MAGIC KINGDOM
a Disney/Hogwarts Crossover Fic
Author's Note: A brief interlude from the main story-such as it is-to just flesh out the world a little bit.
3.5 WHAT'S THIS?
The back-to-school rush was over, and Garrick Ollivander finally had an opportunity to do a proper inventory. Of course, accidents will happen-particularly when some folks seemed intent on making them happen-so people still came to him all year with wands needing repair or replacement. But, his busiest time of year was in the late summer, when new students were getting ready for their first year at Hogwarts. It always put a smile in his heart to see the wide-eyed wonder on the faces of those fledgling witches and wizards when they were chosen by their wand.
It made the rest of the year bearable, in fact-especially if those children were from Muggle families. Children raised in an environment of magic were slightly desensitized to the wonder and mystery which surrounded them, whereas Muggle-born children were experiencing the wizarding world for the first time. Everything was new and marvelous and alive-truly magical. That wasn't, however, to say that wizard-born children were bored by it all. Even they vibrated with excitement at the thought of receiving a wand of their own. Truly, if the children were all he had to deal with, he would be a much happier man.
Sadly, he had to deal with their parents, too. Oh, the Muggle parents were fine-they just stared in numb shock at everything around them, their children or representative from Hogwarts leading them around by the hand. But many of the wizard parents had ideas. Even growing up, as they did, in the wizarding world, they couldn't fathom that the wand chose the wizard, not the other way around. If he'd had a Galleon for every time he'd heard someone say something to the effect of, "Oh, no, my daughter could never use a wand with a dragon core," or, "No son of mine would have a lemon wood wand," he'd be a rich man, indeed.
Even when purchasing wands for themselves, some demanded exotic components, believing rare woods or cores would take the place of talent or hard work, and wouldn't be swayed if he tried to convince them something else might be more suitable. Then, they became irate when their spells proved ineffectual, blaming his craftsmanship, rather than the incompatibility of their pigheaded choice or their own lack of ability.
However, he was in for a quiet spell-haha-now that the school year was underway. Even the majority of adults were using this time to take a bit of a breather after a summer spent with their children at home all day, so they were less likely to damage their wands. And Ollivander found something soothing in doing inventory. The counting and tabulating was an exercise in order which calmed his nerves and allowed his mind to relax.
As he counted through what he'd sold and what had remained, he noticed he'd have to restock on unicorn hair. It was funny how things like that went in waves. Every so often, the balance seemed to tilt more towards one sort of core than the others. The last few years seemed to be phoenix-feather years, and dragon-heartstring for a few years before that. Of course, there were also periods where the balance was relatively even. To someone like Ollivander, it was fascinating.
As he worked his way down the list, he also noted that some of the more exotic wands had found their owners. Ollivander typically only worked with woods readily available in the British Isles, with some occasionally imported from across the Channel. It was the same with the cores. Unicorn hair, phoenix feather, and dragon's heartstrings were all proven to provide long-lasting, reliable power. Ollivander did, however, keep a few bits and bobs on hand for those patrons who demanded particular components in their wands, or for those rare occasions when a wizard would truly be better suited for something a little out of the ordinary.
In fact, one of this year's batch of new students proved to be an excellent fit for a sandalwood-and-roc-feather wand. Ollivander had almost forgotten that he'd even had the wand in stock, as it had been crafted for a wizard with a thirst for novelty some years ago. Sadly, that desire for the unusual had led to the customer's unfortunate demise as he tried for fly a broom in a hurricane before he could collect his custom-made article. Sandalwood could be tricky to work with, as it had a lofty, spiritual attitude with little patience for crude frivolity. And to combine it with the ferocity of a roc-feather core meant the wand would never have responded favorably to a thrill-seeking adventurer obsessed with novelty. The lad the wand had chosen, though, seemed to have a kind, gentle nature, observant and eager to learn. Sometimes ancestry can effect compatibility, but Ollivander suspected the wand's choice had less to do with their shared homeland and more to do with the fact that the boy had been raised by wolves. To bond so instantly and completely with animals was a sign of great spiritual potential, which the wand appreciated.
Ollivander continued to check his stock against the inventory list and sales books, making notes here and there when he discovered a resource running low. He heard the bell over the shop door jangle, snapping him out of his reverie of tallies and figures. He set his ledgers aside and strode out into the front room of the shop. Standing by the door was an exceptionally elderly witch, stooped and crooked with age. She wore a black, hooded cloak, supported herself with a cane, and carried a little handbasket over one arm.
"I do beg your pardon, madam," the wand-maker said, giving his best retail smile. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you, but I was just doing some stock-taking."
"That's quite all right, young man," the witch said in a voice like a rusty gate. "It wasn't as if I was waiting long."
As Ollivander drew closer, he could see her features clearly, and he winced internally. Age had not been kind to this woman. Whatever beauty she'd had in her youth, time had not only robbed from her, but it had mugged, ransacked and pillaged, and set fire to the barn on the way out. Not that he let any such appraisal show. "And how may I be of service to you, today, madam? Would you care to take a seat?"
"That's very sweet of you," she said, accepting his offer. Ollivander produced a chair, and she sat, joints creaking audibly. "So nice to meet a lad with good manners."
Ollivander chuckled at that. Lad-it had been a long time since he'd heard that. "My pleasure, madam," he said. "What brings you to my little shop?"
The witch smiled, and at least one could say her teeth weren't crowded. "As a matter of fact, I need a wand made," she said. "And everybody knows Ollivander's is the place to go." She chuckled. "A name to conjure with, you could say."
That brought a smile to Ollivander's face. "I can remember my father telling that very joke."
"Ha! So can I," she said.
She may not have been a beauty queen, but the woman was certainly charming. "And what sort of wand did you require, madam?"
The witch sighed. "It's my niece," she said. "She's some sort of experimental witch, I don't really follow all the details, and there was an accident with her wand."
Ollivander tutted in sympathy. "An unfortunate hazard, madam," he said. "She wasn't hurt, was she?"
"Nothing nature can't mend," she said. "The wand took the brunt."
"Well, if you have the pieces, I can attempt a repair-"
The witch held out a gnarled hand. "Ashes," she said, expression grim. "All that was left was ashes."
Ollivander blinked his big, moony eyes. "Good heavens," he said. "The energies required to reduce a wand to ashes-"
"We keep telling her the Ministry ought to pay her more," the witch said. "But..." She held up her hands in submission.
"Yes, well, of course," he said, taking note of the word "Ministry". "We have quite a selection of wands for her to choose from."
The witch shook her head. "No, she'd like one made from scratch," she said. "Besides, she's not really mobile at the moment," she added with significant look.
Ollivander nodded. "Ah. Well, of course, I'd be happy-"
"Excellent!" the old lady exclaimed, and began rummaging in her handbasket. "Here are the measurements," she said, handing him a folded piece of paper.
"Well, even built to the same specifications, one can't ensure the same results," Ollivander said, looking over the very thorough list of measurements.
The witch gave a little cackle of glee. "Ah, we thought of that," she said, drawing two large parcels from the basket. "Wood from the same tree, and heartstrings from the same dragon."
Ollivander gaped, accepting the parcels. "My word," he said, regaining his composure. "Truly, the same?"
The witch nodded, looking smug. "The tree belonged to the family, and your father wasn't the only one to collect from that dragon."
Ollivander cleared his throat. "In that case, madam, I think I may be able to give your niece what she wants."
The witch chuckled. "If anyone can," she said.
The witch arranged to collect the wand when it was complete, paying in advance, and went on her tottering way.
When she'd gone, the wand-maker examined the parcels she'd left him. The dragon's heartstrings were perfectly preserved, from what he could see. If he were to wager a guess, they looked to be from either a Hebridean Black, or, perhaps, a Pyrenees Screamer-excellent quality. Unwrapping the length of wood, he found a block of nicely grained, healthy blackthorn. The limb must have come off during a storm, particularly if the same tree had provided wood for a wand before. Traditional wandlore dictated acquiring most woods in such a fashion. To forcibly remove a branch-or, especially, to cut the tree down-was believed to taint the wood, somehow.
"Blackthorn and dragon heartstring," Ollivander mused aloud. No one was listening, except the wands, who ignored him, more often than not. "Very powerful combination." He felt as if he should be remembering something, but it was stuck on the tip of his brain. "The young lady was lucky not to be killed, attempting experimental magic with such a wand." Still, he'd been paid and contracted. He had to put aside his misgivings. "Very powerful, indeed."