Three: the wood that became a wand
All my thanks goes out to Salllzy; without her you would not be reading this :D.
This chapter revolves a bit about Harry and his people more, but don't fret; Merle and Daryl are there as well. I'm introducing a few OC's, because with a story like this, I kind of need them. A few magicals and a few not.
Thank you for all your kudo's and kind words on my last two chapters. I really appreciate it! I was really awed to see that some of you are just as invested into the story as myself. As always; Merle is still Merle. Don't take his words personally. Enjoy your read! Let me know what you think!
After his quest for a new wand, Harry had taken Lucius up on his offer and he spent some time going through the massive portfolio of estates and land that he owned. However, Harry had no idea where to start with things like building a new estate, so instead he had focused on doing other things first. He liked the Peverell estate in America so much, that he bought some extra land. The land had housed a small recreation park, with some playing fields for children, a petting zoo, a little church, and various small buildings that looked magical. It had been abandoned since the seventies, probably because of the anti-muggle wards that were still present on the Peverell estate and would stretch out by themselves every now and then.
Harry, having gotten his defence mastery when he was twenty-three under Severus, and he also had been trained by an American wand master who had only allowed him to work two days a week, needed something to do with his spare time. Death only used Harry to play a weird version of a grim reaper now and then, so a bored Harry, was a dangerous Harry. Harry, who had grown up as a muggle, used to hard labour because of the lists that Petunia had happily given him, needed to stay busy because of this. Doing nothing made him think, thinking made him sad or even depressed to the point that he felt as if he did not have the right to live anymore. It was hard to get himself out of that mindset once he had fallen into it. Harry had found out that putting his energy and magic into being productive worked wonders. Ignoring that was always dangerous.
He started with a petting zoo that already existed on the recreation lands. He had then transferred some of the animals to his farms and hired some muggles and squibs to take care of those lands. To be safe, he and George threw the biggest notice-me-not, and some vastly altered muggle repelling wards up, so only the squibs could see the magical scenes on the other side of the river through the woods. If a muggle wanted to cross one of the three bridges, they would be reminded of other things. They hadn't been able to completely replicate the wards and charm work that surrounded Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, but they had been able to create something alike that had been designed by the incredibly crafty George Weasley. Only with a wizard or a magical sensitive being like a vampire or squib, they would be able to cross.
John and Mack were brothers who owned a farming and construction company. John did not have any magic left, but he could work under the duress that some heavy goblin construction magic required. Mack had a bit more magic; being earth sensitive. He used that power for his farms and fields. Goblin master Vilnuk had been the one to recommend them. Having two people who were used to living as a muggle, or as they called it; No-Maj's on the field helped to keep down the suspicions.
John would often take his son Reagan along, who loved to play with the children that Elenoir brought along to visit the petting zoo. Reagan had yet to have his first accidental magic, but Draco had tested the boy's core, and it looked promising for him. John's wife, Vicky, was a muggleborn witch, who had still wanted to be able to navigate both worlds and had found her love in the tall, bronzed John. The burly brother of the two, Mack, seemed to roam the country without the ability to settle down. No one had been able to figure out if it was because he was unable to or if he simply did not want to.
George had been excited to use the second wand that Harry had crafted him for just that purpose, a black walnut with sphinx hairs. All his ingredients were courtesy of the Lord and Lady Longbottom, who had taken over his estate and forest as if it were their own. It was the longest wand Harry had crafted up until that point, and he had not known who he should craft it for, but the combination had kept coming up in his head, until he had crafted it. When George had visited his friend, looking for a new wand because his old one seemed to defy him, Gerard had touched the redhead's shoulder softly.
"He will craft you a better one, but I feel that this should help you with your new hobby." Typical Gerard, just stating the obvious that only he saw. Harry often wondered if the man was the descendant of a seer. Gerard had refused any sort of payment for this wand.
§§§§§
"You know you need some fulfilment in life, my young master." Death had humoured him one day and taken the form of a middle-aged man in a grey suit while he sat next to the fireplace in the Black library that Harry had been sitting in, twirling the Elder Wand around his fingers while he vacantly looked at nothing. His old holly wand was broken during the battle, and even though he had been able to repair it with the Elder wand, his old holly wand no longer worked for him anymore.
He was nineteen years old, with four lordships and a whole lot of responsibilities, but to obtain a new wand; that was pure hell. He tried buying a new wand from Ollivander a few weeks after the battle, to no success. No wand would work for him anymore except the Elder Wand. However, he did not want that one visible all the time. He did take his NEWT's with it, having the ministry examiners under oath by Minerva not to reveal anything. She had known that Harry would have been in the press days afterward otherwise.
After getting his NEWT's Harry had started his quest around the world for a new wand, and that quest led Harry to visit almost every wandmaker around the globe. He tried Diagon Alley again to see if Ollivander could make something else, but to no avail. In Japan he nearly blew a whole shop to shards, only to have to fix it with the Elder wand which gained him some unwanted attention. France, Spain, and Italy had the same reactions as London. The less said about Germany the better.
In Russia the old wandmaker refused to look him in the eye, gave him three options, and when they did not work, he kindly asked Harry to leave. In India they refused him completely, in Africa the dark woods spoke to him, yet the cores refused him. The craft mistress did everything she could, and Harry thanked her for her efforts by solving a problem she had. In Bulgaria he had tried and tried, failing miserably, and going through forty wands before giving up. The master had apologized, but Harry waved his concerns away. In Scandinavia the wands felt too cold for his hands; he preferred the warmth of magic. In Argentina they said he should visit Canada which Harry doubted, and the lovely lady in the little magical village along the west coast, full of snow, reminding him of a Christmas morning in Hogsmeade, sent him to America.
America had four wandmakers, all very different and eccentric. One refused him because of the Elder wand that Harry had to pull for a defensive shield from a MACUSA Auror who thought he was a highly sought-after robber. After seeing the war hero without his cloak, he received an official apology from MACUSA almost immediately. He felt bad for the Auror, who only had done his job, but would probably work the desk for a very long while.
The other two masters that he visited had nothing in their stores that fitted him. The first lady was very nice, but the wands wouldn't react. The third store only had very light wands, and Harry knew he needed something that was classed as a darker wand, one that was created from a dark wood and a dark core such as a basilisk horn, white river monster spine, Rougarou hair or thestral hair. However, he still gave it a try, hoping that this time he would finally get a wand. Nothing resonated with him.
Almost completely devastated he had walked into Firal Alley, a small idyllic wizarding alley that was hidden behind a grocery store, with the looks of an 1850 market that was bursting with colour. There were eight plazas, all dedicated to a general subject. Books, owls, and the parchment shops had one square. One for clothing, the other for governmental issues, and yet another for all odds-and-ends-shops. There, next to an antique store, had also been Vallder wands, est. 1200 A.C. The older wizard, with his grey goatee, dark red robes with a forest green vest, and greyish hair tied in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck, had smiled when he walked into the shop. Like he knew Harry was coming. Harry got the feeling that the man had been expecting him.
He shook Harry's hand and opened a mahogany cabinet next to his teller. With a wave of his hand, a few boxes emerged, opened their lids waiting to be tested. He then shook his head and willed them back to their previous places, before locking the cabinet with a wave of his hand. Wand nowhere in sight.
"The name is Gerard Vallder, as the sign on the door says. You must be in the market for a new wand. What is your wand hand, my new friend?" The man busied himself with a cloth to polish a wand he was still lovingly crafting, waiting for his newest client to take his time. He was used to that; people usually came to him as a last resort. Not that he minded, he liked showing off to the other masters in his craft.
Gerard was a man who had seen and done many things in his long life, he was the seventh child that had been casually thrown to one side while his older siblings had been showered with praise and affection. So he had vowed to himself that he would find a craft that no one else would be able to do, after years of training, broken wands and many hours of frustration. He had done it.
"Right-handed, I believe." Harry smiled, the last time Ollivander had asked him that, he hadn't known what to say.
"Yet, you favour your left wrist to keep your wand safe. You are still combatant, aren't you? An Auror perhaps or just a defence master?" Gerard had taken a Peruvian vipertooth wand holster, offering it to Harry. "Try this on your right arm, I believe this will suit your new wand better. Take it as a gift, or apologies for the appalling behaviour of my colleagues."
Harry reluctantly took it from the man with an expression of confusion on his face that clearly showed that he did not understand the gift. No wandmaker had been so relaxed as this gentleman before him. Not showing him out, no cussing for bringing the Elder wand which was the only wand that still worked. He was being nice and exchanging pleasantries with a bit of Luna-ness mixed in.
"Thank you, master Vallder." Harry's training kicked in and he made a small but polite bow. "Hadrian Potter-Black, my apologies for not introducing myself earlier."
"That is quite all right, Lord Potter-Black. You have a very familiar appearance; I had an idea of who was walking into my shop today." The man paused, there was a distinct twinkle in his eyes as they looked at him, it was an uneasy and unsettling feeling. Harry felt as if he was being looked straight through, it was as if he was being judged but not in a bad way. "Do you like to drink tea or would some hot chocolate be to your taste? I'll believe we need it, finding your wand will take a while."
Harry, who was speechless now, recovered slowly and smiled at the wand master. "Tea, please. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on who you ask, you can't take the British out of me."
Gerard laughed and with a flourish of his wand, a kettle started to boil in a room behind the shop. "Come, it was a slow day, let us talk and while we do that, we can enjoy some biscuits. My mother was Irish, and she taught me how to appreciate a good cup of tea with a biscuit. My wife made a lovely batch this morning."
Harry followed the somewhat eccentric man to the back of his shop, where there were rows and rows of shelves stashed to the brim with wands. Everywhere where he looked there was a wand or wand box visible. All the colours were represented, green boxes, brown woods, red ribbons around a black box; nothing seemed to match and yet it did.
"Marvellous isn't it?" Gerard looked just as impressed as Harry. "It still takes my breath away. Some wands have been crafted around the year thirteen hundred. Others are my own design. Even though I might have another thirty years or so in me, I am afraid this shop will die with me, the young kids do not like to learn this specific old trade here in America, and not everybody can learn from me." His smile had lost some of its joy and instead was suddenly tinged with a sadness. Harry, ever the empath, felt his heart break a little.
"None of my sons had the feel for it. Wand crafting is a craft that needs time, dedication, and passion to do. Unlike many other crafts it cannot be done via a course or with extensive research, it takes a lot of experimentations." He gently guided Harry to one of the comfortable looking chairs that surrounded a round, wooden walnut table, while taking another chair himself.
A groan left Gerard's lips as he sunk down into the plush chair, Harry noticed that he suddenly looked very tired. Idly Harry wondered if it was due to his job or his age, but then again he didn't look that old for a wizard. Many magicals had much longer lifespans than their mundane counterparts, but Harry knew that some professions were harsh on the body as well as the mind. Mad-Eye had looked twice his age, even in the memories he had seen where the man had still been very much younger. Shacklebolt had been the same just after the war; broken and too fast needing to be put together. The one reason he knew of that Ron had quit as soon as all the Death Eaters had been rounded. Once both were settled Gerard leaned forward with an intense look on his kind, oval-shaped face.
"May I be obtrusive and request to look at your current wand, not the one that you bought from Ollivander. I have heard way too much about that one," the man paused and smiled gently when he saw Harry's face, "Yes, sadly people talk my dear Lord Potter-Black. No, the other one, the one that was won by conquest. I won't touch it, I promise!" The man prattled almost at himself, while taking his wand out and directing it towards the tiny kitchenette.
Harry hesitated for a moment until Death appeared next to him, whispering something to its Master before leaving this realm as fast as he could. Harry had the feeling that it was a busy day for the deity and felt sympathetic. It wasn't easy reaping souls, especially ones that refused to believe that it was their time. Death hated those ones, as they caused delays. An annoyed Death was never a good thing. A sulking one was even more worrisome.
"I have been exiled from wand shops for even wearing it on my person. You may touch it; it will not change owner anymore up until the day I die. It is completely mine. How you all seem to know about it, that is still a mystery to me." He let the Elder Wand come from his left wrist holster and held it up on his palm.
"Ah, yes. Wandmakers talk, my friend, they gossip. We even have a meeting every now and then. After Master Ollivander was abducted we had a few meetings. The wand, well that is wandmaker lore, that it is. It is assumed to be Elder wood, a beautiful 15 inches with the feeling of death surrounding it. My best guess would be a thestral hair for a core." Gerard smiled at the Master of Death before him. "It's said that this wand resurfaces when it is needed, or when a grasp of power takes it. It has calmed in your presence, not seeking out anyone else. It is happy. No wonder that no other wand seems to work, they don't like to fight for dominance, especially not with a wand like that."
Gerard did not touch it, an act of confidence that Harry appreciated. He did however pour hot water over some fresh leaves of Darjeeling in the pot and let it steep. Harry let the wand fall back into its holster.
"Do any of the wands here speak to you?"
Harry just shook his head.
"Yet, you can feel them?" The man carried an inquisitive look on his face. Like a scholar that was gifted a rare edition of a book or scroll, he examined Harry.
"Yes, I feel them all." It had pained Harry to touch some of the wands in the other shops. Some of them had wanted to come along, others had sparked a fire and had to be laid back down.
"Only wandmasters can feel that, my friend." Gerard looked like it was Christmas morning. "Have you ever considered learning the trade?" The man poured them both a cup of tea and sat back in his chair to have Harry mull on this new knowledge in his head.
"I did not believe that would be possible. That only family members could learn. Could I learn?" answered Harry after a while.
"If let us say, a wandmaster accepts you as his apprentice, then you can learn. Apprentices are something that isn't taking lightly, nor is it something that can be done on a whim. It is a serious thing and one that both parties have to agree on. However you may safely assume that that is what I am doing right now." The man looked like Luna did on her happy days when she knew something good would happen, a face full of mirth, with grey eyes full of shine looking over his green-horned spectacles.
"I believe that master Ollivander told you that the wand chooses the wizard or witch. That is very true, and yet sometimes the wand that is needed, is not the available wand. I am an old school crafter; I craft for the magical core of the person. I let the energy choose the wand themselves. I even made a staff for a professor some fifty years ago. A wand would not work anymore for her. Everybody is different, even identical twins are fundamentally different in terms of wands Lord Potter-Black, but those that have seen war? Those are the ones that have endured things that no one should have to. They have been through things that would break a normal person and yet at the heart of everything they strive to be good, to do good."
He paused to take a sip from his teacup, only to continue his story with as much mirth in his voice as before. "Experienced as I am, I do believe that even the best I could craft would not work for you. I do believe, sincerely, that you can craft your own. The wood is calling to you, the cores are waiting to be touched. So, my new friend, think about it, and return tomorrow. But do finish your cup first, let the wands answer for you. If your answer is yes, then you will craft your own. If the answer is no, then I will try to craft something that will work as best as my abilities allow me to."
With that, he poured another cup, offered the young man another biscuit, and then took a wand from his left side, and started working on it, in silence. After an hour, Harry thanked the master and returned to his hotel. He had yet to take Lucius up on his offer to investigate his estates and massive portfolios.
§§§§§
Harry did return the day after, he had spent some time thinking about taking the offer. After he had done some serious thinking Harry had come to the conclusion that he was going to take the offer. Something in Harry had just clicked the hour he had sat there, watching master Vallder craft a new wand, polish another, and had broken the third one apart only to fix it moments after. It had felt as if he had found his new purpose in life. The-Man-Who-Lived-Again threw himself in the process with a vigour he had not known about himself or even felt before. He devoured the teachings and books. Gerard complimented him regularly, and one morning he had given him the materials for his new test wand, as Gerard had called it.
"Try to make one for yourself, Hadrian. I think it is time." Gerard smiled over his small reading glasses and had left him alone with some holly, elm, yew, and red oak. He had also placed a phoenix feather, a unicorn hair, some pixie dust, a Veela hair, a thestral hair, and a dragon heartstring at the table with various oils and craft possibilities.
The first attempt had been a recreation of his old wand, a bit longer, more polished, and with intricate carvings. The holly with phoenix feather worked for a few days, but it didn't sing to him as his Elder wand did now. The fact that he called it his, amused Death to no end. He could keep them all, because Gerard said that he believes that you might need more than one wand in your life. Which was entirely possible given the changes that most people underwent as they grew older.
Especially with people like him and his brother George, who had visited Harry one Sunday. He had liked the alley and shopkeepers so much that he started his third shop right then and there. Since Ron worked at the shop at Hogsmeade, he had Lee Jordan take over Diagon Alley. He needed new memories, the redhaired genius had told Harry. George had taken the eery practice of using his and Fred's old wand, alternating between both. It was no secret that he was still grieving, and probably would be for the rest of his life. Gerard, who saw that in the young man, had smiled at him, offered his condolences, and ordered his apprentice, which was Harry, to craft the redhead a new wand.
Harry found that creating wands did not work very well with his Elder wand, nor with any other, he had created along the process. Those just didn't feel right for his magic. So, the second wand he created was a bit darker; elmwood, less polished with knots everywhere on the wand and a thestral hair for a core. This one worked a bit better but did not yield to Harry as he expected. Gerard smiled and told him to put that one away as well. Sometimes a wandmaker would create a wand for someone else, without them knowing. Harry offered it to Gerard's inventory, and a few months later before the start of the term at Ilvermorny, a little boy picked that wand up with much love for the wood.
The third time worked like a charm. Harry hadn't slept for days, he lived off tea, fire whiskey, and some sandwiches that Kreacher dumped on his plate, and made him eat. The damned elf would stay at his side until he at least munched on the food, before muttering that his master was too thin. It had been worse than Molly Weasley on her worst. The elder wood that Gerard had found in his stores, combined with a freshly retrieved thestral hair that Luna had sent over, with some bits of thunderbird tail feather that Gerard gifted him, made it a powerful, dark wand that sensed danger, felt death, and fought viciously. It resonated with Harry immediately. Angry and embarrassed he told Gerard, who just smiled at him.
"My dear son, you do realise that the wand chooses the wizard. Especially a wizard like you that has gone through hell, walked back, talked to death, and has finally started to live."
"But," Harry fell silent for a moment before he continued, "I want to leave that past behind me." His hand trembled, the Elder wand in his left holster was happily vibrating, so Gerard gave him a pepper-up potion and some biscuits his wife had made that morning.
"One can never change their past, Hadrian. You can change your name, your appearance, but you cannot change who you are. Your magic resonates to that, so use it to do good, don't let the wand fool you, fool the wand! At the end of the day, a wand is a piece of magical wood, a tool that we use. The real magic comes from within."
It was the wand he loved to fight with, next to the Elder Wand. It hadn't left his right wrist holster at all. It was sentient, powerful, and it loved to work. So, Harry figured that Gerard knew what he talked about. Harry did create one more wand for himself. A rowan combined with elm, and the blood of runespore. Funnily it worked the best for his household charms and spells, so Harry left it at his mantle in a protective box. It came easily at his side if he wanted to cook or do something else around the house. Yet it refused to do anything else but that.
Gerard was the one who presented him with a fourth wand. Gerard was a darker wand crafter, that he said himself. He was the only one to combine two kinds of woods or two cores. Three was never the charm, as the man said it himself.
"Hadrian, look what I made today." The wand crafter presented Harry with a red oak, an elder combination with a core of horned serpent horn. "It feels like your magic, yet it resonates with the woods in my possession. I think this is your wandwork-wand." The man laughed, and Harry just silently shook his head.
"I hate being special." He sighed. He had always been special, so now he had four wands, that was just ridiculous. Gerard just smiled at his apprentice's antics.
"The Elder Wand, although it chose you, you don't like to work with it, unless you have to. I would not count that as a wand. Your creation, the elder wood with thestral hair and the thunderbird feather, the way you combined those two cores so elegantly, that was a magnificent work of art my dear Harry. I, myself also have a different wand for crafting, as my own did blow this beautiful place up twice when I was crafting. I had to craft another just because of that. So, you only have one extra. You did not need that third wand, but your magic thought it would calm you if you had a soft wand, one that would help you embrace your soft side. The side that wants to be nurtured, taken care of or even loved." He had taken a sip of brandy and taken both his wands out of their holsters.
"You see Harry, when you start crafting for your friends, you will notice that they need new ones and maybe even two or three wands as well. You have been through so much; your magic needs it to stay sane. Magic cannot be controlled, we guide it. That is our craft; we design guides."
Harry had decided that Gerard was either completely crazy or just intelligent in ways that a normal person could not understand. He guessed that every inventor had to be slightly crazy; he had seen it on Fred and George, Severus, and even Luna and her father.
"Why don't the others give that advice? Why don't other witches and wizards carry more than one? It is our everything if we lose it then most of us are defenceless."
"Hmm, good question!" Gerard took a left-over biscuit of the silver platter his wife had brought them for lunch. "Maybe they like to think inside of the box or maybe their customers will do so. Who might know this?" He munched elegantly on his biscuit, and offered Harry another, who gladly took it. "Many dark lords and their followers buy from me. Most of them had secondaries. The practice has faded, with the belief that good and bad are the same people, no matter their magic, and thus people only need one wand. Most actually never need a secondary, some Aurors have. Should I not have sold them? No, because many light spells and charms have been invented by dark wizards, sometimes for their wives, spouses, or their lords. Mostly for their good, but that doesn't change the fact that some of those works were brilliant. The No-Maj's have this saying; only God may know. I like that idea. It is not my place to judge, neither should you. Let that be the job of Mother Magic."
§§§§§
Nowadays Harry carried three wands. The Elder wand on his left wrist, his Elder creation on his right wrist, and the red oak that he kept in his battle robes as a spare. It was a perfect creation wand for wards, wands, and would still listen to him if he needed to apparate, throw a shield or hex or get away quickly. It just wasn't as quick as the other two, who were made with battle in his mind. Harry had learned that the hard way: to create wands like Gerard, your own emotions would define the outcome.
The first wand he created with a specific person in mind, had been George. It was made of an unruly piece of elm with a thunderbird tail feather. George's own wand, who hadn't listened to him after Fred's death, as it did before, became a piece on his mantle. Fred's wand, as crazy as it was, became his second. Gerard said that it completed George's soul, now that they had lost its owner.
It had taken him a full week to determine the right length, the decision to leave some bendiness in the wood, to make sure that its tip would be broader than he had envisioned. The tail feather had wanted to weave itself through the wood, so the greyish wand was perfect for George's advanced magic. It was sentient and called upon his intuition, inner strength, and was perfect for the brilliant yet creative mind with its powerful core.
With the creation of that most magnificent piece that anyone had ever seen, Harry had become a Master wand crafter after seven years of hard work. At twenty-six he was the youngest one in the world, a feat that had caused quite a stir among certain circles. Elenoir had made some cupcakes and a treacle tart to celebrate. Gerard had looked like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. They had invited George and ate and drank the night away.
Harry still worked two days every week in his shop, just because he liked to be with Gerard, a man who reminded him of an older Sirius now and then. Harry enjoyed working with Gerard and enjoying working in the shop, he found it challenging and liberating in ways that he hadn't known was possible. As thanks to those that gave him challenging wands to craft, he only asked for three galleons per wand as thanks for allowing him to create a new wand. One for himself, the other two for Gerard. Truthfully Harry had no need for the money, yet Gerard insisted he'd not do it for free.
The fact was Harry just loved to see the smiles on their customer's faces every time a wand found its owner.
§§§§§
Harry was playing with wood that had been chosen by a new young witch, beech with a unicorn hair. Nothing else had resonated with her. He was still contemplating if he needed to add a different wood or change the core. She had been a force to be reckoned with. Yet it seemed that the pearwood that had been her second choice, did not work very well with the other combinations, so he was watching the woods intertwine. She would need a longer wand he figured and then the combination would work. She would be a powerful witch one day. He smiled when he finished the wand the next day, and happily sent off the owl that told its new owner it was done after Gerard checked the wand himself and approved it with his general flourish.
"Lovely wand, my dear Harry. That is a job well done."
Gerard was wandmaker that not everybody visited. His works had a taboo surrounding them, but he made the strongest wands. He was not the best, as Olivander held that title, but Gerard often said that he admired the determination that his colleague had to only use three cores; he needed to change between them otherwise magic would strip him. Gerard often said such things, that if Harry had been his younger self from before the war, he would have laughed. Nowadays he understood the ninety-three-year-old wizard better than he would have liked.
"Thank you, Gerard, for taking me in as your apprentice back then." Told Harry him one morning. Harry was immensely grateful for the opportunity. He did not think that he would have known what he would have done with his life if he had not met Gerard that morning, still looking for a second wand that was not as recognizable as the Elder wand. Severus did help him get his defence master, but that had been different. That was almost what everyone had expected. He did enjoy it, as it was a very natural brand of magic to him. Wand crafting, he had never expected. "You have changed my life for the better and I'm very grateful for that."
"Ah, but it is my pleasure, Harry. I never met someone who truly wanted to learn or who was gifted to look at the wood and then craft the wand. My style is different from others, you are different, and that is why we matched." Gerard was a pure, uncomplicated man. He often said that this was the only reason Elenoir married him and made him a happier man for it. "Also, Elenoir says I have to keep you around, she likes to cook and bake for you, so I'm not allowed to discard you."
That sentiment only caused the two men to share a laugh, while Gerard toasted with his secret four o'clock-brandy, a secret they kept hush-hush from Elenoir. To keep up the spirits, he joked every day. Harry appreciated the normality of something so simple. Gerard became more and more an individual that Harry looked up to. It stirred something in him, a feeling that he did not recognize anymore.
§§§§§
The war council was situated in one of the smaller extensions of Hallow manor, having been built by master Vilnuk later in the construction process, after the trouble in the outside world started. It was a clever work of art, since it looked to fit in with the rest of the extended buildings, yet it was a round room when you entered. It had engraved runes, in the floors, walls, tables, and even chairs to prevent spell damage, injuries, and more. All portkeys were redirected to the war room, so all the other members would be alerted if someone activated the emergency portkey. Master Vilnuk and his apprentice Linuok had chanted in Gobbledygook for days while his workers worked hard to finish the room. John often would just show up to 'look' and secretly they all knew he admired the goblin and his work.
When the inferi rose, Vilnuk and Linuok were the only ones who stayed. Most of the workers left within two days, after finishing the last outhouses or greenhouses. Goblins held their word and Harry was glad that he had decided to hire them. Their work was marvellous. They were able to travel safely to their families and thanked the Saviour for his work in the world. Vilnuk on the other hand gave Harry some various reasons why he wanted to stay, such as 'there will still be work to do', 'you could use someone like me', and the best he saved for last; 'I don't trust anyone else with my work.' Harry didn't mind, however. Not having any direct family members in their realm, they took on Harry's offer to stay, and expand a piece of the basement of Hallow Manor, to fit their needs.
The war council consisted of Harry, Ron, Draco, Neville, Severus, and Mack. Harry had asked Luna, but she had refused. She was a free spirit, she had said, she disliked being in the same room for too long.
Ron took care of their security, protection, and ran supply runs. He was a strategist and Severus had made him join the counsel, not wanting to do everything himself. Ron did so reluctantly. Draco was their resident healer; Neville ran the grounds with only Harry having a veto around his decisions, and Mack was asked as a representative from the No-Maj-lands. The recreation park that Harry renamed Luna park, in favour of his sister. Since he was a squib, he could live on the magical grounds, and could speak on behalf of the handful of muggles that stayed. All those people knew that Harry was a lord with his castle that wasn't very visible through the woods.
§§§§§
Harry walked into the bright-spelled room with Luna on his right, hugging Draco firmly who just turned around the corner.
"Oh good, you're back. I was almost worried I'd have to start looking for you." The resident healer never lost his Slytherin-persona, but if you listened closely, you could hear his concerns.
"I'm not that easy to get rid of, Malfoy!" Said Harry with a vicious smile, that was reciprocated by Draco. "Did Ron get in already?"
"Yes, both misters Weasley are offloading in the basement as we speak." Severus Snape still could entrance a full room with his baritone voice, like he did while teaching. Harry admired that about the man. "They will be here shortly," Severus added.
The members took their places around the table, a big, round black table because Harry did not want to differentiate between them. They were all valued members, especially during a zombie apocalypse, as Mack called it. Every chair crafted by John and Linuok, was made to fit their respective council member. Wizards even kept their flair during a crisis it seemed.
Harry had a black plush chair, with the Peverell crest embedded throughout. On his right, the red chair for Ron was bejewelled with rubies. On his left, a very luxurious seat with the Malfoy crest on the spine, and the healer crest on its armrests. The snakes that encircled a wand were very fitting for a Slytherin healer, as Ron would tease the blonde. Severus and Neville had chairs that resembled their former house crest, Neville's chair embellished with wooden vines that crept around the whole chair, while Severus' chair looked very simple yet elegant. Mack had opted for a simple dark grey one, that looked like the two guest chairs that were added for today: for Luna and Marriet.
"What are the problems that we need to talk about that could not wait until next week?" Mack was munching on a few slices of meat with a side of some fruits and bread. He drank the juice that had been sent over by the elves with pleasure.
"A few small things," Neville looked over his list. "Food, supplies, housing, and I believe Ron had some extra points."
"We need more people, but that is not the most important point. We will need more muggle weapons." Ron walked into the room, the man a different image than the boy that helped win a war. He stood straight, broad shoulders holding onto his cloaks that were very similar to the Auror robes he had worn for seven years. Everything that they had not owned already, had been handmade by Elenoir. The woman truly was a gem.
"It might sound strange, but we could use more people to populate Luna park and we could use some extra wizards or witches. George, Luna, Ezra and I have been running the perimeter for days, and we could do with a break. Master Vilnuk and apprentice Linuok are relentlessly working on the wall, they started at the muggle-area to fortify that. But we need more materials for them. The wards are holding well, better than we anticipated so that is very positive. Although the Inferi tend to be able to walk through the anti-muggle wards. Luna has experimented with some runes with George, and that experiment seems to work, but we still need to clear the perimeter every day at the muggle area. Mitchell and Ezra do the morning runs, but I don't want to get to see them hurt. Ezra asked for more bows and arrows." Ron took a deep breath, drank some tea that Draco had poured him, and stood up again. He looked pensively out of the enchanted windows that had a direct view on Peverell Manor with the lake coursing through the lands before it. "Does anybody know if the Goblins are still forging? Could we get someone who will be our smithing master? Are there any muggle smiths left?"
"I will ask master Vilnuk, we have a meeting tomorrow. I will get back at that." Neville made some notes on his parchment. "For the muggles, maybe Ezra will know."
"Do you want to start recruiting actively? Most manors have their wards up, Ilvermorny has closed and only opens for the holidays. Somehow the wizarding world does not seem as concerned as we are." Severus shared.
"We did receive the emergency newspapers from the English and American ministries. They are trying to set up new networks."
"The wizarding world might end up surprised. I hope they can sit this out but I'm afraid we can't," Draco added a cube of sugar to his tea, stirred it with the silver spoon and sighed. "I wouldn't mind if we find a few healers, mediwitches, mediwizards, muggle doctors or nurses. I can pull my weight in more ways than one and having somebody at base at all times would feel comfortable. Especially if I can't make it on time."
"Duly noted on both accounts. We'll have to wait on further news from the ministries." Harry scribbled something on his parchment. "I think we all need apprentices or assistants." He added. "Elenoir and Gerard know a lot of people, maybe they can contact the ones that don't own extensive manors or housings with wards and see if they are interested."
"We would need a screening." Neville had a contemplating look on his face. "As tough as it sounds, we can't keep everyone. Weed out the unwanted."
"Luna is good with aura's, yes?" Mack waved at the dreamy girl who was playing with a pygmy puff that George had found. She was currently grooming the little thing with a children's pink hair comb.
"Nothing veritaserum and a good, hexed questionnaire can't handle. For muggles, I have an altered recipe for the potion." Severus added at the same time. "I do agree with messers Longbottom and Weasley. We need to expand, take our plans to the next level for the long run."
"I could help to scout." Offered Luna softly.
"That would be very welcome, Luna." Ron sent her a soft smile. "Your vision of people is very needed. Severus, do you have some of both ready?"
"I do, Mister Weasley." Severus's rasp in his voice was very noticeable today.
"I'm not opposed to the use of legilimency on top of the other precautions." Draco drank his tea quietly. "Just to be sure. We would be taking people onto Harry's lands, so he has the last say."
"You are my family, do not forget that Draco." Harry spoke up after listening to their counsel. "But I agree, we could use more manpower on both sides. Luna Park offers enough room and housing but Hallow manor only has so much room."
"People can share, Harry. We all have ridiculous big housings right now." Mack wrote something in his notebook after looking across the room.
"I agree. A few of the smaller outhouses from Hallow Manor can still be expanded, according to master Vilnuk. The Goblins can create dorm rooms, for single ladies and single gentlemen separately, like Hogwarts. Families have the priority on the apartments of course, but even there we could fit two families in the smaller apartments, and perhaps three or four at the bigger ones. Not everybody needs a full study; they can put a desk in their bedrooms." Neville spoke calmly.
He had taken the liberty to take one of the plans for Hallow manor and spread them on the table. "See, there are eight buildings currently unused. The bridge has been taken by Luna for the wounded animals that do not fit in the stables. Even if we reserve two for classes later, there are six others we could rebuild and expand. Severus' and Mariet's potion labs are adequate I believe? Linuok put in the alterations today." He looked at the professor he once feared so much that his boggart had turned into the man, who simply nodded. They had learned to respect each other; a war would do that to people.
"Yes, we have no complaints. You spared no expense, did you now?" Marriet smiled at the herbologist. "Your ingredients are doing superb, even during these trying times. I have made the list you required, hopefully that will suffice."
"I am glad to hear that, milady. Thank you for your trouble." Neville's gran had instilled him with everything she could, which helped him run the big estate as it was right now. Everyone knew Harry was their leader, but his advisers all excelled at something to compliment Harry or the estate.
"How are our food reserves, Neville?" Harry asked him.
"If we bring the meat consumption back to three or four days a week or let the elves make more stews, we are good for now. All the other estates have called in, the elves have received the cabinets and will send their reserves as soon as they harvest them. Since the sales are still viable through owl-order, I decided to let that be. The only house that has guests is Grimmauld. Hermione and Charlie have checked in. I believed you would not mind them there. Gran has offered Longbottom manor to some who did not have a manor but promises to have professor Sprout root through my greenhouses, so I can add to our farms here as well. Of course with magic, we will not encounter wilting or other problems the muggles do have."
"True Neville, any problems in that area I could be of service with on the No-Maj end. I can send you the coordinates for another supply run, Ron. I know of a few small places that you can hit." Mack tore a piece of paper from his notebook and Luna waved it over with magic to Ron who saluted him with his left hand.
"Elenoir offers to teach and take care of the young ones for as long as she is able, but a younger teacher would be useful. I don't want to overexert her." Ron said.
"Vicky could help out with that, although she is helping John right now with the habitation of Luna Park. The furniture you're bringing in is very good, but they only finished the first few bigger buildings." Mack looked pensive. "Eventually we all would need to take some time to teach a new generation. Make sure everybody has an apprentice."
"Good, we'll get back to that when we can. Let's move on. Ron?"
"I found some muggles looking for Luna park, what should we do?"
"We can scout tomorrow, I'll help. Maybe bring George?" Harry asked.
"Yes, perfect. Then afterwards we can loot Firley Alley again. I had a good run today. I have found no survivors so far, so those that did, must have fled to other places." Ron looked happy. "Harry, the group that you followed, would they work out?" He asked his best mate.
Harry shrugged. "I don't know yet. They have a few children, but I feel that only a few of them took it seriously. They were fighting each other as I left, they cuffed a guy on the roof, in this freaking Georgia heat! So, I'm not sure yet."
"Take Luna tomorrow, see what intel you can gather or if there are others that are decent. Draco?" Ron looked at his housing mate. Somehow, they both preferred to even share a wing at Peverell manor, after being around each other for so many years at Grimmauld place.
"I need more medical supplies myself, especially for muggles. I thought about checking the CDC. Vicky told me about that. It is a special military base that the muggles use for this kind of situation. If there are any personnel left, then we can try to get them on board, if not, I will loot it mercilessly."
"You are merciless," Laughed Mack.
"I am a Slytherin at heart, Mack, always remember that!" Draco smiled. "Who wants to join me?"
Harry and Luna raised their hands immediately.
"Let's go together, CDC and that group. Ron can scout with George then." Harry offered.
"George and I have made the last adjustments on the bags, so they can handle more weight, and have an extra cooling area just in case." Luna absentmindedly let the pygmy puff bounce in her hands.
"Perfect Luna. Then that's settled. Severus, please contact George for the selection documents if you wish. Neville, you seem to know what your agenda is up to. Mack, do not hesitate to ask if you or John need anything, especially anything that needs magic. Any of us will love to do that for you. Anything else?" Harry made the last notes with the red quill he was using and looked around the room. These people had just been able to relax after a few years and were now thrown into the next mess. Nobody whined, nobody fought with each other; they all straightened their backs, polished their wands, and started planning and working. This was his family, and he would do anything to protect them.
"Meeting adjourned?" Harry closed the parchment and sent it absentmindedly to his work desk in his rooms.
Eight 'ayes' crossed the room before they dispersed. Harry set out to his own wing at Peverell manor. Treating himself to a decent meal that Kreacher delivered, a hot scalding bath with some foamy, ylang-ylang bubbles from Marriet, and a nice fire whiskey to end his day. He needed some time alone. He took his book from a few days before and enjoyed a nice read with the fire rustling in the background.
§§§§§
Merle was having trouble sleeping. That was nothing new. This time it was not because of withdrawal symptoms, but he felt that something big was coming. If his old bones were as itchy as they were that night, after meeting mister Brit, then he would listen. It saved his ass in the field more than once.
Merle and Daryl both had gifts that made them different from others. Daryl could move as if he wasn't there at all and Merle had been a fine sharpshooter in the army. His keen eye saw everything. Merle had also learnt to listen to his gut, or as his gran used to say, his inner soul. That woman and her voodoo books, she would have known what to do right now. She would have told everyone what they did not want to hear and would spank anyone who would not listen with her wooden spoon. She probably would have made him drink one of her vile teas to calm down.
Man, he had loved that women. His da would always keep quiet if gran was around. He could still see her sitting at her big old kitchen table, another quilt patch in her hands, or fixing one of his shirts when he tore them. A big canister of cold-brewed iced tea on the table, a big peach cobbler that you would scoop a bit of on a plate. Yes, those had been the perfect southern summers. With that memory in his head, Merle turned around, smiled, and finally found some rest. He could do something now to make his gran proud. He would.
The morning after, Merle woke up to a whole lot of screaming and pleading. He rushed out of his tent, boots untied, and a rifle in his hands looking at the ladies at the lake protecting Carol from that scumbag Ed. He raced forward, not noticing a heated Shane on his heels. Ed tried to pull his wife along, and yanked at her again and again, before feeling the presence of Merle Dixon at his back. The ex-sergeant had slung his rifle on his back and two strong hands grabbed the other man firmly. Very firm.
"Oi, you son-of-a-bitch, ya might talk dirty to me brother and me, but we never lifted a finger on a lass. You don't get to do that in front of ol' Merle here, alright!" Merle snorted and spit in front of Ed. "Better yet, ya ain't gonna do that ever again!" Ed, who wanted to protect himself and still get his wife out, tried to give Merle an uppercut to the chin, but lost immediately. Merle moved out of the way slightly, without releasing the dirtbag with his left hand. With his right, he took a good swing and beat the other down with one hit.
The deputy who looked very angered, took Ed by the neck and punched at him even more all the while yelling at the man. Merle cocked his head to the side and shook it.
"Ed's crazy, deputy is even crazier." He looked at Carol who had been pleading the ladies to let go and was now being held back by Jacqui. He pulled the frail woman in his arms from the dark-skinned woman and let her cry it out. She still tried to pull back, to help her lousy husband, but Merle wouldn't let her.
"You stay with Merle now, lovey, let that piece of shit rot in hell. No way he's comin' close to ya little doll or yaself. Okay?" It somehow soothed the distressed woman a bit, and she seemed to listen to the soft words Merle whispered over and over.
"Thank you, Merle." Andrea added hesitantly. He knew nobody expected to have to say that to the redneck, but he did appreciate it, even from the stuffy former lawyer.
"Yeah yeah, the bastard had it coming. Hope he doesn't make it through the night after the treatment crazy deputy gave him." Merle was shushing Carol now, who had started crying almost panicked and he stared comforting her with a rough hand on her shoulder. Slowly rubbing up and down, trying to not touch her in any weird way. He didn't need that to get some, even during an apocalypse.
"Go get her and the little dolls stuff to our piece of the camp. Carol and I are going for a little walk. I've got me gun and knife, I'll keep 'er safe." He looked at the two blonde sisters who still were. "Okay sugar tits?" Merle still had his right arm around Carol and waved with his left.
The ladies ignored the insult for now, and let Merle walk away with Carol. Even they knew, deep in their hearts, that Carol would be safe with the redneck. Safer than with Ed.
When Daryl returned that night from his long hunt with some more squirrels, he only looked once at his brother who was playing house with the little girl, shook his head, and delivered his hunting game. He had expected Merle to react earlier. Merle did always protect him from their da whenever he was around.
