Red Angel
Author: J.E.AR.K.Potter (Erin)
Rating: R
Thanks to all my reviewers:
AngelicDeath: Thanks I guess. For once would people just tell me how to change my writing style so more people would like it. Oh and you are my one hundredth reviewer, yeah, for you.
blood emerald: Sorry it has taken me so long I went through a very weird period where I had no inspiration for anything.
Miranda G. Potter: Thanks and yeah it is he.
Jackie: Thanks and congrats.
hpjsr: Thanks
Oh and by the way to all of you know that I have a companion story to this? Well, it is called Hazel Gryffindor. Check it out.
Chapter Twenty-two: Shopping for a Wand
Dad got my supplies already so all we need now is my wand, finally a wand of my own, the vehicle for all my magical power. I should vow to do something good for the world with it. I know I will terrorize Slytherins with it as long as I live. No, I am not cruel it's just that well… it would be pay back for all the things Tom did to me.
Dad and I walked down the street to Ollivanders: Maker of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. The shop itself looks plain and small. The words above the door weren't in good condition. In the fogged over window sat a wand on a purple cushion that seemed that once upon a time it could have graced the royals.
Dad opened the door it front of us and he and I stepped inside. Mr. Ollivander himself was nowhere to be seen. I have met him before as I have Dumbledore, to me they alike, mystical, intelligent, wise, and slightly, no, very odd. Dumbledore did not fit the description of creepy, though as Mr. Ollivander defiantly did.
Ollivander appeared from behind his stacks of wands to come see us. "It is good to see you again, Jacob, is your wand still in good condition?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"Good, of course I remember it eleven inches, maple, good for Defense against the Dark Arts I believe," Mr. Ollivander recited from his massive memory. I wonder how he keeps his head from exploding.
"…Useful for Charms," Ollivander said. Apparently while wondering how soon his head would explode made me miss one of his astonishing memories. Oh damn I so wanted to hear it. Ah… sarcasm is the worst.
"Hmm… now what will we do with you, James Potter?" Mr. Ollivander turned his attention to me. "Which is your wand hand?"
I held out my left hand, as that awful measurer took in my statistics. "Hmm… maybe your best core would be a phoenix feather."
Ollivander went back into his selves of wands waiting to be tested. "Holly, phoenix feather, eleven inches."
I waved the wand but nothing happen. He grabbed it out of my hand. "Hmm… I thought for sure… well here try this one, eight inches, willow, dragon heartstring, sturdy yet flexible." He places the wand in my hand. Again there was no reaction.
"No, no the dragon heartstring seems to work for you, maybe… ah… here you go," Ollivander took a wand out of its box. "Mahogany, eleven inches, pliable, powerful, and excellent for Transfiguration.
I took the wand in my hand and a feeling greater than anything I have ever felt swept from the core of myself, my soul, the feeling was stronger than the spell Tom made me suffer through, than the knife against my skin was.
My came down in a flourish almost familiar, red came out of the wand. Red like the spell, like Lily's hair… no! I won't think about that.
Both Ollivander and my father looked at me. "James, what was that?" Dad asked me. His eyes were wide with something I don't understand.
"What do you mean?" Dad is acting really strange.
"Nothing James, nothing."
R/R!
