CHAPTER FOUR
A BROKEN UMBRELLA TO BRAZIL

Harry heard what Dudley had said, and understood it perfectly, but found himself unable to respond immediately. He just stared at Dudley, the shocking revelation hanging in the air.

The rain continued to hammer down on Dudley's head.

Then, suddenly breaking out of whatever bubble he was in, Harry spoke again.

"Come inside, Dudley."

Harry stepped back and opened the door. Dudley looked up and stared at Harry for a moment, then shrugged and entered the house. Harry closed the door behind him. The rain hammered down relentlessly but it still didn't drown out the awkward silence that reverberated through the house as Harry motioned Dudley into the living room.

Ginny, who had her back turned to Harry and Dudley, reading a letter, muttered over to him.

"It's from Hagrid. He wants to know if you want a quick catch up tonight over a nightcap -"

Ginny had turned to Harry and seen their unexpected guest.

"Oh – Dudley. What a surprise," Ginny said, trying to sound pleased.

"Hullo, Ginny." Dudley replied, without looking directly at her.

"Um... Gin, could you tell Hagrid I'll be a little while," Harry said.

Suddenly, he was extremely conscious of what he was saying. He wanted to tell Ginny what he had just been told, but he didn't know how it would come out, and he didn't want to upset Dudley further.

"Er – we've had some bad news. Aunt Petunia, she uh – she passed away," Harry mumbled.

"Oh." Ginny replied, unsure what to say.

Ginny met his eyes and Harry tried to tell her without words that it would be best if she left him and Dudley alone. Ginny grabbed the letter and a quill and headed out of the room and upstairs.

Harry opened up a cabinet and pulled out two glasses as well as his half-empty bottle of Firewhisky. He motioned for Dudley to sit down on the sofa and placed the two glasses on the coffee table, pouring out a measure for each of them.

Harry slid Dudley's glass across to him; Dudley stared at it apprehensively.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Just – trust me, you need it." Harry muttered, then decided he should add, "to Petunia."

Harry downed his drink in one; Dudley said nothing but followed suit.

Harry poured another measure each.

"So, er – when... when did it happen?" Harry asked.

Dudley lifted his second measure and sipped.

"This morning. She'd been ill. Cancer," Dudley said.

"I'm sorry, Dud," Harry replied.

"She didn't tell anyone. Too proud, always had been. I'd noticed she was looking a bit unwell, bit tired. But she told me she just had a cold. Dad hasn't taken it well." Dudley continued.

Harry tried not to think of Vernon Dursley grieving; he wanted no reason to feel sorry for him.

"I spoke to the doctor. He said she came to him two months ago and he told her after some tests that she was teminal. And last night she – she just went." Dudley finished.

The deafening silence returned tenfold, brokn only when the owl near the window shuffled its wings. Dudley noticed it and recoiled slightly.

"Don't worry. It's just waiting for a reply off Ginny." Harry told him.

"Well, anyway – I thought, well – Dad's never going to come and tell you. I thought someone had to," Dudley said.

Harry didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure how he felt. All he knew was Petunia Dursley was dead and he couldn't figure out much more depth in his thoughts beyond that at the moment.

"She wrote a will, since she knew she was ill," Dudley continued, sipping more Firewhisky,"and she named you in it. Part of the reason I'm here."

Harry almost coughed on his Firewhisky.

"She named me?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah, look," Dudley said, and he from his pocket a crammed plastic carrier bag.

He handed it to Harry and Harry stuck his hand in, pulling out first a sealed letter and then a sky-blue baby blanket with HP engraved into the corner of it.

"She kept that blanket. It's from when you came to us, I think," Dudley explained, "and that letter is addressed to you, and included in her will, but I don't know anything else about it."

Harry was stunned.

He had never expected Petunia to even mention his existence in her will, let alone return an object she had kept for over thirty years and a letter directly to him.

"Uh... right, well – thanks," Harry muttered awkwardly and put the blanket and the letter back into the bag.

Dudley finished off his second measure and put the glass back down on the table.

"That's a great drink," Dudley commented.

Harry couldn't help but grin a little: the idea of Dudley, or any of the Dursleys, approving of anything remotely magical was still amusing to him even after all these years.

"Sure is," Harry agreed, "So, what are you doing for the funeral?"

Harry knew that Dudley worked in security and wasn't well paid.

"I've got a bit saved up. We'll give her the best we can afford." Dudley shrugged, and helped himself to a third measure of Firewhisky.

"Listen," Harry said, "send me the bill."

"What?"

"Send me the bill for the funeral. Don't worry about the cost. It's not an issue." Harry explained.

"I – I can manage it you know. Plus, Dad won't have that," Dudley replied, shaking his head.

"So don't tell him," Harry said, "Listen, I'm not going to pretend I was close to your mother. But she was family and she did keep a roof over my head for sixteen years. Send me the bill, tell Vernon you won on a scratchcard or something."

Dudley stared at Harry for a moment, then nodded.

"Thanks, Harry," he said solemnly.

After finishing his third and fourth measure of Firewhisky, Dudley announced his leave, hiccouping a little. Harry saw him out as Ginny came back down the stairs.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Dudley," she said.

Dudley nodded.

"Thanks, Ginny. Take care."

Dudley shook Harry's hand and then walked out back into the rain without another word and turned around the corner and out of view. Harry closed the door and turned to Ginny.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him.

Harry shrugged.

"I'm not really sure, yet," Harry said, "Did you reply to Hagrid?"

Ginny nodded.

"I told him you'd be an hour or so."

They both re-entered the sitting room and Harry pulled the letter from Petunia out of the bag Dudley gave him.

"My Aunt Petunia left me this letter in her will. And that blanket. The one I arrived in when I was a baby," Harry told Ginny.

She looked over to the blanket and then to the letter.

"What did she keep a letter to you for?" Ginny asked, curiously.

"Only one way to find out," Harry shrugged and sat down, unsealing the envelope and pulling out a folded piece of white paper. The writing was small and cramped.

Harry,

I have tried to write this letter many times. I write it with the intention to never receive a reply. I am ashamed of this. I regret that my jealousy of my sister and the world in which you both grew up in has hardened me. It has made me angry and bitter; and now I'm an old woman, I recognise these things too late.

I cannot correct a lifetime of bitterness. Nor do I think I want to. I have lived relatively happily, with a husband I love and a son I adore. I was lucky enough to have grandchildren. The last time I saw you, the day we left Privet Drive, I almost brought myself to wish you luck in your quest ahead. I couldn't do it.

But it is your success regardless that brought peace to my family ever since. We no longer had to worry about dark wizards and unwanted guests.

For that, I thank you.

I do not think we will see eachother again and when you read this I will already be gone.

I know you and Dudley have an amicable relationship and I am grateful for that. I'm sure he will be the one who tells you of my passing. I don't expect the news to devastate you; nor would I want it to. However, the one thing I always knew about you, even if I never wanted to admit it, was that you were a kind and caring boy. I hope you use those traits to help Dudley. He will struggle with my passing.

I hope to see Lily wherever I am going.

This is my attempt at closure, I hope it provides you as much as it does me.

I'm sorry.

Good luck,

Petunia.

Harry passed the letter to Ginny; he wasn't sure how he felt. On one hand, the Dursleys had been the only family members he had left and he had grown up disliking them. He had only bothered with Dudley on a limited basis in the past twenty years and he hadn't seen Petunia or Vernon at all since.

Yet, Aunt Petunia was dead, and she had taken the time to send him this last message, against all her instincts and she had, Harry was amazed to see, actually apologised. He couldn't help but feel a little sadness that she was gone.

It felt weird; like he had forgotten who he was. He certainly wasn't going to miss his Aunt or his Uncle, who he also never expected to see again, just like he hadn't for the past twenty years and still he couldn't say that Petunia's death hadn't affected him.

Harry looked up at Ginny as she finished the letter.

"What do you think?" he asked her.

"It's... it is what it is. An attempt to find closure," Ginny said, "All that's important though is what you think."

Harry shrugged.

"I feel sorry for Dudley and would you believe it, I actually feel sorry for Uncle Vernon too."

"Well, you're a caring person Harry. That's why I love you." Ginny replied.

Harry smiled.

Ginny sat up, grabbing a broken purple umbrella from behind the door.

"Listen, why don't you go see Hagrid? He's clearly missing you and he usually cheers you up." she said, handing him the umbrella.

Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I think I'll do that. I won't be long, OK?"

Harry got up and kissed Ginny on the forehead, then placed the umbrella on the coffee table and pointed his wand at it.

"Portus!"

The umbrella started to glow blue-white and Harry placed his hand on it.

"I'll see you later, Gin."

One... two... three...

The portkey flashed and Harry was pulled backwards by an invisible hook around the navel. Grimmauld Place and Ginny's freckled-face disappeared and was suddenly replaced by the familiar, circular hut, chuffing smoke out of its chimney.

Harry knocked the door three times.

For a moment, like he always did when he knocked Hagrid's door, he expected to be greeted with the booming barks of Fang, but then he remembered that Fang had died some years ago. Nevertheless, there was some movement inside the hut and eventually it opened.

Rubeus Hagrid, aged and greyed, but still spectacularly large in all contexts of the word, popped his head out of the door, his black beetle eyes focusing on Harry.

"'Harry!" Hagrid cried. "Nice to see yeh, come in, come in..."

Harry stepped into the hut as Hagrid stepped aside. It looked exactly as it did the last time Harry had seen it, small, cramped and very warm with the fire burning in the corner.

"Sit down, sit down... so how are yeh, Harry?" Hagrid asked, beaming.

Harry tried to smile as he sat down but ended up with an expression that was more of a grimace.

"Er – I'm not quite sure how I am, Hagrid. See, I just got news that my Aunt Petunia died," Harry explained.

Hagrid's smile faltered.

"I'm sorry ter hear that, Harry."

"It's so weird," Harry continued, "I hated the Dursleys. Dudley has become somewhat tolerable lately but I haven't even see my Aunt and Uncle for twenty years... but now, I can't help but feel sad for the fact she's gone... and then I feel stupid for feeling sad for someone I never liked."

"She was family, Harry." Hagrid replied. "You can't choose 'em. But that's still what they are. And yer gonna be affected by it, obviously. Tell yeh what, I got a bottle o' Swott Malt Whiskey for us to crack open. Strong, highland stuff."

Hagrid pulled out a small, square bottle and cranked it open, pouring two measures into mugs.

Harry sipped his drink and immediately felt a strong numbing sensation flush through his body. Harry felt his eyes watering suddenly and wiped them with his robe sleeve.

"Told yeh it was strong," Hagrid chuckled. "So, how's that Muggle investigation going?"

"Heard about that, did you?" Harry replied.

Hagrid shuffled some things on his wooden table and pulled from the rubble a copy of the Evening Prophet.

"Hermione talked about it earlier," Hagrid said, passing Harry the paper.

Harry skimmed the article; Hermione confirmed that the Auror Department had been dealing with some breaches of the International Statute of Secrecy, being sure to reassure the public that the Auror Department are following up on leads and are looking to solve the case as soon as possible.

"Yeah – well, it had to be addressed. People were starting to talk," Harry said. "Actually, since I'm here, you visit Knockturn Alley on a regular basis, right?"

Hagrid nodded during a sip of his whiskey.

"Well, have you heard anyone talking about this stuff?" Harry asked.

"Yeah – everyone's talkin' in Knockturn Alley. Yeh know the sort that usually go there. They like gossiping abou' all tha'. I don' have any information that will help yeh, though, Harry. Most o' what I hear is just people wonderin' who's behind it all." Hagrid said.

Harry scoffed.

"They aren't the only ones. I'm heading to Brazil in a few days to follow up on a lead. I hope it proves fruitful because I don't have much to go on here."

Hagrid grinned.

"I know yeh'll figure it out, Harry," Hagrid said. "Everytime someone asks me, I tell 'em, there ain' no-one better for Head Auror than Harry Potter."

Harry matched his grin.

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, "so have James and Albus been around?"

Hagrid nodded.

"Was 'ere just two days ago, actually. Albus is settling well, seems like. James has started Care of Magical Creatures with me now, he is one o' the bes' in the class, try to stay later everytime, they know what you used ter be like. 'Course, without the cloak, they can't sneak 'round like you used ter."

Harry grinned again.

"James begged me to let him take it to Hogwarts in his first year. I might have let him if it wasn't so useful for Auror work."

After another half an hour, and another measure of whiskey, Harry was feeling positively drunk. He told Hagrid that he would have to head home, because Ginny would be waiting for him. Hagrid convinced him to have one more quick drink for the road and Harry re-set his Portkey, the unpleasant feeling of travelling this method only doubled by his cloudy head.

Grimmauld Place was silent and dark when he put the broken umbrella away. Harry sighed. He felt like today, despite being his day off, had been one of the busiest days he'd had in ages. Exhaustion washed over him as he staggered up the stairs to his bedroom on the second floor.

Harry eventually found himself next to Ginny in bed, who embraced him sleepily as he settled and within moments Harry himself had drifted off to sleep.

Saturday rolled around in a blur and before Harry knew it, it was time to go to Brazil with Luna. Harry had gotten Ministry approval for the International Portkey the night before set to leave at midday and the Portkey was sat on his coffee table with ten minutes to spare.

He mentally ran through all of his possessions one more time to make sure he was adequately prepared. He had his Invisibility Cloak in his robe pocket, his mokeskin pouch around his neck, carrying the fake Cashew wand, emergency vials of Pepper-Up Potion (which was to be on an Auror's person at all times), an old Sneakoscope, and his small two way mirror, repaired and restored after the War, to which Ginny had the other. He didn't think he would need all these precautions for a short trip, but felt better with them in his possession regardless.

Luna Scamander turned up at Grimmauld Place with minutes to spare. She asked Harry what the plan was and he relayed it once again.

Encantadore was their destination; a wizarding town not far from Sao Paulo. Luna knew the town well. They would travel to the outskirts of the town to meet the first wandmaker, Lucas Eduardo, who according to Harry's research, had sold Cashew wands, and if need be, they would travel twenty miles southwest to Esper, to meet the second wandmaker, Ivor Wright.

After saying goodbye to Ginny and Lily, both Harry and Luna touched the broken umbrella and were hooked into the Portkey's tunnel. Harry noticed that the travel took a little longer than usual and he was starting to wonder just how long this uncomfortable tug would continue to nauseate him when they finally and suddenly stopped, on a dusty hill a mile or so from the outline of a small town, the intense heat from the cloudless morning sun above beating down on them. Harry regained his composer and dusted off his robes.

"That was horrid," Harry commented.

"Did you think so?" Luna asked, lightly. "I quite enjoy the rush."

Harry grinned, "Of course you do."

Luna dug into her small purple bag and pulled out a pair of glasses. They were shaded, horn-rimmed and shocking pink and she put them on with an excited smile.

"I designed these shades myself. I have a pair in apple green if you're interested," Luna told Harry.

"I'm fine, thanks," Harry responded politely, and tapped his own glasses, "Umbrefy."

Harry watched through his glasses as the lenses got darker and protected his eyes from the sun. He would have to recast the spell several times, but it was better than being seen wearing one of Luna's... unique pair of sunglasses.

After ten minutes of walking towards the town, Harry could already tell the weather was not going to be kind to them. The air was quite humid and sticky, each breath feeling only half-full, and Harry had to remind himself that it was October and if he was here in July it would be even more unbearable.

"Have you met the wandmakers in this area before?" Harry asked Luna as they travelled along the path.

"No, I've never had any need to. I wasn't even sure there was a wandmaker in this area. I know about Ivor Wright's shop in Esper but I've never visited," Luna explained, unhelpfully.

"Well, I really hope one of them is able to tell me about this wand," Harry said, motioning towards his mokeskin pouch, "We've really struggled to find out any useful information since all the trouble started."

The path opened up into a wider berth, with palm trees surrounding a tall, brick wall and gate. The gate was ornate and golden, with Encantadore wired into the design.

As they entered through the gate, Harry felt something swiftly travel through his body and knew he had passed through the Muggle Repelling Charms that had been placed over the town.

Encantadore was a lovely sight. More palm trees, fountains and benches were placed all around the park ahead of them, and beyond that, multicoloured, flat-topped houses stacked up in rows climbing a steadily inclining hill. Trees obscured the view of what was beyond the hill above.

"It's lovely here," Harry said to Luna.

"Yes, it is quite beautiful," Luna smiled in return, "Where did you say the wandmakers is?"

Harry thought about it.

"The outskirts of the town – past the town centre, not far from the temple."

"Oh, wonderful," Luna gleamed, "We'll have to travel to the other side of the town. I can show you the temple. It's truly magnificent."

Harry politely nodded; he didn't really want to stay here longer than neccesary.

"Sure, we can pop in."

As they walked through the park at the entrance of the town, Harry saw a myriad of people moving around. One man, standing underneath the shade of a palm tree, was singing in Portugese, an upbeat, catchy song with a flute, guitar and a small drum playing magically around him. His voice echoed through the park, and a few bystanders danced idly as they stood or walked by.

Some kids were hovering a few feet in the air, whizzing around on broomsticks in a nearby patch of green, playing a sport Harry was not familiar with; they were holding nets in their hands and seemed to be chasing small leather green balls the size of tennis balls.

Over by the fountain, a bearded old wizard flicked a coin into it, mumbling some sort of prayer under his breath. As he did this, he would rise and fall a few inches, up and down, in some sort of steady rhythm.

Harry and Luna travelled through the park and up the hill, the odd person here or there flying down the hill on a broomstick, sometimes with bags in their hands or on the tail of a broom.

When they finally arrived at the top of the hill, they moved past more trees, where the hill descended down with more rows of houses and a town centre bustling with people. Harry saw market stalls, rows of shops, some small farms, a small lake hidden behind more trees and sticking out in the distance, ahead of the town centre, Harry saw the tip of a towering, stone temple.

The temple became shrouded in greenery again as Harry descended to the town centre, and Harry could see it was some distance from the centre, with a forest-like path leading the way.

The town centre was packed. Harry and Luna could barely move a couple of steps without someone bustling past assuring several market traders in broken Portugese that he wasn't looking to buy anything, Harry irritably broke through the market square and to the entrance of the forest path with Luna.

"The temple is through here, the wandmakers should be nearby."

Together, they travelled through the path covered on both sides with a plethora of palm trees and shrubbery, and a sandy path trailing through. Harry was grateful for the cover of the trees as they passed through, protecting them from the throbbing sun which was steadily rising in the air.

"I want to go to the wandmakers first, get those out of the way, then we can check out the temple," Harry said.

"It'll be fascinating," Luna replied, "I actually donated a scale of the Brazilian Sharp-Ridged Dragon to the temple."

"What do they do in the temple?" Harry asked.

"They have a lot of interesting artefacts and information about their history. A kind of museum. They also teach magic there to children," Luna replied.

"It's a magic school?" Harry asked, who's only knowledge of a wizarding school in Brazil was Castelobruxo, which was miles away.

"Not really a magic school," said Luna. "But not everyone is able to go to Castelobruxo, especially the poorer people here. It's a free alternative, right at home. Some parents prefer to educate their children at the temple instead. I think part of it is that the school is in the middle of the rainforest. I think it scares some people."

Harry imagined a great, strutted castle, entangled in great vines and trees in the depths of the Amazon.

The sun blazed back in their faces as they exited the forested path and the great stone temple came into view. It was triangular for the most part, with a long spiked tower sticking out from the top. The sun gleamed off its black surface, giving it an aura of blinding awe as they approached.

They walked past the temple and around some rocky terrain behind it. They continued on through some more paths shrouded in trees and finally climbed another small hill to arrive at an open area surrounded by trees in a half circle and tucked in the corner, between two particularly large palm trees, a small wooden hut, with a veranda and some small wooden steps.

"This must be it," Harry said.

They walked across the half-circle of green and arrived outside the hut. An old, rickety sign stood ten feet or so in front of the house, with weeds growing all around it.

Loja de varinhas de Eduardo

"Eduardo's wand shop," Luna translated.

"Well, let's go see if he's home," Harry replied.

They walked up the wooden steps. The knocker was shaped like a flaming serpent. Harry grabbed it and rapped three times on the door. After a few moments of nothing, Harry decided to try again and knocked a second time. The silence continued. He was about to try knocking a third and final time, when he heard shuffling behind the door, some grunts, and then the door swung open.

The man standing before Harry was very red and very shabby. He was wearing a frown that seemed fixed on his face and had a thin, grey toothbrush moustache. He wore thin, lime green robes. The lines on his face became more prominent when he spoke with a scowl.

"O que você quer?" He said briskly.

Harry tried to give the man a friendly smile.

"Hello, Mr Eduardo, my name is Mr Potter, I wanted to ask you a few questions if you don't mind."

"No English," Mr Eduardo muttered.

Harry turned to Luna.

"Ola, Senhor Eduardo," Luna spoke politely, "Gostaríamos de fazer algumas perguntas, por favor?"

The man looked even more annoyed at the fact that Luna spoke Portuguese. He scowled and mumbled something and then slammed the door shut.

Harry frowned and turned to Luna.

"What did he say?" Harry asked.

"He said that he didn't have time to answer our silly questions and that he's busy," Luna explained, then added, "and he was quite rude about it."

"Well, that went well," Harry said, sarcastically, "Tell you what, we should go see the other wandmaker, see if he's any less hassle to talk to – and we'll try this guy again on our way back."

Luna nodded, "I can assist you if you want to apparate there. I've been there many times."

Harry sighed in relief; he had never apparated in another country before, and even though he knew it shouldn't really make a difference, the idea unnerved him anyway. Knowing that Luna could assist him rested his nerves at the prospect a little.

"Sure, let's go."

They stepped out from the entrance of the hut into the half-circle again. Luna held out her arm and Harry gripped it and then, they turned on the spot, and the world enveloped around them. After a moment of discomfort, Harry found his footing in new surroundings. They were on the path to Esper, which was visible a few hundred yards down the hill.

It was much smaller than Encantadore; it lacked the town centre, the market stalls and the lake. Instead, there were a few rows of cramped houses and buildings, evenly spread along the flat surface. Harry could see some farmland in the distance but otherwise that was about the scope of the whole town.

"You know where Ivor Wright's shop is, right?" Harry asked as they entered the town.

"Yes, it's just down here," Luna replied, taking the lead as they walked through the third row of houses and buildings.

Eventually, they arrived at the building Luna was looking for. It was at the end of a lane, standing slightly taller than most of the other shops surrounding. It was painted regal blue, and the sign was the opposite of Eduardo's, sparkling clean and well-maintained.

Wright Wandmakers

Fabricante de varinha

Established 1977

This shop, also unlike Eduardo's, had windows, and Harry looked inside to see shelves of boxes before opening the door and stepping inside, Luna closing the door behind her. Immediately, Harry felt relief from the cool air contrasting the warmth outside. He remembered amusingly the exact opposite effect when he entered Ollivander's last, with the Autumn winds of London.

The shelves were, much like Ollivanders, stacked with boxes of different wands, however this shop looked distinctly cleaner and more organised. There was a steel spiral staircase behind the counter that led to an upper floor. The room was empty but there was a bell on the tall, brown counter.

Harry rung the bell.

Almost immediately, a pair of legs in sandals came down the stairs, followed by their owner. He was a short wizard, wearing blue Muggle shorts and a plain white shirt. His white hair stuck out slightly at the sides and he bore a great walrus moustache.

"Ola, ola." He greeted Harry and Luna.

Harry stepped forward.

"Hello, are you Mr Wright?" Harry asked.

The man nodded.

"The very same. And you are...?"

The man extended his arm. Harry leaned forward to shake it.

"Hello, I'm -" Harry started, but the man gasped and finished for him.

"Harry Potter!"

"Er – yes," Harry replied, lamely.

The man grinned widely, shaking Harry's hand enthusiastically before letting go.

"It's truly an honour to meet you, Mr Potter. Who is your acquaintance?" Mr Wright asked, turning to Luna.

"Luna Scamander, nice to meet you." Luna said, with an airy wave to Mr Wright.

Mr Wright raised his brows.

"The very same Luna Scamander that discovered the Brazilian Sharp-Ridged Dragon last year?"

Luna grinned sheepishly.

"Oh, you know who I am. That's funny."

Mr Wright looked temporarily perplexed by this odd response, but ploughed on regardless.

"Well, well, I must say this is a great surprise; what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from a renowned Magizoologist and the man who conquered Lord Voldemort?"

"We're here on Auror Business. There's an ongoing investigation. We need to know," Harry said, pulling out the Cashew wand from his mokeskin pouch and handing it to Wright, "if you have ever sold a wand like this to anyone?"

Mr Wright took the wand curiously and investigated it for a few moments.

Then, he frowned.

"But this wand has no core." He said.

Harry shook his head.

"No, it doesn't – but we have reason to believe it's a copy of the original wand. Cashew wood, eight inches, and it likely would have been a British witch or wizard."

Mr Wright investigated the wand a little further. He tapped it with his own wand, and looked down the thick end as if he could see through it.

"I used to make wands of Cashew; but it's a very difficult wood to make wands from. I haven't made a Cashew wand for over forty years – and no-one has come asking me to make one either – so I'm not sure what to tell you. Cashew has grown out of fashion. There's only one wandmaker I know in Brazil who even still uses it, Lucas Eduardo, in Encantadore – have you spoken to him?"

"We tried," Harry said, "he wasn't very welcoming, though. When I realised he didn't speak English, I thought Luna could help, but he slammed the door in our faces."

Mr Wright chuckled.

"If he doesn't speak English, then I'm not a wandmaker," Mr Wright said, "Although, I will admit he's a miserable sod if you've ever met one. A friendly piece of advice: Mr Eduardo's tongue becomes much looser with a little... compensation."

Harry understood at once and grinned back.

"Thanks," Harry replied, "One more thing, wands made from the Cashew tree – is there anything special about them? No wandmakers in Britain use it, but whoever is causing trouble for us has this type of wand. Is there any reason someone would want a Cashew wand specifically?"

Mr Wright considered the question for a moment, stroking his moustache idly.

"Cashew wands are very particular. No-one is quite sure what traits the wand seeks, which is part of the reason why it went out of fashion. It doesn't work well with many people. However, if the Cashew wand does find a partner, it can help channel the holder's powers significantly... of course, the same is true for any wood that connects with you," Mr Wright explained.

Harry sighed, hanging his head slightly.

"Although..." Mr Wright started speaking again, and Harry looked back up, "It is worth noting that some people sometimes have come in... though this hasn't happened in years... asking me to replicate a wand of some historical figure. A lot of historically-notable wizards in Brazil used Cashew wands. People like Boto, an ancient dark wizard who could transform into a dolphin and lure his victims to the sea, or Guiomar the Bloody, who ruled over an ancient Brazilian magical empire for seventy years, Dabria, who was known as 'The Iron Angel' or Otavio, who once uprooted an acre of the Amazon rainforest in one swift motion, all of these legendary figures all used wands of Cashew – it's possible someone would want to recreate one of their wands."

Something stirred inside Harry; this may have been a long shot, but what Mr Wright was saying seemed to make sense and Harry felt, at the very least, it would be worth researching a little about these legendary figures and revisiting Mr Eduardo with more information than they had only an hour ago.

"That's interesting," Harry replied, "Thank you, Mr Wright, for all your help."

"Any time, Mr Potter, Mrs Scamander." Mr Wright shook both their hands again.

After leaving Ivor Wright's wandshop, Harry decided that they would visit the temple before they revisited Mr Wright had told Harry about legendary wizards using Cashew wands was stuck in his mind and he thought the temple would be a good place to read up on these legendary figures to see if he could find some vague connection between what was happening in the investigation and what happened in Brazilian history.

They apparated to the entrance of the temple and entered through the black wooden door, which was surrounded by four Goblin guards. The inside of the temple was cool and calm. There was a small desk near the entrance and beyond were many different exhibits, behind glass cases in some cases.

Luna spoke to the employee at the desk and came back to Harry.

"We're free to explore this floor and examine what we like... but the upper floors are off limits. I think they teach up there. There's a lot of magnificent things down here though. Take a look at this..." Luna explained.

Luna showed Harry around, showing off the blue scaled of the Sharp-Ridged Dragon she had discovered, now on display with credit to her for the discovery. There were also some an assortment of random ornaments and artefacts, with a variety of fabled powers, which were protected by not only glass but magical enchantments preventing anyone from touching it. There were ancient war helmets and several golden challices that apparently belonged to Guiomar the Bloody and a recreation of Otavio's wand on display.

Mr Wright had of course been correct: it was made of Cashew wood, but it was at least twelve inches long and had a twisted, knobbly design. If someone was attempting to copy Otavio's wand with the wand Harry had in his pouch, they did a poor job.

Harry moved along and came across the effigy of an ancient witch called Dabria. She had a long face, with extremely short hair. Her nose bulged and her face bore a haughty expression.

"Can you translate this, Luna?" Harry asked, pointing at a small scripture below the effigy of the ancient witch.

Luna looked over and read out aloud.

"Dabria (1453 - 1572), the Iron Angel. Ancient records indicate she was one of the most powerful witches of her time, specialising in her own unique branch of magic, derived from Vida Da Alma, recorded in her personal Grimoire, and since lost to history."

Harry listened eagerly. When Luna stopped, he said, "What else?"

"That's all it says," Luna replied.

Harry looked up at Dabria's was a thick, leather-bound spellbook, which Harry understood to be some sort of recreation of Dabria's fabled Grimoire, and then, to the right of that, was a short wand., displayed on an encased shelf.

Harry's heart skipped; he groped at his mokeskin pouch and pulled out the Cashew wand.

"Luna, look," Harry said and compared the two wands.

They were both very straight wands; the colour and length of the wands seemed to match almost exactly.

"Do you think it's her wand that your wand is a copy of?" Luna asked.

"Maybe," Harry muttered, and noticed a small passage underneath the wand.

"Can you translate that for me, please?" he asked Luna.

Luna read aloud again.

"Dabria's wand was believed to be made of wood from the Cashew tree, eight inches and very flexible. Many historians theorise she used the feather of the Thunderbird as the wand core."

"That matches!" Harry said, allowing his excitement to escape him for a moment.

He turned to Luna.

"If the person who owns this wand," Harry said, motioning to the Cashew wand, "recreated Dabria's wand, they'd have a Thunderbird feather core. Let's go back to Eduardo's and see if he remembers making a wand like that specifically."

The trip back to Mr Eduardo's seemed to take no time at all as Harry was buzzing on the new information he had learned. Surely, after all this, he would have a good lead to take home.