Update: Following Hawk Wood's review, I've made a change to something I was never happy with to begin with. That's the kind of review I'm talking about people!
After seeing what he had seen in Diagon Alley and his experience at the Dursley's, why would he go back there?
I was always hugely disappointed by the lack of wandlore present in JKR's texts and even Pottermore makes me sad so I decided to include a bit of my own. The greater story will expand WIDELY on what you will find in this chapter and have a huge bearing on the wider story. Please tell me if you like it.
All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it. Review please, this might well be a LONG work in progress.
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Chapter 7: Dinner with Holly
A door chimed as the door to Olivander's wand shop opened. Inside was pretty much exactly what Harry had imagined. There were a few oil paintings of old witches and wizards, a large barn owl in one dusty corner, eyes firmly closed and a thick layer of dust on every surface that had been brushed aside in places to form drifts and clean patches where bottoms had perched and leaned.
Harry stood in the middle of the dimly lit space, bags in hand. There were a handful of people in the store, reading through what looked like thick instructional manuals. There was no sign of anyone working in the store.
He placed the bags in the cleanest corner of the shop and picked up the nearest book.
"Wandlore for Beginners, 127th revision by Temeritus Ollivander." The title declared in large gold lettering on a maroon leather cover.
Harry pulled open the cover and started to read.
"The magic wand is, alongside the orb and staff, one of the most iconic tools employed by witches and wizards throughout all of recorded history.
The point of any major tool of wizardry is to act as a focus for a magician's innate power. Wands are the most popular in the modern day because they're extremely versatile, compact and have had enjoyed many hundreds of years of unhindered research and development. This golden age of wandlore was originally ushered in by the Dictator of the Roman Republic Quintus Hortensius who created a law known as Lex Hortensia in 287 B.C. that was designed to make all people equal. It also required that the magic wand become the standard item of magical equipment across all religions in Rome. As a result of this, wandmakers flourished and multiplied (Rome had always been a major hub of wand development, but had suffered almost a century earlier when the Ollivander family fled oppression to settle in Pre-Roman Britain) and the development of the first unicorn hair wands took place, quickly replacing the earlier trend for the more erratic gorgon tendon cores.
The expansion of the Roman Republic (and later Empire) exposed wand makers to many new woods, increasing the range of specialist wands available."
A hand touched Harry's shoulder and he dropped the book which hit the floor with a heavy thwack. Spinning around, he took a nervous step back, the reflex of dodging Dudley's fists heavily ingrained.
'Easy there.' Said an old man with long grey hair and odd silver eyes. 'I'm sorry I scared you.'
'I wasn't scared.' Harry snapped, taking a shuddering breath.
'Okay. Your first wand is a momentous occasion; I can understand why you might be a little tense.' The old man said smiling.
His smile was wide and full of bright teeth, but somehow it didn't reach those cold silver eyes. Harry somehow knew that this man knew more about wands than he ever would himself, but held not the slightest grain of trust for him.
'How do you know it's my first wand?'
'I remember every wand I've ever sold, young man. I sold wand each to Lily Evans and James Potter in nineteen seventy-one before they started their magical education at Hogwarts. That makes you their son, Harry: The Boy Who Lived.'
Harry's mouth went dry. Madame Malkin had explained that he was well known in the magical world, but to have a title? That was too much.
'You... knew my parents?'
The old man nodded, walking behind the counter. 'I didn't know them well, but they were both very well matched, both in my wands and each other. I still maintain that your mother would have been better placed in my own house of Ravenclaw. But perhaps with the hindsight of her defence of you, perhaps the old hat was correct. I see the same fire that was in her behind your eyes too.'
Harry's mind was boggled. Is there anyone in this world that doesn't know more about me than me? He thought.
He was about to ask a question when the old man emerged from the counter holding a tape measure that appeared to be dancing. The old man measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head...Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, wasn't even in Ollivander's hand. He was just taking notes on a tiny piece of paper. After a few seconds he walked back behind the counter, mumbled something and the tape fell into an untidy ribbon on the floor.
'A friend of yours?' Harry muttered into his collar. Nidhogg wriggled against his collarbone.
The old man turned around, a box in each hand. 'Which is your wand hand?'
Harry stared into the silvery eyes and shrugged.
'Amazing the number of youngsters who don't know that...' the old man muttered. 'Hold your arms out to the side.'
Harry did so and the old man smiled. 'Right it is.'
He put one of the boxes back and set the other on the counter, removed the lid and withdrew a wand of pale wood. 'Try this one. Beech and dragon heartstring. Nine inches, very nearly what I'd call bendy.'
He handed the wand to Harry who held it dumbly. It felt like a dull stick and made him feel stupid. What am I supposed to do with this? Lost for choices, he waved it, mumbling 'Abra... cadabra?'
A pale hand snatched the stick from his hand. 'What did you say?'
'Abracadabra. They're magic words, aren't they?'
Ollivander sighed, 'Not real ones, I though you said something else. Something... very bad.' He put the wand back in its box, replaced the lid and returned it to the shelf. After scratching a dense growth of stubble for a few moments he took down another two boxes. 'Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches, whippy.'
This wand felt even more like a dead stick than the first and Harry had hardly moved it when Ollivander yanked it out of his hand, replacing it with a longer one of black wood. 'Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy.'
Harry waved the wand and nothing happened, though it felt better in his hand than the first two.
'Right... it would seem you're going to be difficult just like your father.' Ollivander said, smiling grimly.
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Twenty minutes later there were more than twenty boxes on the counter and Ollivander's face was a contorted grimace as the twelve inch alder and dragon heart string wand caused a small dust storm to blow through the room.
Harry tossed the wand to Ollivander and stamped his foot in anger. The sudden movement almost dislodged Nidhogg who hissed in annoyance.
'Sorry.' Harry said under his breath.
As the words left Harry's mouth, Ollivander's eyes went wide. 'I wonder...' the old man said, retreating out of sight and returning a few seconds later. He placed a box that was draped with a heavy layer of cobwebs on the counter and slid it toward Harry. 'Try this one.'
'Okay.' Harry said tentatively, confused as to why the old man hadn't opened this box like the rest. 'What's special about this one?'
'Try it and I'll tell you. Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather. Supple and strong.'
Harry lifted the lid and knew that this wand was different before he even touched it. He drew a sharp breath and a sweet, spicy taste flooded his mouth which watered immediately. An exhilarating tingle ran up his arm as his fingers touched the smooth, gleaming wood and he shivered as they curled around the handle.
Drawing the wand out of the box, he held it at arm's length and swept it down. The lights in the store immediately died. Swinging it back up, they burst back into life.
'Amazing.' He said, his breath tingling his lips.
Ollivander clapped his hands three times. 'That'll do.'
Harry felt like the wand was as much a part of himself as his own fingers, nose or legs and he twirled it around on the flat of his hand. 'What's so special about this one?'
Ollivander smiled. 'The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Potter.'
'What's that supposed to mean, are they alive?'
'In a manner of speaking, but it's very complicated. You see, it was discovered a long time ago that certain combinations of highly potent magical materials with different types of wood had the effect of channelling a magician's magical ability, making it much easier to practice magic than without. Certain wands seem oddly drawn to certain people, creating results greater than the sum of their parts. Such very close joining of wand and wizard are quite rare, I've only seen it's like once every couple of years at the most.'
'So what're you saying?' Harry asked impatiently.
'The core of this wand is the tail-feather of a phoenix, like I said. The phoenix that it came from donated not one, but a pair of feathers more than fifty years ago. I made two wands, the one in your hand and another that was ultimately used to give you that scar.' Ollivader said, pointing to Harry's forehead. 'It was bought by the greatest dark wizard of this age. Lord Voldemort.'
A shiver ran down Harry's spine. 'What does that mean?' He asked as his skin broke out in gooseflesh.
'I think that we can expect great things from you, Harry Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great.'
Harry swallowed hard and felt Nidhogg slide down his arm back toward his wrist. 'He was nothing more than a murderer!' he shouted as anger flared within him.
Ollivander shook his head. 'He was a great deal more than that, Mr Potter. In time I believe you will come to realise how much more. I suggest you speak to your new headmaster about the matter. He may be able to help you more than I, for I only met He-Who-Must-Be-Named on a handful of occasions. I would, however, offer you some professional advice, if you would hear it?'
Harry nodded, his fists clenched tight, the wood of the wand warm against the palm of his right hand.
'Get to know your wand – learn it's every detail, inside and out. There is a reason it chose you, Mr Potter and should you persevere, I think you will become a truly great wizard. Don't let the kinship your wand shares with his trouble you overmuch. You are your own man, after all. Whether you end up in Slytherin like He-Who-Must-Be-Named or Gryffindor as did your parents, you will go far.'
Harry didn't reply. His mind was too full and confused. He paid seven galleons for the wand and tucked it into the waistband of his trousers. It felt like it had been there all his life. Ollivander smiled that cold smile again as he bowed him out of the store, sending another shiver down Harry's spine.
As soon as Harry emerged back into Diagon Alley, he made a beeline directly back to the bookstore where he purchased every book he could find on wandlore. While a mystified young witch bagged all the books up, he glanced another called "The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts", which he added to the pile.
Outside, he found that he was so overloaded with supplies that he could hardly walk and so decided to take a seat outside a cafe with a good view of the whole street where he could wait for Hagrid.
Where is he?
His stomach growled again and he realised that all he'd eaten since the sausages the night before had been an ice cream. Grabbing one of the menus that were floating around overhead he found that he recognised most of the items. When he was unable to choose between butterfly cockatrice and the ten-pounder Avalon burger, he remembered the weight in his pockets was gold and ordered both.
It turned out that Nidhogg enjoyed beef burger.
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