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***********************************ShadowElfBard***********************************
8:03 am
Outside Gringotts Bank
(Willow)
I blink once or twice as I step out into the dazzling gaze of the morning sun. I take in a deep breath of the fresh, cool air and let it fill my lungs. I then let it back out in a slow and steady stream, allowing my previously tensed muscles to grow relaxed.
Dumbledore rests a hand upon my shoulder and squeezes it gently, and with a clenching heart I'm reminded of Giles.
The wizard isn't all that bad really, and in many ways he is like Giles. He's English, knowledgeable, and kind. I can't say that I fully trust him yet, and I might not ever trust him. I'm beginning to think that trust is nothing more than a weapon to be used against you. You trust someone to be there for you, to love and take care of you, and then they're gone. And all that is left is an empty shell; a husk full of memories.
After a very long talk that almost went into the morning, I was explained the basics of this world more thoroughly. Nothing worth mentioning really. After the discussion Dumbledore 'poofed' away the chairs and magickally brought in some beds to sleep on. I thought it was really nice that the Headmaster chose to stay with me through the night in the furnished cell, and not go home to his own house to sleep, though it might have more to do with him not being able to let me stay more than five leagues away from him or a supervisor. (And for those of you who weren't nerds in high school, that means fifteen miles). But it was a fine gesture all the same.
Then this morning, he'd woken me up, handed me a platter of eggs, (I don't know from where), and told me that he had to return to Hogwarts to get some things settled before the start of the next school term, and that a trusted friend of his would be coming to pick me up, take me shopping, and then drop me off at a substitute supervisor's home.
I'd suddenly felt like an unwanted present.
But the wizard had done nothing but shown me patience and kindness, so I'd put on my best-faked smile, and eaten my eggs in an accommodating silence.
So now I'm standing outside on the pearly white steps of Gringotts, warm speckles of sunlight dancing on my cheeks, wondering about who is going to come pick me up, and if they know who it is they're going to be watching over. I hope that they're like Dumbledore; I don't think I can meet another 'fudge' person and not go all 'vainy-Willow'.
I clutch my bag, (which Dumbledore was able to get back for me from the goblins), tighter in my hands, still extremely nervous, when I hear Dumbledore sigh in relief beside me.
He begins walking down the steps, his hands clasped out in front, and he stops when he reaches the middle of the cobbled sidewalk.
For a moment I wonder what he's doing, but then I see that from the hustling crowd of wizards and witches who are walking speedily up and down the pathway, a figure is coming towards us. Dumbledore has his back turned towards me, and obscures my vision of the person he's meeting, but he then turns slightly to gesture up towards me, and I can easily recognize the man he'd talking to. I don't think I could ever forget him.
It's Hagrid from the bar!
The giant of a man is in front of me in three long striding steps. He puts his hands on his hips and furrows his eyebrows at me in study, before widening his eyes in recognition.
He swivels back around. "This is the witch yeh wrote me 'bout, Headmaster?"
"Yes Hagrid, this is Ms. Rosenberg. Is there something wrong with the arrangement?"
"Oh, no, it's fine sir it's just…" he glances back at me briefly. "It's just that I don't really see her as the type, yeh know?"
Dumbledore nods in understanding. "I see, Reubus. But as I'm sure you'll find out, Ms. Rosenberg is not an evil or dark witch at all. Now though, I'm afraid I must be off. The money I gave you will be enough I hope?"
"Yes sir, I got plenty fer the supplies she'll be needin'." He gives Albus a small smile. "I don't suppose yeh'd be willin' ter tell me what it is that she'll be doin' at Hogwarts?"
Dumbledore eyes light up with a mischievous twinkle and he winks. "Now where would be the fun in that?" he gives Hagrid and I a polite nod. "Goodbye, Hagrid and Ms. Rosenberg. I will see you at the start of the school year."
And then, quicker than the eye can blink, he's gone.
I look up at Hagrid, and Hagrid looks down at me. We're both thinking the same things probably. The only difference is he's wondering what I'm doing in this mess, and I'm wondering how I got into it.
We stare at each other a few moments longer, before he sighs and breaks the silence.
"Look Willow, I don't know how yeh can be what Dumbledore told me the Ministry believes yeh ter be, an' I don't really know why yeh got ter do all of this shopping around like a first year, but Dumbledore gave me his orders, an' I'm not about ter let him down. You understand what I'm trying to tell yeh?"
I nod softly. "Yep. You want to know if I'm going to go all 'grr!' on you for doing your job. Don't worry though, I don't like this situation either and I'm still not sure I understand it, but I'm not going to shoot the messenger. Not that I'd actually shoot you, and I know you're technically not a messenger, but you get the idea."
He grunts. "Right. Well the good thing is that Dumbledore's provided the money fer this little shopping trip, so you'll not have to worry 'bout that."
I furrow my brows. "He gave me money to go shopping? But if I'd just exchanged my American money for…for whatever it is you people use as currency, I'd probably have enough."
"Dumbledore has his reasons Willow. He probably felt that yeh shouldn't have ter pay fer somethin' yeh didn't want ter do in the first place." he looses a gargantuan sigh and stretches briefly. "Now, are yeh ready?"
And with a timid but positive reply, we start down the pathway.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Ollivanders? What does he sell?"
Hagrid scratches the back of his head at my query, wondering best how to phrase it.
"He uh… he sells wands actually."
I raise an eyebrow. "Wands? As in, pointy-sticks-that-do-magick, wands?"
"Err…yeah."
"Oh. And I need one of these because…?"
He throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. "Look, I know yer supposed to be some… some 'wandless witch' or what not, but every wizard-- or witch --that's ever lived and practiced at least half decent magick has had a wand. They help focus a person's power."
I sigh. "Okay."
I enter the shop-- Hagrid said he'd wait outside --and look around with a curiosity that manages to subdue my initial trepidation. The store, from what I can see of it, remarkably resembles an old bookshop. It is dimly and yet warmly lit, and has an air of antiquity. The room seems covered in a thin veil of dust and age, and reminds me of the Magic Box.
I approach the counter (the only polished surface in sight) and look around expectantly for a clerk of some kind.
"Hello."
I jump at the unexpected voice, and whirl around to find an older man standing behind me, his strange moon-like eyes sparkling and staring intently.
I simply gape, unable to speak.
Luckily, the guy does all the talking for me.
"So, I take it you're here for a wand, yes? Well you've come to the right place my dear, Ollivanders have been the makers of fine wands since 382 B.C. and we are, if I may say so myself, the best at what we do."
He studies me for a moment, and I see a sly, half-hidden smile on his lips, as he murmurs softly, almost too softly for me to hear, "this will be an difficult one, yes… but it will no doubt be interesting…"
Is it just me, or was a draft let into the room?
I clear my throat nervously. "Look sir, I don't really know what type of stick--" his eyes flare wide, "err, I mean wand, I need to get, and--"
He shakes a finger at me. "The wand picks its owner my dear, not the other way around."
"Okay," I say slowly, this guy's strange behavior throwing me off. "Well, then I don't know how to go about letting a uh, letting a wand 'choose' me."
He smiles slowly. "That's where I come in."
Six minutes later and four wands later…
"Willow…flexible…nine inches…unicorn hair…" Ollivander says, out of breath as he passes me my fifth test wand.
I take it reluctantly, and silently wonder how it is that a guy Ollivander's age is able to run as well as he can. When my fourth wave of a wand had sent that orb zooming around the room, I never thought that he'd be able to catch it before it broke something. Learn something new everyday I guess.
So far this "choosing" business had been going horribly. I feel like a fool, I've destroyed two different vases, and I once set Mr. Ollivander's robes on fire. It's like the wands can sense what a bad witch I am, and don't want to come anywhere near me. I swear that they're conspiring…
Suppressing a sigh, I apprehensively pick up the wand, and give it a wave when…
BOOM!!!
Silence.
Ollivander blinks. "You… you blew up my wand."
I look sheepishly down at the snapped wood I now hold in my hand. Oops.
"I… I'm sorry…" I struggle to apologize, still shocked from the sudden explosion. Not knowing what else to do and feeling uncomfortable, I numbly hand him the half of the wand that remains. The other half is now in dust form and is probably floating in the air.
He takes the ruined stick gently in his hands and whimpers softly.
I bite my lip. "Are you uh, are you going to be um, o-okay?"
He squeaks out an "Mmhmm," that is supposed to be reassuring but sounds far from it. "I… I'll be right…right back…"
And then, with tears forming in his eyes, the wizard flees through a door in the back of the shop and slams it shut behind him.
I wince at the sound, and then clutch my forehead and feel the sudden need to bash in my skull with a very large and heavy stick.
My shoulders sagging as I stand in a slump, I wearily and disinterestedly glance around, when I notice that there's another room. Curious, I walk back into what seems like a storage area (probably for the wands). There are tons upon tons of neat little boxes stacked upon each other and on the sides of each one is a description of the type of wand being stored.
And that's when I feel it.
My head, almost of its own volition, snaps towards the end of the aisle I'm in. I can feel something pulsating, something powerful, and an overwhelming need comes over me that I'm unable to suppress. Driven by an unknown force I stride quickly to the end of the passage, completely oblivious to the thousands of boxes on the shelves beside me.
I reach the end and then turn left, following a path deeper into the back of the shop, and I notice that the light is getting dimmer and the dust on the boxes is growing steadily thicker. I am entering a section that has not been browsed through for some time.
My heart pounding wildly and excitedly in my chest, I kick up the speed of my pace, my eyes going wide with anticipation. I'm nearing it; I can feel it. I'm almost… almost…. almo…al…
I'm there.
Breathing deeply in and out, I stare fixatedly at the source of the pull that had brought me here. It's an uninteresting brown parcel, shoebox in size, and the only thing that draws my attention is the writing on the side that clearly says: Test Wand. I look around me and notice that the other boxes in this area all have similar writing. Weird.
"Ms. Rosenberg? What are you doing… no one is supposed to be back here…" Ollivander questions softly, apparently back from weeping over his destroyed merchandise. He's staring at me in utter confusion, though I see a hint of curiosity in his eyes.
I hold up the Test Wand box for him to see. "What is this?"
His eyebrows practically jump in surprise at seeing me with the package, and it takes him a moment to answer. "That is a container with a Test Wand inside. Now why are you back her--"
"What's a Test Wand?"
He frowns at my interruption but doesn't comment. "Every few years or so a witch or wizard tries to create a wand out of a new material. They send their prototypes here to be tested and possibly sold. The ones that don't work-- all of them --are stored back here until I can find the time to send them back. Wands just can't be made out of anything but wood."
I look down at the brown box, coldly analyzing it, and feel my fingers twitch as though they want to tear off the lid. Ollivander seems to notice this, and clears his throat.
"Why don't you just… just give that to me, and we can get on to finding you a proper wand. You obviously need something a bit stronger than willow, how about an oak wand? They're very--"
"Enough," I command with a voice not my own, as I raise my hand to ward off his meaningless prattle. "I want to try this wand."
"But that's just a Test Wan--"
My head is up in a flash and I glare at him with a fiery passion.
"I will try this wand," I hiss, "and you will not speak until I have done so."
He does as he's told, my deadly tone clearly leaving no room for arguments.
I look down at the item in my hands once more and then with a tender touch I smoothly take off the lid and let it fall to the floor. My breath catches in my throat as I gaze upon the wand. Never before have I seen a more beautiful tool.
A slight smile on my lips, I take it out, and hold it in the light, gently turning it in my fingers as I study its features, ignoring the wide stare I'm receiving from Ollivander.
The wand is heavy, and I can tell immediately that it's made of stone. It's cool to the touch, but I can almost feel a thread of fire within it, a burning passion to channel the flames of wild magick. It's a shimmering white with patches of ebony black, and there's thin thread of silver in every borderline between the two colors. I'm in awe of it, and the witch inside of me is hungry for it; ravenous for the extra control and power it offers.
"Give it a wave."
As though stepping out a daze I bring my gaze up to Ollivander, and I almost take a step back at the eager fervor in his eyes. He's trembling from excitement.
"Give it a wave," he repeats, his hands motioning encouragingly.
I pause for a moment, suddenly hesitant as to whether or not I should, before an ancient calling throws away all concern. I raise the wand, and flick my wrist in a sharp and confident gesture.
My breath pours out from my lips in a long, releasing sigh. Ecstasy and pleasure surrounds me in a blissful cloud of radiance. And for the first time since Tara's death, even if this sensation is only temporary, I feel… Whole. Bonded. Complete.
"My word…" Ollivander whispers behind me, amazement and a strange joy in his voice. "Who would have guessed…?"
My lids half closed and a smile on my face, I tilt my head at him in an almost sleepy amusement. "What's this wand made of?"
"It's a type of marble, eleven and a quarter inches long, sturdy, magickal center of…" he squints at it briefly. "…Of sphinx feather if I'm not mistaken."
My eyes grow wide in astonishment. "Sphinx? There are sphinxes?"
He gives a little nod, more focused on the wand than on me. "Not usually a potent enough magick to be added in wands, but it seems to fit you."
He clears his throat and brings his gaze away from the stone tool reluctantly, meeting my eyes. "Now then, despite this rather… rather curious turn of events, I believe I have yet to be paid."
I quirk an eyebrow.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"So yeh got yer wand then eh?"
I nod silently, looking at the ground as we walk down the path.
"An' what'd yeh have to pay fer it?" Hagrid asks.
I tell him the price softly, not really paying attention as my mind is on my new wand, and he gasps.
"Ten Galleons?! Ollivander mus' be off his rocker! I ain't never heard of a wand bein' that much …"
I simply shrug, still not focused. Hagrid finally notices how quiet I am, and stares at me in study. It doesn't take a hacker to know that something's troubling me.
"Somethin' wrong then Willow? Yer bein' pretty quiet."
His words bring me out of my daze and I shake my head before giving him a forced smile. "I'm fine Hagrid, thanks. So, where are we going next?"
He raises a single eyebrow at my attempt to change the subject, but then sighs and fumbles in his pocket before pulling out a small folded piece of paper.
He takes a look at it. "We'll be headin' to Flourish and Blotts. Seems there's a few books Dumbledore wants yeh ter pick up before I drop yeh off."
I purse my lips slightly. "Hagrid?"
"Yeah?"
"Where is it that you're dropping me off? Who is it that's going to be watching over me?"
He scratches the back of his head. "A friend of mine actually. Friend of Dumbledore's too. Got a nice family, he does. Yeh'll be all right."
I look up at him doubtfully, but don't press it further. Besides, I don't have a choice in the matter. No use for me to get all worried and stuff, 'cause there's nothing I can do about it.
I sigh, and shove my hands in my pockets.
I hope he's nice.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I hug the books I've bought from Flourish and Blotts close to my chest, my mind still reeling with excitement and joy. That was the coolest bookstore I've ever been in. The Magic Box has nothing on this place. The magick books they have in there… the sheer amount of them… it's overwhelming. It's also a little addictive.
I had to get some books that Hagrid had scoffed at, saying they were for first years, (whatever those are) and though I kind of thought they were childish I did see the reason in getting them. Dumbledore wants me to learn how to do the spells I know with a wand, not just my hands. So even though I may have to re-learn some of the basics, I think it was a smart choice. I also got some weirder books… things on the dark arts and protection against them. I'm not holding those books right now though. I don't trust myself.
I've apparated for the first time. Well, okay, I didn't apparate; Hagrid did. But I was there for the ride! It was strange how he did the magick with his umbrella though. I would have thought he'd have used a wand. I tried to ask him about it but he was very stubborn. He had a resolve face on and everything.
"So… this is the place?" I ask timidly, my voice tinged with uncertainty.
Hagrid nods. "The cottage may look small, but it'll be just fine. You best go knock. I doubt that they'll open the door if you don't." he winks at me.
I shoot him a playfully reproachful look, and then knock hesitantly on the wooden door. I hear noises in the house, like people hurrying around, and someone yelling. But a few moments later the door is opened by a pleasant looking man with bright, scarlet red hair.
He looks at me in surprise at first, but then sees Hagrid and he smiles in recognition. "Oh, hello there. You must be the one Dumbledore wrote me about. Ms. Rosenberg is it?"
I nod.
"Ah, good, good…" he pauses, unsure of what to say next. "Um, oh! Right then." He sticks out his hand. "My name is Arthur. Arthur Weasley."
************************************************************************************
I finished the next chapter! Yay me! I hope you guys are enjoying this fiction, (if there's anyone even out there), and I'll be sitting on the edge of my seat as I'll desperately await your feedback. So… Hope you liked it, and please review!!!
------Talk to you soon!