...
A Slayer gets her Weapon
I can't see Dad in there." Lovell's face was pressed against Ollivander's shop window. "The shop's empty."
"Do you think we've missed him?" Buffy asked, feeling guilty.
They'd spent a long time in Madam Malkin's shop, Robes For All Occasions, and it had been Buffy's fault. After being fitted with their uniforms, Buffy had spotted the witch's autumn and winter collection of clothing, which led to a frenzied buying spree and even Lovell (to his horror), had been forced to try on and then gifted with new clothes.
"I bet he's at the Leaky Cauldron with Mr Jiggs and forgotten the time," Lovell replied. He began picking up their purchases from the front of the shop where he'd put them, carefully balancing parcels one on top of the other. "Will you be alright if I take these back to the pub and see if dad's in there?"
Buffy didn't mind. They'd bought everything else on the school's list easily enough, she didn't see why buying a wand would be any different. "Sure, you go find. I'll buy the wand and meet you in the bar."
Lovell rushed off, dodging around the other shoppers, and Buffy stared at the lone wand lying amidst the dust in Ollivander's window. The paltry window arrangement wasn't enticing to window shoppers. Wands By Gregorovitch had a row of charmed wands dancing in his shop window. Buffy had wanted to buy her wand from there, but Lovell had stopped her. He'd told her the Lovegoods always went to Ollivander's as his wands were far superior to Gregorovitch's.
Buffy pushed the door open and entered the gloomy, dusty shop. Instantly, her Slaydar flared to life, tingling in response to the magic emanating from the thousands of wands stored all around her. The way the shop was set out, with floor to ceiling shelving, the shop reminded her of a library, but instead of books waiting patiently for someone to read them, wands were waiting for someone to cast spells with them.
She hung around near the counter and when no one came out to serve her, wandered over to the nearest shelf to read the labels.
"Ash, 11 ½ inches, extra whippy, core dragon heart string. Ash, 11 ½ inches, medium-firm, core dragon heart string..." It seemed this section was for wands made of ash. Buffy trailed a finger along the edge of the shelf and checked her finger for dust. "Established in 382BC and no one has cleaned in here since," she muttered.
Searching for something to wipe the dust onto, she spotted a cloth on the counter. As she was wiping her finger off, she felt the air stir around her and all the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Buffy whipped around, staring into the shadowed passageway at the rear of the shop. Someone trying to creep up on her.
"I know you're there," she said, "I can hear you breathing."
The shadow detached from the wall and a thin, young man stepped into the dim light of the shop. His hair was as light and curly as Lovell's, but where Lovell's eyes were a warm blue this man's eyes were so light a grey that they looked silver. He moved silently towards her, his wide eyes roving across her face.
Feeling awkward at the scrutiny, Buffy asked, "Are you the owner?"
"I am Garrick Ollivander." His eyes still peering at her face. "I'm afraid that I don't know who you are, Miss?"
"You've never seen me before, I'm Buffy Summers. I'm here to buy a wand." She smiled at the inaneness of the comment. "Which I guess is kinda obvious, since you only sell wands in here."
"What happened to your last one?" he asked, moving closer so that he was stood in her personal space.
Buffy stepped back, disliking the proximity. "Nothing. This will be my first as I'm late with the magical development thingy."
"How very odd," Ollivander replied softly, taking a tape measure from out of his pocket and shaking it out. "Who are your parents? Arms out!"
"What?"
"To be measured, Miss Summers! To be measured!"
Buffy lifted her arms and, of its own accord, the measuring tape began to measure the length of Buffy's arm. The wandmaker scuttled to the shelving behind the counter.
"Who are your parents and what are their wands?" he called over, running his fingers down the wand stack.
"Mom's a Squib so she doesn't have one. And Dad's a Muggle so he doesn't have one either."
The measuring tape moved from measuring her height to measuring the size of her nose. Buffy's eyes crossed. "Hey! Get out!" She batted it gently away and it flew back at her, trying to start the measuring process all over again.
"That will do!" Mr Ollivander warned the tape. It flew off sullenly, to curl up in a box on the counter like a cat.
The wandmaker began sliding the wand boxes from the shelves, muttering, and pushing them back again. Finally, he found the wand he was looking for and brought it over to Buffy.
With a mixture of nerves and excitement, Buffy leaned in as the wandmaker uncovered the wand. It was pencil-thin, stained a dark-reddish colour, and runes were carved along its entire length.
"Dogwood, 9 inches with a unicorn core," said Ollivander, taking it from the box and handing it to her. "Try this."
Buffy took it from him, weighing it in her hand to gauge it – the same as she did with stakes. It was not only lighter than a stake, it felt unbalanced and weak. "I think I'd prefer a different colour," she said, trying to be diplomatic.
"A different colour?" spluttered Garrick Ollivander. "Miss Summers, the wand chooses the witch, not the other way around. You can't refuse a wand without trying it." When she didn't move, he went on, "Well, don't just stand there, give it a wave!"
Buffy jumped and quickly waved the wand. Nothing happened.
"I told you it didn't suit," she said, glad the wand hadn't responded to her. What she didn't say, couldn't say, was that the slayer part of her hadn't liked the wand. She'd known instinctively that it would be temperamental and liable to let her down in a crisis.
"Hmm, you're not a unicorn are you?" mused Ollivander taking the wand from her.
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "And you say that like its a bad thing?"
The wandmaker put the wand back into its box. "Not at all. I shall keep searching, but we must avoid Unicorns."
"Good thinking," Buffy agreed without having a clue what he was talking about. "It's always wise to avoid Unicorns because of the rainbows and, um, other stuff."
The wandmaker barely heard her, he dragged a heavy set of steps from the back of the shop into the passageway. Once happy with their position, he climbed to the very top rung and pulled out a box close to the ceiling. Then he trotted back down the steps, blowing the dust from the box as he came over to her.
"This one is pear wood with a phoenix feather core. You'll never find a pear wand in the hands of a dark wizard and the phoenix feather is capable of a great range of magic." He hesitated, "That's if it likes you."
Buffy opened her mouth to say that she didn't like it, and the man raised a silencing finger.
"No interrupting! Remember, the wand chooses the witch. Wave the wand, please."
Holding the wand as far away from her as possible, Buffy warily moved the wand to and fro.
BANG!
Thick, dark smoke filled the shop along with the smell of burning feathers. From somewhere nearby (Buffy couldn't see because the smoke was so thick), she heard coughing and the fateful words, "Oh, my! Oh dear! Offero! Finite Fumos!"
The air cleared to reveal a smut-stained Mr Ollivander. It also revealed the broken, charred remains of the wand in Buffy's hand.
"Was this one a dud?" she asked. "Or is it... something that I did?"
Ollivander gently removed the broken wand from her grasp and, with all the reverence of an undertaker lowering a coffin into a grave, placed its remains back into the wand box.
"I'm sorry. I'll pay for the damages," Buffy said. She felt as if she'd run over the man's puppy.
Mr Ollivander took out a handkerchief and blew his nose. "No, no, it was my mistake. I should have known better." Buffy thought he might start crying.
"Maybe I should go to Wands by Gregorovitch?" she said. Buffy chewed on her bottom lip. Why had she assumed choosing a wand would be simple? She should have known her Slayer essence would make things difficult. "I don't want to blow up any more of your creations."
"Oh, no! You mustn't go there! The man uses Veela hair." Mr Ollivander shuddered, making Buffy wonder what a Veela was. The wandmaker took a deep breath as if gathering himself together and preparing for a long day. "You mustn't worry. Wands sometimes explode and Phoenix feathers can be quite dramatic if they take a disliking to you." He looked about, considering his stock. "The right wand for you is in this shop. I am sure of it. It's just a case of locating it."
Then he moved back to the shelves, flitting from stack to stack, trailing his fingers over boxes, his lips moving silently, and eyes darting up and down the shelving. Buffy heard him mutter, "Firm but fair... 10 inches or thereabouts... and rather combatant."
"Did I hear something explode in here?" a tremulous voice called from the depths of the passageway. An elderly man wearing half-moon glasses shuffled slowly into the shop space. "Oh, that smells like magic gone wrong. Has a phoenix feather self-combusted?"
"Sadly, we have lost a wand, grandfather," Ollivander replied, tapping his fingers along the stacks as he spoke. "Miss Summers is a late developer and may prove to be a challenge."
"Blew the wand up, did she?" Gerbold Ollivander asked. He shuffled around the counter to scrutinise Buffy, his thin frame and the way his spectacles magnified his eyes making him look like a stick insect.
"I'll pay for any breakages," Buffy reassured the old man. "I'm also gonna steer clear of Unicorns and Phoenixes from now on."
Gerbold snickered. "You're definitely not a Unicorn. A Phoenix might work, although it would need to be the right one."
Garrick Ollivander dragged the steps to a section of shelving in the shop and climbed to the half-way point. He ran his fingers along the boxes until he found the one he wanted. Placing his fingers on either side of it, he pulled. He tugged harder but the box was stuck between the other boxes.
"It's jammed in," Garrick muttered, "no matter. I know of another."
He moved the steps a few feet to the right, climbed up once more, and began pulling on another wand box. As had happened before, the box refused to budge, no matter how hard he pulled or how he tried easing it away from its companions.
"Don't forget, the wand chooses the witch," cackled Gerbold with mocking sarcasm. " I told you this would happen. Your wands don't like her."
But the younger Ollivander wouldn't have it. "No, no, it's just... stuck!" He tugged and pulled on the box. Eventually, he was forced to use his wand. "Accio wand!"
The entire section of the shop wall juddered. Dust rose and fell. Buffy and Gerbold coughed. Yet wand box didn't move an inch – it was as if all the wand boxes had fused themselves to the wall.
Buffy felt her face flame with embarrassment. None of the wands in here wanted her to touch them. Did they know she was a Slayer? Is that why they wouldn't leave their shelf? Or did they know she'd blown up a wand and didn't want to be next?
"I'll go to Gregorovitch's," Buffy said. Garrick had started swinging from the boxes in a desperate attempt to pull them from the shelves. "Nothing in here likes me."
The elderly man let out a derisive snort. "My grandson insists on only using Unicorn hair, Phoenix feather, and Dragon heartstring for his wand cores. He thinks those three cores will suit everyone and doesn't like admitting it might be otherwise."
Garrick Ollivander, still pulling and tugging the wand boxes, gave his grandfather a dark look.
Gerbold shook his head at him. "We'll be here for weeks at this rate."
Imploring Buffy to "Wait here," Gerbold shuffled off, back into the passageway.
Buffy waited for the elderly man and continued watching Garrick. The wandmaker was making a last-ditch attempt to save face, he put his lips against the wand boxes whispering and trying to cajole them from the shelving.
"I have a wand for you to try, Miss Summers," Gerbold's frail voice called from the rear of the shop.
Garrick gave up whispering to the wand boxes and trotted back down the steps to see what his grandfather had brought out.
Gerbold shuffled to the front of the shop, a slim and dusty wandbox in his hand. Placing the box carefully onto the counter, his trembling fingers shook as they removed the lid, revealing a wand made from golden wood lying on a strip of faded blue velvet.
Garrick let out a groan of recognition. "Oh, grandfather! Not that wand again!"
Gerbold glared at his grandson. "Hush now! Sometimes a witch or wizard will come along who needs something different. This wand -."
"Won't work," snapped Garrick. "It's a conversation piece for wandmaker meetings, nothing more."
"Will you shush?" The old man glared at his grandson. He let out a long sigh. "The younger generation think they're cleverer than the previous one. When you're as old as me, you get to know a thing or two. Let Miss Lovegood try the wand. I have a good feeling about this."
Buffy had been in the process of reaching for the wand and stilled at his words. "How did you know my family are the Lovegoods?" She hadn't mentioned her connection to either of the Ollivanders.
"A wand maker sees that which others can't," replied Gerbold, half-closing his eyes. "You have an otherworldly quality the Lovegoods often have."
Buffy gaped at him.
Gerbold opened his eyes wide and let out a low cackle. "That and I saw you walking down the street with the Lovegood's youngest boy and noticed the resemblance. Try the wand."
Buffy picked up the golden wand. It was lighter than a stake, yet it didn't feel weak. It felt as if the core, whatever it was, had strengthened the wood. She closed her eyes and reached out with her senses. Instantly, she saw moonlit, the stars shining down on her, and the peace of a silent graveyard. Her inner slayer approved and urged her to use it. She held back. What if it didn't work? Would they make her give it up? She didn't want to. She wanted to keep it.
But the two wandmakers were waiting. Taking a deep breath, Buffy opened her eyes and waved the wand through the air. From deep inside her, the magic that for so long had been dormant flowed down her arm and into her wand. A shower of pale blue, pink, and gold magical sparks flew into the air, the sparkles dissolving as they hit the floor.
"You're not in Kansas now, Dorothy," Buffy said and swished the wand once again, just so that she could watch the pretty magical sparkles fly into the air.
The two wandmakers nodded with a mixture of approval and relief.
"So what's the what with this one?" she asked, holding the wand up to admire the design carved around the handle. Despite its lightness, the wand felt like a strong weapon. Buffy had no doubt it would be capable of impaling a vampire through the heart as well as directing her magic.
When no one answered her, she took in the wandmakers blank expressions. "Okay, I guess I need to translate. What is it made from?"
Since Gerbold was woolgathering, Garrick answered, "Nine and a half inches of yew, unyielding, with a Thestral tail hair core."
Buffy had no idea what a Thestral was. Yew though, her memories knew something about yew. "Isn't that the tree of death and rebirth?"
"The yew tree has many legends associated with it," agreed Garrick. "Some are a little superstitious about trying a yew wand, neither is it an easy wood to pair with a witch or wizard. It simply won't accept a mediocre owner. Before today I have only paired it with one wizard and that with a phoenix feather core. My grandfather can tell you more about this particular wand, for he is its creator."
"That wand came about by accident," Gerbold admitted. "I had set out to replicate the wand mentioned in the Tale of the Three Brothers. Some call it the Wand of Destiny, others the Deathstick. I struggled for many years to recreate it," he shook his head, "but to no avail. Finally, I experimented with the wood from a yew tree that once stood inside an old graveyard and a hair from a Thestral stallion. Once, only once, did I manage to make the wood and the core bond together and since then I have been looking for the witch or wizard to wield it."
"Do you know anything about wandlore, Miss Summers?" Garrick asked.
Buffy shook her head.
Garrick's face became stern. "There are some who say that the yew wand prefers the Dark Arts and it has the power of life and death."
Buffy snorted. "A pencil can have the power of life and death," she argued. "The weapon only kills because of the person wielding it."
"Oh, I agree most fervently," Garrick replied, his face relaxing its sternness. "I sought only to warn you what others may assume on seeing it. Personally, I believe the owner of a yew wand can be a most formidable protector and is as likely to be wielded by a hero as a villain."
"You are young, Miss Lovegood, to be acquainted with death," mused Gerbold, his voice so low that Buffy wasn't sure if it was a question. He'd taken his eyes off the golden wand to rest them on Buffy.
"How did you -?" Buffy began.
"Only one who has not only stared death in the face but has accepted it, can master a Thestral core wand," the elderly man continued.
'Death is your gift.'
The words came from inside her head, sending a cold shiver down her spine. She pushed the memory away. No! She didn't want to remember. What was it with the bad memories? She fought against the memory and the pain it caused, holding the wand and grounding herself firmly in her surroundings.
After a moment, she answered Gerbold's question, "Death... yeah, I had a close brush with death recently. I was caught up in an attack made by one of Grindelwald's minions. Others around me died."
"Then," said Garrick Ollivander with quiet seriousness, "my grandfather saw better than I. This wand, most definitely, chose correctly."
They all stared down at the wand until the silence was broken by the shop door being pushed open and the sound of arguing. They automatically turned in that direction. A red-faced, angry Rigel Black entered, closely followed by his sour-faced sister Walburga.
"There'll be plenty of time to look at the brooms later," Walburga was telling him. "There's no need to sulk. You need a wand first."
"I shall be with you in one moment, Miss Black," called Garrick Ollivander. "I'll just finish serving this young lady."
Walburga cast Buffy a dismissive glance, turned her back on them and stared out the window. Rigel remained at her side, whispering loudly, "What's that horrible smell in here?"
Garrick Ollivander plucked Buffy's wand from her fingers before she realised what he was about and placed it back into the box. "That'll be seven galleons, please."
Buffy counted the unfamiliar gold coins out onto the counter while the elderly Ollivander wrapped the box in silver paper and placed it into a paper bag.
"Thank you for your help," said Buffy, putting the handle of the bag over her wrist. "I'm sorry about what happened with the other wand."
Garrick shrugged, "It happens, don't worry about it."
"It's been a pleasure meeting you," Gerbold told her, taking her hand and shaking it. "I feel privileged to have seen that wand meet its rightful owner."
Buffy turned away from the counter, crossing the shop with her head down, and purposely collided with Walburga. The older girl stumbled and Buffy put out her hand to stop her from falling.
"Oops, I'm so clumsy," said Buffy. Under the pretence of smoothing the girl's robe, she surreptitiously slipped the wand she'd found in the graveyard into Walburga's pocket.
"Get your dirty hands off me!" shrieked Walburga looking down at Buffy's soot-stained hands. "These robes are new!"
"Sorry," smirked Buffy, sidestepping around Walburga to the door.
"Ugh, some people shouldn't be let out the house, never mind given a wand!"
Buffy closed the door on the girl's raucous voice with the feeling of satisfaction. She'd not only bought a wand, but she'd also returned Walburga's without the girl realising. Maybe the loud-mouthed Black would believe her wand had returned to her by itself. She certainly was arrogant enough to think so.
'All in all,' thought Buffy, 'today has been a good day.'
…...
A/N
Thank you for the reviews!
Glad you enjoyed it. Next Buffy has magic lessons.
Then on to the Hogwarts's express and Tom Riddle's reaction to seeing a girl he thought was a Muggle on platform 9 ¾!