Chapter Twenty Four
The day had finally come, at long last. It was Neville's turn to receive his wand; Theo had gotten his own wand back in January on his tenth birthday. Neville knew that would be up first to receive the hand created wand. Both he and Azalea had turned ten, with his being the thirtieth and hers being the thirty-first of July. He enjoyed spending his birthday with his two best friends, and having their birthdays one day after another was something he rather looked forward to. This year they had a quiet party, just him and Azalea and Theo, with their small family surrounding them. They had requested to have a simple picnic by the lake, and the house elves had outdone themselves immensely.
Auntie Cia had packed an ever flowing basket that was quite literally weaved with magic; it was expanded on the inside and charmed to keep the different foods crisp and cooled to perfection, even in the balmy heat of the end-of-july weather that where they lived in Scotland was currently having.
His Nan and his adoptive uncle Arcturus had led the two of them to where Auntie Cia was waiting with Theo, where a soft looking blanket was smoothed out on the ground. It was laid out underneath the massive willow tree that neared the Black Lake. They all sat and ate the packed foods and just enjoyed themselves. It was a Sunday, so they had the entire day to themselves to relax and laze about. Auntie Cia had the elves pack fresh picked berries, apples from the orchard on the grounds, as well as delicious turkey and cucumber sandwiches that paired well with the packed tea that was served. Everyone had a good time. After lunch, they made their way back to the Manor and all three of the children changed into proper clothing for them to have a light swim and frolic in the Black Lake. While there were dangerous creatures that resided in the body of water, for some odd reason, they had never harmed or even bothered the three children that always seemed to wander into its waters.
It was now August the third, and here they were, at Septimus Silverthorn's wand shop. Uncle Arcturus, Aunt Cassiopeia and his grandmother had taken Theo, Azalea, and himself back to where Theo had gotten his wand in the beginning of the year when he himself turned ten. Neville wanted to be jealous of the fact that Theo got his wand a whole almost a half an entire year earlier than the two of them but he was truthfully too nervous and excited at the same time to even care. Although, he was still a bit afraid at the idea of him gaining his very own wand, if he was completely honest with himself. One part of Neville was terrified still that he had no magic within him; he was terrified that his great uncle Algie would be right and that Neville was indeed a squib. It had taken him a bit longer than the others when he was taking his turn to select his wand materials. At first he was afraid that nothing was happening; it felt more like hours rather than a few minutes before he was able to draw up what Uncle Arcturus had informed him was indeed his magical core. The offered woods were not responding in the very least. At least, they were not until Azalea quietly stepped up beside him, offering her comforting presence in an offer of silent comradery. They were in this together.
"Ahh, you are up first. Your wand took a bit longer than I had previously expected but it was created nonetheless. Your wand is expertly crafted from cherry wood, with two cores as well. You have a unique combination of part of a Manticore Claw as well as a Phoenix's tail feather. That combination together lends your wand to be more easily used with earth types of magic; you might even find that it comes more than natural to you from the very start. Wand casters that use cherry wood tend to be more level headed and calmer, rather than being emotionally based when making decisions. Most casters that use that type of wand wood are good at using intuitive magic and have an easier time with conquering conflicts. It is best used with divination, healing, and love magics. As for the piece of Manticore claw, it is a wise choice for ones who wish to cast both dangerous hexes as well as miraculous charms and feats of magic. It makes for an excellent companion to your chosen wood, as it plays upon the elements of the earth as well, given that the Manticores are believed to dwell within the depths of Hell itself. Your Phoenix tail feather's main strength lies within it's advanced proficiency in defensive spells that specialize in countering and protecting against the Dark arts, but Phoenix tail feathers are also known to be highly adaptive, as they can wrench into casting upon hexes and jinxes just as easily. It's most commonly seen among light wizards' wands but it's not specifically designated to be only for the Light, although it is known to sometimes impede against dark spells. " Septimus carried on, reciting the different informations about the wood and cores off the top of his head. Neville was slightly impressed at the man's information retention.
He took a good look at the wand in his hand. The wood was a medium brown shade, with deep red undertones. The shaft of the wand was wavy, almost serrated with a small knot of wood in the center of it, like it was taken directly from a branch of a cherry tree. The handle joined up with the shaft of the wand by way of a ribbed section before it smoothed down and flared outward at the very end of the wand. The intricate details of the wand's handle had him silently appreciating the complex magic that went into creating the wand itself.
"Go on boy. It's your turn to try out your new wand." Septimus urged him on expectantly, but Neville was still a bit afraid to confront his long time fear that had been growing in him since he was a small child.
"Go on Neville, it's your turn. Give the wand a go!" Azalea cheered him on and he gripped the wand tighter in his hand. At Septimus Silverthorn's imploring look, and Azalea's cheering on, he gave the wand a gentle flick and his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates at the rather large display of genuine magic. He hadn't done much accidental magic in his life. In fact, he couldn't name a time that magic had ever reacted to a situation around him. He had seen the aftermath of what was Azalea's magic when it reacted to her quick temper. No, at this, he was stunned completely. It was rather unexpected but not unpleasant.
Long, thin vines were creeping from the tip of his jagged wand, with delicate pink, white, and purple flowers blooming along the vine's body. He had magic. Neville could have leapt for joy. Hibiscus syriacus, he thought to himself. He turned to his two friends who were beside him, who were more of a family to him than just plain friends and gave them a huge toothy grin which was interested by the wandsmith.
"You're up next girl. Your magic decided on two wood types as well as two cores; highly unusual but not impossible at the slightest. I'm always at the ready for a decent challenge, and a good challenge it was. Here you have it; an ebony and white oak wood wand, eleven and a half inches. As was selected by your innate magic, you have two wand cores as well. It is embedded with a chip off of a horn from a Great Horned Serpent as well as a tail feather freely given from a Thunderbird and a freely given wing feather from a Pegasus. Your wood choices are representative of you and what you might achieve and become. Ebony is a protective wood that does not discriminate between different types of magics. It is a universal wood, good for working with any element as well. White Oak is known as the king of trees; it provides protection in the form of creating sturdy building materials for shelter, weapons, and even nourishment through its acorns. It is excellent for healing magic, and connected strongly to the Earth. Because of that I can easily channel life energies and help to center the mind and focus on the tasks at hand. It promotes observation and intuition skills. People who wield it tend to have very balanced energies, as it leans neither toward Light or Darkness. As for the horn chip and the tail feather, the tail feather, Thunderbirds are closely related to Pheonixs and they tend to lead to the caster being proficient in advanced magic at a quicker pace than one would with another wand core. It allows the user to be more alert to inherent dangers as well. The horn chip itself acts as a magical amplifier of sorts. Any magic you run through it will come out better, stronger. It tends to be more sensitive to parselmagic and vibrates upon being cast with it. The core in the wand vibrates to emit a low musical tone to act as a sensor for dangerous situations that the caster might not be immediately aware of. The wing feather from a Pegasus is special indeed. It is indicative of someone who wishes to control the four winds, and harness the magnificent power of lightning. It tends to boost the power of woods of which draw " The odd man, Septimus Silverthorn, infomed the freshly ten year old girl in front of him as he watched her gaze in awe at the wand in her hand.
It was beautifully done, and looked like it belonged more so out in nature growing off a tree. The two woods were expertly intertwined within each other to make a nearly perfect spiral of the white oak wrapping around the straighter ebony part. except for where the handle met the shafts of the wand, where it began to become ridged. The very end of the wand was a rather smoothed over ovular section that made for an excellent and comfortable grip. All in all it felt right; the wand felt natural in her had, as if it had always been beside her.
"Well go on, give it a try, girl." The wandsmith encouraged the girl, waiting expectantly for the upcoming display of magic. He knew that his wand that he created would be perfect for his customer. They always were; that's why they were custom made to order. You wouldn't get a shop full of wands sitting in dusty boxes stacked high on shelves, like how Garrick Olivander ran his shop. No. Septimus Silverthorn made his name known by hand crafting each wand to order, individually. It sometimes took hours, if not days to align as many cores as needed into the various and usually rare types of woods that he offered a selection from. That's why his wands were expensive; where as Olivander's wands were ready and waiting, they were cheaper by far. He charged between five and fifteen galleons a wand whereas Septimus charged a minimum of forty galleons per wand's wood itself, and even more was added on when you factored in labor and the sometimes multiple rare cores. Septimus didn't usually interact with the common and popular woods and cores; he preferred the challenge of using rare cores like Phoenix tears and Manticore claws. He seemed to snap the girl, Azalea Potter, out of her stupor as she lifted her arm, wand in hand and gave it a purposeful flick. He secretly was overjoyed at the different displays of magic that he occasionally got to saw.
Meanwhile, Azalea was in shock at the rather stunning display of her own magic that had drifted from her wand. Theo's display of magic was a shower of golden sparks that had rained down around them, encompassing the room in a gleaming light, and Neville's was wild like the plants he nurtured and cherished so much in the greenhouses. Her's on the other hand was decidedly beautiful in a different way. A delicate mist of water fanned out from the tip of her wand, covering the nearby table in a light covering of vapor, which dried just as fast as it had arrived.
"Now, for a matter of pricing. The girl's wand runs to a sum of eighty-two galleons, thirteen sickles and two knuts, and the boy's wand runs to a total of fifty-seven galleons, twelve sickles and eight knuts. Will you be paying separately or all together?" He asked them as he walked to the back of the store to where an ancient, decrepit cash register was residing, deciding to nap rather than be working. He pulled out his own wand and poked at it before it sprung to life before them.
"Separately. I will be paying for Azalea's." Cassiopeia said, refusing to call Azalea 'the girl' ever in his lifetime. She had seen how she still flinched at being referred to that even after all this time. Azalea had been living with them for almost four years now, and she still reacted to things as if she was back with the Dursley's sometimes. It seems time was still needed for her to gain closure. Cassiopeia walked over and pulled out a shining golden key, the same one that she had the goblins at Gringotts bank make to replace the one that Albus Dumbledore had wrongfully taken control of that fateful night nearing nine years ago. Azalea looked up in what must have been a slightly shocked look. It seems she had been slightly neglecting her relationship with Azalea; the girl spent a great deal of time with her brother, and while Cassiopeia hadn't minded in the very least, at least at first, she did miss her great niece something fiercely. Arcturus had taken a rather large share of the teaching for Azalea, Theo, and Neville while she had taken on sorting through the different information gained by the various sources she had. She was known for carrying a little black book of blackmails she could and had used against people to get what she wanted from them, and oh boy did she use it.
She had many things running congruently. Cassiopeia had offered shelter to Theo as a formal offer of asylum at Black Manor when the child showed up at the Manor with a bruised cheek for the umpteenth time; she knew it was his father Thorros's doing, and she couldn't knowingly send or even allow the boy to go back to that place in good conscience. She didn't believe in abuse; even when she had disciplined Azalea, even as a small child, especially as a small child, she had never raised her voice or laid a hand on the child with the malicious intent to cause harm. So when Theo arrived like he did, Cassiopeia did the most logical thing and commanded the house elves to clear a section of the wing Azalea had, to make a suite up for Theo. Neville had a set of rooms made up for him for when he slept over, which was becoming more and more often, so it was a natural advancement for Theo to have his own section too. She had been the one majorly behind the scenes and she didn't usually mind it. As a Slytherin, she liked to stalk the shadows just as much as the next one.
Things were beginning to fall into place with Isold Kaiser, the wizard lawyer that she and Arcturus had contacted with Narcissa's good graces. Isold was opening a formal investigation into the wrongful imprisonment of her great nephew, and would be reporting back to her and Arcturus hopefully soon. And then there was her formal request to the goblins at Gringotts Bank to find her other great nephew, Regulus. She made a mental note to write to them to inquire if they had any success in finding information about where Regulus could be, if he was indeed alive. The goblins had never been wrong before, and Cassiopeia was hoping that this would not be the first instance of that happening.
She thought back to the letter she had sitting in the drawer of her desk. Cassiopeia had intended to send it out, but she wanted to get Theo's astute permission before she proceeded any further with the request for justice. For almost a year and a half now, she had been gathering intel and copies of memories from different witches and wizards about Theo's father, Thorros Nott. He was a cruel man, and it seemed that many were still leery of his wrath. It had taken her this long , but she was nearly ready. She raised her wand to her temple and extracted the memories she wanted to send to Madam Bones, who was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was in charge of the Aurors, which were much like the muggle police that protected the non-magical folk. Amelia had gone to Hogwarts around the time that her great nephews had gone to school. She resolved to read it over once more and send it out with unbreakable vials attached to it with a weightless charm on them. She always tried to be considerate, even to creatures like owls and house elves. It's why she was always kind and patient to her own, and she wouldn't stand for mistreatment of them by anyone. She had raised Azalea, from the tender age of six, to be kind to others, and that lesson seemed to have stuck with the girl. She was growing up nicely, and had become quite attached to her two little friends. Azalea would do anything for them, and in turn, Cassiopeia would do anything for Azalea.
After they left the wand shop, they made their way to Flourish and Blotts bookstore so that Azalea, Neville, and Theo could browse the new books selection. She didn't mind, and she knew that Arcturus and Augusta didn't either. When a child wanted to read, whether it be for leaning or just plain pleasure, she would never object to it.
"Oh oh oh! Look Theo! The new Mathilda The Great book came out! I don't have this one yet!" She heard Azalea say excitedly to what Azalea considered to be her pseudo-brother. Azalea was gesturing wildly to a semi thick book that was blue with a gold band around the border of the cover. The title read Mathilda The Great: Adventures of the Dragon Rescuer. On the cover was what she determined to be a small animated Antipodean Opaleye dragon, if she wasn't mistaken. It had been a rather long time since she had read Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them from when she was in school. She did own the book somewhere; she would have to dig it out and show it to Azalea, Neville and Theo sometime. They would most likely enjoy it, and if Cassiopeia remembered correctly, it was a copy that was enchanted to have the pictures in it move and breathe fire and smoke. Suddenly she heard quite hissing, and watched in mild amusement as Arawn poked his scaled head out from a pocket in Azalea's outer robes and couldn't help but smile at the sight. Azalea had gained more than a pet that fateful day. She had gained a familiar, and as a direct result, she had discovered that she was a parselmouth. She made a mental note to look into finding more books about parselmagic; it could open up an entirely untapped route for her to practice magic with. There was an unsaid advantage in speaking another language, especially when it came to battle. Cassiopeia was not stupid, nor was she blinded by the gospel of Albus Dumbledore. She had been there when the goblins had discovered the horcrux. She knew what is was and knew the basics of what that horrific piece of magic was.
He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named, Lord Voldemort... Tom Riddle... He had either by accident or purpose, created a horcrux that fateful night that James and Lily Potter had been slain. There was a fragment of a soul of one Time Riddle attached to Azalea's very own soul, and Cassiopeia would be damned if she was going to sit passively and let it do any lasting harm to the girl she had quickly come to think of as her own child, or in her case, grandchild would be a better term to use. She was her sister Dorea's only grandchild. Dorea had had James late in life, and was overjoyed when her only son had married, and even more so the day that Azalea had been born. Unfortunately, before Dorea or Charlus could have even met their only grandchild, they had both contracted Dragon Pox, and had passed on while James and Lily were in hiding to protect Azalea from Lord Voldemort's wrath. It had been unfruitful, as she now knew the truth, and so would the rest of the wizarding world soon enough if she had her say in it. James and Lily had trusted James' nearly lifelong friend, Peter Pettigrew, to be thiet secret keeper for the Fidelis charm. It was that decision that set in stone their deaths on that cold October night in nineteen eighty one. Little Azalea had been left all alone, and the rest was history. Badly recorded and mostly inaccurate history, but history nonetheless.
They finished up in the bookstore, and she heard Arcturus call out the three nearly school-aged children to ask if they wanted to stop at Florean Fortescue's Icecream Parlor before they all flooed back to Black Manor. She had offered Augusta her own private wing of Black Manor; she offered it as an escape from the empty halls of Longbottom Manor. While the estate was her home, the halls were often empty. Unless Azalea and Theo had decided on that particular day that instead they would visit Neville's home, the boy could usually be found in the back gardens or greenhouse here with Azalea and Theo not far away. The three children were always together and she wondered if this friendship would hold up once they all got to Hogwarts. That castle's damned sorting hat could cause a rift in even the closest of tightly knit friendships when it came time to decide on where they would individually go into the four houses. She had seen it first hand with Arcturus' grandchildren. When Sirius was the first gryffindor in what seemed like ages, his son and daughter-in-law had all but decided the young eleven year old boy to become a pariah in his own family. It was made even worse when Sirius' baby brother, younger by two years, was sorted into Slytherin, the house that had such a nasty rivalry with Sirius's own house. It had destroyed Sirius's life in a way. Sure, he had met James and Lily, and developed a lifelong friendship with James, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin, but if Cassiopeia was being absolutely cynical... It had cost Sirius his freedom, not that she blamed James Potter. No, the only people at fault for Sirius's unjust incarceration were the Minister of Magic, Milicent Bagnold, and Bartimus Crouch Sr. for their parts, as well as Peter Pettigrew for betraying the Potter's and framing her great-nephew.
She faintly heard the children agree, and they wandered from across the alley way to the Ice Cream Parlor. Augusta and Arcturus found a table with enough chairs for the six of them, and Azalea, Theo, and Neville all went up to the menu board to decide on what to get. The weather in the alley was heating up, and a cold and creamy treat was the perfect thing for a hot day like that day was quickly becoming, and would probably be the hottest day of the year. They were in the beginnings of a heatwave it seemed; summer was two thirds of the way over and the heat was not dying down whatsoever. Maybe she would get an icecream as well this time. After all, you were never too old for ice cream. Everyone had a good time, and it seemed like Neville and Azalea had thoroughly enjoyed their joint birthday celebration. The next day, much like how Arcturus wrote to the leather smith Eleonora Aldaine, asking her to come out in a week's time or so, to fit both Azalea and Neville for wand holsters.
Remus paced nervously. He was in what he would think of as his flat, for the last time. Everything was packed, unpacked, and packed again. He hadn't been this nervous since he was eleven, going to Kings Cross station for the very first time. Back then, he was afraid, more like terrified if he admitted to himself, of being discovered to be infected by lycanthropy. Remus John Lupin was a werewolf. And that's why he had to do what he was dreading doing. He had more questions than answers anymore and he needed to get to the root of the issue. He glanced once more at the completely empty flat, once decorated with his sparse furniture, but everything was packed neatly into the steamer trunk he owned. What couldn't be shrunk to size to fit into his repurposed school truck that he had had since he turned eleven, it was going to be left behind. Admittedly that wasn't much, only the too large things like his more broken than fixable bedframe and the ratty mattress that resided on it and the bookcase that was once overflowing with his books and notes that he had made for research on his next work he would be publishing, of course under a pseudonym. No one wanted to buy books from someone like him, someone tainted. No, Remus shook his head to dispel the dark thoughts as if that would stop the lingering thoughts from causing him to spiral.
Remus was packed up for a specific reason. He had gone to Gringotts Bank, and he had done an inheritance test, which had marked him with the unexpected results of being the heir of one Alastor Fawley. Remus had no one who would be tricked enough into marking him as their heir, and he had no recollection of anyone blood adopting him. The only and he did mean only person he could even come up with who would have done something that far fetched would have to be the one who turned him to begin with. That would be one Fenrir Greyback, the most feared werewolf in all of the united kingdom and for a very good reason. He was a ruthless monster, who spared no one, not even a child. He himself was changed at the mere age of four by the man in question, and it had quite literally ruined his life. No one looked at or treated him the same after that. At first it was the looks of pity that bothered him the most. 'Oh look, it's the poor Lupin boy. Did you hear? He was turned into a werewolf...' but now, it was the barely veiled looks of absolute disgust that witches and wizards alike shot at him, when they thought that he wasn't looking and even when he was.
Making up his mind for the last time, Remus cast a feather-light charm on the overloaded trunk and shrunk it down to size, small enough to be put in one of his inner jacket pockets. He pulled out the created piece of paper out of his pocket and read the address on it one more time, doing his best to memorize it. He stepped outside, out of the empty flat and thought to himself 'Fawley Palazzo, Prosecco Italy' and he aperated away with a pop. This would either go very well, or very bad. Which one, he had none the faintest idea.
What he arrived at was a completely unexpected sight to behold. He was truly surprised he was not splinched, as there was always an inherent danger with aperating without a clear picture in mind. He had partially expected Fawley Château to be a small Manor at best, but this took his absolute breath away. He was on the top of a high up hill looking down at what could only be described as a castle that was sitting between the valleys of two slightly shorter hills. Surrounding the castle was a decently sized forest and beyond that, it appeared the whole castle, forest and all, was against a vast amount of water for as far as the eye could perceive. Remus closed his eyes and used his enhanced senses to search out if there was anything nearby. He faintly picked up a painfully familiar scent; it was his sire's scent, he would be able to recognize it anywhere. It was coming from down hill, leading towards the impressive structure of a castle, so Remus did the only logical thing he could think of. He followed his nose and cautiously made his way down a beaten down trail though the forest. Someone lived there, or went there enough that the flora around him was trampled down into a narrow pathway, winding and weaving down the hill in a zigzagging pattern.
As soon as he even made it to the edge of the cliffside, he picked up on the wards that buzzed around him, almost like the zapping feeling of static across his tanned skin. 'There are wards.' He thought to himself. 'Wards that accepted me without having to try to bring them down.' He carefully made his way down the steep terrain and caught a better look at the Palazzo, which if he had translated correctly, roughly meant Palace.
And Palace it was. The castle was massive as he got closer to it. Built with brown and tan stones, it was at least three stories tall, with spiraling towers mirroring on each side of the heavy front doors. It absolutely took his breath away as he made his way up the large stone steps and lifted one of the lion's head knockers on the door. Just as he knocked, the door opened, and a house elf stared up at him.
"Master is be expecting you. Follow me." The elf squeaked out at Remus before turning around without looking back. Remus had no other choice but to enter the mysterious castle and follow along behind the elf to wherever Fenrir was hidden away inside.