It was louder than usual in the office of the Daily Prophet this morning, so Miriam didn't initially realise that David Babcock was trying to get her attention.

'Miriam!' Her insufferable editor finally tried to block her way as she walked briskly between the rows of reporters' desks, but of course she glided right through him. Accidentally, of course.

'Oh for fuck's sake, not again,' he grumbled, shivering. 'I hate it when you do that.'

The ghost, donning a pinstriped pencil skirt and blazer, with her hair styled in the way that had been popular in 1943 when she'd died, crossed her arms and smirked. 'Maybe try not to get in my way, then.'

'I've an assignment for you,' he said, whipping out a letter and placing it on a desk. Miriam didn't bother to read it.

'Oh no you haven't,' she said, her eyes narrowing dangerously. 'You said you would let me camp out at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement today. Barty Crouch has been ignoring my owls for weeks, and every time I drop by, he's conveniently out of the office. He can't avoid me forever, he's got to answer to the evidence that the so-called Death Eater one of his Aurors killed was clearly an Imperiused wizard. The Auror wasn't acting in self-defence, had the time and the ability to remove the curse, but Crouch is so eager to increase the good side's body count that —'

'You can camp out tomorrow. I want you on this today,' he said, shoving the letter in front of her face.

'To whom it may concern,' Miriam read in a bored voice. 'I would like to extend an invitation to a Daily Prophet reporter and photographer to witness an historic development at Ollivander's today. My son and I have made a decision that I believe would be of interest to the entire wizarding world, and we shall be performing a task that solidifies that decision at noon. Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Yours sincerely, Garrick Ollivander.'

Miriam shot her editor a sardonic look. 'What an informative press release.'

'Well, you know Ollivander. Unnecessarily mysterious,' David said, scanning the letter himself before he placed it back into his robes. 'I've already told him we'll be there.'

'Brilliant. Have fun finding someone,' Miriam said, before turning on the heel of her pump. A reporter off to their left yelped as David jumped over his desk and hopped between a few others so he didn't have to walk through Miriam again to face her.

'My gut's telling me this is going to be big.'

'I don't cover business's promotional events.'

'And Ollivander doesn't host them. Why would he? Doesn't need to.'

'Unless he's discovered how to tweak the magic so that his wands are a tenth of one per cent stronger,' Miriam said exasperatedly, 'and he's so chuffed that he wants to tell the world. Which is fine. But I don't cover magical technology advancements, either.'

'He didn't say he'd made a discovery,' David said, and Miriam noticed that old, excited glint in his eye that years of wartime and Death Eater threats had lately dimmed. 'He said he's made a decision. Tell me that doesn't pique your curiosity.'

'Not enough to override my curiosity over the death of an innocent man.'

'Miriam, look.' The glint was already dimming again. 'I have a fraction of the staff that I used to. Half the reporters have either gone into hiding or left for jobs that don't threaten the safety of their families. And the other half, well...' He peered over at Ted, portly and balding, who was running his finger down the columns of a dictionary, muttering to himself.

'Does Chimaera have one "a" or two?' asked Ted, who appeared to be terrified to even speak the name of the monster, let alone write an article about the Scamanders bringing one into London for study.

'His deadline for that assignment passed two days ago,' David muttered to Miriam. 'He keeps saying he's researching. Hasn't even contacted the Scamanders yet.'

'It has two a's, Ted,' Miriam said with a smile, before she turned to David. 'Fine. I'll go. But tomorrow,' she said warningly.

'Tomorrow is all yours,' David said, holding his hands up.

Todd knew he wasn't supposed to be doing this.

It was the middle of the day, in broad daylight, and he'd already seen several Muggles walking not far from the edge of the white cliffs of Dover. If he got caught, he'd get his collar felt for sure. But, he insisted to himself, it was highly unlikely anyone would catch a glimpse of him. He'd been making an effort to stay out of sight, and, besides, his Disillusionment Charm was impeccable today. It was always easy to cast them when you already wanted to disappear off the face of the Earth.

Todd — who'd been looping large, lazy figure eights just below the edge of the cliffs — pointed his broom downward and began a gentle dive toward the water. The wind was howling as the sun cast a dim light through a thin layer of gloom in the sky, and he had to concentrate to make sure that one strong gust didn't shove him straight into the side of the cliff. Maybe it was the intense concentration — the careful flying, the staying out of sight — that made flying along the coast so completely calming to Todd.

He pulled up to fly just above the water, soaring farther out towards the sea and draping a hand down to skim the freezing cold strait. He squinted toward France. He and his dad were doing the right thing, weren't they? Taking an Unbreakable Vow? He looked down, watching the water blur and sparkle beneath him as he raced across the waves blindly.

As Todd understood it, Lord Voldemort was not cold and calculating at all times, as Grindelwald had been. Voldemort had goals, ends he wanted to accomplish, but he was also prone to fits of pointless rage that obliterated everything in its wake. Dumbledore knew this, but insisted that Ollivander's wouldn't fall victim to one of those convulsions of fury. Voldemort didn't care about people; he did, however, care about powerful magical objects, and people who made powerful magical objects held some value, as a result. Voldemort would no sooner end the Ollivander line than he would wipe out all British wizards entirely, Dumbledore had said.

But, if Todd and his father were to die, there was a backup plan, in the shape of the remaining wandsmiths — of Coakley, of Miss Kim, of Watts, of Sana, of Will, of Maggie. The Ollivanders knew this was a calculated risk, taking an Unbreakable Vow. But was it possible that Dumbledore was overstating the odds?

Todd felt his heart hammering in his chest, and in an attempt to distract himself, he climbed back into the sky, telling himself that he was far out enough and sufficiently concealed that he was allowed to rise into people's lines of sight. The loud whoop he gave as he climbed higher and higher was swallowed up by the roaring wind.

Satisfied and slightly dizzy, Todd slowed his ascent and floated above everything. The sea, the people. The world. The war. And his role in it.

Todd's dad didn't immediately acknowledge his son's presence as Todd ascended the spiral staircase and stepped out onto the workshop floor. It was deserted save for the elder wandmaker, seated at a table, carefully carving a nearly finished ash-wood wand.

'Where have you been?' his father asked curiously, not looking up from his work.

'Nowhere.' Todd was aware of the ridiculousness of his answer, his hair and robes intensely windswept and smelling of sea foam, his broom still in his hand. His dad was working meticulously with a small silver carving knife, smoothing out the rough parts of a spiral he'd carved into the wand to form the handle.

Todd, hesitating at first, decided to approach the table, dragging a chair over so he could sit across from his father. He settled in to watch his dad work, resting his head in his hands. A large pile of wood shavings were scattered all over the table; his dad had likely gone from unformed block of wood to a nearly finished wand just in one morning. It was fully formed, which meant his dad had already completed the wand incantation, adding the blood and thauma and core.

Garrick Ollivander's quick, deliberate knife strokes were so fast that they were nearly a blur, though he looked completely relaxed as he turned the wand rapidly in his left hand, the knife held in his long white fingers, ensuring the curves of the spiral were perfectly smooth. For a while, the only sound in the workshop was the knife quietly scraping against soft wood, small shavings hitting the table. Todd watched in silence, as hypnotised as his father was by the meditative work. He shifted his head so that it was propped up in just one hand.

'This —' Todd cleared his throat. He hadn't spoken much today. 'This aberration with the spiral,' he said softly, gesturing with his finger, keeping it a safe distance from the rapidly moving knife. 'It's intentional, isn't it? How it bunches up closely... here... but it's spaced wider apart in other sections.'

His father smiled, glancing at Todd for the first time since he'd sat down. 'I'd hardly admit to it if it weren't intentional, would I?' he said, and Todd snorted at the rare joke from his dad. 'Yes, this is exactly the sort of thing I've been encouraging you to experiment with. What do I always say? Magic thrives —'

'— thrives in asymmetry.'

'— in asymmetry, yes. Perfection is to be avoided at all costs. Look at human beings, after all,' his dad continued, finishing his work and examining the wand closely, running his thumb over the wand as he held it in his hand. He twirled the wand between his long fingers, and it emitted a number of green sparks. 'What a poor, pathetic vessel for magic's power we are. It has to muddle through our disjointed thoughts, our shifting emotions... be constrained by pre-composed commands... put up with our missteps, our imperfect wielding of this perfect, pure power. And yet,' he said softly, turning his attention to his wrist, slowly tracing a vein, 'magic flickers ever through our blood, century after century.'

Garrick Ollivander squinted again at the wand, looking a bit dubious, before he pointed it at Todd. 'Accio pocket watch.' It flew easily out of Todd's robes and into his dad's hand, where he flipped it open with a swift click, the golden chain connecting him to Todd. His father drew a deep, ever-so-slightly shaky breath as he looked at the time. 'Quarter to noon,' he said. 'Do you think —'

A firework exploded outside the window, and the Ollivander men stared at it.

'Moment of truth,' Todd murmured.

His father sighed, nodding. 'Let's fetch Coakley before we answer that.'

The three of them answered the door together, and Todd was the first to walk through the Thief's Downfall.

He started when he saw who was at the door. 'Oh! Hello…' he said uncertainly. 'Are you… both with…?'

'The Prophet, yes,' the female ghost said briskly. 'Miriam Hardy. And this is Ralph Walshaw, he'll be taking the photos today.'

As his dad and Coakley walked through the doorway, drying themselves off with their wands, Todd shook hands with the photographer before turning to Miriam, extending his hand, then withdrawing it awkwardly. 'Oh, er, sorry…'

'Common mistake,' she said with a wry smile. 'Mr Ollivander, Mr Coakley. Good to see you again.'

'Likewise,' Todd's father said, inclining his head and wearing an indecipherable expression. 'It's been a long time, hasn't it, Ms Hardy? At least 30 years.'

'Thirty-two,' Coakley said, a slightly disapproving look on his face.

'I hope you're not going to shoot the messenger, especially not over some very old news,' she said with a smirk, clearly sharing a memory with the two men, leaving the photographer and Todd to share a quizzical look. 'Someone already did that to me once, long before I wrote about Ollivander's. I guarantee that it'll be significantly less effective at this point.'

Todd's dad chuckled at the ghost's grim joke, and Coakley's expression softened as well. 'You were always fair, Miriam, I'll concede that,' Garrick said.

'I was more than fair,' she said pointedly. 'I always gave the two of you — or, the three of you, if I remember correctly, does that very tall witch still work here —?'

'Aye.'

'— the three of you ample space in all my articles to explain why you were no longer letting customers choose their children's own wand materials anymore. Were only having the wands choose them. As if —'

'As if they were Muggle-borns?' Garrick interjected mildly.

The ghost sighed a bit wearily. 'That was one of the arguments people were making, yes. But it wasn't what I was going to say.'

'You must've sympathised wi' that argument, somewhat,' Coakley grumbled. 'You certainly quoted it often enough.'

The ghost seemed to bristle. 'Would you have preferred if I inaccurately represented how the wizarding world was reacting to your decisions? Would you have preferred if I watered down the things people said to me when I asked them about it?'

'We'd have preferred that you'd no' have stoked the panic,' Coakley shot back, 'and given irrational fears a platform.'

'Jack, I painstakingly worked to understand and report the complex wandlore behind your decisions. And I never got a single aspect of it wrong, not one.'

Coakley scowled, but seemed to be without a retort for this. Todd's dad, ever the mediator, put a calming hand on Coakley's arm and smiled. 'Let's all go upstairs, shall we? We can do the interview up in the flat.'

He opened the door, gesturing for them to go in first, and the ghost and her photographer both jumped at the tremendous rush of water that greeted them in the doorway.

'What the — what is that?' Ralph said, aghast. 'Is that some sort of indoor storm hex?'

'Ah, no. Thief's Downfall. It's, ah, enchanted water,' Garrick said, gesturing to the waterfall in response to their blank looks. 'It removes the effects of Polyjuice Potion, human transfiguration, and the Imperius Curse. We find it's a useful protective charm to employ. In these times.'

Ralph shook his head, mouth still slightly agape. 'I can't bring my camera under that.'

'Oh,' Garrick said. Todd shot his dad a troubled look, which he returned. 'That hadn't occurred to me. Hm. Jack... do you think we could... temporarily...?'

Coakley looked dubiously at the Thief's Downfall, following Todd's dad's line of thought. 'Stop it? No. I could get rid of it, but I'd have tae work through the night conjuring up the magic again. And I donnae recommend leaving ourselves so vulnerable for such an extended period of time the day.'

Garrick nodded, frowning at the rushing water as well. He glanced to the ghost and the photographer. 'Well. I would like you to step under the Thief's Downfall all the same, if you don't mind. We'll hold your camera for you, if you just walk through and back.'

'Sorry?' Ralph said, baffled.

'Er, I'd like you to just walk under this waterfall first, without your camera. It'll have no effect on Miriam, of course, but I would at least like to confirm that you are who you say you are. Security measure, I'm sure you understand.'

'I'm sure I don't understand.'

'Is this what you all owled us here for?' the ghost cut in suddenly, looking a bit disappointed. 'This... what did you call it, a Fool's Downfall?'

'Thief's Downfall. No,' Garrick said shortly. 'We'll have to do this outside, so if we could move quickly, please.'

Todd shot his dad a startled look, and Coakley raised his eyebrows.

'Outside?' Todd repeated. 'Here? Now?'

'Yes,' Garrick said grimly, his jaw set, eyes staring straight ahead. He looked a bit pale.

'If you break it, I will murder you in your sleep,' Ralph said, gently handing off the camera to Todd. 'I hope this stuff isn't ice cold?'

'Er,' Todd said, slightly alarmed by the mild death threat, 'not ice cold, no, but it's not exactly warm either. Sorry,' he added apologetically.

Ralph sighed. 'Never a moment of peace, eh Miriam?'

'Not in this line of work.'

Garrick and Coakley eyed the photographer warily as he walked under the waterfall. (Todd thought he heard him mutter a vague 'fucking hell'. There was a bit of a chill in the air.) A second later, Ralph came back through, sopping wet, shivering and looking thoroughly unamused. He stood with his arms out, as if to say, Satisfied?

Garrick Ollivander, apparently, was not. 'Can you tell me who you are and why you're here today?'

'You know we're normally the ones who ask the questions?'

Todd's dad gave the photographer a brief, apologetic smile.

Ralph sighed again. 'I'm Ralph Walshaw, and, honestly, I haven't the foggiest.'

'I'm sorry, you'll need to be a bit more specific than that,' Garrick said, waving his wand, drying Ralph off instantly. He twiddled his wand in his hands as he continued, 'I just need confirmation that you're not recovering from the effects of an Imperius Curse right now. You know who you are, where you are?'

'I'm a photographer for the Daily Prophet, here to shoot photos of something you want to show off, and I am reminded that I only need to get through five more bloody years of all this bollocks before I retire.'

Garrick eyed the wizard dubiously. 'That will do, I suppose.' He nodded at Coakley, who produced his wand a bit uncertainly.

'You're both still convinced this is the best way forward?'

Todd looked to his dad. Mr Ollivander hesitated for several moments before he finally nodded, resolute. 'Yes,' he said, his voice hoarse. With this validation, Todd nodded firmly as well.

Coakley eyed them with a grim, steady gaze before he took a deep breath, and nodded himself. 'Well, I donnae often say this, but... it is... an honour. Tae work wi' you. The both of you. You're both fine wandsmiths, wi' good hearts. And I'll dae everything in my power tae protect you, the both of you.'

Todd blinked, a bit startled out of his fear. His dad cleared his throat. 'Thank you Jack. That means a great deal.'

Coakley nodded gruffly and took his place between the two of them. His dad reached out his hand and Todd moved forward to grip it.

The ghost seemed suddenly electrified into attention.

'You're not... Are you...?' Her ghostly Quick Quotes Quill sprang into action, beginning to furiously scratch out notes as it hovered close to her hands.

Ralph, too, was startled into action, and began to take a few carefully aimed photos, changing angles and moving closer and farther away.

Even in the midst of this deadly serious moment, Garrick Ollivander raised an eyebrow at Todd and smiled. 'Still think I'm too much of a pacifist?'

Todd responded with a nervous grin. Coakley placed the tip of his wand on their joined hands.

'Shall you, Garrick Ollivander, continue tae sell wands tae witches and wizards, regardless of whether they are born of witches or Muggles, for the rest of your natural life, as you always have?'

Miriam yanked her parchment and Quick Quotes Quill out of the air in a frenzy and began to take rapid shorthand.

'I shall.'

A thin, white hot flame issued from Coakley's wand and looped around their hands. Todd sensed the heaviness of the magic immediately, its intensity so strong that it overpowered all his senses, and he had to breathe deeply to keep his eyes from rolling into the back of his head.

'And shall you, Todd Ollivander, continue tae supply wands tae witches and wizards, regardless of blood status, until your death as well?'

'I — I shall.'

A second, wire-like burst of flame shot from Coakley's wand and interlinked with the first. Todd's father's silvery eyes were burning into his own in concentration. Todd was vaguely aware of the camera's flashes of light off to the side.

'And will blood purity ever factor intae the quality of wands that you offer witches and wizards who enter your shop?'

'No,' Todd and his father said in clear, synchronous voices as the third tongue of flame shot from Coakley's wand and bound itself around their hands. The flames appeared to be vibrating, and Todd gripped his father's hand tighter and shut his eyes. Just as the heat from the magic was beginning to become unbearable, Todd felt it beginning to dissipate, and he opened his eyes to see the ropes of light around their clasped hands fading away. As it completely disappeared, the Ollivanders broke away, blinking as if awaking from a trance.

As he became aware of his surroundings again, Todd suddenly recognised that they were surrounded by a huge, loud crowd of people, and he eventually identified the noise they were making.

It was applause.

A cursory glance confirmed they were shoppers, shop-keepers, pub patrons, and anyone else they'd been able to immediately spread the word to. Many of them were smiling, some of them with tears in their eyes, and the vast majority of them were clapping enthusiastically. Todd's eyes found Madam Malkin, Mr Fortescue, Tom the barkeep, Sarah Scamander, Ernie Higgins, all beaming at him and his dad. As Todd stared, stunned, he also noted that there were also more than a few people who looked anxious, and he met Deirdre Fortescue's eyes in the crowd. Her arms crossed, she was shaking her head slightly.

Todd smiled, and gave her a small shrug.