Ollivander

Ollivander's shop was as dark and cramped as ever. Thousands of boxes of magic wands lay on the high shelves, most of them covered with a thick layer of dust, given the long time they had been waiting here for someone to come who matched them . Harry involuntarily wondered how long his phoenix staff had been waiting for him here, lonely and abandoned without his twin. The sound of steps pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Mr Ollivander?" he asked aloud, but it was not the wandmaker who stepped out of a back room behind the counter and looked at him with big eyes, but a young man he did not know. He had white-blond hair and a pointed chin that reminded him of Malfoy if it weren't for the brown eyes that became plate-sized at his sight.

"Mr Potter!" the man said, stunned.

"Right," Harry said briefly but politely. "And you are?"

"Andrej Volkov," the man said, bowing. "Mr Ollivander's assistant."

Harry frowned. "I didn't know he had an assistant."

"I've only been here for a year, sir," Volkov said. "Mr Ollivander is not there at the time, but maybe I can help you. Is it a new wand for you or something for the ministry?"

"The ministry, I'm afraid," Harry said. "And I'm afraid I have to talk to Mr Ollivander personally. When are you expecting him back?"

Volkov shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't know, sir. He was only here for a short time this morning to catch up and then he left. He didn't say where he wanted to go. Should I tell him something when he returns?"

Harry sighed. "Yes, tell him to contact me as soon as possible."

Behind Harry, the doorbell rang when someone stepped in. He swirled around and there was the wandmaker, as old and frail as he remembered him, leaning on a gnarled walking stick.

"Mr Potter," Ollivander said, stunned, slowly approaching. "What an honour."

"Only work, I'm afraid," Harry said, pulling the wand out of his sleeve which he had found in Devon. "I'd like to know who owns this wand, sir. It wasn't registered, but maybe you know..."

Ollivander took the wand, inspected it and bent it briefly with his slightly trembling fingers.

"Hmm... Beech and unicorn hair, eleven-three-quarters inches, quite flexible. I'm sorry, Mr Potter, but that's not one of mine."

"Understood," Harry said disappointed. "Can you at least tell me how long it has been in use?"

"Of course," Mr. Ollivander said, then frowned in amazement and wrinkled his forehead. "Exactly... Merlin's beard, six hundred and fifty-six years."

"Sorry?", Harry asked, sure to have misheard.

"Six hundred and fifty-six years, Mr Potter," Mr. Ollivander repeated. "This is not unusual at all, there are many wizarding families who continue to use the same wands for generations."

"So it probably belongs to a pure-blood," Harry concluded thoughtfully.

"That's my professional opinion, Mr Potter," Ollivander said, giving him the wand back. "I'm afraid I can't tell you more."

"Okay," Harry said thoughtfully. "Thank you for your help, Mr Ollivander."

"Anytime, my boy, anytime..."

Back in the office, Harry briefly exchanged words with Savage, who shrugged his shoulders at the age of the wand.

"Ollivander's right, it's really not that unusual," he muttered. "I bet there are hundreds of old wands lying around in the vaults at Gringotts."

"True," Harry said, stunned. He himself had a dozen magic wands in the Potter family vault.

"Well, as we can't get on with the wand, tomorrow we should check if someone has been reported missing and rattle off the wizarding families in the area. Here, I've had a list given to me."

Harry briefly skimmed the list. As it turned out, seven wizarding families lived in Devon and surrounding areas, including Theodore Nott, which made him groan.

"Nott's son?", Savage quipped. "He was in your year at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

"He was expelled," Harry growled succinctly. "Before, he really wanted to kill me after he heard about his father."

"Is there also a Slytherin in your year who hasn't tried to kill you?"

"No male," Harry muttered. "Well, if that's it for today...?"

"It is," Savage sighed, stretching and yawning. "Apart from the report."

He pressed the case file against Harry's chest. "My stuff is already in it, Potter, so I'll see you tomorrow."

Savage took his stuff and left, while Harry, as always annoyed by this part of his job, set about dictating his report to a quill. When he was just finished, a tense-looking Ron was lurking around the corner.

"Done?"

Harry grinned. "Do you not dare to face Hermione without me?"

"No," Ron growled. "That makes it easier."

Harry put on his coat and took his briefcase. "Your lunch must have been really fun."

"I wasn't there," Ron muttered. "Zeas and I asked a few people about this dueling club. Among other things, Bulstrode."

"Millicent Bulstrode?" Harry asked as they left the office and walked over to the elevators. "This Slytherin from our year, whose cat-"

"That's the one," Ron muttered. "Just don't mention it when Hermione is present."

"Definitely not," Harry said with a grin.

When they entered Grimmauld Place Number Twelve, it smelled like something burnt and pizza.

"What didn't work?" Ron asked aloud.

"Doesn't matter!" Ginny roared back angrily from the kitchen.

Harry giggled, but made sure his face was unmoving before he walked down the stairs - almost breaking his neck as Kreacher apparated on the steps in front of him. Ron cursed loudly because he ran into him.

"Master Weasley should pay attention to his language!" the house elf croaked, before bowing to them. "Good evening, Master Harry, Master Weasley. Kreacher will bring Master's stuff up."

He grabbed their coats and bags with a snap of his fingers and disappeared again.

"Still angry that he isn't allowed to cook in the evening," Ron said.

Harry nodded tiredly. When Hermione and Ron had moved in with him (to Molly's horror), she had insisted that they take turns cooking for themselves in the evenings, for which she was punished by Kreacher with freezing anger. Harry and Ron had both been quite annoyed by it, but Ron was anxious to give Hermione no reason to leave, and Harry just didn't want to listen to a long elf-rights lecture, so they had accepted their fate. Just like Ginny, who didn't live here – because Molly and Arthur had resolutely drawn a red line there – but spent most of her time here. On Mondays, it was Ginny's turn to cook; and the black lump in the blackening dish on the stove indicated that it had not gone according to plan.

"Pizza on the table," Ginny muttered, letting the lump and the shape disappear. "Oh, Merlin's cursed-"

"Hmm," Ron said, walking over to the table. "Salami, fantastic!"

Pizza was definitely the best that the muggle world had to offer to Ron Weasley.

Harry gave his angry girlfriend a gentle kiss, which calmed her down a bit.

"What was your day like?"

"Terrible," she muttered. "Mum gave me hell again because I slept here yesterday."

Ron muttered something into his pizza.

"Shut up, Hermione lives here, Ron," Ginny hissed. "Honestly, why can't she just stop?"

"She's your mother," Harry said with a shrug.

"She got Bill when she was just 20," Ginny muttered. 'It's ridiculous how she acts.'

Harry, who always became uncomfortable when someone got upset about Molly, interrupted Ginny's tirade by telling her about his new case, which sufficiently distracted her. Hermione came in in a good mood when he had just devoured his last slice of pizza.

"Pizza?" she asked, stunned, and turned to Ginny. "I thought-"

"No," Ginny growled. "Don't ask."

"Well," Hermione said with a shrug, folding her box open.

"Don't gloat like that, Ron, that's hers," Ginny said annoyed.

"I'm still hungry," her brother muttered.

Ginny pinched her eyes. "Hermione, have you read the Daily Prophet?"

Ron cast an angry glance at her.

"Yes, why?"

"The front page, too?"

"The pizza was delicious, Ginny," Ron said aloud.

Hermione frowned and gave both of them an amused look.

"You know, such moments always make me happy to be an only child."

She continued to eat her pizza unmoved. "Anything we should be talking about, Ron?"

"No," Ron muttered.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a broad grin.

"Oh, stop it, you two," Ron muttered. "Did you know that Krum is moving here?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "Although I don't understand why, I think he's already made enough money in Bulgaria anyway."

"Sure he's just coming here for the money?" Ron asked.

Hermione slowly put away her slice of pizza.

"Ginny," Harry hastily said. "Fancy a walk?"

"Not necessary," Hermione said sharply. "We'll have clarified this very quickly."

She turned to Ron again. "Viktor has a girlfriend, you know."

Ron made big eyes. "Really?"

"No, she just came up with it, you know?" Ginny said drily.

Harry kicked her in front of her shin, which earned him an outraged look.

"Her name is Julia," Hermione said with flashing eyes. "Viktor and I are just pen pals, Ron, and if this topic comes up again, then-"

"It won't," Ron said with pretty red ears.

Hermione seemed to want to say something else, but the ringing of the doorbell interrupted her.

Ginny cursed. "If that's Mum, then-"

Kreacher, who apparated with a loud bang, interrupted her.

"Master Harry, the weird Lovegood girl is at the door," he said.

"Luna?" asked Harry, stunned. "Let her in."

A moment later, Luna came in cheerfully, as if she had been here dozens of times.

"You do have a weird house elf, Harry," she said, smiling, and sat down with them. 'But this doesn't look very healthy.'

"Ginny actually wanted to make a lasagna," Ron said with a grin.

"What are you doing here, Luna?" Harry asked hastily, to finish the nascent controversy before it could start.

"I have a letter for you, from Mr Ollivander," Luna said, pulling a rolled piece of parchment from her sleeve.

"Why does Ollivander send you here with a letter?" asked Ginny, confused.

"He knows I know Harry," Luna said with a chuckle.

"What Ginny means," Hermione said, "is where you met Mr. Ollivander."

"Oh, we go out to drink tea together every Monday," Luna said absently, looking at Ron. "Mostly in the Leaky Cauldron, but today we were at his house. Ronald, why do you have a green eyebrow?"

"Ginny!"

Ron fixed his eyebrow while Ginny giggled contentedly.

"What does Ollivander want from you?" asked Hermione asked Harry, ignoring the others.

"I was with him today because of a case," Harry said slowly. "He's probably remembered something."

He rolled the parchment apart, with Ron curiously lurking over his shoulder. The contents left them both confused before the parchment burned in a flame.

Flamel Manor is located at Roger Bacon Square 16, Devon.