Moxxie had started feeling nervous about getting his wand. Once again, he wonders over the particulars of what each wand implied, and if there was just a shop called 'generic wand store, get yours today!'. He hoped there would be, but it seemed that every experience in this world just pointed in the direction of oddity and potential danger.
The whole thing with that Lucius Malfoy guy had set them all on edge - Moxxie hadn't known that aside from the already questionable morals of wizards, they even discriminated against their own kind judging by how 'pure' they were. He wondered about his parents: were they classified as 'pure'? Not that he cared about that specifically, but he did wonder whether they had suffered at the hands of other wizards.
He wanted to ask Hagrid, but he wasn't sure how to ask about such a sensitive topic without coming off as a jerk, so he just walked silently down the street, Millie beside him with her hood pulled down low, jiggling the loaded bag of treasure.
He even pondered how well the wizarding community would take a literal Hell-dweller, a technical Imp being among them when they already discriminated against other wizards. They walked by the oddest shops, boasting strange candies, live, exotic animals, and many, many brooms.
Looking at the broom advertisements, he found that there didn't seem to be any that beat his Firebolt. Once again, he wondered who had given the broom to him, but he had done enough wondering to last him a lifetime already, and he had already been feeling tired since they had left the bank. "How much further to the wand shop, Hagrid?" He asked, the weariness leaking into his voice.
The lack of sleep didn't help, either - he saw a lot of signs for 'butter beer' and 'pumpkin juice,' but no coffee - did these people grind up pixie dust and snort it as a pick-me-up? "Just at the end of this street," Hagrid replied cheerily. Surely enough, they arrived at a dim, cozy-looking shop without any flashy signs. It just read 'Ollivander's,' carved into a fancy-looking slab of oak. They went in through the belled door, and inside, it was just as dark as the outside advertising. Behind a desk, there was what looked to be a storage space that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles.
Were wizards able to defy the laws of physics? The amount of space at the back really didn't seem to be very coherent with the overall size of the shop. Hearing the bell, a crazy-looking old man jumped up from behind the desk.
Though his hair was jutting out in all directions, and his wide eyes made for a startling first impression, Moxxie liked the look of him - he looked nice, even though if he had had to explain why he thought that, he would've come up blank. "Ah, Hagrid," the man said, searching for something at the desk. He finally found his spectacles and pushed them up to his nose, scrutinizing Hagrid's company. "Ollivander," Hagrid greeted warmly. "This is Harry, Harry Potter." Ollivander's face suddenly dropped, and it acquired a severe, dark look.
Moxxie fidgeted where he stood. "Pleasure to meet you," he said awkwardly. "Mr. Potter… I had to wonder when you'd come by. If ever you did," he said very slowly. This was just further proof that it seemed that everyone was very much aware of Moxxie's existence and paid attention to news of him. Whenever he was reminded of it, Moxxie felt oddly invaded. "I presume you require… a wand?" Ollivander asked, putting great emphasis and weight to that last word.
So much for the 7-11 wand shop. "Yes. I think so, sir." "Well, let's see then… " Ollivander looked him up and down for a bit and then ambled over to the back, where he disappeared to for a few seconds. When he returned, he held a slender, cloth-covered box. "Perhaps this might be suited to your needs," he said, opening the box and withdrawing the wand within with great care. He handed it to Moxxie by its end, as if it were a knife, and Moxxie was actually surprised by how long it was. He pushed away all dirty jokes from his head.
He gripped it gently as if he were holding a pen. "Right… so, how much?" He asked, eager to get it over with. Ollivander frowned. "I'm afraid that's not how it works, Mr. Potter. Why don't we first verify that it is the wand that is suited to you?" Moxxie swallowed, feeling like an idiot. He looked at it intently, waiting for something to happen. "Well, give it a wave, then!" Ollivander urged. "Right," Moxxie cleared his throat and swished the wand to the side. He thought nothing had happened until he suddenly noticed that Millie's cloak had caught fire. She squealed and threw it off of her, stomping it on the ground. "Hot fuckin' shit-balls, Moxx!" She cried. Moxxie quickly put the wand back on Ollivander's desk.
The old man's eyes only briefly swept over Millie's foreign figure, but he didn't seem all that interested in her. "Perhaps not," he said, returning the wand to its box. His next journey was even longer, and when he returned, he had an even more skeptical look to him. "Give this a go," he said, handing the new wand to Moxxie.
This one was heavier and stouter, and when Moxxie swished it around, the wand bent like a gummy worm. Ollivander pulled it from his hands, looking at it worriedly, and then up at Moxxie, analyzing him. "I wonder…" he murmured, setting the bent wand aside and going to a nearby shelf. He leisurely pulled out another box, this one of dark green, and fished out the wand within.
He handed it to Moxxie with extreme care. Moxxie wrapped his fingers around it - it seemed of a correct, comfortable, neither too heavy nor too light, but something about it… it was off, to put it simply. He felt that he knew before he flicked it around that it would not be the wand for him, and, sure enough, when he waved it before him, absolutely nothing happened.
Ollivander was looking at him with wide, scared eyes. "What?" Moxxie asked, alarmed. "Is there just no wand for me?" He questioned the old man, trying not to go into a state of panic. He soothed himself - he had gone his entire life without a wand. Surely he could manage without it. But then Ollivander shook his head. "That wand… I thought it would be somehow meant for you… the Phoenix core… but perhaps… no. It cannot be." The man's head drooped as he took the wand back, looking like a child that must take a bath, forced to, but isn't in the mood to do it. Besides, it is weird murmuring to himself put them all on edge. "What is it?" Moxxie asked, getting slightly irritated by all the mystery.
Ollivander shook his head, but he went back to where he had just taken the wand from, almost the exact same spot, and withdrew another one, the box that it was contained in being a light-sucking black. Moxxie pursed his lips as Ollivander took the wand out. It was very similar in shape, only sleeker and of darker wood, but when Moxxie held it in his hand, he had to suck in a breath. It was almost as if the wand were speaking to him like it had been latched to his hand.
The other three people looked at him expectantly, and with a flick of his hand, the room was suddenly thrust into complete darkness. Millie let out a little noise. "Mr. Potter," Ollivander warned seriously in the dark. Moxxie flicked the wand to the other side, and the light slowly started to seep into the room.
Ollivander was shaking his head in a mixture of confusion and fear. "That wand… Mr. Potter. It already has an owner. A wand may not have two masters," Ollivander explained grievously. "I thought that its twin…" he nodded to the wand in the green case, "would be the one for you. But perhaps that was for another boy, in another time," and now Ollivander was looking at Moxxie as if he were transparent, as if he could x-ray his brain and see every single word that was printed out from his thoughts. "But you are not the boy that would've belonged to this wand, are you?" Moxxie swallowed at that. What did that even mean? How could he even answer that?
The wand whispered to him sweetly in his hand, but all of a sudden, it felt like a burden, a weight. "Mr. Ollivander," Millie squeaked out timidly from beside them when Moxxie didn't speak, dumbfounded by the whole situation, "which is the other owner of the wand?" Ollivander paused for a second, his lips become one single, pressed line of worry. "Tom Riddle," he finally said. Hagrid sucked in a breath. Both Millie and Moxxie turned to look at Hagrid. "But… that can't be possible-" Hagrid began. "The wand was retrieved upon his death and given to me for safekeeping… it appears to have claimed a new master, however," Ollivander explained, looking back at Moxxie in what he tried to pass off as an intrigued expression. Still, there was no way that he couldn't cloak the fear in his eyes.
Moxxie frowned. Even though he was in the murder business, it was still rather rare that someone should look at him, of all people, fearfully. "I don't understand," he suddenly spilled, "who the hell is Tom Riddle?" The was an awkward pause in which no one spoke, Hagrid and Ollivander in silence as the two Imps awaited their response. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Hagrid finally muttered, barely audibly.
But Moxxie caught it anyway. "What?" There's no goddamn way I'm using that fucker's wand! No way. You know what? So far, I've survived on my own perfectly fine without a wand, I won't-" "I'm afraid you must accept the wand, Mr. Potter. You see, the wand chooses the wizard. Once chosen, you cannot be unchosen," "What the hell is it with this place and inanimate objects choosing me?!" Ignoring him, Ollivander proceeded. "You must accept the wand, Mr. Potter. However, I must warn you: this is unknown territory, and there are those who claim that You-Know-Who is still out there… in the case that he is, this wand… well, not even I can predict the outcome of such a situation," Ollivander took a breath, taking in the desperate, uncomfortable look on Moxxie's face. "You must take the wand and take it as the responsibility that it is.
With any luck, you won't ever be faced with such a situation," Ollivander concluded. Moxxie had put the wand back in the box, and now Ollivander closed the box and slid it over to the other side of the counter towards Moxxie. He looked at the creepy black box and, in a rebellious fit, sick and tired of the impotence and forcefulness of everything that had to do with this warped, fucked-up world, he knocked over the box and sent it flying to the other side of the counter, storming out of the shop immediately after, not caring in what state he left the others behind him.
He stepped out into the street, feeling faint, like he might pass out from the heat or maybe vomit, and the clutter of people that streamed down the streets like rivers of meaty soup weren't helping with the sensation of claustrophobia and heat. He bounded over to the next street, eager to escape (what? He didn't know, maybe it was the throngs of people, maybe it was the wand that had murdered his parents and that had now claimed him) and found a blessedly vacant alley, hidden in the shade with only a pair of musty little shops scattered here and there.
He propped his back against the alley wall and sank down, hanging his head between his knees and suppressing the urge to cry. He thought of everything and nothing at once, his thoughts coming through chaotically in his brain, and he could not sort them out. He didn't have the energy to, either.
He wondered how he would return to the wand shop and face all of them again. He also wondered how in the world he would accept the wand that Ollivander insisted was his, the only one that worked for him and the only one that he needs so that he could participate in the tournament. Not for the first time, he was horribly frustrated by how deep he was in this mess, a mess in which he had no will or desire to be in, but was forced to just because some crazy dude had decided to attempt murder on an infant, or a fucking goblet had chosen him, much like the wand had. He was just gathering himself when he heard a soft voice down the alley call out his name. "Harry," it said smoothly.
Moxxie's head snapped to the source of the voice, and he stood up abruptly, the blood rushing from his head as he did so. Between the little stars in his eyes, he saw the figure of a tall man emerging from the cold shadows of the alley. He was slim, perhaps a little too slim, judging by the cavernous darkness of his face and the sullen hollowness of his cheekbones - he looked like he had had a shortage of food for quite some time. Still, his hair was grown out and trimmed neatly, as was his chocolate brown beard, and his dark eyes glittered like those of a man that was very much alive. He wore a crisp, black and maroon suit, and his posture was very formal.
The man stopped walking just so Moxxie could see him, but he still kept his distance. "Harry," he repeated affectionately. There was genuine kindness and warmth in his eyes, and, if Moxxie wasn't mistaken, even some longing. "Uh… do I know you?" "I'm Sirius. Sirius Black," he told him. Oh. "I've… heard about you," Moxxie said awkwardly, hoping the man would keep his distance. "So, you know who I am?" The man asked, looking expectant. Moxxie stared him up and down, from the shiny black shoes to the orderly hair. "A funeral director?" Sirius smiled tightly. "I'm your godfather," he told him. Moxxie was surprisingly underwhelmed. He found that he didn't care for this man: if he had been family that would've been one thing, but he was just some guy… close to his parents, surely, but just some guy, all the same - besides, where had his godfather been when he had been abused by the Dursley's since infancy.
He remembered how uncomfortable Hagrid had gotten when he had tried to ask him about Sirius, and maybe that ginger boy who had mentioned him had been trying to warn him of something: how could he know that this random man really was his godfather? "I didn't know I had a godfather," Moxxie said, narrowing his eyes. "And I promise you, there is an explanation for that, but we don't have much time," the man's looked quickly at the bustling street by the alley, alert, "for now, I need you to listen carefully to what I say. Don't take part in the Tournament, Harry." "What? It's not like I have much a choice," Moxxie argued, but Sirius just shook his head. "There is a plot against you - it's far too dangerous, whatever the consequences of participating in it are, you cannot take part in the Triwizard Tournament," he warned, looking eager, stepping towards Moxxie very slowly, a fire burning in those intense, lively eyes of his. "Moxxie?" Came Millie's voice from the other end of the alley.
Moxxie turned to look at her, and when he did, the man said one last thing: "Meet me tonight, at your fireplace," he muttered, and though Moxxie turned back to look at him, Sirius had already disappeared. "You alright, sugar?" Millie asked, nearing him, taking in his perplexed expression. She was wearing the burned cloak again. "I- there was just a man here. Sirius Black," he told her, looking fixedly at the shadows of the alley as if Sirius had just sunk into them. "What? And he just disappeared?" "Yeah, he said-" "You should tell me back home. Hagrid's worried sick about you, we've been looking, and somehow this alley just… I don't know, but…" he bit her lip and then continued. "He took the wand, Moxx." Moxxie looked at her severely, and it took him a second to understand what she was referring to, the whole situation with Sirius having shocked him out of his mind.
He sighed when he remembered. "I can't have it, Mil. I mean, I know I never met them, and by now, I made my peace with the fact that they died, but… that wand was probably used to kill them. To try to kill me. I can't take it." Millie pursed her lips, and from her massive, glassy eyes and worried expression, Moxxie knew that she understood him fully and that she was on his side. He felt a little bit of the tension escape his body. Millie's expression turned to one of pensiveness, and in another moment, one of anger. "And you shouldn't have to use that wand.
These people have been bullying us like we're middle-school gingers with glasses from the start, and I think they're full of shit," with that, Millie took him by the hand and led him away from the alley. "Let's go steal you a wand," she said breathlessly.
Moxxie wasn't about to protest against Millie's new idea. After all, why shouldn't he do that? Maybe he could impart on wizard kind at least half the trauma that they had given him. "We have to make sure Hagrid doesn't see us," he commented as they huddled against a wall, eyeing their potential targets. "It's not like he's hard to spot in a crowd," Millie pointed out with a snort. "Anyway, where do these fuckers keep their wands? Is there like a wand holster or some crap like that?" She whispered, analyzing the people walking past them with dissimulated intensity.
It was difficult - most people were wearing robes, and if they weren't, their pants didn't betray much. Finally, at the other end of the street, Moxxie saw a slightly drunk man leaning against the wall of a bar, a mug of what looked to be green beer in his hand. He was wearing pretty casual attire: just some black pants, a chemise, and a vest, but what was interesting was the long, simple wand that stuck out from the waistband of his pants. He was chattering loudly to a couple of his buddies, words slurring a little "Bingo," Moxxie muttered, licking his lips.
He discreetly pointed the man out to Millie. "So, what's the plan?" She asked eagerly. "I distract. You take the wand, yeah?" "Hell yeah," Millie replied, unwavering excitement in her voice. Without another word, they both took off in different directions but towards the same target.
It was fun. It was natural to have a target again, to fall into the step of doing something wrong once more. Moxxie wasn't sure if he arrived before her, but if he hadn't, that meant she was well-positioned. Anyway, it was his job to make sure she wasn't spotted. "Hey," he said, approaching the man with fake recognition in his eyes. "Do I know you?" The man stopped in the middle of his banter and turned to look at Moxxie, seeming a bit irritated, but in a moment, his eyes widened. Moxxie realized his hair was parted, scar completely visible. Crap.
It was like having your name printed on your forehead. "Bloody hell - you're Harry Potter!" He exclaimed, pointing at him. This was bad. All of the man's buddies were now looking at him, too - but that was good in another sense, though, for Millie's sake, but the man's exclamation earned a few interesting looks from passers-by. Moxxie chuckled nervously. "Nah, no way. I'm just… uh, an impersonator," he explained, trying to be as smooth as possible. The man raised an eyebrow. "A Harry Potter impersonator? Isn't that a bit disrespectful?"
The man now looked irritated again. Easy target - he was gullible as could be. "You mean 'cause the kid's parents died? Nah. If you give me one of your sweet little coins, I'll show you how I cry about it," he winked. The man let out a scoff. At that moment, Moxxie caught the lightning-quick flash of a little red hand around the man's waist. Millie. She was probably fleeing by now. "You're weird," the man said, taking a swig of his beer. "Yeah, maybe. Anyway, I don't think I know you, after all. Bye, no-" "Oi! That doesn't belong to you, you little goblin!" One of the guy's buddies called out, pointing at what Moxxie had to assume was Millie.
Sure enough, the guy that called out had seen her just before she left their line of sight. "Goblin?!" Millie seethed, looking like she was ready to go back and kick the guy's ass. "Great meeting you," Moxxie blurted before sprinting to where she was. It was only one or two seconds before the drunk man realized what had happened, and they heard the clamoring footsteps behind them. Moxxie and Millie dashed through the crowd, knocking over children, grannies, and other strange animals without care. "Shitshitshitshitshit," Moxxie was saying as he heard the men speeding towards them.
At least the trail of trampled children and grannies slowed the other guys down. Luckily for them, they soon spotted Hagrid's massive, confused head further up the street. They picked up their pace, and soon enough, they were by his side, panting heavily. "Oh, there you lot are, I was beginning to think-" "No time, you mighty oaf! Get us the hell out of here," Millie demanded. "What hap-" "We stole a wand, no time to explain." "You stole a wand?!" Hagrid exclaimed, appalled. It was then that Millie leaped up and quite literally perched herself on one of Hagrid's massive arms.
She gripped his face roughly and turned it back. "Listen here, I like you, but I will not hesitate to shove this wand so far up your ass that those pissed-off men will have to have a digging party in your anal cavity," she growled. "Now get us the fuck out of here!" Hagrid looked stunned for half a second, but then he gathered Millie up and picked up quite a good speed for a man of such size. Millie hollered on his shoulders like a kid in a carnival.