AN: Things get heavy here...
. . .
Standing outside the Shrieking Shack, Harry watched as the number on the sign shimmered, and increased by one.
The Shrieking Shack
Makers of Fine Wands for
218 years
Another year gone, another year spent alone in his shop.
With a bitter sweet smile, he looked around and watched as the late July sun rose in the horizon, casting long shadows over the village as it bathed everything in golden light.
He was 238 now, and internally grateful he opened the shop on his birthday, otherwise he'd never remember his age.
Turning slightly, he eyed the practically glowing towers of Hogwarts. The world had changed. All of his friends had long since passed, the last being Hagrid at a whopping 239.
He kept track of their families, doing his best to not get too involved. He couldn't handle the loss of someone like that again…
The first had been Headmistress Granger-Weasley, heart attack. She had been the cementing factor of his own immortality. It was easy to forget when he couldn't see how young he looked compared to his friends. He was forever in his prime, while they were turning frail and gray.
He'd eternally hate the day he became the Master of Death.
Shaking his head, he entered his shop, and basked in the feeling of the air. It was like a library mixed with something unknown, something… magical. The circular shop front had bookcases reaching the ceiling, each shelf containing dozens of boxes, and each box containing a wand.
He could still remember his very first creation.
Wisteria, 11 inches, with a Hippogriff Hair core. The thing was by no means the best wand he had made, nor was it all that powerful. But it was still one of his favorites. It was a representation of himself.
With a wood that was a known symbol of love and immortality, and a hair of a creature more stubborn than he was, it suited him quite well… but it had not chosen him.
No, that honor went to a small muggle-born girl named Emi Gael. It was no surprise that he saw a lot of himself in her. Thin as a rail, jumpy, baggy clothes… to think that was 217 years ago…
The UK was nearly back to a hundred percent, had a war hero auror for a leader, and was seeing change– real change, for the first time since the middle ages. It was the turn of the century, and the Wizarding World was welcoming the return of the reformed country with open arms.
He had only been open for a few months, and with the price of three galleons a wand, his customers were obviously less than wealthy.
Thankfully, he was able to keep his new business venture on the down low– and by that he meant down low, very low, word of mouth, need to know, and never tell a soul about who makes the wands or I'll find you– kind of low, otherwise he'd be swarmed by the rabid public.
Hence his new home and shop being in the Shrieking Shack. No one went there, it was out of the way, and was all around, generally, avoided.
A quick meeting with the now Headmistress Mcgonagall explaining his desire to open a shop to sell quality wands at well under market value, and the deed was signed, swapped, and in his vault before he could even attempt to persuade her.
Her reason? She was tired of nearly bankrupting families by taking them to Ollivander's, and even more tired of seeing children do poorly in classes because they had an ill matched wand. She even offered to let him harvest renewable components from the forest, something he readily accepted.
Unfortunately, the Shrieking Shack was in… less than stellar condition to say the least. Moony had seen to that.
But a call to the Weasley's got him a team of red heads who knew a thing or two about keeping a dilapidated building together.
They made a day of it, and threw a big party to celebrate when they were finished.
For their work, because they wouldn't take any real compensation, he gave them a legacy pass to his shop– something he could actually ensure as an immortal. Every generation of Weasley would be able to come to the Shack and be given a wand free of charge, no matter if the year was 2000 or 20,000– if they had Weasley blood, they get a wand.
All of their work culminated in a warm, if a bit dark, shop-slash-home for himself.
It was nothing new though, having lived in Grimmauld Place for the past two years. But unlike that old place, the Shack was… happy, hopeful, even.
The chime of the door, paired with a nudge from the proximity ward, alerted him of a new customer.
With an excited smile, he stood from his workbench and cast a Notice Me Not charm. stepping into the storefront, he found Neville and a girl that made him freeze in his tracks.
If it weren't for her long brown hair, he would have thought it was his past self standing there shuffling awkwardly.
Squinting slightly, he tried focusing on seeing what wasn't there, to see the unseeing– something Luna had shown him how to do. He was by no means a master, but given time, he knew he could one day see the same greatness as her.
The girl's magic was… weak. It was so hollow compared to anything he had observed previously. She would never be a powerful witch, but there was a spark of determination, of will, a spark that made him smile.
Magic was far more than wands and power, and this girl was proof of that. She would most definitely excel in subjects that didn't require any foolish wand waving.
Upon seeing her skittish nature, he decided to change tactics. Ollivander had thoroughly scared him upon his introduction to the Wizarding World, and he had no wish to strike fear into the heart of a child.
Retreating to just behind the entrance to his workshop, he dropped his charm and entered the shop.
"Harry! I was just about to call for you." Neville greeted with a smile as they shared a firm handshake.
"Good to see you, Neville. Or should I say, Professor Longbottom?" He winked, smiling at the tinge of pink on the man's face. No matter how much confidence he gained, Neville would always be Neville.
Dutifully ignoring the teasing, Neville gestured to the girl who was trying to be invisible beside him.
"Harry, this is Emi Gael. Emi, this is Harry Potter, an old friend of mine, and probably the best wandmaker in the United Kingdom. He'll be giving you your wand today." Neville said kindly, receiving a nervous nod from the girl.
This time, it was Harry's turn to blush. He was nowhere near the best wandmaker in the UK, that title was still held by Ollivander, and would likely stay with him until he died. He also didn't miss the triumphant look Neville sent him, nor did he miss his target when he struck him with a stinging hex, eliciting a slight jump as the man stifled his laughter.
"Tell me, Miss Gael, what do you think of the Wizarding World so far?" He asked as he slowly turned on his heel, flicking his wand as he summoned three boxes from around the room, guiding them to the front counter.
At the lack of response, he looked over to where Emi was standing to find the girl looking at him with pure awe.
"Brilliant…" She muttered, making him share a chuckle with Neville, their laughter snapping her from her awed state as she ducked her head with a blush.
"I very much agree with you, Miss Gael." He soothed while leaning on the counter. "Believe it or not, I was right in your very shoes a short time ago. Freed from my relatives, and brought into a world full of colour, life, love, and– well, magic!" He said with a soft smile at the attentive girl.
"I too find it brilliant." He finished. Glancing at the grinning Neville, he winked at Emi, and twirled his wand. Suddenly a big, poofy armchair came into existence behind the Professor, and scooped him off his feet with a yelp.
"Do take a seat, Nev." He laughed, eliciting a giggle from Emi, cutting off Neville's rebuttal.
"You could have at least made it red…" The man grumbled as he got comfortable in the green chair, his words making Harry tsk.
"House unity, my friend! House unity!" He chastised, eliciting another string of giggles from the young girl that made the two men smile.
"Now then, how about we get down to business, shall we?" He asked a suddenly nervous Emi while he grabbed a wand from it's box.
Rolling the rich red wand, he gave it a quick examination, before flicking it at an unsuspecting Emi, eliciting a gasp as her clothes shrank to fit her, and became clean, all while turning purple and black as an H appeared on the shirt's chest.
"There we go, if you're going to Hogwarts, you need to sport some school pride!" He winked, before flipping the wand around, and offering it to her.
"Holly, 10 inches, with an Augurey feather core." He said as she grasped the handle. "Rather… languid." He added as an afterthought.
Seeing her just stare at it awkwardly, he smiled. "Give it a wave, Miss Gael." He prompted gently, eliciting a blush from the girl.
Holding it firmly, she waved it just as Harry himself had. It sputtered out some sparks, but it definitely hadn't chosen her.
"Hm.. not quite." He began calmly, while taking the wand from the saddened girl. "Though judging by the sparks, it wouldn't hinder your casting if you were forced to wield it. It liked you, it just seems to be waiting for someone else." He soothed while returning the wand to it's box.
"You see, Miss Gael, wands are alive." He began while retrieving the next wand and examining the lithe gray shaft. "They want to find the one that fits them exactly, the one that they can be with for the rest of their life. They have personalities, just like you and me. They want to find someone that compliments them, and them you." He explained, a lilt of enthusiasm in his voice.
Twirling the wand with a soft smile, he waved it at Emi, and her hair became clean and tangle free for the first time in months. Smiling gently at the girl, he offered the wand.
"Yew, 11 inches, Mooncalf hair core. A bit… wispy." He said. This time knowing what to do, Emi waved the grey stick– sharply tipping Neville backward in his chair and straight to the floor.
"Oh my God, Professor! I'm sorry!" The girl fretted fearfully while Harry laughed as Neville got up with an easy smile before righting the chair.
"No worries, Emi, I'm fine. This stuff happens when trying to find a wand. When I got my own, I just about destroyed Ollivander's!" Neville laughed as the girl's shoulders sagged in relief.
"Well we can safely say that's not it." Harry chuckled as he reclaimed the wand and returned it to it's box. Grabbing the final box, he smiled wistfully.
"This wand, Miss Gael, is a very special one." He began, catching her attention as he removed the dark toned wand. "While it's components aren't anything too special, it means a lot to me. You see, this is the very first wand I ever created." He said with a smile as he slowly examined the wand.
"Wisteria, 11 inches, with a Hippogriff Hair core. A tad frail, but completely unwavering." He said fondly before offering it to the girl.
With a reassuring nod, Emi grabbed the wand, and immediately her eyes widened before a calm fountain of purple sparks erupted from the wand and swirled about the girl like a warm embrace. Once they settled, she had tears falling from her eyes.
"It seems, you have found your partner, Miss Gael." Harry said warmly as she began happily waving the wand through the air, leaving a trail of sparks and stars in its wake.
"Now Miss Gael, allow me to give you some parting words of advice." Harry began as he returned the tried wands to the shelves with a flick of his wand, before leaning his back against the counter.
"You will need to work hard at Hogwarts, more so than your peers." He began calmly. "In the beginning, it will appear hopeless, but don't give up, okay? Never give up." He said, receiving a shaky nod from the girl.
"Your wand will help you greatly, not by amplifying your magic, but by encouraging you to be better, and to remind you of your unwavering will. If you ever find yourself alone, know that magic is with you, and nothing– no one, can take that away from you." He finished, receiving a wide eyed nod in return.
"Alright, Emi, we should be going now. It's getting late." Neville said as he got to his feet, banishing the conjured chair before tossing three galleons at Harry, who caught them with ease. For her part, Emi simply wilted with a nod.
Saying their goodbyes, Neville held the door open for his future student, and was about to follow her when he was halted by a firm grip on his arm. Turning, he found a very grim Harry.
"I don't know what it's like, Neville, and I don't want to, just get her out of there." He ordered, receiving a steely nod in return.
"It's her father–" Neville began with anger in his voice, but was stopped by the grip on his arm getting tighter.
"Neville… I can't get involved. I can't." He stressed painfully. Attachment… he couldn't do it, wouldn't do it. He wouldn't be able to bear it…
Neville's gaze turned sympathetic, before he nodded in understanding. "I know Harry. It'll be done." The man promised, making Harry's grip loosen, finally allowing him to go…
. . .
Climbing the stairs to his home above his shop, Harry looked to the mantle above the roaring fireplace. On display between a beautiful vine wand, and one of battered willow, was the wisteria wand of Emi Gael.
After her second year, she was brutally murdered by her father, who had been waiting outside Kings Cross to take her away from her foster family.
It had taken a month for her friends to contact anyone with their worries about her lack of communication, and another week to officially find her.
But they never found her father… He thought with grim satisfaction.
History, he found, was bloody. And being forced to live through it was a curse heavier than he could carry.
In a colorful world full of life, love, and magic, there too existed death, hatred, and depression.
And for him, while the world seemed to be brimming with the former, his life was plagued by the latter.
Downing his tumbler, Harry let his tears flow for those taken without cause. Those who had done nothing, and experienced nothing in their far too short lives, all while he was forced to see it all, to see everything.
If he could, he would gladly sacrifice himself and his eternity if it meant that they could live again. Even just one, one of the undeserving.
With a gut wrenching cry, Harry slammed his glass into the fire as a familiar touch caressed his back.
"Happy birthday, Master~"
. . .