Chapter 1: Rowan and Olive
Diagon Alley was deserted apart from the stray merchant or banker making their way to work, backs slumped and focused only on their next steps and the plan for that day. The hustle and bustle of the shopping street were yet to come, though the crowds of the summer would no longer show themselves. Rain clouds formed overhead, threatening a summer storm.
Ollivander's, fine wandmakers since 382 BCE, sat quietly in the early morning of that September 1st, 1994. The only sounds that could be heard from the outside by passers-by were the odd creaks and aches of the centuries-old shop which seemed to strain under the weight of its own history. The shop windows were dark and the door was locked with a sign of emerald green lettering reading 'CLOSED' visible on it. Inside, there was no sign of life or occupation. If one strained though, one could see straight through to the back where a single silver line of dim sunlight seemed to break up the darkness. This was the only indication that the shop was in fact not empty.
Upstairs, wood chips and dust polluted the air, dancing in sunlight before falling gracefully to the ground, giving the darkened, oak floors the appearance of having a recent snowfall. The room above the shop was scarcely furnished with worktables that were large, thick, and heavy. The wood of the tables revealed years of tinkering and work from countless scratches and imperfections on them. Scorch marks and staining of various shades marred the countertops.
The wall facing the alley was comprised of window panes that kept the room bright, but numerous half-burned candles sat around the room, a few seemingly still hot and running.
The adjacent wall was covered with cupboards of differing sizes with various names scribbled onto each drawer. Above the cupboards were tools of varying sizes and uses; chisels, carvers, veiners, gougers, v-tools, and more (all well used). On the western wall there sat two, long, thin panes with fountains of molten silver and gold gracefully streaming down. Though molten, they gave off no heat, and when the sun hit them, they gave off glorious gleams of colour around the room. The two fountains sat on either side of a heavy, oak door that had olive branches carved into it. Throughout there was the distinct smell of cedar and pine.
The room was old and dusty, but wonderful and alive.
Huddled over one of the worktables, there sat a figure who appeared as if they hadn't moved for hours, back to the molten precious metals.
Perenelle, or Perri, Ollivander, 16 years of age, was dressed plainly in a stained smock, and her fair hair was pulled back haphazardly into a large bun and tamed with a linen scarf. She wore black goggles and had thick, leather gloves on her hands. In said hands, she held pliers with a small, thin plate of softened gold between them.
On the table was a handsome wand which was finely engraved at the handle, leading into thick, root-like spirals before evening out to a smooth tip.
Rowan, phoenix feather core, 12 ¼ inches, supple… and covered with modifications and new engravings which had accumulated from its initial construction over 5 years ago.
Gently, the girl melded the gold to fitted position the very end of the handle of her wand, wrapping it around until it closed in a clean seal. After tampering it down and allowing it to cool, she quickly discarded her gloves and picked the wand up. She removed her goggles, revealing the most striking part of her appearance, and the only part she would admit to liking; large eyes of different colours. One was pale and cold and the other was light and warm, matching the metals behind her.
Her eyes scanned the wand and examined it in minute detail. The runes which she had recently carved at the handle were clean and neat and joined the other carvings present seamlessly. The gold band was plain but added a hint of elegance to the tool.
The girl smiled brilliantly at her work and gave it a quick swish, the candles of the room instantly coming to life in flame.
It felt good, balanced.
She felt flooded with relief. 'It still works.' As she thought that however, her eye went to a minute imperfection within the carvings. Some of the strokes were shallower than she intended.
Cursing herself, she picked up one of the finer tools in front of her and started whittling the thickness down by the fraction of a millimetre needed.
"Never satisfied, are we?" A voice broke her silence.
"It was begging for something pretty," The girl did not turn around.
The door of olive branches had opened to reveal an elderly gentleman, with silver hair and pale eyes, looking at her with a bemused glint in said eyes which were framed by deep lines. Prominent sideburns framed his face, carefully quaffed. He was already dressed for the day in particularly ill-suited attire considering the summer day that they were waiting for. 3-piece suit with a long jacket and completed with a silk neck scarf. Her grandfather; ever the dandy even in his old age. This was Garrick Ollivander, the latest of many descendants who bore the name of the store they sat in.
"Was it begging for something pretty, or were you?"
"We both wanted it."
"Did you remember to shed enough weight on the handle to balance it?"
"Of course. I think I've improved it, feels much better in the hand."
"Then what are you doing?"
"I went too shallow on some of my runes."
She heard her grandfather move over to her and could feel him peering over her shoulder. She blew away the small wood chips that had come off and cleaned her work again.
"There, even now." Her grandfather nodded in approval.
"Sigilla," She said, the charm sealing her work to a smooth, solid finish.
"Finished now?"
"Finished FOR now," she finally looked to her grandfather and gave him a cheeky smile.
"Your wand is going to be reduced to a toothpick before you graduate," He teased, though she knew he understood.
He did the same with his wands, from the moment he picked them from the trees to the moment they left his store in the hands of a new witch or wizard.
Her grandfather reached into his vest and pulled out a small gold watch.
"6:30, your mother will be awake soon."
"I sent a note," She was looking back down to her work as if daring it to reveal another imperfection.
"Fine detail at the base," Ollivander leaned far over her shoulder to admire her work. He placed his well-worn hand on her shoulder, and Perri was caught slightly off guard, as she hadn't expected it. A gentle stream of emotion sunk in, and she felt pride, wit and curiosity come from him. "Good depth, but be careful in future. That depth can often lead to splitting."
"I know." Perri groaned.
"But good," Ollivander sensed his granddaughters irk at the comment. "Very good in fact. I think we might be able to move you onto yew and vine next spring."
She grew a big smile. Perri took great pride in her work, and to hear it praised, particularly by her grandfather, was always satisfying.
The two were interrupted by the creak of the floorboards.
The two were now joined by a woman, tall and dignified with grey-haired sighed up into a chignon and wearing a measured expression, at the door. She was dressed in lavender with a high neck of white lace. She carried a black walking stick in her silk-gloved hands and a small, square black purse was carried on her arm. She was dressed for travel, a grey hat with lavender feather atop her head.
Violet Ollivander, the wife of Garrick Ollivander for over 60 years, and the undisputed matriarch of the family.
"Your mother wants you home, Perenelle, make sure you're packed and ready for school." Her voice was shrill and determined, her lips seemingly pursed into a constant state of disparagement. Her company looked surprised at her arrival. "And do change darling, you look like you shine brooms for a living."
She and her grandfather looked at one another and smiled. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, before lifting her chin so she would meet his eye.
"Make the family proud."
Changed she did, Perri was now dressed in what her mother and grandmother deemed acceptable, though it wouldn't be too long till she'd need to be in her school uniform.
September 1st, the first day of term for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it was expected that students get changed on the train.
Perri arrived on the platform with her parents and grandmother at 10:30, plenty of time before the Hogwarts Express departed at 11 sharp. Her grandfather had not come with them, as he had needed to open the shop.
Perri handed her large trunk away to one of the train stewards at the luggage car as her father gave his yearly speech to her.
"8 classes! 8! Most people only take 6!" Her father, Gaius, a man of moderate height, with thick grey-streaked black hair and matching moustache, went on proudly. He was dressed similarly to how his father had been but wore additional cufflinks and a small gold pin at his neck scarf. "You must pace yourself this year though, I don't want an owl coming in 6 months telling me how you're at risk of failing your classes. You have your study schedule ready, yes?"
He did not wait for Perri to reply, who shared a knowing look with the other two women in her party.
Her mother smiled at her and took her by the arm, starting to move the group towards the student carriages. As with her grandfather, feelings came forward, but this time one of warmth, love, and comfort.
Her mother, Nicola, was stunning, even in her 50s. Elegant and lithe, her mother seemed to radiate light. Her eyes were identical to one of Perri's own, warm and sunny, but hers matched the other. Her hair was coiffed, she dressed elegantly in tweed skirt sets, and walked with natural grace.
"I think zat your father is going to lose his voice," Her mother whispered to her jokingly, a subtle French accent making its way through.
Perri giggled, as her father continued, undisturbed.
"Stop cavorting you two," Her grandmother whispered to the two of them, though her pert lips curved into the slightest smile.
"I can't wait to stuff your head girl pin in the faces of the board. All of my children with the pin while their kids can't manage 6 O.W.L.s between them! Old Herbert will be fuming. "
The board her father was referring to was the board of shop owners of Diagon Alley who leased property from the family, which Gaius had chaired since his father had stepped 3 decades prior.
"Funny, I thought it was Melanie Merryweather who had the pin this year," Perri gave sly smile to her father, referring to the muggle-born in the year above her. She meanwhile was only a 6th year.
"But you will have it next year! We've always said you would."
"Of course, papa," Perri nodded, allowing the speculations.
It was no secret that it's what she was aspiring to, so why shouldn't they talk about it.
"You'll give her complex, darling," Nicola interrupted her husband, however, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.
Her father feigned shock at this. "I'll give her a complex? You're the one who taught her to measure herself to make sure she's symmetrical."
Violet took this moment to interject between Perri and her mother and took the girls arm as her parents continued light-hearted bickering.
From her grandmother, she got the sense of grit and steal, stubbornness and will.
"If you were going to get a complex, you'd have one by now darling," the elder woman rolled her eyes, making Perri laugh.
The platform was now beginning to fill, and the group had to swerve more to avoid other people.
Still, with her grandmother, Perri felt her slip something into her hand and pull the long, billowing green sleep down over it. Perri looked down at it in confusion. Violet didn't meet her eye, instead looking around inconspicuously.
"A gift from your grandfather and me," She said.
The package was small and cylindrical, just surpassing the size of her hand. It was wrapped in string and soft cotton, and it was heavier than it looked.
"Garrick has always talked about how much he wishes that he could have a sample from the willows surrounding the lake, we thought maybe you could help him with this." Violet now was looking at her intently, her black eyes reflecting her appearance back to her. Her expression was gentle.
Tools then.
"So you want me to steal branches? I'm not sure what Hagrid would say about that," Perri smiled, tucking the package away further into the bag she carried with her.
She wasn't serious. She was one of the teacher's and groundkeeper's best students, and her history spoke for itself.
She was fully aware that she wasn't a normal student who would idiotically just choose any tree, take any branch. Though nowhere as accomplished as her grandfather, she had his touch, his understanding like few did. They did not take, they were given.
"I wonder how the unicorns are going this year," She mused, thinking to the pack of beautiful, horned creatures which roamed the grounds of the school.
"I suppose we shall see," Violet clutched her arm tighter. "Tell me now, have you heard any more regarding that excitement that seems to be happening at the school this year?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
The excitement was just rumours at this point. Her brother Gabrel, who was a researcher for their grandfather stationed at the Beauxbaton's academy of magic, the French counterpart of Hogwarts, had sent a letter a few weeks back saying that he was going to be coming home for the duration of the school year at the end of September, as something was being planned between the European schools and his services would be limited.
He refused to divulge anymore, but Perri suspected that his coming home meant that the French school would be closed that year, though why she couldn't guess.
"Hmmm, well you find out, make sure you write to me. I hate hearing this information late."
"I'm pretty sure most people are going to be talking about the world cup still, to be honest," Both women frowned.
They had read about it in the papers. Some house-elf had apparently stolen a wand and cast the dark mark when riots had started after Ireland won the cup.
Her parents hadn't let her out of their sight since unless it was to her grandparents. Even then they insisted that she be escorted by either her father or grandfather. It had annoyed Perri to no end, but as her grandmother had pointed out to her after a particularly dramatic outburst from her after her parents had said no to her visiting a friend, no one who remembered it had good memories of the last time the dark mark had lit up the sky.
A thought occurred to Perri.
"Grandmama, do you think th-"
A raucous from the platform did not let her finish and the thought was quickly gone.
Searching around, she and her family all set their eyes upon a group that had formed only 10 feet away. There was a large group of students which had formed, and loud laughter could be heard.
Perri looked over curiously, wondering what was happening, but was quickly distracted again by her father hurrying up beside her, hand up in greeting to someone.
"Lancing! My good man!" Her father greeted a prim faced man with long auburn hair who was approaching them, two blonde ladies next to him. One, the younger of the two, smiled radiantly at her and all but ran up to her.
Petite and pretty, Imogene Selwyn reached Perri and the two immediately hugged. Perri immediately had the sensation of loyalty, cheerfulness, and insatiable gossip.
"Imogene!" Perri greeted hugging her long-time friend. "How are you?! I haven't heard from you in ages!" It had been nearly 2 weeks since she had last owled her, though she suspected why.
"Oh! Sorry! I just got so distracted," Imogene's green eyes gained a dreamlike trance.
"Malcolm?" Perri whispered, looking to their fathers to ensure they didn't hear. Their mothers, meanwhile, she noticed talking among themselves but subtly leaning their ears in. Her grandmother, still on her arm, similarly looked away but clearly did not divert her attention completely.
Malcolm Williams was Imogene's new boyfriend and one that had been anticipated since they were kids.
"Yes! Oh Perr, just wait till I tell you," Imogene started in a loud whisper. "But I'll wait till we're on the train." The last part was much quieter.
"Can't wait," Perri winked at her.
"You meanwhile have to tell me about Peru. Your letters made it sound amazing!"
Before the debacle of the world cup, Perri had spent a month in the country researching with her grandfather and brother in the lead up to the school season. It had been the first time she had been allowed to go. It had been fascinating though, completely different. The people amazing, the food amazing, the scenery amazing; she had been reluctant to leave. They had gone to look into a reported new hybrid of unicorn and went to look into its horn and tail hair properties. Overall, her grandfather had found its potential lacking, but it was still well worth the trip, and her trunk was half full with books, artefacts, and trinkets she had bought while she was there.
The two of them started off, arm in arm before her grandmother pulled her back.
"You'll see your friends every day for months, Perenelle," The woman gave her a pointed look. "Your dear grandmama, however, will not see you until Christmas."
Perri sent Imogene an apologetic look, who looked unfazed by the delay.
"Hello Madame Ollivander," Imogene greeted brightly in her cheery, high-pitched voice.
"Hello Ms Selwyn, did you have a good summer?"
While the two chatted, Perri looked back to her parents who were speaking with Imogene's.
It was an interesting interaction.
To the untrained eye, it would seem as if they were pairs of old acquaintances who were happy to see one another again, and had a great deal of business with one another. If this was the case though, Perri would not be able to see that her mother's face had tightened into a well-trained smile, and she would not be holding onto (or holding back) her father's arm quite so firmly. Imogene's mother, Ophelia, was similar in appearance. Between the two women were their husbands who had given each other a firm handshake, before starting discussions regarding their latest business ventures.
It was a competition, one where the winner was more important to their pride than anything.
Perri was torn back to her friend and grandmother when she felt Imogene gently tug on her arm.
"Sorry, what was that?"
Her grandmother sent her a disapproving look.
"Your grandmother was just asking if Malcolm had any friends for you," Imogene gave her a teasing smile.
Her grandmother looked to Imogene with an admonished look. "Well, I would not have phrased it as such."
With their goodbyes complete (and a couple of tearful mothers), Perri lead the way for her and Imogene down the train, weaving their way throughout several other students. As they did so, the train gave a sudden jolt, starting their departure.
"Bit rough," Imogene complained, rubbing her hip where it had hit the side of the train. "So… your grandma seemed to be keeping a close eye on you."
"Doesn't she always?"
"Yeah, but she wasn't letting you go 5 feet today!"
"It's not just her, my parents as well."
"Is it just because of what happened at the world cup? With the… well you know!"
"I'd assume so. It's not like we were there though. I heard it was just a lot of Bulgaria supporters just getting rowdy." Imogene did not look reassured by Perri's statement.
"Crouch's house-elf though, why would it be involved?"
"I'm sure she got told to do whatever it was. House-elves don't do anything without permission."
Imogene pulled Perri back, as she had found an empty compartment, and swung open the door as they entered.
"Poor thing got given clothes though. That's their life over."
"I dunno, she might be able to get a job at Hogwarts. They tend to be pretty open to fired house-elves."
Her father always said if there was any drama or problem with house-elf, then one really needed to look at who they served to blame, which is why Perri assumed Hogwarts had always employed from the pool of freed elves.
"I suppose so, I can't imagine what I'd do if one of ours did something like that though."
"I doubt i-"
"Perri!" Her name was called from the doorway, snatching her attention. At the door stood a bespectacled dark-haired girl with thick curls pulled back tightly from her face. She was already dressed in her Hogwarts robes, and a yellow and black tie was done up firmly and neatly. A yellow badge with HG emblazoned on it was presented proudly on her robe's lapel. She looked out of breath and stressed.
"Hey Mel," Perri said.
"Sorry, thought I saw you. Usually, I'd ask for a seventh year but I'm in a bit of a rush. Listen, would you mind doing me a favour? I have my meeting with the teachers now and then the prefects meeting. You know… head girl and all." There was obvious gloating in the way she said that last part, but Perri just smiled and continued to listen. Clearly, she was about to get roped into something by virtue of being the first person the head girl saw.
"You sound busy, of course, I can."
"A couple of carriages down there's a first year, you can't miss them. At something and now their tongue has grown to the size of them! Poor thing is muggle-born as well, not a great introduction to the school. Can you go find out what happened and get it fixed? Call a teacher if you need to."
Imogene gave Perri an annoyed look, but she nevertheless nodded. Mel gasped a quick thank you before running off towards the back of the train to where she could find the professors.
"Abandoning me already, are you?"
Perri needn't have answered though, because as Imogene said this, a tall, good-looking boy of 17 came to the door. A boyish grin was plastered on his grin, and his love-sick eyes were focused on Imogene. Mr Malcolm Williams had finally found them.
"I'm sure you'll be fine." Perri was sure that the words did not meet her friend's ears as she slunk around the broad-shouldered boy, and made her way up the train.
The first year was not hard to find, as the sound of tears and crying was apparent from the time she got into the hallway.
Peering around the glass doors, Perri immediately saw what the problem was, and immediately know who to blame.
'Find', she corrected herself. She immediately knew who to find.
There were a couple of seventh years around the 1st year as well as 3-4 other (who Perri assumed to be) first years. The child in question was a small boy who barely looked old enough to be 11. Tears were streaming down his face, but his mouth was open and a large, pink tongue was protruding from it and hung all the way down to the floor, though exactly how long was difficult to determine as the 7th years were levitating portions of it so it didn't drag.
One of them, a Ravenclaw boy that Perri had met a few times, caught sight of her and then looked at her with pleading eyes, begging her to do something.
She took a deep sigh, and let it out slowly, before setting off to find who, the two of whom, was responsible.
It was time to find the Weasley twins.
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Disclaimer: I own nothing of the HP world or characters (obviously).