Harry was nervous.
It was September 1st, and he was waiting for his friends to arrive. Usually he couldn't wait to meet them after a long summer with Dursleys, but today was different. Today he was almost dreading their arrival. Today he was sitting alone on the Hogwarts Express and nervously staring at the compartment door. Today he was afraid his friends were going to notice he was different, that he wasn't alive.
It wasn't that he doubted their friendship, it wasn't that at all. He was planning to tell them from the beginning. He had rehearsed that conversation in his head so many times. But that was before. That was while he was still at Dursleys, having fun scaring Aunt Petunia with his deadness. That was before he went to Mrs. Fig and she flinched when she saw him, and that was before he flooed through her fireplace to number twelve Grimmauld Place, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.
Whatever he was hoping for before flooing there certainly wasn't what he encountered. Almost every member of the Order avoided him. Tonks always morphed ghostly white when she saw him and tripped on thin air. Remus stayed distant, his inner wolf frightened by his presence, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley flinched whenever he approached them or looked their way. Other members he didn't know that well simply fled the room, using the most absurd excuses if he was there. Even Mrs. Black stayed silent in her frame when he walked the corridor. Obviously, being dead was not that well accepted in the wizarding world. So he decided that maybe telling his friends should wait.
It seemed to Harry that the only ones that weren't afraid or wary of him were Dumbledore (who was experienced and powerful enough not to be afraid of anything, Harry thought), Snape (who found his condition source for brand new insults) and, to Harry's great surprise, Professor Flitwick, who decided to take a more active part in the Order and was staying at Headquarters for the whole summer.
He liked spending time with the minute Professor, who soon became his good friend. Filius, as he now earned the right to call him, had a great sense of humor and was never too busy to spend some time telling him stories or simply answering Harry's numerous questions about the professor's youth, about charms, about the wizarding world and what mattered to Harry the most-- about Harry's parents. Filius, who at the time they attended Hogwarts was not yet Head of Ravenclaw but only the Charms professor, knew many stories of his mother and of the mischievous Marauders. He even admitted falling victim to several of their pranks.
Aside from talking, they spent many hours researching charms that could be applied to Harry's deceased body. W This resulted in the discovery of the use of Reparo in healing minor injuries (acquired during Moody's merciless defense training) and many more pros and cons of various charms.
That 1st of September, Harry relied on some of Flitwick's charms to hide that he was not quite alive. Powerful coloring and glamour charms took care of his appearance (blue lips were not in, as Filius jokingly informed him), and specialized animating charms took care of his blinking and breathing habits. They even created a unique banishing charm that would banish every bite of food immediately after being swallowed, as his body was unable to process it (not that he needed food anyway, but not eating was quite distinguishable, maybe even more than not breathing or blinking).
The door clicked and Harry would have held his breath if it weren't for the animation charms on his lungs. Moments later Ron's red-haired head emerged.
"Finally, Harry! Hermione already started panicking…"
"I did not! I was just concerned…"
"Like I said, she started panicking," Ron continued and got an elbow in his ribs for his effort. "Did you really have to choose the very last compartment? So how was your summer?"
"As good as it could be, considering I had to spend it with the Dursleys," he replied, relieved that at least for the moment his secret stayed safe.
"Harry, is that a new wand?"
Well, Hermione was always quick to notice anything unusual, and as long it wasn't his deadness, he was not going to complain.
"Yeah, it is. Dumbledore arranged with Ollivander to get me a new one. He figured it would be safer if my wand wasn't brother to Voldemort's. (Sorry, Ron, but it is just a name). It's black willow and dragon heart string. Ollivander said that is very unusual, since black willow can be found only on two islands near Mexico." He lied easily, now that his initial fright has passed. It also helped that he had practiced saying it for hours under Moody's ever seeing eye. He hated lying to his friends, but in the end he accepted it as necessary.
He didn't lie about everything though. He did go to Ollivander's, and it wasn't very wise to have wand that is brother to Voldie's. But this wasn't the reason and his wand was certainly not black willow with dragon heartstring. No, the truth was quite different.
Harry actually went to Ollivander's to practice magic.
You see, it isn't possible to track the use of underage magic in a wand shop. If that were the case, the shop would be flooded with ministry owls, because wands couldn't be tried, chosen or repaired without the use of magic. In Ollivander's shop the Order found a safe place for Harry to practice. And it was good that they decided to do that, because once they entered, they were in for a surprise.
In Harry's pale hands, his wand refused to work; it wasn't compatible with his dead body. Harry had to buy a new wand. This time he had even more trouble choosing the right one ( or being chosen by one-- after all, the wand chose the wizard). After trying every single wand in the shop (even some disturbingly extravagant ones), he remained wandless.
Harry remembered how he sat there, surrounded with hundreds of boxes and feeling defeated. Ollivander approached him, lifted his chin, looked him deep in the eyes and after several silent moments confidently said, "Come in a week. I will make you a wand."
Harry did come a week later, followed by Flitwick and nervous as hell. Not even the encouraging words from his escort nor the knowing looks from the old wand-maker as he went to fetch his hopefully new wand could ease his nervousness.
Minutes later he was looking at it. The wand was slender and coal black and so out of place in wand-maker's hands. This wand looked … wrong?
"It looks wrong," he said uncertainly.
"It is a dead wand. It holds no living magic whatsoever. It is made of fossilized dragon wood with Thestral bone for a core. It is completely nonmagical for anyone living, but I believe it will work for you. Why don't you give it a try?"
Harry reached slowly, hesitating to touch such a dead looking wand. When he was just inches from it he felt sudden warmth and gasped. He looked at Ollivander but the wand maker just smiled at him encouragingly. He grabbed the wand in one swift motion and immediately felt the surge of warmth and magic entering him, flowing through him. His world burst into blazing light and he felt connected, he felt right. This was his wand. The world cleared and his eyes met knowing silver ones.
"I have a wand."
Ollivander nodded. "You have a wand."
He was startled from his reverie by an elbow connecting with his ribs and Ron's voice whispering in his ear. "I know you don't want to hear about Hermione's trip to the book fair, but you could at least try to look interested." This was followed with Hermione's annoyed pout.
AN/ This is not the end of this chapter. It continues directly into the next one.