AN: This chapter was especially bad, so I edited it as well. Now it's much better.
Professor McGonagall was bombarded everyday with letters from various parents asking questions, confirming that their witch or wizard can attend, and so on. There was never a 'summer break' for her. Managing the letters kept her busy during the summer. There was a massive pile of letters waiting for her to open. Her hair was let down for the workload she was taking on, and her hair was frizzing up a little. At this point in the day, weariness seeped into her bones and her hands ached from repetitive letter-opening and writing. A convenient window was opened to allow owls to drop their mail. One of these owls, instead of putting the letter on the top of the pile, flew directly to the professor and said;
"HOO!" It dropped a letter on her desk.
"Sorry, but I need you to put the letter in the pile over th-"
"HOO!" It said, yelling in its own language. By the look it gave her, one would think it was saying, "I don't care, you old bat, you need to read this NOW!"
"Well, HOO to you, too!" McGonagall yelled, laughing afterwards, completely oblivious to the insult just thrown at her. The feathers around the owl's neck stood on end when she yelled. Upon picking up the letter, the owl flew away, leaving droppings on her desk.
"Was that entirely necessary?" She asked, annoyed. The droppings disappeared at a whisper of, 'scourgify'. She looked at the letter. The blood emptied from her face as she read the destination address of a letter she had written to Harry Potter. Something new was scribbled on it
"Why return to sender? Why not just send me a new one?" She mumbled. Some of her hair was caught in her mouth and she tried spitting it out and failed miserably, then just brushed it aside. The letter was quickly opened and read.
Upon reading the letter, the aged witch, typically composed, found herself fighting back the instinct of apparating to the Dursley's, knocking down their door, and torturing those ignorant, prideful, deformed….!
Minerva won the battle against herself and eventually came to her senses. The letter she held had been crumpled in her fist during the war that had occurred within her. Her hair had frizzed up a little more, giving her the appearance of someone put through the heart of a mosh-pit. Her facial expression was that of someone who had just finished eating a particularly strong lemon, while her upper lip arched into a scowl worthy of a self-serving bureaucrat. Her wand, placed on the desk, had started a small fire that she quickly put out. "One step at a time, Minerva." She told herself, gathering her wits to analyze the situation. Hopefully then she would know what to do.
The boy doesn't know the school. He is used to being severely punished if strange things happen. The Aunt and Uncle know about magical folk, but seemed to have formed a hate against them. He doesn't know about witches or wizards, or about magic. He doesn't know how his parents really died. He doesn't know anything about our world, but he wants to. That's good. Now all we need is someone to get him out.
"That's it." She mumbled to herself, rising from her chair and hurrying to the dungeons. When she arrived there, Severus Snape, potions master and head of Slytherin House of Hogwarts, was reading a book. Something to do with potions. That's all she observed before she placed the slightly crumpled letter before the potions master.
"And what is this?" He silkily asked, eyes still scanning the book before him.
"A returned letter from Harry Potter." She stated plainly in a tone that demanded attention. That was more than enough to get him to pick up the letter. He began reading with tired interest and he started slowly, only to pick up speed. Despite his own emotionally detached demeanor, his dark brow twitched and his lip curled slightly, his own visage betraying a titanic struggle within him.
He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Once his hand dropped away from his face, he stated simply; "Before I leap up to collect Harry, do you have a plan on how to go about it, preferably one that involves the Dursleys giving him up freely? Also, do you plan on contacting Dumbledore on this matter?"
"I do not plan on informing him until he gets back from his vacation. However, I do have a plan to retrieve Harry, and it involves you."
A rare grin appeared on his face, "I'm listening."
-oOoOo-
About a month later, only weeks from September first, Harry woke up to a loud banging on his bedroom door, irritating a summer-headache he didn't know was there. Opening his sore eyes, he looked around his room. He was still amazed at how his life had improved since the morning Vernon caught Dudley passing Harry toast. He was now gaining muscle mass because he was eating enough food. He wasn't treated like a freeloading rat that lived in the walls His bedroom was now what Dudley's second bedroom was once. He was, however, closely watched and still treated with little consideration. The banging sound repeated and now Petunia could be heard through it.
"I want you out of bed. Now!" Harry groaned, falling out of bed onto his hands and knees. Hopping up, he grabbed some clothes, put them on, and went downstairs. Breakfast was the normal bacon, eggs, and toast, and this time he was allowed to have as much as Dudley. In the middle of breakfast, Dudley pulled out a small box and gave it to him with a smile.
"Happy birthday, Harry." Said Dudley before returning to his food. Vernon grunted in acknowledgement. Petunia simply glanced at the box before following Dudley's example. That may have been the most non-celebratory birthday many had ever heard of, but it was a great improvement from last year. Last year involved a pair of old and smelly socks from Uncle Vernon with absolutely no 'happy birthday' and no packaging. Oh, and it also involved cleaning every nook and cranny of the house in 'celebration.' Opening the box, Harry uncovered a thin layer of wax paper and found a metal watch underneath. Just as he was about to say 'thank you, Dudley', the doorbell rang. Harry's heart jumped. The first thought that leapt to his mind was 'is it them?'
Vernon grunted and rose from his seat. Harry never answered the door. They made a point hiding him from the neighbors for more than a decade and they weren't stopping now. The first thing that Harry heard made all doubt fly out the window. He knew from that point forward that Hogwarts is real.
The voice was deep and held authority. "Hello, Mr. Dursley. I am Professor Snape. I am here to speak to you about Harry Potter's future. May I come in?" Petunia and Dudley both curiously glanced at Harry. Vernon mumbled something. The professor responded with, "Thank you, sir."
A man walked in with Vernon. He wore a jet-black trench coat, black pants, and black dress shoes. His black hair was long and greasy. Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley all looked at the professor, waiting for something to happen. Dudley had a more significant look and was looking at Harry again. His look told Harry that he was dying to ask, 'Is this the one who sent you the letter?' This was all interrupted by Vernon,
"What do you have to say about Harry's future?"
"I am a professor at a prestigious school that raises small children to become leaders of the British government." This impressed Vernon, as he held great respect for the government.
"And what school is this, exactly?" Vernon asked.
"I am afraid I cannot tell you. Competition with German and French schools with the same goal in mind forces us to keep many things secret from outsiders."
Vernon scowled at this. "And I suppose such a prestigious school will cost us an arm and a leg?"
"No. The tests we have carried out on Harry have given us the confidence that he will succeed, which allows you to send him to this school free of charge."
"How did you carry these tests out?"
"I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you. I also cannot tell you what the tests are meant to determine."
"Very well. Assuming that I let him attend, how will this play out?" Vernon asked, now intrigued.
"If you allow him to attend, he must come with me now. You will not see him again except during the summer in-between school-years. When the school year ends I will personally drop him off at your house. He will not be allowed to bring anything from the school to this house. When term is about to begin once again, I will pick him up to bring him to the school on this day every year until his eighteenth birthday. He is not allowed to say anything about the school, nor is he allowed to give you hints, and he will not answer any questions asked about the school, as that would betray a contract he will be forced to sign when he first sees the school."
Vernon was ecstatic at this point, but kept his mask on and asked, "What government officials have been taught by your school?"
"Our very own Prime Minister was one of my most dedicated students." Snape replied, his face glowing with a not-so-hidden pride that Harry knew wasn't genuine. Vernon and Petunia were sold, but Dudley still looked at Harry in disbelief. Uncle Vernon and Petunia both focused on Harry again.
Vernon spoke first, raising a finger at Harry and squinting, "I don't want to hear any complaining, Harry. You are going to that school if you know what's good for you." Petunia opened her mouth and then closed it again, returning to her food, as if she didn't care what happened to Harry, or that she was going to say something but chose not to. Harry felt like a balloon had been filled with air inside him! He felt like he was weightless! They were going to allow him to go to Hogwarts! Sometimes, he felt like some giant, intimidating figure would have to smash their door down and take him away. But they're letting him go!
"Ok, Uncle Vernon." Harry said innocently. Snape began to walk out the door, paused and said.
"I hope you understand. If you agree to attend, your life will get a lot more difficult." This only made Vernon overjoyed.
"Go! Get out before the boy changes his mind!" He yelled. Harry silently nodded and left with the professor. There was nothing Harry thought was worth bringing with him, so he just left.
They left the house and took a right. There was a brief period of time when the professor simply walked. Somehow, It was intimidating. The man, known to Harry as Quincy, looked straight ahead, allowing his shoes to tap dully on the cement, somehow making his own walk seem like a dark omen. When the house was finally out of sight, the professor said,
"Everything that I told them in there is a lie."
"Then can you start telling me the truth?" Harry asked, palms itching. He barely noticed that they were walking towards the park.
"I intend to. You're a wizard, Harry."
Harry's head echoed the name on the letter, 'school of witchcraft and wizardry,' then he asked, "What's a wizard?"
"A wizard is a man that can control magic. Your parents were a witch and wizard."
"Is magic what allows me to make things grow?"
Snape took a small note of this. He was impressed that he got that far into controlling his abilities. This one may be interesting after all. "Yes, it is," he stated in a nasal monotone that all people find to belong only to him, "However, these abilities can be greatly focused and strengthened with a wand." He said, pulling out what seemed to Harry to be a long, thin stick from inside his sleeve, and then quickly putting it back. "Wands also allow you to go beyond typical magic, and make casting spells easier. Have you attempted any other magic?"
"Well… does talking to snakes count as magic?"
The professor was surprised at this, but didn't let it show. "No, but it is an immensely rare ability. Do you have any examples of this 'growth' you speak of?"
"Yes, we are walking towards it."
"I suppose you should lead the way, then. In the meantime, do you have any more questions for me?"
"What is Hogwarts?"
"Hogwarts is a school that teaches young witches and wizards how to control and develop magic."
"Is there light magic and dark magic?"
Severus glanced at Harry, wondering where his curiosity would take him later in life. "Light magic and Dark magic do exist. Dark magic is typically harmful magic. Light magic is typically helpful or protective magic, but can destroy certain dark things, counter dark spells and so on. There is also black magic, which is a particularly potent form of dark magic that usually requires some sort of loss to those involved, but has much more powerful results. Light magic however, has its own potent form called pure magic. This magic could potentially be far more powerful than black magic and doesn't require sacrifice like black magic frequently does. Both light and dark magic require some form of powerful emotion to be felt. There is also the common magic that witches and wizards use and encounter every day, which is weaker, but is more predictable, easier to cast and far more stable as a result."
"What about wandless magic?" Harry asked. Snape felt a little embarrassed by this question.
"I'm afraid that I haven't studied it in detail. In fact, it's rather old and hardly anyone uses it anymore."
"But, you must admit that you could use it to surprise an enemy in combat?"
"Yes, that is frequently what it was used for a couple hundred years ago, but as dueling techniques improved these surprises became less relevant and more for show."
"But, are there certain spells that are specific to wandless magic?"
"I don't know. I haven't studied it."
Slightly disappointed, Harry returned to a question he had been dying to ask for a long time. "How did I get this scar?
Severus' face seemed to sag at this. "It might be too much for such a young child. It's sad, then, that everyone in our world knows, and you will probably find out on your own. Or worse, you will only find out about the rumors without any real facts. I will only tell you what I know happened for a fact.
"In our world, there used to be a particularly dark wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort. He held so much influence that, even today, they do not call him by his name, preferring to call him You-Know-Who. Most people are so afraid of saying the name that they will act as if you had cursed in front of them if you say it. It was dark times, Harry. People were dying left and right just after publicly defying Voldemort. Pretty soon, a great portion of the world was afraid of him, and only a very few would stand against him. Your parents were an example of this. Back then, if Voldemort wanted you dead, you died eventually. There were many ways to slow him down, but there is always a weakness in a defense system. Voldemort found the home you lived in, killed your parents, and then tried to kill you. That's the real mystery of it, Harry. He took care of your mother, your father, your house, even, but when he tried to kill you the spell failed, giving you that scar instead. No one knows what happened to him that night and no one's seen him since, but you were known from that point on as The Boy who Lived."
Severus looked over at Harry after telling him this. Harry had a blank expression, like he was thinking about other things. Snape figured that the boy needed time to think. Nonetheless, these thoughts were driven out of his mind as the professor laid eyes on the most peculiar set of trees.
"We're here," said Harry. Snape looked in wonder at the canopy above. The bench was amazing as well. What must have been the most difficult, however, are the four paths to the bench. Causing growth is hard enough, but preventing it? That takes a constant presence of magic. Unless he didn't use magic. He could have just used salt instead. But some plants survive despite the salt.
"It seems that you might be worth all of this trouble after all." Severus stated simply.
Harry, not knowing whether he should feel insulted or complemented, replied,"Thank you. Now where are we going?"
"Well, as I'm sure you know, term starts in a month, so I am going to have you stay at a house that is well protected."
"Is it a wizard's house?"
"No, it's a witch's. Her name is Augusta Longbottom. Her grandson has a thing for plants." Harry smiled at that.
"How do we get there?"
"Grab hold of my arm." Harry did so. "Tighter." Harry's grip tightened. "Good. Try not to vomit when you land."
With that, Snape barely twitched and then Harry experienced being pulled up, squeezed through a straw, feeling like he was going to suffocate, and then felt himself return to normal as he slammed back down to earth. Harry fell over. Snape only stumbled a little. When Harry stood up, he was surrounded by thick forest and was in a forest clearing with a single yew tree in the middle.
"Um, is there supposed to be a house here?"
Taking Harry by the shoulders, Snape said, "Do not take your eyes off of the tree." Then he made Harry walk towards it. After the fourth step, Harry felt as if he walked through an invisible barrier. Immediately, the tree had a house (more like a mansion) behind it, with a greenhouse on the side. The entire property was surrounded by a gate and had many flowers, most of them blue or purple. In front of the gate, inches away from Harry's face, stood a thin old woman with a giant stuffed vulture on a hat she wore. Behind and to the right of her was a small boy, about Harry's height, and likely his age.
"What was that?" Harry asked, looking around him. The old woman spoke up.
"That, Mr. Potter, is what it feels like to pass through a Fidelius Charm. My name is Augusta Longbottom and this is my grandson, Neville Longbottom. You will both be attending school together as first-years."
"Right." Severus greeted them, "Now, Harry hasn't been to Diagon Alley to get his things. Here is the key to his vault. Make sure that anything he buys has nothing to do with dark magic and will be used. Books are one thing I will bend on if it helps him learn useful spells others won't know. Make sure he gets an owl. I recommend he gets a wand holster for his wand arm."
"Anything else?" The aged woman asked. This is when Harry noticed that Neville appeared a little… nervous. Was he afraid of Snape?
"I don't think so. And Harry," He said, looking severely at him, "Do try not to do anything stupid." And with that final note, Snape semi-spun, disappearing with a SNAP!
-oOoOo-
The Mansion was, by Harry's standards, big. There were about seven bedrooms, four bathrooms, a library, and a sitting room. They weren't allowed to go into the library because Augusta was worried we may find a book of spells and hurt ourselves with it. There were lots of unfamiliar plants in the greenhouses. Neville loved to care for them. Many of them were thorny, which means that he cut his hands sometimes. Harry discovered that his abilities in growth magic allowed him to heal those cuts. Almost every day, Augusta made Harry train his ability to grow things. He advanced the growth of plants in the greenhouse and the flowers in the lawn. He noticed that he was getting faster at it.
At this time, Harry was also thinking about what Snape told him about his parent's deaths. He felt sadness, yes, but also anger. Why would he want to be powerful? And, why does he have to be evil in order to be powerful? Also, if he was so powerful, then why didn't he just send someone else to kill his parents, rather than do the deed personally? After all, the reason why he wanted to kill them so much was because they publicly resisted them. It would make more sense to use the pawns rather than the king, wouldn't it?
The weeks passed quickly and it soon became two days before September first. Harry awoke to the sound of Augusta yelling in a voice that reflected a powerful young woman, rather than a weak and aging one,
"Wake up! I want you up in fifteen minutes and downstairs!" They got there in five and served themselves breakfast. Augusta brought down two big book bags and was dressed in a green suit, big red handbag, and vulture-adorned cap. "We're going to Diagon Alley. Anything you can fit into one of those book bags are fair-game. Choose wisely."
With that, she strode out the door and we followed, grabbing a book bag each. Once leaving the gate of the mansion, Harry soon felt himself passing the wards. At the exact same time, Augusta stuck out her arms and said "Grab on." They did. One slight twitch later, Harry felt like he was being pulled through a straw again, and fell onto the ground afterwards. It wasn't getting any more comfortable for him. He could see that Neville took it only slightly better than he did. Augusta's voice rang out again, "Come on, Harry. You should be used to this by now."
"Yes, Augusta." Harry said.
"And don't talk to me like you're my slave."
"Alright." Harry said as he looked up. They landed in a pub that seemed to be filled with all sorts of strange people. Mostly people in hoods.
"Right this way." Augusta said boldly, firmly taking each by the hand and drilling through the crowd like human mining equipment. Harry felt himself brush a hand on the way, which almost immediately resulted in a hissing noise and a scream of pain. Harry looked back and saw a man in a violet turban. Augusta ignored it and plowed on. Given her attitude, Harry respected her as a leader and didn't complain. She took a door into a side-yard of sorts. It was enclosed by brick walls. Augusta walked right up to the furthest brick wall and poked a single brick with her wand. She went back to Harry and Neville, grabbing their hands just as the bricks in the wall started shifting. An archway opened up that was big enough to allow them through. Augusta went through before all of the bricks settled.
Harry couldn't help but intone, "Wow."
While plowing through the crowd, Augusta spoke to Harry. "Harry, this is Diagon Alley. In each shop we visit, I will let you explore a little after you get all of the materials you need from that store. But first, we must go to Gringotts to get our money."
With that, she led them directly into a Greek-looking bank that appeared as if it were held up by puppet strings. When they entered, Harry was shocked that there were strange, yet humanoid creatures in suits behind the counters like tellers. Augusta approached one of these tellers, told them that she was making withdrawals from the Potter and Longbottom vaults. They asked for a key and she showed them. Then they led them to an underground metal cart that was hooked up to a pair of rails. They sat in the cart and a teller pushed a big lever forward, forcing the cart to move forward at incredible speeds. Harry asked Augusta,
"What are the tellers?"
"Goblins, Harry, and they are clever. Never mess with a Goblin."
When on the way to the Longbottom Vault, Harry saw Snape stepping out of a cart in front of vault 317. He had the instinct to shout, 'Hello professor!', but his cart was going too fast. The ride was quick. They got their gold while Harry stayed in the cart. Then they went to Harry's vault. He didn't know what to expect, but he knew that his initial thoughts were blown completely out of the water. He gasped at a sea of what looked like gold, silver, and bronze. Augusta spoke up, remembering how Harry was raised.
"The bronze ones are Knuts, silver are sickles, and gold are galleons. It's no use wasting space on the bronze ones, just get a bunch of gold ones and let's go." Harry did what she said, but her 'wasting space' comment reminded her of the Dursleys and of Dudley, which made him think of how he isn't going to see him until next year. Now that was a thought. How much can happen to a person in a year? How much will happen to him in a year?
Of all of the things Harry could have felt at someone's 'wasting space' comment, homesickness wasn't a feeling he seemed likely to feel, but he did. Perhaps it was because Dudley had been his only friend -ever- before meeting Neville. Not even Dudley's friends liked Harry (which is why they didn't come to the zoo with them).
Augusta's "Hurry up, Harry!" Made him realize that he had been so deep in thought that he had begun to simply stand there, thinking. Coming to his senses, he stuck a few more handfuls of gold into his pockets. They got to the surface and shoved through the crowd once more, Neville looking a little green from the ride. They passed Snape, who stuffed a letter into Harry's pocket when they passed. On the letter, it said, "Read alone, burn afterward, tell only those you trust, use it wisely."
Maybe he would read it on the train. Harry looked around and no one noticed the letter. The first stop they made was at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. He got inside and a short, smiling woman wearing pale violet clothes asked,
"Hogwarts, dears? Got the lot here - another one being fitted up just now, in fact."
Harry walked in front of Augusta, Neville close behind. Soon, they were in the back of the shop and standing on stools with people sizing out clothes to fit them perfectly. There was a third person being fitted, this one a girl.
"Hello, who are you?" She said to Harry.
"Harry. Harry Potter."
Her eyes widened at this. "Are you, really? Well, my name is Hermione Granger. Who are you?" She asked Neville.
"Neville Longbottom."
"Nice to meet you, Neville. Harry, is everything I read about you true?"
"Read about me? What do you mean?"
"You don't know? No one ever told you? Harry, everyone in the wizarding world knows your name! You can't tell me you don't know why."
"Is it because of Voldemort?"
"Is that 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's' real name? All of the books I've read don't tell me his name."
"Yes. It is because of Voldemort and Voldemort is his name." Neville interjected. "How can anyone not know that? Wait….Were you born into a family of Muggles?"
"What's a Muggle?" Harry asked, thinking it was a derogatory term.
"Non-magic folk. You would probably call them 'normal' people." Neville quickly replied, using the Dursley's word for anything as boring, prideful, or stupid as them.
"Anyway." Interrupted Harry, "What have you read about me?"
"Lots of things. All of them different. It's darn near impossible to get a straight story. However, the two most widely supported stories I've read are that when Voldemort launched a spell at you, it collapsed, blew up your house and you with it. That is the most supported one because you were nowhere to be found and there's a giant hole in your house. The second most supported theory is that someone smuggled you out of the house after the incident and put you in hiding. Obviously, the second one is likely more true, but that brings up a huge question. How did you survive?"
"Sorry, Hermione, I can't remember." The group laughed at this.
"I can't believe I just laughed at a joke told by Harry Potter." Said Hermione, apparently awed.
"I'm very famous, aren't I?"
"You don't know the half of it." She said, smiling. A moment went by, and then, "By the way, do you have a scar on your forehead?"
"Yeah," said Harry, pushing up his hair to reveal a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. They just stared for a moment. Harry's face blushed and they looked away, laughing. When Harry was finished being sized, he and Neville fit their robes into their bags. Harry asked Madam Malkins;
"Do you sell any wand holsters?"
"Yes. Do you have a wand yet?"
"No."
"Well, the shape of every wand is different, so I will get you one when you have one."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, dear."
They went to Flourish and Blotts after that. Harry got all of the required books, then a book on light magic called, 'A Light in the Darkness: A Spell book of Light Magic' and another one on wandless magic called, 'A Complete Guide to Unaided Magic, book 1.' The last one, despite being a huge book, was slightly damaged and stuffed behind a massive pile of books in the 'half-off' section, only costing a Knut. The first one was much smaller, yet cost fifteen galleons. Augusta was actually surprised that the second book cost so little. Apparently books on light magic are hard to come by.
"Light magic may be powerful, but it is temperamental at best. Try anything more complicated than healing broken bones or casting a patronus and the spell will either not work or blow your target to smithereens, depending on how hard you're trying. Don't get into that book until you're absolutely sure you can handle it."
"OK, Augusta," Harry said, glad for the warning. He would hate to try to heal someone just to blow them up.
Next, they went to several other shops to get their potions supplies. Harry didn't really pay attention to it, as he was daydreaming about what he might find out about when he reads the book on wandless magic. Harry came to his senses when they entered a shop that sold wands called Ollivander's. Harry was waiting for this moment.
The inside of the store looked like a bunch of giant bookshelves stocked with long rectangular boxes and smelled like a mixture of wood shavings and fireplaces. A man walked out from behind one of these bookshelves and looked at us.
"Hello Augusta, nice to see you again. How's that wand suiting you?"
"Yes, Ollivander, and it suits me well. However, sometimes it doesn't cooperate, nor does something I hadn't expected."
Ollivander gave her the wand back, took out his own wand, cast a silent spell on Neville, who vainly flinched in surprise, and then went around the room, taking boxes out of their slots seemingly at random. As he was doing this, he began to speak about Augusta's wand and quickly diverged into a lecture.
"Yes, well, that's why I don't make wands with Veela hair anymore. If you aren't loyal to that wand and treat it badly, it rebels against you. People sitting on them, not using a proper dueling holster, not cleaning, repairing, or polishing them. Most people break their first wand like a stick just by sitting on it in their first year, and with a Veela wand, if you are inconsiderate enough to sit on it (and fail to break it), then it stops working properly for quite a while. Maybe it even blows something up. If I had a Veela wand, I would have probably gotten myself blown up trying to cast a simple spell just because of how many wands I handle every day. However, there is one interesting thing about Veela wands. If you are bonded to a Veela and have a wand with one of their hairs as its core, it never gets temperamental and is very powerful, getting more powerful the closer you are to your bondmate. Isn't that interesting?"
Not waiting for an answer, he moved on.
"Speaking of which. If ever one of you wants a wand made out of a specific core and with a specific wood, I will gladly oblige. Also, though I may not offer wands quite like it, I can create a wand with two or more cores mixed together, as long as each core is different. Of course, some cores don't work well with others. Dragon heartstring refuses to work with anything and kelpie hair will only work with the weaker cores."
Harry suddenly asked, engaged in the subject, "Are you able to take the core out of an old wand and then put that core and two other cores into a new wand?"
Ollivander, obviously pleased that someone showed interest, answered, "Yes. In fact, many would prefer it this way, as the personality of the old wand is mixed with the two new cores on top of those core's behavior when the cores are fused, making the transition easier."
"Do many people do that?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Either because they don't know about it or because they fear that their wand may be too hard to get used to anyway. It takes a great wizard to obtain the cores powerful enough, and those looking for the best effects retrieve them themselves in order to begin the magical bond between wand and wizard. However, those who are already great usually feel little need to reduce their power now for the purpose of having what turns out only to be a slightly more powerful, albeit interesting, wand in the future."
"What cores are there, exactly?"
"I can make a wand core out of anything from a magical creature, as long as it is long. However, if you are custom-making a wand, I highly recommend choosing cores whose origin creature has a personality similar to yours. Otherwise, you may find your new wand difficult to get along with or understand. It's the same with the wood, though I can supply that if you wish. The wood doesn't affect the power or behavior as much, but some have reported differences."
"Are there any other ways to make a wand more powerful?"
"You can't do anything special to that effect, but you can make it more reliable. I haven't done anything unique to my wand, but I made it myself, polish it once a week, and always keep it in a dueling holster except when I'm sleeping. If I did anything else to it, I wouldn't notice any big changes."
resume edits
"Why are you willingly telling me all this? Aren't these supposed to be trade secrets or something?"
"Trade secrets? And I suppose you can't just take a class to find this out on your own? And if there was anything I were sure about, it is that you are going to come across at least a few unique magical creatures, some of which may be worthy of your second wand. What I want you to do, Harry, is to collect as many string-like materials from as many uniquely magical creatures as possible. Bag and label each one. I want to know which creature you get it from and what part of the creature it is. If you want a specific wood used, tell me or just bring me the wood, but make sure the wood is magical first. Also, it would make it much easier to bond the cores if you were able to extract a unique fluid of some kind from one of the creatures you harvest. Here, that'll help."
He gave Harry a rather large book called, "Ollivander's guide to wand cores and woods".
"Th-Thank-you, sir. Why are you doing all of this for me?"
"I suppose you are asking what I have to gain from all of this."
"Yes, sir."
"I want to further my research. I'm old and can't go get rare cores on my own, so I need someone to get them for me. Any cores and wood you don't need I will gladly take off your hands. In exchange, I will make your new wand for free. But, before you do anything about it, read the necessary pages of that book."
"Thank you," said Harry.
While this conversation had occurred, Ollivander had stacked up a couple dozen boxes in two neat pyramids. Harry's pile contained most of them. "Right, then. First Neville. What I want you to do is take each wand in front of you, one at a time, and give it a wave. I will tell you if it works."
"Sir, how did you know which wands to get down?" Asked Neville
"I cast a silent spell on each of you to allow me to sense your personality, and then I pick out all of the wands that have a similar personality."
"Cool." Neville replied.
Several broken vases, set fires, and disturbed book-shelves later, Neville got his wand.
"Good, Neville, good. That'll be seven galleons. Now, Harry, before you start on your pile, I want you to try this wand, as I feel you already have a connection to it." Oliver said, receiving payment for Neville's wand and giving Harry a wand. Harry waved the wand and it unleashed a small shower of gold and red sparks, rather than breaking something.
"Well, that certainly makes my job a whole lot easier." Ollivander remarked, raising his eyebrows at the pile of wands in front of Harry. He lazily waved his wand and they went back to their places on the shelves. Neville spoke up.
"S-s-sorry for breaking your vase several times."
"I don't think that there is a witch or wizard out there with one of my wands, excluding Harry, that hasn't broken that vase at least twice." Ollivander said humorously. "And, apology accepted."
Harry gave Ollivander seven Galleons, said goodbye, and then went to the Magical Menagerie.
AN: I have been told how many errors are in this first chapter. I found a lot, and changed them.