DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, only this story, and this computer.

-Chapter Twenty-Five-

The Old Man in the Wood

A barren land, dead life,

No bird sings here to tell

The tale of what war did

Here, years and years ago.

But wait, what's that?

From the stony sterile earth,

A bold new green shoot yet

Does thrust its head defiantly

Towards the sky upward.

There is hope yet,

Perhaps the birds will return.

Two days after Christmas, Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived at the sleepy hamlet of Mistover in Derbyshire. It was quite dark. They had started early to avoid questions from the others, Ginny especially. The villagers had not woken up either, or if one or two of them had, the darkness enveloped the strange appearance of three teenagers out of thin air from their sight.

"Blimey, this is cold. We came too early." Ron commented.

"Which way do we go now?" Harry asked, wrapping his muffler tightly around his neck. A chilly breeze blew over his forehead, tickling the scar that lay hidden underneath the untidy hair.

"The forest is located on the Northern boundary." Hermione replied, shivering. "There,
she pointed, "that's the village church. That's where the village ends. Come on."

Harry looked in the direction she was pointing, and in the twilight shade, he could make out a vague outline of a tall building. Silently, the three of them made their way towards the borders of Mistover. Within a couple of minutes, they had entered the woods.

Harry had never seen anything like this. Even though it was dark, he could tell that there was not a patch of green anywhere. He had seen the Forbidden forest in winter; it had not been like this. There were rows and rows of dead tree trunks, all covered with snow. The trunks were all huge and ancient. It seemed they had been standing there for ages. They made their way in that barren woodland, leaving three pairs of clear footsteps on the snow. But after they had walked for about twenty minutes, it became almost impossible to move further. They had reached the heart of the woods, and the trees here had literally grown on each other, effectively blocking their way. They had to crawl, jump and scramble upon the lower branches to be able to advance. It was a good thing they had got their dragonskin gloves on, or it would have been even more difficult. How on earth did they fight here? Harry thought silently. After some time, they reached a clearing. The sun had risen. There, a few feet away from them stood a huge dead trunk, almost like a sentry watching over the other trees.

"That must be it, Harry, the Assyrian oak." Hermione spoke.

Harry did not reply. Something was different about this part of the forest, but he couldn't understand what it was. Ron answered his silent question.

"Hey, look! This place has got some trees." He cried out, sounding amazed.

"Honestly, Ron! What else did you expect in a forest? Gobstones?" Hermione snapped irritably. She was already beginning to panic about the task in hand; Harry could see the tension on her face.

"No, I mean, it's got living trees." Ron said, "I read that all the trees in this forest are dead. The soil of this place is supposed to be cursed ever since You-Know-Who had murdered all those people. It says so in A Historie of Rare Magickal Trees and Herbs of England."

"You have read that book?" Hermione asked skeptically.

Ron shifted his feet. "Er…not exactly. Neville read it, and told me."

"Say that."

"Well, at least I had thought of finding out about this place from Neville. You haven't read it, have you? Can't believe you actually missed out on a book…"

Harry was not participating in this argument. He was busy looking around. Ron was right. There were some young trees, smaller in height than the others, albeit snow-covered like the rest of the forest, but there were some symbols of life here. He observed a few of them; there was a rowan, a birch, a holly and a yew. They all seemed to be of the same age, a few months old, and were arranged in a neat line, looking well tended. Funny, there couldn't be a gardener in this forsaken-by-all place, or could there be one? He rested his glance on the Assyrian oak and noticed a young oak tree growing by its side.

"If you have stopped bickering, shall we go?" he asked loudly.

"Go where, may I ask?" someone asked.

The three of them spun around. There, before them, stood an old man. His robes were old and worn out, but that didn't obscure the intelligence in his eyes. Though he stared questioningly at them, he didn't look curious. He seemed quite amused at their expressions of shock and bewilderment.

"Mr. Ollivanders?" Harry asked in a stunned voice.

"It's good to know I am still recognizable by the urban folk." The man replied.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, "Where have you been all these days?"

Ollivanders smiled. "I've been here, the last place where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will look for me."

"And why won't he look here for you?" asked Ron.

"Because, Mr. Weasley, this place used to be his headquarters at one point of time. Well, that was long time back, but this forest is still feared. Dark rumours still fly about it. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named certainly will not expect his enemy to hide in his old stronghold."

"And you have been planting all these trees?" Harry asked.

"Ah, yes, you see, Mr. Potter, though the trees here had been destroyed, the soil here was still good, especially for wand-trees. Come, let me show you my little workshop, right in the lap of nature."

He led them round a knoll of trees to a little hut that stood just behind. As they entered, they realized that the little hut was in fact, not so little. There was a neat, comfortable-looking sitting room, with a warm fire roaring at the hearth. Mr. Ollivanders got some tea and homemade cookies for them, and as they were all hungry and cold with walking in the snow, for a while they withheld all the questions they wanted to ask and concentrated on their plates, instead. After they had eaten, Ollivanders led them to a room at the back of the house to show them his wand-workshop. It was a large room, almost a hall. The walls were lined with shelves, all containing boxes of wands. A piece of parchment was hanging on the wall just next to the door. On closer inspection, Harry realized it was a map. Scanning it quickly, he found four tiny dots named H. Potter, R. Weasley, H. Granger and C.J.L Ollivanders shifting around inside a slightly bigger circle that he guessed defined the area of Ollivanders' house. Surrounding them, he found names like Melfin Oak, Roland Yew and Beatrix Birch. The map did not cover the whole forest, only the area where Ollivanders had planted new trees. Noticing his attention, Ollivanders came forward towards him.

"Like my map, Mr. Potter?"

"Do you always name your trees?" Harry asked him. The map reminded him of the Marauder's Map.

"Oh, yes." Ollivanders replied. "To get good wands, you must bond with the tree. With this map, I can keep track of all my trees, and also if anyone tries to harm them. But of course, no one ever comes here. You are the first visitor I've had in days. I saw you coming."

"Mr. Ollivanders?" Hermione spoke uncertainly, "What does Voldemort want from you?"

Harry turned sharply to face Ollivanders, who held his gaze for a second before turning to Hermione.

"He wants certain information from me, Ms. Granger. Besides, a wandmaker is always a vulnerable target in times of war. As long as he was in hiding, he couldn't risk doing anything to me. But after your exploits in the ministry last year, I knew I had to run for it. I don't feel sorry for being here, you know, I have been able to grow life out of a dead soil."

"But how did you do it, Mr. Ollivanders?" Ron burst out, "Wasn't the soil of this place cursed?"

"It was, Mr. Weasley. But curses, even the darkest ones, can usually be broken."

"So you broke the curse?" Ron said, looking impressed. "Wow! How did you pull it off?"

"Now that's an interesting question." Ollivanders said softly. "If truth be told, Mr. Weasley, it was Dumbledore who thought of the way."

"Dumbledore!" The three of them exclaimed in unison.

"Dumbledore knew you were here?" Harry asked, astounded. He knew the Order was worried about Ollivanders' disappearance. If Dumbledore knew about it, why didn't he at least tell them that Ollivanders had gone on his own accord? Could it be that Dumbledore too had guessed that Voldemort might have concealed a horcrux here and had asked Ollivanders to look for it?

"Of course he knew. He was the one who suggested that I hide here."

"And so, how did you break the curse?" Harry asked.

"By burning the roots of the old Assyrian Oak out there. It is the tree above which the Dark Mark was seen for the first time."

"If you say you burnt the roots," said Harry slowly, "if must have had to dig the ground up?"

Mr. Ollivanders gazed at Harry for a long time before replying. Harry was very uneasily reminded of Snape and his occlumency classes.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I did dig the ground up. And I found the thing Dumbledore was looking for."

There was complete silence in the room now.

"You…you did? You knew what Dumbledore was looking for?" Harry managed to ask. He couldn't believe it was going to be this easy.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, Albus told me he felt Helga Hufflepuff's missing goblet could be hidden here, though he didn't mention why he felt that, or why he needed me to look for it in complete secrecy. And I chose not to ask. But the curse was strong, and it took me a long time to locate and destroy it. Dumbledore had only said that the centre of the curse would be somewhere around the tree. And by the time I found it, he was dead. Since he had wanted me to keep the matter secret, I did not know whom to approach after his death. I had wondered, though, in the past few months, if you would pay me a visit here. And when I saw the three of you entering the forest today," he said, gesturing at the map, " I knew you had come for it."

Author's note: I don't know the full name or initials of Mr. Ollivanders. I just made that up. By the way, do you know if Hermione and Ron know about Voldemort and Harry sharing wand-cores? Please let me know.