Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot and the OCs. Everything else belongs to JKR and the legal licensees of Harry Potter material.
Contract Binding: Chapter Three
by RowanRhys
Olivander's shop had hardly changed a bit to her eyes in the 24 years since her parents had brought her there to be chosen by her first and--thus far--only wand. Mr. Ollivander hadn't seemed to change either, she noted as he moved out from the shadowy reaches of the shop's back room.
"Ah, Miss Carlyle-Tintagel. Rowan wood and Unicorn Hair, twelve and a half inches long. If you will stand still and I will have your measurements done in a moment."
"But--" Before she could protest that she was happy with her old wand, the magical tape was darting about her, taking measurements she was sure had not been taken when she was pre-adolescent.
"As the witch grows, frequently the quality that led the wand to choose her changes to the point that the match is no longer appropriate,' Ollivander was mumbling as he sorted through boxes of slender gleaming wood shafts. "Let's try this one." He abruptly whirled and placed a lithe narrow wand in her hand. "Willow, fourteen and a half inches, Unicorn Hair core."
It lay inert across her palm, and when she swished it, nothing happened.
"Hmmmm." He shuffled through another box. "Try this one."
Applewood and Unicorn Hair. Maple and Unicorn Hair. Oak and Unicorn Hair. None of them reacted to her. She didn't feel the magical tingle as she wrapped her fingers around them. Marian sighed as yet another wand rejected her. And another. And another. Her feet began to hurt as they tested wand after wand--all of them cored with Unicorn Hair. The autumn sky over Diagon Alley visible through the window was darkening quickly and her stomach reminded her that she had not eaten lunch.
"Mr. Ollivander, perhaps we should forget it. My old wand will do fine."
"No, Miss Carlyle-Tintagel. We shall find it." His eyes gleamed at her over a stack of boxes. "There's a wand for every witch and wizard--"
He was interrupted as the door to the shop burst open and a gust of wind escorted the visitor into the emporium. Startled, Marian whirled around and the flowing sleeves of her robe knocked the stack of wand boxes over. She caught at the tumbling pile and ended up with a pale shaft tangled in her fingers. Her hand suddenly warmed and a large plume of violet and silver sparks burst from the end of the wand, even before she moved it.
"How very odd," breathed the wandseller. "Maple, eleven inches, with--Dragon Heartstring."
Stunned by the wand's reaction to her touch, Marian was dazed as she looked at the intruder. Black robes, taller than she by more than a head--she blinked in shock as she realized who it was. Severus Snape! In the sallow skin, hooked nose and black eyes she could see the remembered face of the cousin she had avoided during their seven years of schooling. Adult now, rather than adolescent, but she still could recognize him. She turned away from him toward Mr. Ollivander with a barely repressed shudder. "How much, sir?"
After handing over the required number of gold coins to Ollivander, Marian tucked her new wand into her belt next to her old one and turned to leave the shop.
Snape blocked her path and said, "We need to talk. Now."
"There's nothing to talk about," she replied in a low but intense voice. "Now, if you will excuse me--" She ducked around him, out the door and into the sparsely populated street, heading toward the Leaky Cauldron in the dusk. Her white robes seemed luminescent as she passed beneath the scattered pools of light cast by the staggered gas lamps and torch sconces. She hurried along, almost running, as if to escape the person of her dark cousin. As she neared the dark entrance to Knockturn Alley, she could hear footsteps behind her, rapidly approaching and, aggravated, she turned, her hand automatically moving to her new wand, to tell Snape off once more.
But it wasn't her cousin who had approached her. Taken aback, her hand fell away from the wand as she looked at her follower. The compact man's robes were tattered and dirty, and his eyes peered out at her from beneath shaggy gray brows beneath a forehead given extra height by a receding hairline. He grinned toothily at her and said "Good ev'nin', Miss. In a hurry, eh?"
Before she could respond verbally or turn back towards the Leaky Cauldron, Marian heard a guttural whisper behind her and she felt her entire body go rigid as at least two spells hit her from behind. She toppled forward, unable to compensate for loss of balance under the body bind and silencing spell, to be caught up by filthy hands and dragged into the dark mouth of the Knockturn Alley.
"'Ere, I told ya it was a Maiden I saw! An' ya di'n believe me."
"We was wrong. Good eyes, Mawks." The second, nasal voice finished with a stuttering laugh.
"She'll be worth a bit--in 'er bits an' pieces!" The third voice was just as coarse as the first two. If Marian could have shuddered she would have at the threat implied by his words.
Oh, gods, how could I have been so stupid! She felt as cold as ice except for the warmth of the Unicorn horn amulet at her throat. And the chill increased as she felt their hands moving across her robes, plucking at the buttons of the high collar, groping at her body, all the while making lascivious remarks. How am I going to get out of this?
"Remem'er we gotta get the hair before th'other. Don't wan' ta lose the pot'ncy." Mawks' voice was close by her ear, his breath foul, roiling her stomach even as the terror tremors involuntarily set her flesh quivering.
When his hands drew the fringe of her bangs away from her forehead and he placed the edge of a knife right at the hairline, she realized that they didn't see her as a person, only as a source for illegal potions ingredients. Maidenhair... only good if the scalp comes with it... Virgin's blood... for Dark potions... Nononononononononononono!
The sudden searing pain as he drew the knife across her forehead drove her into senselessness, sure that she'd never awaken.
TBC