AN: Here is another chapter. I think the next one will be posted also shortly after. Two-three days at most.
miss quirky bookworm, well, one of the scary plans is unraveled partially (but you can guess the rest more or less) in this chapter. Hope, you'll like it. About Draco finding out… Oh, I don't know. I'm afraid there won't be a spectacular temper tantrum, but we'll see.
aylan, thank you, I am glad you like the story. Flhoyer is a product of my mind. My assumption about how an Old Celtic name would look like. As I am no linguist and haven't even researched the topic I may be completely off with my guess.
Ravenclaw Samurai, thank you. I am glad you like Harry/Ryan. I am rather fond of him myself. I'll write more on Draco in later chapters.
disgruntledfairy, I did neglect Draco, didn't I? Thank you for pointing that out. I'll try to make him one of the main characters as he should be. Not much of him in this chapter, but in the next chapter there will be more.
Chapter 11
Ollivander was artfully twitching and screaming his throat raw on the cold floor of the large ominous-looking hall. Or so his captors thought.
For the old man the whole scene he was making was amusing. He hadn't had such fun for several centuries. Perhaps, there was a grain of truth in Flhoyer's words. He should change a profession, it'd become boring already in the first hundred years.
Of course, the Cruciatus curse this fool of a Dark Lord was using on him, couldn't make him even cringe. His magic was long ago trained to throw off painful and harmful effects of plenty curses. Not all of them, mind you, but such a simplistic curse, even though based on emotions, wasn't going to get through his barrier.
The wandmaker had many thoughts running through his head. First of all, what boon to give Voldemort to satisfy the monster. He didn't know why the Lard Dork was so intent on learning of the connection between brother wands. Honestly, he already explained everything to him, no big secret there. What else did he want?
Ollivander subtly scanned the dark wizard's surface thoughts.
Ah! A new wand to fight with his enemy. Why would Voldie need one if his enemy was long ago dead? Talk about paranoia…
Well, no trouble with that, one has only to ask and be given. Just no running back and complaining.
The Elder Wand. Ollivander always thought it had a nice ring to it. A creation of a Necromancer mage along with the other Deathly Hallows, who mysteriously popped up in the wizarding world. The man had a peculiar sense of humour. Screwing up the minds of the now famous Perevell brothers was an admirable campaign. Ollivander even helped the joker to create that very wand before disposing of him. Unfortunately, he couldn't procure any information on where and from whom the so-called Death learned the arts. Some magical oath was preventing any methods of extraction except a willing divulging of a secret. The Crafter hoped that enough torture would achieve the necessary amount of willingness, but alas, as the first syllables of confession slipped his victim's lips, he simply stopped breathing. Ergo, a dead useless body.
Even then he sensed some type of conspiracy going on, but let it rest. And now, another mage appeared again. And actually had enough gall to threaten him. HIM! Hubert Evangelios Ollivander! He had to deal with the pesky nuisance.
But the mage was wary. While he knew who a Summoner was, and it already promised some trouble, he could only guess what kind of power a Dreamer had. Perhaps, visiting people's dreams? Sending them nightmares? That didn't sound very threatening, only potentially bothersome.
But he should digress from him musings and concentrate on the reality. It was time to die…
He made a horrified face at the sailing towards him Avada Kedavra, and slumped lifelessly on the roughly polished stones. Killing Curse… How quaint.
The Dreamer awoke with a start. It was not a happy event of seeing Avada Kedavra thrown at him who-knows-which-time. As in the case of the old bugger, he was already beyond being harmed by that Unforgivable, but it still made him uneasy. Flhoyer blamed it on childhood trauma.
He was lucky that Ollivander didn't know about Dreamers. It gave him freedom to spy on the man as long and as much as he liked. And that is what he was prepared to do for awhile. Aside from small dirty tricks, he wasn't ready to the open confrontation with a millennia-old mage. But Ryan had to admit, it added spice to his life. He was too used to have an adversary in his life. And Voldemort wasn't a challenge anymore. Speaking of the devil… He had some designs on the creature, and the visit to him was long overdue. The mage just had to wait till Ollivander got his mighty arse out of the Dark Lord's fortress.
It was dark and gloomy in the throne room of the Dark Fortress, as the castle was fondly called by Death Eaters. The torches cast frightening shadows on the walls and the tall figure on an imposing chair serving as a throne.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, more commonly known as "I am Lord Voldemort", was deep in thought, inventing an elaborate plan of obtaining the Death Wand. He was so happy to have something worthy of evil mastermind plotting at last. While he could always storm the Ministry, he wasn't so sure what to do with it, if it fell into his hands. And with the current incompetent Minister and the general corrupting of society, such an event was highly possible.
The Dark Lord understood that his sanity was playing tricks with him ever since that fateful night he'd got into the beam of the rebounded Killing Curse. He did remember that some time ago he wanted the Wizarding World government to be his, but why? The answer to the question eluded him. The words "Mudbloods", "filthy Muggles" and "revenge" were floating in his mind, but that group of words didn't seem like an eligible reason to go on with that particular plan. The task of getting an unbeatable wand looked quite simple and understandable in comparison. That is what Dark Lords do, he tried to reassure himself, they steal or forge all-powerful items to rule the world. But why...
A polite knock on the massive doors distracted Voldemort from his deep contemplation on the nature of Dark Lords.
"Enter."
A man in grey robes came in and bowed with dignity.
"My Lord Voldemort."
The Dark Lord was secretly pleased to hear his pseudonym. He didn't go to such length to create a fearful and meaningful name only to be called You-Know-Who. Ah, the irony of life...
But he digressed. This one was not of his Death Eaters. The man had already unbowed and was waiting patiently for his presence to be acknowledged.
Voldemort gazed into brilliant green eyes and his mind flashed back to the same pair of luminous expressive eyes that looked so unnatural on a fifteen-months babe.
"Potter!" He screamed, his hand flexing to grip the wand.
The intruder looked amused.
"I am afraid, you are mistaken. My name is Lord Ryan Flhoyer."
"Flhoyer!" Voldemort screamed again. "How did you get here?"
"I have my ways, my Lord."
The dark wizard calmed down a bit, but remained on guard. While Flhoyer called him "my Lord", he knew perfectly well that was a form of courtesy, and not a declaration of allegiance.
"Well, Lord Flhoyer, it is nice to meet you in person, even if uninvited," Voldemort rebuked mildly. "To what do I owe this pleasure? Merely a social visit or a business call?"
"A scientific research brings me here, as well as a proposal to you. My family has a collection of some ancient texts, describing some rare abilities of magicals. It is my intent to test you for them. And if you prove to have one of them, I'll teach you how to use it. I swear on my magic, it will not bring you harm."
"Why would you do that? What do you want in return?"
"Nothing, my Lord. While my family always remained secluded and secretive, it is my personal belief and agenda that the knowledge should be shared."
"Do you also have some rare abilities then?"
"You are not ready to know my Calling, my Lord."
"What do you need to test me?"
"A drop of your blood and a sample of your magic."
Voldemort was shocked by the unbelievable boldness of Flhoyer. To give such personal and powerful substances went against his paranoid nature.
The guest seemed to understand his misgivings.
"I'll once again swear an oath that it is not my intent to harm your person."
That sounded reasonable enough.
"Very well. But I have a condition. You'll test and teach if necessary one other person besides me…"
One day was left till the beginning of the Easter holidays, and Draco Malfoy was planning to leave Hogwarts for Malfoy Manor. He was not very eager to return home. While he complained about the Dark Lord and co, it would be even duller without them darkening the Manor doorstep. You-Know-Who moved with his band to some other super-secret location that he had somehow found while surfing the Malfoy Great Library.
Still, he had to look after his mother and plan for the father's escape or release. The Dark Lord as became apparent wasn't keen on raiding Azkaban in the near future, so the task of freeing the elder Malfoy was on his young son's shoulders.
Just one short week to achieve such a trying goal. And he still hadn't decided whether to contact Flhoyer or not. Draco had already written the letter, which was now lying in his well-warded school cabinet.
His own obsession was frightening him. Other candidates didn't come even close to affecting him so strongly. Was it lust? No, he wasn't so weak-willed as to follow the willing of his other head. Was it love? No, he didn't believe in love from first sight. Was the guy his soul-mate? He surely hoped not. That would be troublesome.
The veela sighed. He will send a letter. He didn't think he was ready to wait till another chance encounter.