Hazy Magic
The Seer
Disclaimer: I was listening to "The Seeker" by the The Who, by the way, I don't own them, while writing this; along with The Who, Harry Potter is also not owned by me, get it?
A/N I revised and reloading this chapter because the previous one is crap, I apologize to anyone who read it. I realized it didn't make sense to anyone who doesn't live in my head, so you better appreciate the revisions! Also, I won't beg, but do please review, they boost my self-confidence and make me want to write more
Hestia froze; she whipped around quickly, eyes wide in surprise. When she spotted the source of the call she immediately calmed. She followed the man into a dark, cool shop, a pleasant change from the heat of the street.
"It's been awhile, Mr. Ollivander," She said coolly.
"I almost did not believe that it was really you."
"So I should have ignored you; pretended that I didn't hear you, or not know what you were talking about. Then you would have gone away?"
Mr. Ollivander chuckled lightly; Miss Halifax was a remarkable creature. "Do you need a new wand?" Mr. Ollivander was gazing casually through his stock of wands, "Or do you still own that…antique, wand of yours?"
"Luckily," Hestia replied dryly, taking out the "antique". She supposed he didn't know what else to call it; the wand had been in her family for centuries. It had been created for and was destined for her bloodline. Hestia herself had inherited it (by its means of spontaneous appearance spooking a four year old Hestia) from her great-aunt Mildridge who had died before she was born, but with whom she had always spoken to when she needed advice. She handed it cautiously to Mr. Ollivander who then closely examined it in his hands, muttering.
"Ten and three fourths inches, Hawthorn…gorgon's blood," it was a Seer wand, supposedly its master's fate would be shown to them when they first acquired it; its secrets and the secrets of its masters bound within it. He had seen only one, this same one, almost a century before. He flicked the wand and a silvery image followed by a soft high pitched echo slithered out; it would not show itself or work for him, as other wands might. Mr. Ollivander handed the wand back to Hestia in haste, but carefully. "Ah… So, it is true?"
"Yes."
"I assume you've seen your…?" Fate, the unsaid word hung in the air collecting tension. They both knew what it really meant, death; the wand showsits masters' death, although at the time it was shown it would not appear to be so, or even appear sensible.
The comment seemed to unsettle her. Mr. Ollivander watched as several expressions crossed her face, none of which he would have expected someone as composed as she to display. He acknowledged this as a moment of weakness; so she had seen it.
Hestia decided to ignore his comment, although the answer was obvious to both of them. As she met his eyes she said coldly, "Good day Mr. Ollivander, I would appreciate it if you don't mention my reappearance."
"Of course," Mr. Ollivander replied softly. He watched her as she turned around; a patch of sunlight temporarily tore through the gloom of the store when she opened the door.