Disclaimer: I don't own Harry potter, J K Rowling does. I do however own Elianne and also the poem that is included.
Authors note: Here unfolds the plot, very, very subtly once more.
Me- Ginny definitely isn't the mum, though I shall reveal who is soon. As for bluebells, no they aren't mentioned in the books (a lot of stuff in my fic is from my own research, so they might sound like they could be because I wanted it to be rich in meaning like the books) and yes, the do have a meaning. But I'll leave that up to you to find out what it is exactly.
As to double spacing and formatting. Anyone know how to format is to be one separate lines but not double-spaced? As I do not like double-spaced poetry much. Would also be nice to get the chapters up exactly how they were in word.
I'm also a very happy fanfic author as I just discovered I passed my interview and got an offer at my first choice uni. That means I have to work hard though, so I would write more because I'm happy but perhaps less coz of workload. Will have to see.
As always, feedback and suggestions etc is very much welcomed.
And I apologise if this chapter isn't the most interesting as its long and not immenent. But it needs to be. And I do realise in the book there are only 3 core types of wands but its ten years on… maybe things have changed.
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She didn't flinch much as a tawny owl fluttered in through the window, flying in past her on its way to Elianne's room. She'd already had quite a few letters, mostly from old family friends congratulating her on getting into Hogwarts. She may not have known them personally but Elianne loved to get letters from people by owl.
In fact molly had already sent over a package after hearing about it from Ginny.
No jumpers or cardigans had resided in it luckily, or perhaps Errol wouldn't have made it there alive. The old owl was still with them, not much changed since their days at Hogwarts when it had been equally unreliable. If not for the magic in it the poor owl would have died long ago.
A few minutes later followed a series of excited shrieks, with led Elianne out of her bedroom and in front of Hermione practically begging her.
"Please, please can I. Can I? Please…." She pleaded, waving the letter in Hermione's face.
Frowning in a we'll-see manner she snatched the moving letter out of the girls hand and inspected it.
She peered over the top of the piece of parchment at Elianne's puppy dogface. Who was anxiously waiting the answer.
"Yes, you may join the course…"
This elicited cries of joy and many hurried thank yous from her daughter
"…but it is extracurricular. Your grades are not to suffer you hear. I will pay for the books; we have to go to get a few more things anyway. BUT the minute I see your grades dropping from what they should be, then you'll stop it immediately.
Elianne grasped her into a wide choking hug at this.
Hermione gave in to it, patting her on the back and hugging back. She knew better than to resist
Adding one last comment "Just make sure it's worth it."
This only made Elianne tighten her hold.
"Oh it is. The new history of magic teacher's great. And I'd just die if I didn't get to do the mythology course. You know its one of my favourite things."
At that an eyebrow went up.
"Well, actually I thought you'd grow out of liking that a few years ago."
For that she earned a prod in the armpit, which caused her to topple over onto the sofa in ticklish laughter
Elianne stood over her arms on her hips
"I would have thought you'd know me better than that"
They both laughed collapsing into a fake tussle over who was right and who was wrong, happy for once.
They made their way through the crowded alley past wizards, witches and the stalls hanging outsides the shops, to their final stop.
On the sign was Ollivanders wands written with a flourish in gold, which at one time must have looked impressive. Peeling as it was the sign pointed to rather more pressing fact that it was many millennia established.
Walking in they were greeted by a very old and grey haired man, who still looked rather on edge and curious.
"Ah, Miss Granger. Hogwarts?"
Hermione smiled and nodded to him
Then he addressed her
"Hello young Ms., you know your mother had a very special wand, it shall be interesting to see what you find"
Hermione blushed at this and stumbled with the words as she tried to tell him otherwise
"No, she's not my daughter. Well, yes, she is but no. Not my biological daughter"
Having found her words once more she introduced us
"El, this is Mr Ollivander, Mr Ollivander this is Elianne Potter."
His eyes lit up at the mention of her name, a phenomena that she hadn't yet gotten used to.
"Potter you say. The daughter of the marvellous Harry Potter? Yes. I remember your father as well. Had an equally interesting wand. Very…unique. As was he."
At that he shuffled to behind the counter and started on the job of wand searching.
He returned and handed a small grey carton much like a shoebox to her.
By now his whole face was alight with excitement. It stayed buried inside but she could feel the glow of him as he dared to wonder whatever thoughts he had
"Let see shall we what you make of this specimen"
He took out a small slim piece of wood, a dark red colour.
"Cherry, 9 and ½ inches, dragon heart string."
She held out her hand and had barely come into contact with the tip of it before he snatched it away.
"No good."
He hurried away and came back with several more boxes, putting the previous one to the side.
"Hazel, 7 inches, mermaid scale"
She took the silvery rainbowed stick and with a flick of the wrist had instantly caused chaos in the store; the pile of boxes in the corner went "ploof" and smoked somewhat.
So that wand went back in its box. And the next too
And the next.
It was taking ages. Hermione had warned me it often did but this seemed excessively long. If not for the consequences of the wands each being interesting in their own right I would have been bored by now.
"Rowan, 10 inches, Nereid hair"
I picked the wand up in my hands nonchalantly, expecting some explosion or other to happen and for it to be snatched right back out of my hand.
Nothing did. And both of them were looking expectantly at me, waiting for the flick of the wrist and the answer to the never-ending search.
I all but closed my eyes, squinting so much I could just about see and waved it.
And it was magic.
Little golden spheres and sparks erupted gracefully from the end of the wand and arranged themselves, forming what looked like a sparkling golden model of the solar system. Each one of the planets moving ever so slightly in an orbit and it even had comets, asteroids and most amazingly a chariot. A chariot of the gods, racing over and around it. The whip slashing. Horses galloping onwards fevered. Controlled by a faceless female clad in gladiators armour.
"Rowan and nereid hair, very fluid, intuitive, good for summoning"
Ollivander didn't take the wand away. He smiled satisfied and asked us to come over to the desk. His job finished for our encounter.
My aunt sorted out the bill as I stood in the shop staring at the ever-fading magical model of the stars. It was so unbelievable to think I'd done that. I was in awe. I was only a beginner. What could she do? What about the teachers too? Anyone on the street could do even better than that. I was stunned. Never had I known something all encompassingly beautiful that I too could do. It wasn't like the rose or the tree that I could nurture but only from its design to its potential. I could make things. Out of nothing but energy and words. Simple ingredients that could make almost anything.
The only thing they could not do was raise the dead. My smile faded at that. Perhaps that alone would make up for any denial of the rest. I could give up the magic I'd seen, if maybe I could instead have the power to have my father again. There was probably a reason for that though, for not being able to do that. Some great and profound reason, that left me suffering.
I turned to my aunt as she walked to me and towards the door.
My thoughts went back to what the man had said.
"What was your wand like?"
She glanced at me.
"Nothing fascinating really."
"But he said…"
She was playing it down. Why shouldn't I know? She'd told me everything else.
"Caladrius and dogwood. Now can we go."?
"Fine" I glowered a little, wondering why those few words had been so hard to say for her.
/////////////Hermione's flashback//// Diagon alley, Ollivander's - before year one
A gentle voice called to her, she turned to see her mother
"Hermione, here it is. The shop, to the left"
They all looked at its visage
An old, incredibly old storefront met their gaze.
And inside it they met a quite old man, who acted odd but certainly seemed to know what he was doing.
Whilst Hermione was explained wands, her parents were off getting other shopping for her school year.
She'd suggested they go, as the man seemed to unnerve her mother. Besides that he was taking along time explaining all about the wand cores and the length and many other things that were apparently vital. She had of course asked Ollivander to do this. She was muggle-born and afraid that if she didn't ask then everyone else would know and not her.
Eventually they had gotten onto the wand. Her wand.
She tried out so many. Disillusioned as to why none of them so far had done anything. But he didn't care; he carried on with more and more boxes. Not concerned it appeared with the fact she had no magical talent. Maybe they'd got it wrong. She wasn't a witch at all. Just a peculiar muggle. Or a muggle born squib.
Still she tried all he presented her with, wondering when he'd give up.
On what looked to be almost the last one he had left in the shop front something happened. She felt a chill of energy when she held it. He too noticed it.
She was thrilled, and gave the wand a short happy flick.
The wand tingled with energy. And out of it light burst forth. Swirling to the sky, or at least the ceiling. And dropping eloquently like raindrops, that felt real to the touch.
She screamed with delight to herself, hands to her mouth and jumping up and down.
She was a witch! She was a witch" and she had never been happier.
He looked at her. Creepily.
"It is a wonderful gift you have."
She replied unsure of what to say
"Pardon? I don't know what you mean"
"The wand, it carried very powerful magic. Very beautiful magic. Divine talent. Exquisite. That would be why none other than that would work."
"You have talent," he repeated eerily.
She cautiously smiled, hoping, trying not to offend him
"Thank you"
He changed back to his normal self in an instant. Back to business, his voice curious as before and with only a small hint of that sharp foreseeing tone she'd encountered. Yet she didn't know why she had. What was the wand anyway?
As if reading her mind he stated its qualities
"Dogwood and caladrius feather. Good for healing charms and defence, durable, long lasting. It will serve you well."
She hobbled forward to the desk and paid for the wand quickly as possible. Scared he'd say anything else strange or worse take it back.
Out of the musty shop she relaxed, inhaling deeply. She felt a little better.
She moved her hand out of her pocket, peering a bit at the wand she still held securely. Its gold engravings flashed in the sun and she put it back.
Confident that it was the right one. That she was the right one.
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for when you are not
you seek to be
what was meant
no matter what that means
and maybe
you are something else
something more
that becomes ever ignored
for all that matters to you
is being who you think you are
all because you do not know
the truth
you see the picture, that you copy
wishing, wanting
not using your sight
maybe then there would be
the real delight
you are special
just as you may be
something else
carried
unseen
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