry flushed with embarrassment as he remembered being angry all the time fifth year. It must have seemed that much worse to his friends. Harry looked down at his wand that was now lying still in his lap.

"The wand will not amplify passing emotions – only those things deep down at the core of Harry's soul. If Harry became so deeply angry it became a part of him, then indeed that would be a danger. The wand would then become his master, leading him and all those around him to ruin."

Ollivander then reached out a bony hand and clamped it around Harry's wrist with surprising strength. "You must guard against that. Perilous times come that try the hearts of men, and better men than you have fallen prey to their emotions."

Eyes wide, Harry swallowed hard.

To Be Continued...