FATHER
Chapter 10 - Hermione
The shop was warm and as the door swung shut, the jolly clamour from the street behind them cut off. Despite her earlier excitement, Elodie gripped Hermione's hand, positioning herself enough behind Hermione that she could tell her daughter was suddenly nervous.
The air was still and quiet and Hermione felt a moment of painful nostalgia as she looked up at the towering rows of shelves behind the counter. It was still the same awe-inspiring sight as it had been when she was twelve and for a moment, she missed the innocence of that time so much that it hurt deep within her bones.
"Hermione Granger", a wizened voice sounded and from around one of the stacks emerged a man so old that the wrinkles on his face made it look as though he were melting. But the eyes which stared down at her were pale and piercing and very much alive.
"10¾ inch. Vine wood with a dragon heartstring core. Purchased in this very spot August 1991".
Without thinking, Hermione drew her wand from her pocket and proffered it to him. He took it from her, twisting it in his hands and inspecting the thin length of wood from a variety of angles. Finally he smiled and handed it back.
"This wand is no longer young".
"As I'm afraid, neither am I", Hermione said. "Hello Mr Ollivander".
"And a good evening to you, Dragon Chaser".
It is a name which she'd only heard attached to herself a few times after the Gringotts' incident but in Ollivander's low voice which resonated with magic and unknown secrets, it felt like a naming.
"Dragon Chaser" came a whisper from beside her and all at once she remembered her daughter at her side. She tugged Elodie forward and rested a hand on her shoulder.
"My daughter".
Ollivander looked at her for a moment, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face, and then he held up one long and wizened finger and without a word, disappeared back into the stacks.
"Where did he go?" Elodie asked in a whisper, twisting her face up to look at Hermione.
"Just wait".
Elodie stood untypically still, that is until Ollivander appeared again with a myriad of long slender boxes in his arms. Elodie gasped and started forward, her nerves forgotten.
"You're a wand maker", she exclaimed. "I've read about you".
"Have you now", Ollivander said, unpacking a wand from its box and handing it across the counter to her. It had barely touched her fingertips before Ollivander withdrew the wand. "No. Try this one".
The next one met nearly the same fate, and the next three after that. Elodie turned round to Hermione and gave a nervous smile when yet another wand was pulled from her hand. Though Hermione tried to give a reassuring thumbs up, she couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease as box after box piled up with still no wand in sight. They tried dragon heartstring, unicorn hair and phoenix feather, alder, elm and maple.
"Perhaps we should come back another day", Hermione ventured when darkness had well and truly fallen outside the windows. Ollivander and her daughter ignored her though. She may as well have spoken to herself.
Ollivander put a long finger against his mouth and tapped at it, staring down at Elodie.
"If I didn't know any better…", he trailed off.
"What?" Elodie demanded, growing bold. "If you didn't know any better, what?"
He stared down at her for a moment more and then leaned across the counter so that Elodie took a step backwards. His pale eyes were like orbs as he stared down at her, unblinking.
"The wand chooses the witch, Miss Granger. That much has always been clear to those of us who study wand-law".
Elodie's face crumbled.
"Are you saying that none of the wands want me?" she asked in a trembling whisper.
Ollivander smiled. "No. I am simply saying that you have already been claimed".
"Claimed?" Hermione parroted, stepping forward. "What do you mean claimed? She doesn't have a wand. She's never even been to a wizarding school before".
Ollivander shrugged though his eyes were brimming with light and curiosity. "It is the only explanation".
"She's held my wand, once or twice. Does that mean…"
"No, dear girl. That wand is yours. She has been claimed by another, by a wand with no owner".
"But -" Hermione said, trailing off when a memory struck her. Her daughter, young and small, pushing through her wardrobe as she hunted for the sweets which Hermione had told her were most definitely not hidden in there.
The flickering of the light bulbs through the house. The drop in the air temperature.
"What do you have there?" Hermione had asked, afraid without even knowing why. Looking down at her daughter's hands, at the sable length that glimmered as opal struck the light. She had wrenched it away. Elodie had cried. For hours. But in this, she had not relented. The wand was never seen again. But now…
"I see in your eyes that you know".
"Mum, I don't understand. What does he mean?" Elodie winged, tugging at her sleeve. Hermione ignored her and stared wide-eyed at Ollivander.
"You're sure? But she was so young".
"The wand chooses the witch", Ollivander repeated with a shrug though the corners of his lips were turned with a sly amusement.
"Mummy!"
"Elodie enough. Come on, it's time we were getting home".
"But I haven't got a- "
"Elodie Granger, enough I said!", Hermione snapped. She could feel the blood pulsing through her neck and though she willed herself to calmness, the brittle tension across her skin felt as though it could snap at any moment.
"Thank you for your help, Mr Ollivander" she said stiffly as she picked up the myriad of shopping bags whilst still trying to grasp her daughter's hand and pulled her from the shop.
"Miss Granger", Ollivander said, nodding his head towards her. The orbs of his eyes turned to her daughter. "Miss Granger".
They backed from the shop, out again into the cold darkness and falling snow. Elodie tore her hand from Hermione's and glared at her, tears streaking down her cheeks.
"Elodie, please, let me explain", Hermione began, but Elodie had already turned on her heel and was stalking off into the darkness, snow catching in her hair. Hermione cursed and began to follow after her, feeling sick to her stomach at just how quickly sweetness could turn sour.