Chapter Fourteen Of Walnut and Dragon Heartstring

"Herm-own-ninny?"

Hermione was woken by an insistent voice and a gentle hand shaking her. Her misty dream of resolute silver eyes staring into hers from a face gentled by firelight dissolved, leaving behind a trail of faint frustration. "Hm?"

"Vake up, your alarm clock has been ringing for ten minutes."

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, the silvery gaze from her dream replaced by a dark brown one, and saw Viktor standing over her, finally becoming aware of the insistent beeping she had tuned out in the depth of her sleep. She didn't remember actually making it to bed, although she'd sent a spell to set her alarm so she got to the Ministry early. "How…?"

"You fell asleep on the couch," Krum explained, his expression disapproving. "I voke up and came down to check if you vere home, and found you there. It vos quarter to two. I carried you up."

Hermione sighed, and managed a tired smile. "Thanks, Viktor."

The surly Bulgarian grunted. "Do you really need to be up this early? You need more sleep. I could owl Potter."

Hermione shook her head, forcing herself to sit up. "No, I've got to go see Ollivander with Harry and Dra-Malfoy before the shops open." She caught herself halfway through Malfoy's first name, confused that it had come so easily to her lips.

The corners of Krum's mouth tightened. "Ollivander," he said the name with a hint of disparagement. "And Malfoy again."

Hermione sighed. "Please not today, Viktor. It's your last day here." She reached for his hand.

Krum's features relaxed. "Very vell." He eyed her sternly. "But you are not leaving vithout proper breakfast." He brandished a firm finger at her, standing. "I vill tell you ven it is ready. Rest."

Hermione couldn't help but smile, shaking her head as he left for the kitchen.


Diagon Alley was disturbingly quiet so early in the morning. The traders and shop owners were already about, setting up for the day's work, but there were few people in the streets beyond the shop assistants walking in and out as they set out their wares and opened up the shutters covering the shop fronts.

Harry found it eerily reminiscent of how things had been after Voldemort had made his return public, and was deeply relieved when he saw Malfoy waiting for him outside the second-hand bookshop beside the still empty shop that had been Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. A number of different establishments had sprung up in its place over the years, but none had prospered, and the spot had been left vacant after a while, the windows boarded up.

"Malfoy."

Draco turned, fitting the book he'd been flicking through back into its slot on the table, and nodded to Potter.

Together they glanced at the shuttered shop next door.

"Fortescue made good sundaes," Draco said after a few moments.

Harry nodded.

"I was in the Manor when they killed him."

Harry stilled at the frank admission, wide eyes fixed on Malfoy's set expression.

"He'd been in our dungeons for weeks…killing him was a mercy after what he'd been through." There was an obvious subtext to the words.

"You couldn't have stopped them." Harry's tone was firm.

"Couldn't I?" Draco addressed the disbelieving words to his shoes.

"Not without being killed by Voldemort yourself. You were a teenager, Draco."

Draco glanced up, his expression more open and relaxed than normal, but nowhere near vulnerable. "So were you lot."

Harry snorted softly. "We were fighting for freedom from our side – we were protected; we had adult witches and wizards at our backs. If you fought for freedom from within, against Voldemort face-to-face…it's not the same."

Draco met Potter's gaze. "I was a bully and a coward – of course it wasn't the same." He sighed.

Harry gazed at the man who had been his childhood nemesis. It seemed odd after all they'd been through that they could be here, sharing this moment. But then he had reconciled with Dudley, and it hadn't been through his own efforts – it had come from his cousin. And the same was true of Malfoy. "Your family might have set your feet on one path when we were kids, Malfoy, but you're forging your own now. Even Hermione can see that."

The corners of Malfoy's mouth quirked up very slightly at that, and he nodded once in gratitude. "Are we meeting Granger at Ollivanders?"

Harry nodded. Together they turned and made their way further down the street towards the south side.


"Harry, Malfoy! Over here!" Hermione called. She and Viktor had taken a small table outside the Rosa Lea Teabag teashop while they waited, she with a cup of tea, and Viktor with a Turkish coffee.

Viktor was surprisingly adept with a wand in the kitchen, and he'd prepared them some Bulgarian dishes that she'd liked when she'd visited him; sweet and savoury banitsas, a hot lyutenitsa relish on toast, and a shopska salad washed down with ayran and boza. Hermione had been glad she'd set her alarm so early, despite how little sleep she'd had; she actually enjoyed mornings, even though waking up didn't always agree with her. Despite his being around all the time, she and Viktor had not had many opportunities to properly spend time together what with the long hours she'd been working on the case, and talking and eating in her little kitchen had felt like the perfect way to round off his unexpected visit.

Viktor had already packed his things and sent them home, and would be leaving after they had a last lunch together that afternoon, and Hermione had promised that she would come visit him after the case had been dealt with.

Draco's eyes settled on the Bulgarian with no small amount of dislike as the pair stood to greet them, his mouth tightening. Krum's eyes slid over him, pausing for the most fleeting of seconds with a look of equal displeasure, before he proceeded to ignore him.

"Krum," Harry shook the seeker's hand genially, "I'm afraid there's not much for you to do in Diagon Alley so early."

Krum shook his head. "I haff some things to do." He turned to Hermione. "I vill see you later, yes?"

Hermione nodded and smiled.

Krum gave Draco another fleeting glance, throwing a handful of sickles down on the table, and then slouched back towards the north side of the street.

"Shall we?"

Draco eyed Granger as they walked towards the end of the cul-de-sac. She had shadows beneath her eyes but seemed extremely bright and cheerful in spite of them. Doubtless that was Krum's doing. His eyes narrowed.

They stopped outside Ollivander's shop, and Harry gave a rap on the door. "He should be expecting us."

After being rescued, Ollivander the elder had retired, giving the running of his shop over to his son, Garth, happier to have input in the making of the wands only. Within a minute, a man who seemed the exact younger counterpart to his father came to the door, peered through the glass, nodded, and unlocked the door.

"Mr Potter, Miss Granger, we are always happy to help the Ministr–" the words died in Ollivander's throat as his eyes settled on Draco. He started back a couple of steps, raising his wand.

"It's all right, Mr Ollivander," Hermione said soothingly, quickly understanding his fear and following him in, empty hands raised. "Draco's helping us solve the case. And we haven't been imperiused."

Ollivander had almost backed into the counter by then and was not looking convinced. "That sounds like something someone under the Imperius Curse would say," he replied, his voice trembling faintly, but his wand hand steady.

Hermione sighed.

"I'll wait outside," Draco muttered, turning to leave.

"No," Hermione's hand shot out to rest on Malfoy's arm, arresting his movement. He glanced down at her hand then into her eyes, a curious expression on his face that was lost on Hermione, for her brows were drawn together in a frown of concentration. "Give me your wand."

"What?"

"Give me your wand, Draco. Without your wand you can't do anything, and we can also prove you haven't imperiused us."

Draco frowned. He knew the exact pain of being without a wand, and he was reminded of the inconvenience of it whenever he saw his parents. Being without it was like having a hand sawn off. But it was the only way.

With great reluctance, he slowly removed it from an internal pocket of his blazer, holding it for a moment before eventually placing it in Granger's outstretched hand.

"Thank you," she mouthed, giving him a smile that was both proud and commiserating, before turning back to the still wary wandmaker. "Mr Ollivander, if you would perform the spell?"

Draco watched with anxious eyes as Granger handed his wand over, Ollivander's eyes flickering between the three of them as he slowly turned his wand on Draco's.

"Prior Incantato!"

A silvery image burst from the tip of Draco's wand, forming itself rapidly into an eerie ghostly replica of its owner which twisted on the spot, and vanished.

Ollivander returned Draco's wand to Hermione, who stowed it in a pocket. "Very well. I believe you. But I cannot say that I am comfortable with this."

"Thank you, Mr Ollivander," Harry said quickly, determined to get the interview over and done with as soon as possible. "We wanted to clarify a few points on wandlore."

Ollivander nodded, seemingly more comfortable now they were on a topic familiar to him. "So your letter said. Which points exactly?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, shooting a glance at Hermione. She took over.

"We have reason to believe that the wand of a deceased individual may be being used to perpetrate these murders. We wish to know whether this is possible."

Ollivander frowned. "This would depend somewhat on the individual and wand in question. A wand's allegiance to the owner is a powerful bond, but some wands are more fickle than others."

"Unfortunately we cannot disclose the identity of the original wand owner." Harry said ruefully, certain that if he even mentioned Bellatrix's name Ollivander would have a heart attack.

"Hm," Ollivander looked displeased, but engaged by the challenge. "What of the wand itself? Can you tell me anything about it?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged nervous glances. They knew all the details of Bellatrix's wand, but in divulging them they ran the risk of Ollivander recognising the wand that his father had sold.

"If they are using the wand we think, it's walnut and dragon heartstring," Harry said cautiously.

"Ah…" Ollivander steepled his fingers, nodding slightly to himself. "A powerful combination – it is well that it was not dragon heartstring and cherry, that would truly spell doom upon us. But walnut and dragon heartstring – you can be certain that the wand has not wilted or died with the owner. Hazel and unicorn hair behave in such a manner. Dragon heartstring arguably produces the most powerful wands. They will bond well with their owner, but they are willing to change allegiance. They tend to be the easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though will not turn of their own accord." His eyes flickered briefly to Malfoy, and Draco felt extremely glad that his hawthorn wand had a unicorn hair core. "Paired with walnut it verges on a dangerous combination, depending on the witch or wizard it belonged to…which evidently would seem to be so."

Harry pursed his lips grimly.

"Walnut wands are versatile and adaptable, and best suited with highly intelligent witches and wizards," Ollivander continued. "They can be tricky to handle, and only an individual of sufficient brilliance will find a true partner in a walnut wand. You do not need me to tell you that in unscrupulous hands, such a wand is lethal."

Harry, Hermione, and Draco exchanged serious glances. Thus far Ollivander had only confirmed in the most concerning manner the power of the murderer, but the characteristics might prove useful in profiling potential suspects.

"And could the wand change allegiance after the owner's death?" Hermione asked the question they were all burning to know the answer to.

Ollivander sighed. "Even with a dragon heartstring core, the general lore would state that unless the wand's allegiance was won by another individual before the death of the owner, the only person to whom it may truly cleave would be that of the deceased's progeny. Wands may be passed down in families, but the allegiance is not likely to be very strong unless a wand has gone from a parent to child, and even then the circumstances would have to be exceptional for the wand to bond with the new bearer. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. The mere fact of blood is not always enough. If the wand doesn't pair with its new owner, even a brilliant witch or wizard may only produce middling magic."

All three exchanged concerned glances; their options were narrowing.

"All wands have their own unique signature that remains in the residue of spells they've been used to cast," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Is it possible for a wand to leave a similar trace to another with the same or similar specifications?"

Ollivander frowned deeply at that. "You ask an interesting question, Miss Granger. Generally there will be something similar in their residue – that is unavoidable when their wood and core are the same. The spell's caster will have an effect, however. You and I may cast the exact same spell with the exact same wand, one after the other, and even removing considerations of the wand's allegiance, the residue will be different. The caster adds their own thumb print, as it were, to that of the wand."

Hermione nodded, turning the information over in her mind, concerned.

"Thank you, Mr Ollivander," Harry said politely. "You've been very helpful."

Ollivander eyed them beadily, suddenly extremely reminiscent of his father. "I hope so."


They filed out into the street, pausing until the door clicked softly shut behind them before they spoke.

"So…" Harry turned a leading gaze on Malfoy.

Draco knew what he meant. "It's not possible. My aunt never had any children. Her marriage wasn't like that – she married for blood, not love. They were too busy killing and torturing Muggles for anything like that."

"I don't suppose…an illegitimate child?" Hermione voiced the question with a great deal of reluctance. The men turned wide eyes on her and she shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks growing warm. "I mean, we all know she had a…well…a thing for Voldemort."

Draco had to restrain himself from vomiting at the mere thought, and Potter seemed to have turned green. "No, Granger – and don't even suggest such a thing, that's too disgusting. The Dark Lord had no interest in such…pursuits. He made use of her infatuation as far as her duelling and torturing skills went, but I don't believe he'd ever…" Draco's words trailed off.

"Thank Merlin for that," muttered Harry.

"Indeed."

Hermione's cheeks were still pink from making the suggestion, but she forced her back straight. "What now then? If it's so unlikely that it actually is Bellatrix's wand, does that mean we're looking for someone with a similar wand and a similar magical style? Because forgive me, Harry, but there's no way we can test for that kind of thing. Even if Bellatrix was still alive for us to test against her magical signature it would be difficult."

Harry sighed, nodding. "There's no way of really knowing yet. It's possible. I'll get a list of the people he's sold similar wands to from Ollivander." His face was pensive. "Even then, if we assume the next murder will be this weekend, that only leaves us three days – we've got to do something more proactive before then; I can't stand the idea of us just waiting around for the next murder to occur again."

Hermione and Draco nodded.

"Just a minute." Harry ducked back into the shop, leaving Hermione and Malfoy to mull over his words in silence, returning a few minutes later, folding a piece of parchment into an internal pocket of his robes with a frowning expression. He took a deep breath. "I say we draw them out."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "The murderer?"

Harry nodded. "We've got to stop them. If we can lure them into a trap, we might be able to catch them – or at least discover something more about them. Who they are. Anything would be an improvement on what we have now."

"That's risky, Harry…besides, how?" Hermione looked sceptical.

Harry shook his head, leading the way back up the street towards the north side of Diagon Alley. "I'm not sure yet. We need some sort of a scenario…something or someone that would draw their attention. Whatever it is the bait will have to be perfect. Have a think about ideas...I don't care how outlandish they are. But we've got to do something." His fists balled at his sides, and Hermione was relieved that he wasn't holding his wand, sure sparks would have scorched out of the tip with his frustration.

She paused, reaching into her robes. "Malfoy, your wand." She handed the instrument back over.

Draco sighed with relief at its return, surprised that he'd managed to forget its absence, albeit briefly. It wouldn't do if he wandered off without it. "Thanks."

"So when's Krum leaving?" Harry asked, chiefly to distract himself from the dark threat of the case hanging over his head.

Draco's expression tightened as Hermione's brightened.

"After lunch. He's already sent his things back to Bulgaria, so he can just Disapparate or use Floo powder, but I'm not sure what he'll do with himself until then."

"Was it nice having him over?"

Hermione nodded, smiling widely. "Of course, I'd much rather he'd visited under less perilous circumstances, but," she shrugged, "a flying visit is better than nothing."

"A Quidditch pun, Hermione?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Oh get away with you," she muttered, but she smiled all the same.

They rounded the corner back into the main street of Diagon Alley, passing Gringotts, and slowly made their way towards the Leaky Cauldron at the far end, Hermione and Harry keeping an eye out for Krum while Draco frowned.

"Viktor!"

Krum was standing on the step of a shop that looked like it sold wizarding antiques and glanced about at his name. His eyes settled on Hermione as he slipped something wrapped in brown paper into his pocket, and strode over to meet them, standing firmly beside Hermione.

"Did it go vell?"

Harry shrugged. "Well enough."

Hermione laid a hand on his arm to regain his attention. "Viktor, I've got to go to work now, what do you–?"

"I vill stay here. There are many bookshops."

Hermione smiled. "I'll see you at the Ministry later then."

"Vun o'clock?"

She nodded.

"Very vell."

They walked up the street together until Krum sloped off to Flourish and Blotts, Hermione looking like she would very much like to go with him, as a new display of books had been set up in the front window.

"I'll see you at the Ministry," Draco said, breaking away from the other two, somewhat relieved that Krum had gone. "I've got to pick up my parents for their classes."

Harry glanced at Malfoy's odd expression. "You don't look like you relish the task."

Draco pursed his lips. "Not exactly."

Hermione opened her mouth to make an enquiry, but Draco turned with a brusque nod, and Disapparated.


OK, so first let me apologise for the the ENORMOUS hiatus. And secondly let me thank you all for hanging on in there! You are all the absolute best and I love you all for it! 3
I am very sad to say that this chapter does not mark my return to a regular posting schedule, as I'm still doing my Masters and the focus is very much on finishing a novel, which requires my full attention. HOWEVER, because I know you're all patient wonderful people, I did really want to post a little Christmas present to you all with this chapter, just so you know that I AM aware that you're waiting, and I won't be abandoning this fic. The real reason I got a kick up the arse to get on and post this was because I received a very sweet little message from a reader on my FB page, so it's thanks to her that you guys are all getting this! (And it's proof that a request at the right time really can be answered!).

And on to the chapter discussion!
The moment between Draco and Harry still hurts my heart. Because I'm a masochist (obviously) I really like to consider what it must have been like for Draco, being stuck in his house all the time while Voldemort had set up camp in there. Going to school would absolutely have been an escape, but omg it must have been a terrible time for him.
Krum being a dab hand in the kitchen is another favourite thing of mine - I just love the idea of men actually being good in areas that are usually deemed to be "the woman's domain" - so stuff like housework and being emotionally competent. And woohoo! Viktor can cook, clean, and manage his own feelings well enough to know that he'll just be friends with Hermione, and that that's still a great thing, so he's going to do the best he can as a friend for her!
All the wandlore is legit canon material and information sourced from Pottermore. I'm a total nerd for that kind of thing, and absolutely obsessed with what my wand would be like and have a ton of questions about wandlore (like can a witch or wizard have multiple wands that have different specialisations in order to tailor their magic better for particular spell work?), so I apologise if I went a bit OTT with all the detail.
I would also like to point out that I began this whole fic looooong before JK did "The Cursed Child" so when Hermione floats the idea of a Bellatrix/Voldy baby, that was not influenced by the play. (Something to note for later on in the fic).

Writing the chapter summary it was very tempting to put that Harry basically decides to do what Harry always does - which is something risky, brave, and foolish. But what way do you think this trap is going to go?
And yes, the Viktor/Draco tension continues to simmer away. And it's not over yet!
I know not too much really happens in this chapter, but I will try very very hard to post a few more - I can't make any promises because the Christmas holidays aren't really holidays for me, but I will try.

Hope you enjoyed it, and Merry Christmas! x

Please do review and/or favourite :) Tell me what you like or don't like :) Questions and speculations are always welcome :D As is incomprehensible flailing if that's what you go in for :)

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