Chapter 28: Thinking Outside the Wand

With a loud echo, the barred door of the cellar slammed shut. For a moment, it was all Marina could do to relish in the silence and calm that was left in the Death Eaters' wake. They had finally cut her bindings, and she felt stinging, sticky abrasions there from straining against them for so long.

The stone floor was ice cold and damp below her, but she took comfort in it – while their torture had seemed to erase her body away into a single endless haze of agony, the cool stone pressed against her made the boundary of her skin razor sharp and definitive. She lay there a moment, letting the pain ebb as her mind reeled from what she had just experienced, from witnessing Jin's murder, from coming face to face Voldemort, from seeing Tom –

"Are you alright?"

Marina jolted and pushed herself up at once, heart racing as she scanned the dark cellar for the source of the voice.

A very old man was leaning against the far wall next to a beaten metal jug of water and what looked like a spongey lump of bread. He had white hair and a wrinkled face, and his slumped posture told Marina that he had received much the same treatment as she. A hunch occurred to her.

"Ollivander?" she asked cautiously, squinting at him.

The man hesitated. "How do you know me?" he asked slowly.

"Er," Marina frowned, kicking herself, "I – lucky guess," she said lamely. "Someone told me you'd been taken."

Ollivander hesitated again, this time with the distinct air of scepticism. "I see," he said eventually. "And your name is?"

"Marina," she said, wincing as she accidentally leaned on her injured arm.

Ollivander gave a very small twitch. "Marina," he repeated, sounding decidedly more interested. "I do not recall selling you a wand... a Muggle, perhaps?"

It was Marina's turn to hesitate – she would readily believe that Ollivander was a clever man, but that big a leap in logic seemed far too astute. All at once, Marina remembered what Mrs Weasley had told her the first night that she had arrived at the Burrow.

Tom began working at Ollivanders, who was willing to take him on in spite of… or perhaps because of his strange background….

"You worked with Tom," she said sharply.

"I did," Ollivander nodded, the atmosphere between them becoming tense and alive. "Young Master Riddle and I were colleagues for a number of years."

"He told you about me, then," she muttered, shuffling to lean against one of the broad stone pillars.

"He told me some things," said Ollivander carefully, "though I seem to recall the story ending with your disappearance and apparent death..."

"Apparently not dead," Marina gestured to her bloodied face with fictitious relief. "Don't know how long that'll last, though."

"If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not killed you already, you may expect it to last," said Ollivander in a tired, knowing voice. "I myself, have been here for many months now. He is immortal, after all... he has endless time to extract what he wants from you."

"Well thanks," Marina said sarcastically, "that's a great comfort."

Marina thought she saw a half smile twitch on his face. "You are much like how Master Riddle described you," he said.

Marina felt a frown crease her face, irked. "Why are you calling him that?" she said, unable to keep the sting from her voice. "'Master Riddle' – he's not exactly your employee anymore, he's holding you prisoner."

Ollivander gave her a strangely eerie look. "I made him his new wand, you know," he said distantly. "After he had worked back the value of the wand he had stolen, of course..."

Marina scoffed and let her head rest against the pillar behind her. "So that's where he found that thing..."

"He provided the new core, himself," Ollivander continued, ignoring her interruption. "A phoenix feather..."

Marina looked around sharply. "My phoenix feather? The one Dumbledore gave me?"

"It was yours?" Ollivander asked, eyes glittering in the dark. "I knew only that it came from the same phoenix who provided the feather for his counterpart... and of course, Mr Potter himself." His voice had grown whispery. "Three wands with cores from the same phoenix..." he said, nearly under his breath. "It was unheard of... I am surely the first wandmaker to have achieved such a milestone..."

"You can tell things about someone, can't you?" Marina said slowly, "from their wand, I mean."

"Wands can sometimes indicate certain traits of their owners, yes," Ollivander mused as his posture shifting upright, his interest piqued.

"What did Tom's wand indicate, then?" Marina asked bluntly, unable to resist.

"Phoenix feather and pine, thirteen and a half inches... somewhat flexible, if I recall," said Ollivander in the same distant tone. "Particularly adept for nonverbal spells and a more… creative approach to magic." Ollivander paused thoughtfully. "They say that owners of pine wands are destined to live particularly long lives."

Marina snorted, and Ollivander resolutely ignored her as he continued on. "They also tend to gravitate towards those who make their own paths... and who do not mind their own company."

"Loners," Marina summarised, feeling disappointed – she hardly needed Ollivander to tell her that Tom was a loner.

"More accurately," Ollivander said, a bit sharply, "those who are unafraid to go where others have not."

Marina didn't bother holding back her grimace – a fair fit for Tom indeed, though she wasn't sure why Ollivander was saying it like it was a good thing. "Anything else?"

"This tendency would only be exacerbated by its core," Ollivander said rather indignantly, seeming annoyed that Marina was not more impressed. "Phoenix feather wands are fiercely independent, much like their owners - but once their allegiances are won, it is a hard bond to break."

Marina was silent as she processed this. "Are you trying to imply that the same can be said for Tom?" she asked, very sceptically.

Ollivander did not reply, he just kept watching her with his strange, misty eyes.

"Easier to break than you'd think, then," she muttered bitterly, "considering you're still locked down here and he's upstairs swanning around with the Death Eaters."

"Perhaps," Ollivander slowly conceded, "or perhaps a different, stronger bond is being forged..."

"Do you mean with You-Know-Who?" Marina asked in disbelief.

"I do not pretend to understand how Master Riddle came to be in this time," Ollivander said softly, "but I have overheard the Death Eaters many times... they say that he is another feat of the incomparable power of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. That he is his heir."

Marina scoffed again. "If Tom believes that, he's a bigger idiot than I ever expected," she said, shaking her head.

"Is it such a ridiculous notion?" Ollivander replied, hauntingly. "Master Riddle appears from nowhere, a living, perfect replica of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named untouched by time. Who knows what the two could accomplish together..."

Marina, heavily disliking the fascinated edge that had crept into Ollivander's words, gave him a caustic look. "You-Know-Who doesn't need an heir," she snapped.

"Why ever not?" Ollivander asked immediately.

"You said it yourself," she said sharply, "He's immortal. Why would anyone who intends on living forever need an heir?"

Ollivander was quiet as he considered her, unable or unwilling to reply. His pale silvery eyes seemed to shine in the gloomy cellar, and Marina shivered, looking away.

"I've got to rest," Marina said numbly, rubbing her eyes and feeling the exhaustion heavy in her limbs.

Her companion remained silent as she laid down, facing away from him, and she couldn't help but wish that she had a different cell-mate who didn't make the hairs on her neck stand up with that eerie, calculating stare.

Marina was awoken what felt like mere moments after finally falling asleep to the cellar door banging open and Ollivander's pained cries as he lurched across the room. Marina shot upwards and pressed her back against the stone pillar with a hammering heart.

"Time to go," Bellatrix said with a broad, slightly unhinged smile. "The Dark Lord desires that you accompany him on his trip!" She spoke in a sing-song, mockingly polite tone as she jabbed her wand to the side and Ollivander collided heavily with the bottom of the stairs, crying out in pain.

"I – I know nothing," Ollivander gasped as he was heaved upward. "I swear –"

"Silence, wandmaker," Bellatrix snapped, brandishing her wand more threateningly.

Ollivander cowered back at once and with no more than a few pained moans, allowed them to heave him away. Bellatrix cruelly leered at Marina, and followed them up the stairs out of sight.

Almost immediately, silence fell. After such a horrifying display, the speed at which it did so was deeply unnerving. Marina looked around the cellar in an adrenaline-filled paranoia that did not match the sudden stillness. Her mind was spiralling into panic as she realised that if they came for her, dragged her away up the stairs like Ollivander, nothing would be left behind but an echoey cellar. The image played on repeat in her head and she yearned for a distraction, quickly learning that even a slightly creepy cell-mate was better than none at all.

Marina shook her head in a desperate attempt to physically to banish the thoughts and frantically searched for something else to think about – what had Bellatrix said? That Voldemort wanted Ollivander to go with him to Austria? Marina had no idea what was in Austria, but if Voldemort wanted to take Ollivander, Marina could only guess that it had something to do with the Elder wand.

'Hallows and Horcruxes,' she thought bitterly, wondering for the millionth time what Harry and the others were doing at that moment. 'It always comes back to Hallows and Horcruxes.'

Marina laid back down stiffly, her brain still anticipating the deceptive silence to be broken by another wave of Death Eaters. Somehow she fell asleep, waking what must have been hours later to the distant screams of some unlucky prisoner far above her. She had to listen to them as she devoured the single lump of hard bread that Ollivander had left by the jug of water, trying to dispel the gnawing hunger boring a hole in her gut. The screams echoed so much that she could never be sure exactly where they began, and they went on so long and with such violence that Marina wondered how whoever was producing them did not tear apart their throat.

Much worse than the screams was when they abruptly stopped. Marina drew her knees up to her body and pushed herself into the corner of the room, trying to hold some warmth to her body and comfort herself against the cold vastness of her prison. She succumbed to an unlikely sleep shivering violently, quickly exhausted by the constant terror of waking.

In the windowless cellar, time was nearly impossible to track. Marina's only measurement was the jug of water – when her thirst grew unbearable, she allowed herself a meagre sip, rationing herself with an iron fist. The jug slowly emptied as the hours continued to pass relentlessly – but no one appeared. No food was delivered, no more water provided, no sign of Ollivander, or another prisoner, or even a Death Eater.

It must have been at least two days before the jug was finally empty. After that, Marina was in limbo. She wondered dizzyingly if they had forgotten about her, if she would starve to death down here without a single person noticing – though more likely, it was the dehydration that would kill her. Marina's lips had turned hard with deep cracks bloodying whenever she mistakenly moved them. Her tongue was so dry that it became painful to peel it from the roof of her mouth, and when she was forced to approach the bucket in the far corner of the cellar, what urine she passed was disturbingly dark.

Her body was poisoning itself. Marina laid helpless as the dehydration continued to take her, dizzy and lethargic. Time bled together, broken up only when she was inexplicably woken by a strange, unplaceable sound.

Groggy, head pounding, and eyes aching, Marina rolled herself weakly onto her side to look at the wall beside her. The sound was coming from behind it, an odd, rhythmic scraping that was somehow familiar – though her addled mind could not identify it. She had never felt so weak, lying helpless as the sound continued on and on, drifting in and out of consciousness and only distantly registering that the noise was growing louder.

BANG.

Marina was jolted from her hazed disorientation as the loud noise echoed through the room.

BANG.

She feebly pushed herself onto her good arm, blinking in confusion as the sound echoed out again, emanating from the stone wall to her side.

BANG.

Dust was raining down from the broad stone bricks, and Marina swore that one of them trembled in its mortar.

BANG – CRASH!

The brick came loose and smashed into the floor, fracturing in half and sending up a billowing cloud of dust. Marina attempted to push herself back, though her body was so weak that she didn't even make it a metre. There was a series of thuds and another brick came loose, then another.

A hole appeared in the wall, through which she could see a singular figure silhouetted against a stream of moonlight – though that didn't make sense, she thought blearily, the cellar was underground.

She forced her drifting attention back to the most pressing concern – the black-robed figure who was ducking through the hole they'd made, stepping into the cellar, and catching sight of her lying there on the ground before them.

"Hey," Marina croaked, "what the fuck."

Covered in dirt, very sweaty, and holding a regular-looking shovel was Tom.

"Are you coming or not?" he said somewhat breathlessly, gesturing to the hole behind him.

"Excuse me?" she rasped as she stared at him in utter bewilderment, her brain unable to register either his presence or his appearance.

Tom rolled his eyes like she was being excessively difficult. "Obviously this is a rescue, isn't it," he said briskly, pushing half of a stone brick out of the way to the hole with his foot as he wiped back his sweaty hair with one arm.

Marina peered through the hole, seeing for the first time that a very steep tunnel had been dug out behind it.

"Did you –" she began, glancing back at the shovel in Tom's hand. "Did you dig down here?"

"Yes," he said, somewhat defensively.

"Yourself? With a shovel?"

Tom looked irked. "I could hardly use magic, could I?" he said as if it were very obvious. "There are deflection wards all over this place."

"The wards don't account for digging?" Marina rasped in disbelief.

"Of course not," Tom said impatiently, "they're much too arrogant to consider that someone might try to break in with Muggle technology."

Marina stared, agape. The absolute impossibility of the situation had given her a surge of energy, though she could already feel it beginning to wane – her adrenaline was on a clock.

"Listen, I'll answer all your questions once we're out of here," Tom said quickly, offering her his hand, "but we have to go."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Marina said immediately, trying to shuffle back again.

Tom visibly grit his teeth. "They won't have heard that," he said, indicating to the pile of rubble behind him, "the cellar has muffling charms on the outside so they don't have to listen to the prisoners shouting – but we still need to hurry, and your only other option is to stay here."

Marina could feel her lethargy returning with a vengeance, and she struggled to stay upright. "No," she said hoarsely, shaking her head as she pushed away from him again. "This is a trick or something… how come you're doing this now? Ollivander's been here for months – I don't believe you."

Tom gave her a long, very conflicted look, seemingly engaged in some internal debate. He let go of a heavy breath in apparent resignation and rested the shovel against the wall, stepping towards her and crouching when he was at her side. Marina immediately leaned away in disgust at his proximity and was about to try to edge back again when –

"Wait," he said brittlely, raising his hand.

She hesitated, fixing him with a suspicious glare.

Seeing that she had forfeited retreat, Tom smoothly reached into his pocket and pulled out a very small object that Marina recognised at once. Her stomach swooped. It was a small, very creased, battered brown parcel wrapped in plain twine that was heavily fraying at each end – the Christmas present that he had given her six years prior.

"What... how –" she said weakly, completely baffled.

"Please," said Tom, looking at her exasperatedly. "Just come with me. I promise I'll explain everything."

Marina looked from the parcel to his face, searching it for any hint of pretence – but Tom only stared back at her, all impatient and imploring like he really did just want her to believe him.

It was always down to this, wasn't it? Whether or not she should trust him against all odds.

'There is a line,' Remus had said to her once, 'between acting in good faith and acting foolishly.'

Was she at that line? Was she about to step over it, was this the same mistake over and over again? Was it ridiculous that the smallest bead of hope had welled up inside of her at the sight of the present? At the thought that he had kept it all these years in case she returned, or in some small gesture of sentimentality? Because even Remus had changed his mind, hadn't he?

You need your optimism now, Marina, it will get you through this…

She grit her teeth, giving a long, shaky breath. After all, Tom was right – her only other option was to remain in the cellar, slowly dying from thirst at the mercy of the Death Eaters.

"Okay," Marina whispered.

Relief flashed across Tom's face before he nodded curtly, immediately schooling his expression into one of determination. He pressed the parcel gently into her palm and seizing her by the other, uninjured arm, standing swiftly and pulling her up with him. Marina reeled at the sudden motion – the quickest that she had moved in days – and her vision immediately greyed out as the blood rushed from her head.

"Sorry," she heard Tom say as she swooned on the spot, his arm moving around her to stop her from losing her balance. "But we do need to hurry."

She nodded blindly, allowing him to guide her towards the hole in the wall and help her step through.

"They're going to notice that," she said blandly, nodding at the broken bricks as Tom picked up the shovel again.

To her surprise, Tom scoffed. "They have no sense of how much physical effort that would take," he said with a smirk. "They'll readily believe that you dug your way out yourself."

"They'd believe that a half-starved dehydrated Muggle with a broken arm can single-handedly dig through a stone wall and what looks like six feet of solid dirt?" Marina rasped disbelievingly.

Tom grimaced at her description as he left her to rest against the steep wall of the tunnel. He threw the shovel up onto the ground above, reached up, and pulling himself out after it. "Yes," he said simply, reaching back down to offer her his hand again. "You have to remember that these people have never even spoken to a Muggle." He paused, his lips pressing together. "Apart from torturing them, of course," he added crisply.

Marina took his hand and he immediately pulled her up with surprisingly fluid ease. Marina hopped a bit at the top, getting her balance as she very suddenly found herself up on the cold grass, blinking in the night air. She looked at Tom in surprise, who was assessing their surroundings with a vigilant eye.

"How did you..."

She noticed for the first time that Tom was not only taller than she had last seen him, but much more filled out.

Tom smirked again, noticing her bewilderment. "It has been six years, Marina," he said, picking up the shovel and replacing his hold on her arm. "I have hardly been idle. Come on, we have to make it to that hedge."

Flabbergasted, Marina allowed him to cart her across the damp grass, only vaguely following what was happening. "Are you... trying to tell me..." she panted, wrestling with the concept, "that you did some… some silly Muggle exercises –"

"You're the one who told me that wizards should think outside of their wands," he said swiftly as he strode across the lawn, Marina having to take two steps for each of his own. "There are times when magic is an inappropriate or unavailable solution to a problem… and if you recall, it was rather frustrating to be so powerless the last time I couldn't use a wand. I would rather not be in that situation again," he finished curtly, arriving at the hedge and pulling her into a crouch. "Wait here a second."

Tom was craning his head to look over towards the front of Malfoy Manor, and Marina followed his line of sight curiously. Somewhere in the dark distance, she could hear voices growing louder and more agitated.

"What's going on?" she whispered.

"We needed a distraction to get past the wards at the boundary," Tom muttered back, watching intently. "Crossing them sets off an alarm, and we can't Apparate from inside the grounds."

Marina looked back as the voices raised to shouts. A bright burst of light lit up the trees towards the front of the manor as someone cast the first spell. Within seconds, the shouts were raucous and explosions of multi-coloured light lit up the Manor as a massive duel erupted.

"What –"

But Tom had already seized her arm and was pulling her off across the grass again, so quickly that Marina was in a brisk jog just to keep up.

"Snatchers," Tom said under his breath, "fairly easy to manipulate, really – they already suspected that the Death Eaters were bleeding them. Over the last few weeks I've been feeding them a line that they could earn a better deal if they staged a confrontation."

Tom glanced down at her. "They don't stand a chance, of course," he said with an intimidating smile, "and when they run they'll set off the wards. We can hide our exit among theirs."

"How long – have you – been planning this?" gasped Marina, struggling to keep his pace as her aching head pounded and her body screamed against the motion.

"Not this, exactly," Tom said, not slowing their stride, "I just thought that it would be judicious to have something prepared, if I needed it."

They were beelining for the distant the edge of the massive grounds marked by a dark line of tall trees, but their progress was slow. Back behind them the duel was getting louder and the shouts sounded more desperate and scattered. Loud cracks began to pierce the night as the Snatchers fled, but their retreat only drew more and more Death Eaters. As if in response, Marina felt Tom increase their pace.

"I expected them to take advantage of the Dark Lord's absence right away," Tom continued, his expression darkening as his tone turned derisive, "but I should not have assumed such a group of disorganised spell-slingers to be so proactive. Their deliberation forced me to wait for them to act, which was… not part of the plan." He cast another look towards Marina and for the first time she realised how she must look. It can't have been good since Tom returned his stony gaze to the treeline ahead with his lips tightly pressed together.

Suddenly, a horrible chill swept across them and the grass underfoot started crunching as it spontaneously frosted over. Marina went to look behind them, but Tom just pulled her forwards even faster.

"Just keep going," he said quickly, his breath visible in the icy air, "don't stop."

"What's happening?" she asked, panicked.

"Bellatrix must have called in the dementors," Tom said, sounding tense.

The chill grew more intense, and Marina felt a leaden heaviness start to build in her body. Something dark swooped across the edge of her vision, and the feeling grew. She tried to alert Tom, but her throat was sluggish and her head was drooping without her consent.

"Keep going," he repeated firmly – but he sounded slightly frayed, like this hadn't been a part of his plan either.

Another dark figure flew past, and a horrible sensation overcame Marina like she'd been pushed off a great height and was plummeting, falling down in the cold air, sinking into the darkness –

"Stay awake," came Tom's commanding voice. "Stay awake, we're nearly there –"

Marina cracked her blurry eyes open and forced her rolling head upwards to see the treeline tantalisingly close, Tom holding nearly her whole weight as she stumbled along beside him. She looked to her side to see another dementor approaching, strangely graceful as its tattered black robes flowing around it in a non-existent breeze. It reached out its skeletal hand and the feeling overtook her again. Everything was pointless, they would never reach the trees, they would be caught and Voldemort would kill them both and nothing would ever be right again –

"Marina," Tom's voice sounded very far away but Marina could hear the panic that was creeping in, "I can't – we have to keep going – I can't cast a Patronus –"

Marina's cold fingers tightened numbly around the paper-wrapped parcel that she still held in her hand, and she focused on the feeling of the sharp creases that pressed into her skin, her teeth clattering and her her shivering nearly throwing off Tom's arm as she pushed forward blindly. The trees were right there, right before them but more dark figures had appeared, closing in from behind and beside, gliding forward with hungry outstretched arms –

They fell the last step, hitting the frigid forest ground hard and knocking the breath from Marina's lungs. Before she could even look up, Tom had his wand in hand and they were Apparating, the dementors behind them disappearing as the world dizzyingly twisted around them.

They landed with a thump, the cold suddenly vanished, the hard damp ground replaced by something soft. Marina could hear both herself and Tom panting hard from the exertion as they lay next to each other, somehow alive.

"We made it," she breathed, barely believing it herself.

"On your feet."

Marina froze. The voice was tense and alert, and decidedly not Tom's – though she did recognise it. She raised her head to see a fire place with low crackling embers, an odd assortment of homely armchairs and couches with colourful woollen throws, and shelves cluttered with books, trinkets, and inscrutable magical contraptions.

Tom had Apparated them directly into the living room of the Burrow. Arthur Weasley stood above them with a storm on his face and his wand pointed directly at Tom's chest.

A/N: am weirdly nervous about this one lmao, but hey I finally posted it after pretending to edit for two days 😅. Hope you are all good, thank you so so much for the reviews and kindness, you are the best :)