I'm sorry this has taken such a long time – I thought I was going to be able to whip this chapter out fairly quickly but it seems that life has a stubborn way of taking over my plans!
I will again promise that I am going to finish the story and I do have several pages worth of chapter notes so I don't get lost along the way… just if things keep going the way they have it might take some time!
Not being the best of writers, I'm afraid that I've ended up including quite a lot of dialogue in this chapter to get the story told – I hope I've broken it down just enough to be interesting but still make sense!
"My mother?" Draco asked sharply. "What does she have to do with this?"
Ollivander held his hand out for Harry to take once more. "It is a long story – shall we retire to the kitchen and have a seat? The explanation will take quite some time."
The old man looked relieved when they reached the small yet cosy kitchen. "Good – they did not meddle with anything."
Still holding on to Harry for support, Ollivander tapped an area of the oak work surface in a staccato rhythm, causing a tiny section of it to pop open and reveal a hidden drawer. He withdrew a thin and gnarled wand and after cradling it to his chest for a moment, he started waving it at various areas of the kitchen, causing the room to spring to life. The old tin kettle started to boil, the grill cover popped open and flames could be seen from within; a cupboard door sprang open and many foods, crockery and cutlery flew thick and fast through the air. In a couple of minutes a relative feast was sitting before them.
Ollivander smiled happily. "Decent food at last." He murmured, helping himself to a small buttered crumpet.
"Eat up!" He said to the boys. It was the happiest Harry had ever seen him. "I don't often get to entertain but today is a special day."
After everyone had eaten at least one plate's worth of the meal, Ollivander tapped the table thoughtfully. "Where to start?" he said to himself before turning to the boys. "What would you like me to talk about first - my capture or Narcissa Malfoy?"
"Your capture." Harry and Ron chorused together.
Draco, who had held back before answering, spoke up. "As long as I get the answers I'm after, then I suppose you have every right to let us know why you were left to die, before explaining how you know of me and my mother."
Ollivander nodded. "Very well... I have known for some time now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been trying to contact me. Ever since your confrontation, Harry – he was curious about ways to counter the prior-incantatem spell. With Dumbledore's help I had placed certain protections around the shop so it looked abandoned; I remained here, happily continuing my work - and no one could see me except Dumbledore.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was not entirely fooled by our little charade but there was nothing he could do about it. However with Dumbledore's unfortunate demise, the spells weakened and one day the Death Eaters broke through – this was quite some weeks ago…
"You-Know-Who wanted me to 'fix' his wand; he wanted to eliminate any chance of your wands giving a repeat performance of the night in the graveyard. He grew angry when I told him there was nothing I could do to help him and demanded that I make him a new wand – a superior wand. I tried to explain to him why this would not be possible but he told me that I must try anyway – and that I should provide wands for his Death Eaters that had broken out of Azkaban also.
I was provided with all I could possibly need to create their wands and I have to admit that although I did at first refuse, He has ways of making people do whatever he wants…"
His milky eyes seemed distant for a moment, lost in dark thoughts that perhaps would never leave him.
"When the pain became too much I agreed to try and do as he asked, knowing full well it was a pointless task, but desperate to stop his torture…When he eventually realised after days spent trying many wands, that I was unable to make him a better one he became angrier than I had thought possible.
He raged for hours, lashing out with his wand at anyone within reach; eventually he calmed somewhat and had me locked in that room. They left me broken and bleeding, so I think he must be certain that I am now dead. After all, no-one knew I was here so who would think to look for me?"
Harry looked very solemnly at Ollivander, feeling immense pity for the strange man. But something had been niggling away at the back of his mind and he felt obliged to voice it. "I'm sorry to make you relive any more of this than is necessary… but do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?"
When Ollivander nodded, Harry continued. "Well, firstly, why didn't you get Dumbledore use the Fidelius Charm to hide the shop and use him as a secret keeper?"
Looking down at the table, Ollivander picked aimlessly at crumbs of food on his plate. He seemed reluctant to speak but finally did, although not without an audible sigh first. "Dumbledore said that it would be extremely difficult to produce the spell strong enough to make all the people that had ever visited my shop forget where it was located. But he offered to try anyway and in hindsight it would have been wise for me to accept.
Foolishly I turned down that offer; I was concerned that if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was conquered, it would be impossible to have Dumbledore reveal the secret to everyone. I mean, even if he wrote it in the newspapers, not everyone reads them…
Basically I was an idiot who acted out of greed rather than sense."
Ollivander hung his head and looked regretful. Harry couldn't think of anything to say, he didn't know enough about the spell to say what was and wasn't possible. So he chose not to comment, instead moving on to his next question.
"If Voldemort, sorry…If You-Know-Who left you in such a bad way, how did you survive until we found you?"
"Ah…" Ollivander's head lifted, his eyes twinkled and he gave Harry a knowing smile. "A question I had hoped you would ask me." Instead of answering, the wizened old man pursed up his lips and gave a strange, melodic whistle.
The three guests sat with baited breath for a moment but nothing seemed to happen. Then, just as Harry was about to speak again, the kitchen window banged open loudly and in flew a large bird, whose feathers of gold and red seemed to radiate colour making even the shadows in the room seem brighter.
"Fawkes?" Harry cried out in wonder. "But how?"
Ollivander again smiled. "Fawkes and I are old friends – I don't think he would have given up his feathers for anyone other than Dumbledore or me… After his master passed away, Fawkes became a regular visitor here. Perhaps he had been asked by Dumbledore himself to watch over me, or it may just be that he was lonely and wanted companionship."
With a flick of his wand, Ollivander summoned a perch for Fawkes and started to gently stroke the Phoenix's plumes.
"He is my saviour… When Fawkes came to visit he found me locked away. Adult phoenixes are not fooled by enchantments such as those on the room which became my cell, so he was able to see me and pass through the grill. With his tears he healed my wounds, they even seemed to seep into my body and knit my broken bones.
He also brought me any scraps of food that he could find… but, as neither one of us speaks the other's language; Fawkes could not know to bring me a wand."
Harry looked at the beautiful bird sat grooming his feathers, Fawkes noticed him watching and gave a musical chirp which Harry felt sure was a greeting. Something inside him lifted then; he had thought Fawkes was gone forever along with Dumbledore – but here he was, sitting a mere few feet in front of them all – looking healthy and alert.
Although Harry knew that Dumbledore himself was never coming back, he allowed some hope to enter his heart for the first time in a long while.
"My final question then is this. Why couldn't you make another wand for Vol… You-Know-Who? I mean – I'm glad that you didn't make him a better wand but I know that wizards and witches can use more than one wand, so surely if anyone can make a specialised one, it's you?"
Ollivander took a small sip of water and then looked firmly at his audience, "I must explain some things to you, as I tried to explain to Him, about wands and their properties – it may be a little boring for you but it is necessary to understand your question, in fact it is relevant for both tales I will tell you today…
"Each and every wand is unique; even if two wands are made with the same core type and the same wood, they are still different – like each person has their own set of fingerprints, every sliver of wood, every strand of hair or feather has different qualities to any other."
He shuffled in his chair slightly before continuing. "When a wizard is in need of a wand, they will find that one particular wand works much better for them than any other choices…
"I like to consider magic like music – and each of us produces a different melody; your wand is like a musical instrument, a horn for example. A horn would amplify a tune so it can be heard loud and clear, as a wand would channel magic.
But… just as the horn cannot make a sound on its own, wands do not actually produce any magic themselves. A horn would need a musician to breathe the music into it, as the wand needs a wizard's magic to resonate through it. Not that wands don't seem to have a certain magic of their own, but I think that should a muggle find one, it would be merely an interestingly shaped stick to them...
In order to enhance the magic and achieve the best results, the wand must closely match the reverberations in the particular wizard's magic – the closer they are harmonized, the more focused and therefore powerful the wizard's magical flow becomes."
Throughout this speech Ollivander had been highly animated, waving his hands wildly as he talked. Now, however, a deep frown creased his brow and his fists clenched. "That is the reason why I cannot abide the passing down of wands … A son may be nothing like his father; they may be producing completely different songs which would cause the wizard and the wand to be out of kilter and their magic to be less than satisfactory. Still, it seems fashionable amongst the older families and nothing I can say will prevent that."
Ron slunk down in his chair slightly, feeling embarrassed about having had a hand-me-down wand for such a long time. The elderly wizard didn't seem to notice his reaction and instead cast a glance towards Draco. Not particularly bothered by having owned what he considered a very satisfactory antique wand, the object of Ollivander's gaze sat still. Draco was taking in everything that was being said but he was eagerly awaiting his own explanation.
Ollivander tore his gaze away eventually, seeming slightly disappointed in Draco's lack of response.
"For some, once they have been matched, that is the end of their story. They will always remain the same person they were born as and should have no need to ever change their wand.
Of course, wands are not infallible; they can be broken or lost… Also, some people change as they grow - especially if there are drastic changes in their life. Their magical melody will alter too and in these cases it is necessary to find a new wand… Many people will have two wands over the course of their lives, some three or even four.
"However on rare occasions, a wand matches its owner so perfectly that from the moment they first touch, an unbreakable bond is formed. The wand will be malleable to the Wizard's changes in mood and their connection would survive through even the most traumatic of experiences."
Ollivander paused in his speech to look carefully at the three boys. When he continued it was in a more excited tone.
"Such pairings can produce the most powerful of wizards, who are capable of great and wondrous things. Examples are peppered throughout history; Saint Mungo was suspected of having such a connection, as were The Founding Four, those who created the Wizards Council and later the Ministry for Magic, Tharstibe, Circe and quite possibly even Merlin.
Although in the wrong hands such power can corrupt the individual, as history showed us with Salazar Slytherin.
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is another such person whose wand is perfectly in tune with his magic - as was Grindelwald. Luckily for us though, Dumbledore also possessed a vast amount of magic and had such a connection with his wand; enabling him to match Grindelwald's powers easily and defeat him.
Dumbledore is considered by many to have been the most powerful wizard since Merlin himself. Such a pity his life had to end so prematurely."
Surprising all of the occupants, except possible Fawkes, a great tear stole down Ollivander's face and splashed to the table. He did not seem ashamed of his grief, for which Harry was strangely grateful.
After a moment's respite, the wand maker continued. "You too, Harry, will be added to the list… Although you are still young and have much left to learn, your connection with that wand and the power caused by it is undeniable. Hopefully that is a sign for the good."
At the revelation that there was yet another wondrous thing about 'Potter' Draco's patience wore thin and he muttered, "Figures." only partly under his breath. He felt a little childish doing so, but the constant reminders of Dumbledore's death - which he considered to be his fault, if not his actual doing - were making Draco edgy, and he was impatient to hear of his mother. Ollivander merely looked at him strangely for a moment before delivering his final word on the answer to Harry's question.
"That is the reason why I could never make a better wand for You-Know-Who; even a wand made from the best materials available would still never perform for him as well as his current one…
He would not ever settle for a lesser one, even with the prediction he is in. No, he will search for other ways to overcome the connection between the two wands."
"So we've got an advantage then?" Ron piped up for the first time since they had reached the kitchen.
"Yes and no." Ollivander said, making Ron uncomfortable with his piercing gaze. "Prior Incantatem will only work if both Harry and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cast at each other in the same instance. If Harry is unaware of His presence, You-Know-Who can still Avada him in the back..."
Draco shook his head. "Potter has become too much of an obsession of Voldemort's – yes, I'll say his name. Voldemort would want Potter to know who killed him… That's our advantage."
"Our?" Ollivander questioned him, the strange look appearing again as he studied Draco. "You mean to join the fight against Him?"
Draco looked at the other two young men in the room and back at Ollivander. "I'm taking back something that was stolen from me. I never signed up for any heroics; if Voldemort turns up that's Potter's job not mine. Potter needs all the advantages he can get."
"Gee thanks Malfoy. Anyone would think you wouldn't be bothered if Voldemort won – if he took over the country. Why do you care so much about Ginny anyway? You can't honestly have feelings for her! I know what you're like. Ron and I can save them all without you."
The blond wizard's eyes were murderous. "I don't need you to fight my battles Potter."
"Why are you making it your battle? I know you and you're nothing but a coward. I don't trust you." Harry's eyes had turned a darker shade of green as he stared venomously at his old enemy.
"I couldn't care less whether you trust me or not. I know more than you do about how Voldemort plans and how his Death Eaters work... I don't have to explain myself to you of all people, and I've already said that I'll go on my own if I have to."
"Why though?" It was Ron that had spoken up. "You've always hated my family... I owe you a life debt so I can't say that you can't come with us – although obviously Harry can," Ron added quickly. "But I think I at least deserve to know what your feelings are towards my sister. I'm not bloody happy about this… this, whatever it is between you two, but I've learned the hard way not to mess with Ginny's decisions.
Look, it's me that'll have to pick up the pieces if you break her heart, so if that's your plans I'll do my best to stop you before you can." By the end of his sentence, Ron had sat completely upright and was glaring down the table fiercely at his old enemy.
Draco stared at Ron incredulously, but the red-head wouldn't drop his gaze.
"Just tell them boy. – It's imperative you all go together or you will fail... I have seen it."
All three boys stared at Ollivander. Draco, caring less than the other two about offending the old wizard, looked him directly in his silvery eyes.
"Why do you keep saying stuff like that?"
Smiling in a knowing way, Ollivander said calmly. "I will tell you once this animosity between you has been cleared."
Ron let out a loud derisive sound, blushing almost immediately afterwards but maintaining his impressive stance. "Sorry. I just – well... Us - Harry and me I mean – us and Malfoy, we've always hated each other. It's just, well, natural really!"
"You must repress your dislike for each other then. At least until the task at hand is completed. A divided force will be weaker than a united one. Master Malfoy. This girl you speak of, you have feelings for her do you not?"
Draco, uncomfortable with having such feelings - let alone sharing them, merely shrugged one shoulder elegantly.
Ron frowned and his hands gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles were white. "Look, I know you're never going to be the lovey-dovey type Malfoy – but if you're just after getting in my sister's pants, well I-"
Malfoy sighed theatrically over Ron's tirade. "I don't know. OK? Do you have to pry into my private business?" he asked grumpily. All of the occupants nodded, even Fawkes trilled a melody in seeming agreement causing a real sigh to escape Draco's lips.
"I enjoy her company. Ginny doesn't treat me like I'm already moulded into the person I have to be. She just talks to me like I'm a normal person. It's nice not to be 'Evil Draco the Death Eater's Son' or 'Heir to the Malfoy riches'." As Draco reflected more on his feelings for Ginny, he forgot about the other people listening to him and thought of only the red haired witch he had been spending his time with.
"Ginny's just got something about her that's… invigorating. She's so alive. After expecting to die for such a long time, to find someone like that… Well, I don't want to lose the opportunity to find out more about her, and about the way she makes me feel." When Draco realised exactly what had come tumbling out of his mouth he was mortified.
To rectify his embarrassment he added quickly. "Plus she's hot and I think she'd be wild in bed."
The look of absolute horror on Ron's face was too much for even Draco to take, and a rare smile graced his face for a second.
"Wow Malfoy, I don't think I've ever seen an actual smile from you... sneers yes, and a few evil smirks but never an honest to god smile. It's creepy."
Draco was turning to snap out an offensive come back to Harry, but stopped short when he noticed that behind the glasses, those green eyes had lost all of the anger and were twinkling with mirth. That one small look reminded him so forcibly of the man he couldn't kill, that, for the third time in his life, Draco felt completely out of his depth.
Ollivander looked at Harry who, after a short pause, nodded.
"Right then." The wand maker said chirpily; glad that for now at least, the boys would be civil. "I do not think that you would understand the importance of what will come if I did not clarify certain things. Luckily an explanation will tie in nicely with what I have to tell you of your mother." He nodded to Draco who was still feeling strange and confused.
"I will have to give you some background history before I can get to the point I am afraid… so please be patient with me… Accio family tree."
After a brief moment a very old, rolled tapestry flew through the door, which closed itself afterwards. Ollivander waved his wand and the hanging unrolled and floated next to the table. It hung from the top of the high ceiling and yet there was some length still coiled tightly in the roll on the floor; many, many names could be seen branching off.
"Ollivander's have been making wands for as far back as our line goes; however we were not always the exceptional craftsmen that we became and are today… Many generations ago, Samuel Ollivander fell in love with, and married, a powerful witch – the younger daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw.
It is not often mentioned in history lessons, but Rowena herself was a seer."
Ron, who had calmed down somewhat since Draco's words, scoffed slightly. Ollivander looked shrewdly at him and said "It is true that she was not an incredibly powerful one, although she had more visions than your school's Trelawney, who has made a mere handful of real predictions. Rowena instead preferred to use her incredible brain power than rely on often confusing visions.
However her daughter had true sight; much like one or two of your distant relatives I believe?" Ron quietened down; he had been informed in depth about his ancestry by his father after he had mentioned being able to drop his 'rubbish' divination lessons.
"Samuel loved his wife dearly, he doted on her and their marriage was a happy one. They had several children but it is Peter, their oldest son that I will speak of today. Peter was the only one to inherit his mother's talent, but his visions were rare and seemed pointless; he would see nothing but a grove of trees, or perhaps an old Dragon going to its last resting place. His mother seemed pleased however, and would merely state that 'all would become clear with time'.
"As the first born, it was Peter's right, and his wish, to learn the family business; Samuel delighted in teaching his son the art of wand making and Peter excelled at shaping them. When it was time, they embarked upon a long trip to replenish the supplies needed to craft the wands.
One day, not too long into the journey, Peter felt as though he recognised part of the woods that they were travelling through. As if in a trance, he led his father further into the forest until they came across a grove of magnificent beech trees, some of the best quality wood Samuel had ever seen. It was then that Peter realised that the sight in front of him was from one of the images that had come to him; they had all been showing him how to find the very best woods and cores for his profession.
"From then on, Peter's visions became clearer and more common, by the time he took over from his father; Peter knew instinctively the best mixes of materials to make the wands from. Occasionally he would say that he knew who a wand was for. His father would ask for a name or a face, but Peter would shake his head and say he could only tell how the person would 'feel' and not what they would look like.
"Peter's gift has been passed from son to son, and occasionally daughter, throughout generations. As each person would gradually fulfil the tasks they had seen - uniting wands to their rightful partners and discovering new and exciting sources for materials; their visions would become fewer, until eventually they would at last stop. Then their heir would take complete control of the business, with their own sights to fulfil.
My own son waits patiently for the last few of my visions to come to pass. Hopefully there will be a place left for him to continue with."
Ollivander sighed heavily at the thought of his shop and livelihood being destroyed by the dark war they were being thrown into.
"I have been here such a long time waiting… There is a certain element of hit and miss with the visions. Sometimes a wand might be made for a customer who is not yet ready for it, the wand could be waiting for them to grow or change so they are more suitably matched. In those cases we must also wait as even though the wand may be completed, the seer of the vision must be the one to present it."
Ollivander laid a hand on Harry's arm, making him jump slightly. "Of course, you were ready for your wand immediately. I was scared to follow my instincts when you came in to my shop that day. A day I had feared and yet was as excited as a school boy about. I tried to pretend to myself that you might make a different choice, but deep down I knew better than to doubt my feelings."
Back on bloody Potter again, thought Draco. Rather brusquely he said, "Ok, so you're some sort of a seer; that's why you keep coming out with weird stuff, great. Now I'm sorry to sound rude," he obviously wasn't. "But I am rather interested in knowing what you have to say about my dead Mother."
Expecting Ollivander to be angry at the outburst, all the boys were surprised when he smiled suddenly.
"Yes, you are He… The grace of the mother cannot hide the power of the father. A very suitable mix I think. Admittedly I have been sidetracked from my point. If you will honour me with a few more moments of your time then I think your patience will be rewarded, rewarded very well indeed.
"When he was still a young man, Peter's mother, Cailen, came to him with a request that he make a wand. She would not indulge why; she merely gave him two hairs to be used as the core and said that one day, an Ollivander would understand and that until the day came, it should be kept safe from prying eyes and not spoken about to outsiders.
"Many, many years ago; when I was an impetuous youth, I tried to take the wand from its hiding place. My Father had told me not to touch it, so of course I did – however it seemed fate had driven me to it as I was subject to my first, and most powerful vision."
Ollivander had sat upright at the mention of his vision, his eye's had opened, the milky film that seemed to cover them had gone, revealing the unnatural silver underneath; his cheeks were full of colour and he seemed younger and more alive than he had before..
"It is impossible for me to explain to you fully what having the sight is like. A vision is similar to a dream… but more so! Everything is still slightly surreal although the senses are heightened. It feels as though an extra sense has awoken, taken control of those other senses, combined them and is putting them to a use you never knew existed."
As quickly as the vigour had arrived, it disappeared; sinking back down in the chair, Ollivander was once again the strange old man they were used to.
"When the sight fades, for the moment it takes you to adjust, it is as if the world - which was previously full of clarity - has become blurry and indistinct. Once I had recovered from the sensation I realised that I knew who the wand was for – I had felt their aura, one of power yet filled with conflict, I felt that I would recognise it instantly when I met that person."
Draco repressed the urge to fidget. Ron was a little glazed in the eye as he continued munching away on the remaining food. Harry, of course, was still listening intently. Bloody goody-two shoes, Draco thought before turning his attention back to Ollivander as he started to speak again.
"Some 22 years ago, a beautiful young lady came into my shop, followed by a handsome, yet somewhat sour gentleman who was quite obviously not happy at being here. I remember their conversation clearly…
'Your mother's wand may have been claimed already but my Grandmother's wand is perfectly acceptable for you. I see no need for a new one when inheriting wands is the done thing.'
'I understand how you feel dear, but your grandmother's wand is far too heavy for me to use – you know I have delicate wrists! I will have the best wand available and you yourself said that this is supposed to be the most highly thought of wand maker… Anyway, I can pass it on to my daughter – you would want your wife and child to have the best, wouldn't you?'
"The young man scoffed a little at her comment. 'Father would prefer male heirs you know.' The lady pouted and fluttered her eyelashes somewhat at her beau which seemed to melt his attitude somewhat.
'I suppose if you are going to be stubborn about this I will just have to get you the most expensive wand here. That may appease mother somewhat.'
The beautiful girl rolled her eyes somewhat at the mention of his mother but she flashed him a dazzling smile anyway"
Ollivander shook his head in an amused manner, recalling the way the young lady seemed to have the man wound round her little finger. "They came to the counter and her eyes met mine, I felt a surge of power and the vision flooded into my memory suddenly. I somehow managed to greet them in a manner befitting their obvious wealth and breeding but my head was reeling. My shock must have been noticeable as the lady looked at me as if I were about to keel over and asked if I was feeling alright.
"The man murmured in a voice that I am fairly sure I was not meant to hear, 'He's probably never had customers of our status here before.' Turning to me he said,
'We are after the highest quality wand possible. Do you have anything suitable for our requirements? We would not want to waste your time if you do not…'
"I feel it was his time that he didn't want wasting but nevertheless… I of course have a superb range of wands, which I told him; but I was most interested in handing his lady friend the wand which had caused my vision all those years prior. I closed the shop up and opened a fine bottle of wine for them to sample with some cheeses and fruit while they waited for me to collect the wands."
Noticing Harry and Ron's strange expressions, Ollivander explained. "These things are often done for important customers; however I was especially keen to apply the full pomp and ceremony, as I managed to slip the wand unnoticed from its resting place at the same time. I placed the wand in with a selection of other wands, and with mounting excitement let the woman try her hand at some of them.
"She discarded many for various different reasons; too short, too knobbly, wrong coloured wood, too thick - and so on. Just over half way through she picked up the wand I had been waiting for, the hairs on my arms rose and I held my breath - but to my dismay she dropped the wand straight back down as if it had bitten her. She didn't even try a spell with it! I questioned her and all she would say was that it felt wrong, 'as if I were not meant to be using it….' were her words.
"Eventually a wand was chosen and once the price was settled her young man headed off to Gringotts to withdraw the money. As soon as he left I felt the feeling of that specific power ebb away, I felt a fool… Why had I automatically assumed it was her power?
When he returned - along with that feeling - I felt almost certain that the wand was meant for him. Yet I needed to be sure, so I told the young lady that Mme Malkin was displaying some extremely rare and beautiful wand cases, all the rage and much more suited to her robes than any I could offer. I suggested that she choose one while the wand was being paid for; my flattery worked as she immediately left, but as she walked out of the shop door the feeling once again faded."
Ollivander shrugged his shoulders in a defeated manner. "Not wanting to be deterred so easily, I coaxed the young man into trying out the wand, saying it really was the best we had to offer should he want to purchase it for himself. But yet again the wand was quickly handed back as if it were something nasty.
As the gentleman was leaving, he met the lady by the door and for a final fleeting moment I felt the surge of energy again, only when they were both present did I get the sensation from them. This confused me greatly for several years, every time my gaze fell upon the wand I would speculate… Until one day, when I saw their picture in the papers and read that they had produced an heir – one Draco Malfoy."
Draco had watched Ollivander finish his tale with a grand flourish, but he looked doubtful. "So you think that this wand you spoke of is meant for me? If that's the case then why did you never contact me, or my parents?"
"Oh no… No, no. Quite out of protocol. Indeed no - When a wand calls to its owner they always come here. We do not make house calls!" Ollivander looked thoroughly shocked at such a suggestion.
"So what exactly are you saying?" Draco asked in a tone too neutral to really be that unconcerned. "Are you saying that I'm here because a wand is calling me?"
"I believe that it is a part of why you are here, yes… The wand that I touched, that caused my vision, I know it was made for you – the culmination of two great families. Follow me, all of you." Ollivander stood suddenly, noticeable steadier than before, and led the boys through the shop floor and to the very front of the building, where the customers normally waited.
He indicated to them that they should take a seat each. Only once all three were perched on the spindly chairs did the shop owner act. Pressing the hoary fingers of his left hand against the glass enclosure of the store's window display, he whispered a few gently words. The glass simply disappeared, just as Harry had once caused the glass to vanish from the snake's enclosure.
Draco felt as though a sudden breeze had sprung up and was buffeting him from all sides. He glanced at Harry and Ron and was shocked to see that they appeared unaware of the new feeling.
"It's calling to you boy. Your past, it is keen to join with you and take its part in your present, and your future." Ollivander seemed to have grown taller, more powerful than Draco remembered.
"Take it Draco Malfoy – take the wand."
Draco stood and moved cautiously to the window, all he could see was a single ebony wand, lying on an old, sun faded purple pillow. Both were cobwebby and unappealing. He looked to Ollivander questioningly, but the old man merely nodded once more towards the wand.
Shrugging, he leant down and delicately plucked the wand from its bed, revealing beneath the stripe of dark, lush purple velvet that had been hidden for generations from the sun's fiery gaze.
As soon as his fingers had curled around it, Draco had known; had felt his magic surge down his arm to greet the wand as if it was an old friend, returning home after a long time away.
Ollivander lifted up his arms to the sky and chanted in a deep, eerie tone. "And so, the famed wand has finally chosen its master… The first part of Cailen's prophecy is complete."
Sorry it was so long winded – like I said, I'm not an amazing writer so I had to do the best I could. I feel like I have some really good ideas but not sure I can do them justice!
Apparently 'phoenixes' is the plural of phoenix – I never knew that, I thought phoenix did for both – like sheep!!
Oh, and the 'third time' for Draco being out of his depth? I figured the other two would be: 1) when he had to try and kill DD, 2) when his mum died and he was about to be killed too.
Finally (being a stickler for correctness) – I know that if Ollivander had taken the wand from the pillow to show Narcissa, then the unbleached section of the pillow hasn't technically been hidden fro the sun for generations, but it was only away for a short while and it sounded better that way!