A Sirius Situation
The REAL Chapter 5: Sirius Wand Work
Author: Jelsemium
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, JK Rowling does
I deeply apologize for the long delay in getting this story up. I've run into numerous delays and once stopped, it was hard to get the muse back in motion. I'm going to be posting this in sections, so no more nasty cliffhangers. I sincerely hope that you enjoy this and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your patience in putting up with me.
I also apologize for any confusion with Chapter 5 and 6. Some of you have noticed that there was a strange gap between Chapter 4 and Chapter 5 because I put the wrong Chapter 5 up.
"Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow," Ollivander, of Ollivander's Fine Wands Since 382 BC. "Good for Charms work." The wand maker's misty grey eyes made Harry feel uneasy. He wondered if there was something not quite right about Ollivander. The moment the wand maker had come into the Hospital Wing, Harry had felt as if something was about to happen.
"Good, morning, Harry," Dumbledore said, as if Ollivander had uttered a more conventional greeting. The Headmaster and the Wand maker had arrived just has Dobby had begun to lay out tea for Harry. Having been warned of Ollivander's arrival, Harry had insisted on getting dressed.
He liked the pyjamas that Sirius had bought him (through Remus), but he didn't feel comfortable talking to Mr. Ollivander while dressed in red flannel covered in frolicking gold hippogriffs. (Literally frolicking. The pictures on the pyjamas actually moved.)
Madam Pomfrey had not been happy about him getting out of bed, even if it was just to change his clothes, but she had to admit that Mr. Ollivander made her nervous, too.
So, Harry was now lying on top of his duvet, dressed in jeans and a red t-shirt with the legend "Stubby Boardman and the Hobgoblins" written across the front in gold lettering. On his feet were his get well present from Ginny… fluffy, golden Snitch slippers.
Privately, Harry thought they looked silly, but he supposed he'd better get used to wearing them so Ginny could see them on his feet. He was growing so fast now, it was only a matter of months before they would stop fitting. At least they kept his feet warm, he consoled himself.
Ollivander was dressed in non-descript clothes that looked like they were layered under the same dust that covered the shelves of boxes in his shop.
Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked as though he had absent-mindedly wandered through a food fight. His sky blue robes had irregular blotches of egg yolk yellow, grape juice purple, tomato red, and pea soup green splattered across it in a random pattern.
Fred and George would have a fit if they could see these, Harry decided. The twins had been so proud of their Eye Endangering Mutant Peacock dress robes that they'd given him for his fifteenth birthday. He just knew they'd go spare trying to outdo these eye-sore robes!
"Would Headmaster Dumbledore and Wand-master Ollivander care for some tea?" the house-elf asked politely.
It may have been Harry's imagination, but it seemed to him that the House-elf was watching Ollivander cautiously. Dobby had broken free of his conditioning to warn Harry about the plot to open the Chamber of Secrets. Harry had managed to trick Dobby's owner, Lucius Malfoy, into freeing the House-elf. Since then, as uncomfortable as it made Harry feel, Dobby had been a huge fan.
"Thank you, Dobby, I believe that a spot of tea would do me good just now," Ollivander murmured.
"Yes, Mr. Ollivander," Dobby said deferentially. Dobby bowed to the two wizards and snapped his fingers. Two small bedside tables trotted forward, followed by two not-really-comfortable looking folding chairs. He poured steaming tea from a small blue and bronze teapot into a matching teacup. Dobby had chosen Ravenclaw colors for Ollivander, Harry noted absently.
Dobby set the pot and cup down on the table that was the farthest from Harry.
It was not his imagination. Dobby was wary of Ollivander. Harry knew that Dobby had powerful magic, and would not hesitate to use it to protect him and Harry began to worry. During the year that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, Dobby tried several times to "protect" Harry. Once, by almost getting him expelled, and once by nearly getting him killed. Dobby in protective mode was almost as dangerous to the one he was protecting as it was to the enemy.
"I trust you will let us know if you are not feeling up to this visit, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes, sir," Harry murmured. He didn't take his eyes off Ollivander, though. He couldn't help but think of Alastor Moody's favorite phrase – "Constant Vigilance!" Harry wondered how long Dumbledore had known Ollivander. He snapped to himself suddenly. "Erm, sorry, I mean, please have a seat and join me," he said.
He gestured to the tables, which now held plates of scones, and bowls filled sugar, jam and clotted cream.
Dobby was pouring tea into a cup for the Headmaster. (Harry noted that Dumbledore's tea pot and cup were scarlet and gold.)
Ollivander approached Harry's bed and the grim figure of Padfoot rose from a crouch, the ruff of his neck standing up and a low growl issuing from his throat. Obviously, Dobby wasn't the only one concerned about Ollivander's presence.
"Ah, yes," Ollivander said. He looked over his glasses at the monstrous canine without blinking. "I wondered when you would show up again."
"Did Ollivander know that Padfoot was an Animagus?" Harry wondered. There was no way he could ask anybody, of course. He just had to keep calm and keep alert.
"Easy, there, Snuffles," Dumbledore said in a warning tone of voice. He held up his hand in a placating manner. "Ollivander is completely trustworthy." The elderly wizard eyed the chair Dobby had set up for him with an air of dissatisfaction.
The chair managed to look abashed.
Dumbledore plucked his wand out of thin air and waved it at the offending piece of furniture and the folding chair morphed into a squashy scarlet armchair with gold lace antimacassars on the arms and back. The chair now gave off an air of comfort… and smugness.
"You flatter me, Albus," Ollivander said it a tiny smile. "I don't think that anybody is completely trustworthy. However, you know my peccadilloes." He smiled at Harry. "Sometimes, young man, being able to predict how a person will react to any given set of circumstances is better than being able to trust them."
"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "I know your family's traditions regarding the Ministry of Magic, and your own personal opinion of Cornelius Fudge. On top of that, I think I can safely say that we are of the same religion when it comes to the Dementors of Azkaban.
"Foul things," Ollivander said calmly. "My family has always opposed using them in any capacity."
Padfoot had settled down next to Harry's bed, and was eying Ollivander watchfully.
Harry wondered if Sirius could feel that Ollivander had something up his sleeve. Dumbledore may have trusted the man, but Harry could remember him saying that Voldemort had done "great things." He wasn't sure if he wanted to trust Ollivander, or find out what the elderly wand maker had up his sleeve.
If Dumbledore felt uneasy, he gave no sign of it.
Ollivander pulled a long, oblong gold box out of the sleeve of his robe.
"You realize, Mr. Potter, that you will never get as good a result when you use somebody else's wand," Ollivander said. He gently laid the wand box on the bed side table, where it clinked against Harry's teacup.
"I fear that's one thing that has been holding Mr. Neville Longbottom back for so long," Ollivander continued. "His talents are not a good match for his father's, I'm afraid."
"Oh," Harry said blankly, wondering how Neville had snuck into the conversation. He fingered the wand box.
"Young Mr. Longbottom has something in common with you, Mr. Potter," Ollivander continued.
"Really?" Harry said. He put the wand box down and fidgeted with his tea cup. He'd been hungry before Ollivander and Dumbledore had come into the office, but his appetite seemed to have vanished.
Padfoot must have sensed his discomfort, for he sat up abruptly. The Grim's pale eyes never left Ollivander.
"Yes, both of you take after your mother, talent-wise," Ollivander said. "I've always felt that Young Mr. Longbottom would have been better off using his mother's wand."
"Oh," Harry said. He seemed to be saying that a lot.
"Your father's expertise lay in Transfiguration," Ollivander continued. "Your mother was better at Charms."
"Oh… I see," Harry amended quickly. "I'm best at Defence," he added.
Ollivander nodded. "However, you are better at Charms than you are at Transfiguration, I believe," he said calmly.
"Well," Harry hesitated. "I did learn the Patronus Charm when I was thirteen," he said. "I've never done anything that advanced in Transfiguration class."
He didn't mention his new ability to change into a cat. For one thing, that was supposed to be a secret. For another, he hadn't learned it in class. Technically, he hadn't learned it at all; it had been planted in his brain by Sirius' special guide book.
"Your mother's wand will work better for you than your father's wand," Ollivander said. "You have more in common with her, personality-wise than with your father.
"Oh," Harry was beginning to feel like he was very boring. He opened the wand box and studied his mother's wand. He remembered finding it in the chest his mother had left with Aunt Petunia. The wand had been powering an aversion charm, which had kept his Aunt and Uncle from plundering the chest for it's fine linen and from destroying the mementos inside.
"Willow, is it?" he asked. He picked it up. The wood felt cool to his hand at first, and then it quickly warmed up. Harry fancied that it felt like holding somebody's hand.
"Yes," Ollivander seemed to be waiting.
"What's it got as a core?" Harry asked. Apparently it was the right question.
"A Phoenix's flight feather," Ollivander said. "Rather unusual to get either a flight feather or a tail feather. This wand was meant to fight the Dark Arts."
Harry prevented himself from saying "oh" with great difficulty. "So my mum was opposed to the Dark Arts from the very beginning," he said, pleased he'd come up with an intelligent observation. He ran a finger down the length of it. There were a few places where the wood felt odd. He frowned.
"You won't be able to tell where the breaks were by touch, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said. "The repairs I made are quite seamless."
"I can feel something," Harry said. "Not a rough spot. It's like…" he paused in frustration.
Snuffles barked twice.
Ollivander raised an eyebrow. "Like part of the wand is alive, while part is merely wood?" he asked.
Harry frowned again and wrapped his fingers around the tip of the wand. "No, not quite… Something… Part of this wand isn't finished," he said decisively. "It's like only part of this is polished.
Ollivander gave a pleased nod. "Exactly, Mr. Potter," he said. "The original wood has been soaking in the magic from the core since the wand was made. The new wood hasn't been exposed as long. It will take years before the newer wood will achieve saturation. The wand may have a few quirks because of that."
"Not that Harry will have to worry about that," Dumbledore put in. "He won't be using the wand very much."
Harry shook his head. "No, I won't."
"Pity," Ollivander said. "It's an excellent wand. It would improve it greatly to be used on a regular basis." He nodded at Harry. "It would help the new wood catch up to the original wood if it were to be used."
Harry took that as an invitation, so he gave the wand a swish. Instead of shooting sparks, as his own wand did the first time he tried it, his mother's wand produced a stream of bubbles and musical notes.
"Cool," Harry said. He gave the wand another swish. The speed and direction changed the musical notes and he wondered if he could get it to play a song.
"Try a spell, Harry," Dumbledore said. He watched the bubbles with a small smile.
Harry thought it over, and then decided that the first spell that he tried with his mother's wand should be the first spell that he'd learned. "Wingardium Levi-O-sa!" he said, waving the wand at his full teacup and enunciating in the approved Hermione Granger way.
The teacup rattled in its saucer, but didn't move. The wand gave a rather sour note.
Harry frowned. "Wingardium Lev-ee-OH-sa!" and gave the swish-and-flick motion to the wand that he had used quite a few times since first year. This time the wand gave a soft chirrup.
The teacup floated into the air. It was rather a strain on Harry to keep the cup floating, so he let it descend before he dropped it. This did not bode well for his upcoming O.W.L.s.
Snuffles woofed under his breath. Harry felt better; maybe Sirius would tutor him while he was hospitalized.
"As you see," Ollivander said. "It's not that easy to use somebody else's wand. However, and I apologize for the lack of modesty, anybody will do better with one of my wands than with a wand from a lesser maker." He stood and looked at Snuffles. "I daresay even a well-trained dog would be able to utilize one of my wands, should the need arise."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "Indeed," he said.
Before Ollivander could reply, Harry asked: "Mr. Ollivander, why does it sound like that?"
Dumbledore, Ollivander and Snuffles looked at Harry in surprise.
"Why does what sound like what?" Ollivander asked.
Harry blinked at him and wished he had not spoken.
"Harry?" Dumbledore said. "What noise are you hearing?"
Harry frowned. "It's not noise, it's music." He gave Lily's wand another flick. A large, lavender bubble floated from the tip of the wand, and there was a soft hoot. "When I use the wand, it makes music. Something like phoenix song." He was beginning to feel worried. "Can't you hear it?"
Dumbledore shook his head and looked at Ollivander. "I cannot hear anything," Dumbledore said.
"Interesting," Ollivander said. "Most interesting that you should be able to hear that, Mr. Potter. Especially in view of the fact that you can feel the difference between the new wood and the original wood."
"My own wand doesn't sing, and it's got a phoenix feather in it," Harry said.
"No, not many wands will sing like this," Ollivander said. "And fewer wizards can hear it." He nodded. "You may have a career in wand making in your future, Mr. Potter. As I said, you take after your mother in talent, and I was hoping to recruit her."
"My mother could have been a wand maker?" Harry asked, wide eyed.
"Oh, yes," Ollivander assured him. "She had a talent for charms, and a feel for wood. In fact, I helped her make her second wand."
Harry was back to "Oh."
Ollivander stood and made his way to the door. "I think it's time for us to let Mr. Potter think on what's he's learned today, Albus. If you'll show me the way to the front door."
"Certainly," Albus said.
"Good day, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said. He paused on his way out the door before adding. "Mr. Black."
"Woof," Snuffles said.
"I see we have much to talk about," Dumbledore said mildly as he followed Ollivander out the door.
Padfoot walked over to the door and listened intently. After what seemed like hours to Harry, Sirius transformed back into himself. "So, Ollivander knows about me, does he?" he mused. "I wonder how he learned about me."
"Do you think he'll inform the Ministry?" Harry asked nervously.
"I don't think so," Sirius said. "Ollivander is a funny bird. He doesn't think the same way most people do. He rather reminds me of Hagrid that way. "His family was making wands in this area before the Celts arrived. Nobody is quite sure where the Ollivander family came from. There's certainly nothing to disprove the rumor that the Ollivanders are descended from the Fomorians."
"The who?" Harry asked.
"Don't you know your history?" Sirius asked sternly.
Harry blushed. "It's hard to stay awake in History of Magic," he complained.