A/N: You guys are going to so hate me after this chapter. I promise that it will be worth-while in the end though. Okay, on to the story then! Clarks Wand!

Chapter 10

Claws dug into Clark's shirt and he could only stand in shock as a small, pink tongue licked his face (A/N: This is why you're going to hate me.). It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but finally he focused on what was clinging to his chest. A rather large cat with unusually big ears and a lion tail that flicked about behind it looked up at him. Its fur was a messy black with patches of silver strewn about. The first thing that he realized was that it was too small to be his unknown beast, and the second was that he'd just made a fool of himself by presuming that the silver eyes were the same before taking in consideration that he was in a pet store. Now that he looked at them, although they seemed very much the same, they weren't. He glanced over at Harry, who also appeared to be making the same conclusions in his head by the redness that was rising to his cheeks.

"Ah, it would seem Priscilla has taken a liking to you, young man." Both Harry and Clark turned to see the shopkeeper smiling at them. "She's been quite nasty to the other customers ever since she got here this week, but Kneazles do tend to know who they should like; very intelligent creatures."

Clark looked back at the feline still attached to him. He'd never heard of a Kneazle before, but that explained its unusual appearance. Priscilla was just staring up at him now, some feline intelligence glinting in her eye.

"So, if you'll just follow me to the front I can get you everything you need to take Priscilla home with you." This brought their attention back to the shopkeeper. Clark looked at them in confusion.

"I never said…" They cut him off before he could protest.

"It's either buy the Kneazle now or have her follow you home later, young man. Once they make a decision, Kneazles stick to it. Also, I want some profit after all the trouble she's caused me." Clark sighed, looking back down at the Kneazle. After a moment he softly detached her claws from his shirt to settle her in his arms. He then followed the shopkeeper up to the front to make his purchases.

They came out of the Magical Menagerie carrying a cage containing Priscilla, and a bag full of supplies and treats for both the Kneazle and Harry's owl, Hedwig. He had told Clark excitedly that she would be back from his friend's house now that there was no need to hide her, and the owl would appreciate some treats.

This was the first time Harry had mentioned his friends. Clark asked about them, which Harry eagerly replied to by telling him about Ron and Hermione. They sounded much like his own friends, Ron being much into sports like Pete, and Hermione being intuitive about things around her like Chloe. The fact that she sounded as clever, if not more, as Chloe caused Clark's nerves to stand on end. What if she discovered his secret? He'd felt fine telling Harry, but he didn't know these two friends of Harry's at all.

A yowl came from the cage in Clark's hand, pulling him out of his worried thoughts. He looked down at Priscilla, who seemed to be looking up at him with a worried expression if that was possible for a cat. The shopkeeper had said that Kneazles were intelligent though, so he didn't doubt that she had some extra abilities compared to other cats. He stuck his fingers through the bars to stroke her head lightly, reassuring the Kneazle that he was all right. She purred in response, only stopping when he drew back his hand. Priscilla actually looked disappointed that the petting ceased, and it made Clark chuckle a little.

It wasn't too long before they caught sight of Clark's parents and the transfigurations teacher ahead of them. Martha Kent seemed to be in an animated discussion with the older woman, while Jonathan seemed unsure about where he should stand. He was looking around at the wizards and witches bustling about them in a hurry, his eyes dragging across their apparel and then glancing down at his own. Clark had to clear his throat loudly in order for them to notice they were there. When they did, their eyes immediately went to the cage.

"What did you get, Clark?"

"A Kneazle," this earned him confused looks from his parents. "It's a type of magical cat. I figured a cat would be easier to explain than an owl in my room." His mother leaned down to look into the cage. Priscilla looked back at her with mild interest, while Martha smiled.

"She seems nice," She finally said, straightening up again. "Does she have a name yet?"

"The shopkeeper called her Priscilla. I think I'm going to stick with that." Jonathan came closer to get a better look at the Kneazle too, seeming skeptical of what he saw.

"Are you sure we can pass this thing off as a normal cat? It looks strange." Priscilla didn't seem to take this well. She hissed at her offender, causing Mr. Kent to back up a little.

"You might want to be careful what you say, Dad. Kneazles are supposed to be very intelligent." Mr. Kent looked at the cat once again, which seemed to glowering back at him.

"I'll keep that in mind." Martha Kent chuckled and rested a hand on her husbands shoulder.

"It's never nice to insult a female, Jonathan, no matter the species."

"Mrs. Kent is quite right," All eyes turned to Professor McGonagall. "Now, if you all are ready, I believe we have a wand to purchase."

Clark had nearly forgotten after the events in the Magical Menagerie. He didn't have a wand! He would have felt quite foolish if he'd tried to leave without one. They all quickly followed the deputy headmistress, Clark silently thanking her for reminding him. A thrill went through him suddenly at the aspect of him receiving a wand; a real wand! Clark wondered for a brief moment if this was how all wizards felt like when they first went to purchase their wands. By the look on Harry's face, it probably was. He seemed to be stuck in a fog of memories as they neared an old shop with chipping lettering.

Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

A dusty, purple pillow held an even dustier wand in the display window. McGonagall went inside with no hesitation, and they all soon followed her in. The room was dark, almost foreboding in Clark's opinion. He felt an odd sensation brush his mind, causing him to look to his immediate right. There, stood a man.

He moved out of the shadows, his wide eyes piercing through everyone in the room. His gaze first crossed over Professor McGonagall and then finally landed on Harry. The shifting of his gaze to the young man's forehead was obvious as he stepped closer.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. I wasn't expecting you to be in here any time soon. I do hope this visit isn't for you. I dare say your wand was… irreplaceable." Harry shuffled his feet and looked away from the scrutinizing gaze of who could only be Ollivander himself.

"Er, no actually," Harry replied. "We're here for my friend, Clark Kent." It was Clark's turn to be pinned under the man's eyes. He stared at him, seeming to attempt to pick Clark apart with merely a look. Finally, he spoke.

"Yes, I heard of a new arrival to Hogwarts. I was informed that he was a late starter, but I had no idea…" Ollivander said this more to himself than to those in the room. His eyes fogged over for a moment, as he continued to ponder to himself. McGonagall quickly grew impatient with the man.

"Mr. Ollivander, are you or are you not going to attend to the boy's need of a wand, or am I going to have to go through the shop on my own?" This brought Ollivander out of his reverie quickly, after the obvious threat to his shop space. He made a noise in between a huff and grunt before stepping forward with measuring tape.

"Hold out your wand hand." Clark promptly stuck out his right hand and the measuring tape jumped to life, measuring along his arm and other places that didn't appear to have anything to do with getting a wand. He stood there patiently, however, trying to remind himself that the man knew what he was doing. Ollivander quickly took in the measurements, ending the measuring tape's fast movements with a gesture of his hand. He then hurried to the back of the shop, disappearing into the shadows. When he appeared once again, Ollivander carried several long, thin boxes in his arms. He set them all down on the counter and opened the first box on the top.

"Late starters usually have an unusual core in their wands, one as unique as its owner. Here, try this: willow, quite springy, 12 ½ inches with powdered dragon scales. Go on, give it a wave." Clark did as he was told, regretting it immediately. The wand caused chaos as it exploded all the books on a shelf nearby. He was expected this to anger the old wand maker, but instead another wand replaced the one in his hand immediately.

"No, no, no. Try this then: Holly, 13 inches, manticore hair; good for defense magic." Again, Clark waved the wand and disaster ensued. The pile became smaller as they went through the wands with no success. Clark was growing anxious, thinking perhaps this had been all a big mistake. He was rationalizing with himself that he was already different enough, and it wouldn't matter if he didn't go to this wizard school when Ollivander came to another box. This ones color was faded a bit, the edges dulled from several years of wear. Ollivander looked at it, pensive.

"Ah, this has been on the shelf for many years; one of my fathers' wands. He used to do custom wands for different families, but stopped when the wizarding community grew so much to make it impossible to do. Apparently the one who requested this one… never came back for it." He looked up from the box at Clark.

"Perhaps it will have an owner now." Mr. Ollivander removed the lid to reveal a nicely polished wand inside. The wand itself was black while the handle seemed to be a lighter type of wood. The old wand maker carefully took it out of the box, offering the handle to Clark.

"It's quite an interesting combination. Ebony is used for the wand, with a White Poplar handle. The core is a mix of powdered basilisk fang and phoenix tears." Clark hesitantly took it from the man's hand. As soon as his fingers touched it though… it was as if it has always belonged there. He felt an odd sensation go through him, starting from his hand and spreading throughout his body. A fountain of red and blue light shot out of the tip of the wand as soon as he waved it. They soon faded away to leave the room dark once more, but not before Clark thought he saw a symbol dissolve with the colors. It looked oddly familiar, but he chose to ignore it as he heard clapping.

The collected group cheered at the display of colors, which signaled the choosing of a wand. Ollivander happily took the wand back to pack it up and draw up the bill. They paid him and went to leave but Clark was stopped by Mr. Ollivander before he could step out of the door with the rest.

"I must tell you, Mr. Kent," the man said to him in a hushed voice. "That is a powerful wand you have, and the man to request it is assumed to be just as great. I expect you to take great care in its use."

"Who exactly asked for this wand to be made, Mr. Ollivander?" He shook his head in reply.

"No one knows. My father took his name to the grave, swore to. The only clue we have is that the man disappeared into the Forbidden Forest. Perhaps the answer to your question lies there, but I would advise never to go there. Now, good luck with that wand." Ollivander hastily ushered him out of the shop, closed the door, and hung a closed sign in the window. Clark stood there, looking at the closed shop for a moment before he felt a hand grip his shoulder.

"You all right, Clark?" He turned to see his father, concern obvious in the older man's eyes. Clark shook off his brooding mood and nodded to him in answer. He then realized for the first time that there was hardly anyone else in the street with them. Most of the shops were in the process of closing, he noticed and those few who remained were just sending out their last customers.

"Come, it's getting late and I'm sure you all must be hungry." McGonagall reached into her robes to pull out the portkey again. She held it out as she continued. "Professor Dumbledore would like to invite you all to dinner in the Great Hall, where you can discuss things if this trip has raised any questions for you."

"Well, I'm not sure we have any more questions but we would love to join him for dinner." Martha gave her husband a pointed look, after warmly addressing the older woman. He seemed subdued by her gaze, since he was about to decline the offer. His mouth remained shut though, and Mrs. Kent seemed satisfied with that.

"Dumbledore will appreciate your company, as will I." McGonagall smiled warmly. "I would still like to continue that discussion with you, Martha." Clark was surprised by this. Apparently his mother and the deputy headmistress had gotten on first-names basis in the short time they knew each other. It showed that the strict woman would be easy to get along with though, which made Clark's outlook on the school year much more relaxed. He was curious about what they were discussing though. There was no time to contemplate this, however, as he noticed everyone taking hold of the portkey. His hand soon followed the rest and in the blink of an eye, Diagon Alley held no more customers.

A/N: There you go, another chapter! I wanted to get it in before the next book came out. I'm sure you all will be busy in the next few weeks with the sixth HP book. I know I'll be… that is, whenever my sister finally hands it over to me. She's got first dibs on it, so frustrating… Ok, don't forget to review, and I'm STILL waiting for an answer for my question from last chapter. What am I repeating?