Chapter 7: McLaughlin's Used Wands

Diagon Alley was not as cheerful as Harry had remembered it to have once been. People were clustered close together with their families in groups – glancing around with cautious and frightful eyes. As Harry observed his surroundings, he recalled the Diagon Alley he had visited years ago – when he had been only eleven and had first set his eyes on it. It had been a wonderful place – bursting with life, but now it was grim and grey – dead with an ambiance of fear.

Harry noted that everyone that looked his way – looked with eyes befuddled in surprise that would soon turn into loath. He had been accustomed to having people stare at him pleasantly or with hate, but he had never had so many people stare at him before. Every individual he passed by had their eyes glued on the figure that trudged beside him – Bellatrix, and then their eyes glided towards his way and Tonks. Of course, it was completely rational for people to stare so at Bellatrix Black –formerly Lestrange just a meager few days ago. Nevertheless, Harry couldn't help but feel uncomfortable and slightly enraged too, because he didn't want people to assume that he in any form or way associated with the notorious witch (who seemed to be quite apathetic towards the impertinent glowers people were throwing her way).

Soon enough, the group of three began to stroll by Ollivianders Wandshop. They had already known it would be closed, and so they were heading for McLaughlin's Used Wands instead. As they walked past the shop, Bellatrix viewed a wooden board that had 'closed' written on it in black calligraphy, placed in front of the shop's grimy front-window. She could only see faint outlines of cardboard boxes that held wands of all kinds within them through the window.

She suddenly began to recall the first time she had entered Ollivianders with her father. She had been, of course, eleven like every witch and wizard when she had been obtaining her first wand. Her heart had been racing, as she had viewed the pilasters of cardboard boxes that held wands of every kind within them. She recalled how she had desperately wanted to flee — she had been so frightened that the type of wand that would select her would disappoint her father—

And he had been disappointed.

The walnut wand that Harry had broken, had not been the wand that had chosen her. It had been the wand that her father had selected, after he had deemed it as a worthier wand than the one that had designated her as its master. Bellatrix could not even evoke to mind what wood and core type the wand that had selected her had been, for her father had quickly yanked it out of her hands. Her body inadvertently winced, as she remembered her father's cold hard face, and his fingers as they had brushed along her palms when he had taken the wand out of her hold – she had not noticed that she had winced, but Harry had.

Harry was bewildered as he stared at the dark-haired witch who strolled between him and Tonks - why had she winced? He began to wonder, while Tonks raised her finger to point at a corner-store that seemed quite uninviting. "That's McLaughlin's – course his wands aren't new – they're used wands," the Metamorphmagus began, "but it's all we've got – all of Ollivianders branches are closed." Harry observed McLaughlin's, and noted that he had never seen the shop before. "Everyone else who wants a new wand has to order one from other countries. It takes a hefty mount of time to order a wand, and you two need your wands immediately considering the fact that — well you know — since your names are probably the first ones on You-Know-Whose hit-list," she finished.

Tonks strolled forwards, and opened the front door of McLaughlin's with one hand. Harry and Bellatrix soon followed her in. As soon as the three of them had stepped inside the shop, a blast of dust winged into their nostrils, and they began to cough riotously. Bellatrix squinted her eyes, and blinked a few times to clear her eyes of dust before absorbing her new surroundings.

The place was as much unorganized as Ollivianders was ordered – there were cardboard boxes that probably held used wands within them, stacked on top of each other sloppily. At the very end of the shop, Bellatrix noticed an elderly man with a head full of grey hair rummaging through a few piles of the boxes.

"Ahem," Bellatrix suddenly heard Tonks speak. The man turned around immediately on hearing Tonks's voice. A thin smile surfaced on his face. He didn't seem dazed or taken aback by seeing the 'notorious' Bellatrix Black. His expression was in blunt contrast to that of the multitude of people whom had set their eyes on her, while she, Harry and Tonks had been walking through the streets of Diagon Alley.

"Ah," he began, smiling warmly, "what may I owe this pleasure to?" he asked, holding firmly onto his crane as he hobbled forwards from the end of the aisle he had been standing at, and neared them

"Wands," Harry responded, resentfully. He suddenly discerned, that he did not have any sort of desire to get a new wand. Letting go of a broken wand, was like letting go of a dead loved one and moving on –

Sirius.

He tensed, as he reeled his head around to his left where Bellatrix stood. Her arms were wrapped around her chest, and her eyes were vacant and expressionless. She was beholding and absorbing her surroundings with her dark eyes, quite quietly. She had been this way – quiet and expressionless - since an hour or two ago, around the time Tonks had asked her how she had managed to break the Permanent Sticking Charm that had been placed on Aunt Walburga's portrait.

"Ah, I see – of course – of course," the elderly shop owner's voice reeled Harry out of his thoughts. Harry's green eyes fleeted around to where he had heard him. He found the old man standing right before him, with his hand held out.

Harry smiled at the elderly man, and quickly took his hand in his and shook it. The man grinned in return, and then removed his hand from his hold and beamed at Bellatrix, but she stared at him blankly. However, the man didn't seem to mind or be offended by her conduct towards him. He rotated around to Tonks and gave her the same smile that he had given both to Harry and Bellatrix.

Tonks grinned warmly at him. "So who is it out of you three that is need of a wand?" he asked her.

She weakly chortled. "Oh, I'm afraid it's not me who needs a wand – it's them two," she said, pointing at Bellatrix and Harry with her eyes.

''Would you like go first, madam?" the elderly shop owner asked. Bellatrix glared with scrutinizing eyes at the old man – as if sifting him to see if he was trustworthy or not, in all her years that she had spent serving the Dark Lord she had become aware of the hypocrisy and duplicity of human beings. "I don't want a used wand," she finally responded, icily. "He can go first if he wishes to," she said sourly, glaring at Harry with her dark eyes that simmered in fury whenever they landed on him. Tonks had grimaced at Bellatrix's response. It had taken great amount of energy on her part to persuade Bellatrix into coming along with her and Harry to Diagon Alley to get a wand.

"Ah," the shop owner began, "I've been accustomed to such a response. But madam, in such times – it is a simply a necessity to have a wand by your side at all times." The elderly man waited for Bellatrix to respond, but she didn't. She was staring around the shop with an apathetic demeanor. Harry felt offended by how Bellatrix had acted with the clearly warm, kind-hearted shop owner, and so he turned around to the man, and smiled at him warmly – in order to apologize on Bellatrix's behalf. However, he noted once again that the man did not seem a bit offended or upset by her conduct towards him.

Harry watched the elderly man as he began to speak once more to Bellatrix – "Many doubt that an old and used wand can compare well to a new one – but they are wrong. You see, back – very long ago – wands were not made in the rate they are today, mainly because old and used wands were much more in demand. Old wands are much more powerful and useful – as you see a wand only gets better as it is used – much like how one can sing better if they continued to perfect and use their vocal chords," the elderly man paused, and while he did, Harry noted that what he had said had caught Bellatrix's interest. The man continued, "Of course, as people began to focus more on appearances and less on performance – the demand for old wands greatly weakened," he finished off, a bit bitterly – indirectly explaining why Ollivianders ancestral business had outpaced his.

"Alright," Bellatrix hesitantly began, "I would like a wand then…"

"Brilliant!" the shopkeeper exclaimed. "To get a head start – what wand-core and wand-wood was your old wand?"

Harry noted that Bellatrix had suddenly stiffened. Her eyebrows had furrowed, and her eyes had begun to form an expression as though she was remembering a distressing memory. "The wand that I had before had not chosen me, it had been chosen by my father," she said with her usual emotionally vacant voice – though Harry had caught her say the word 'father' with a bitter ting.

"Ah, I see…" the man began, "…then we must start from scratch! Please, do as I say," he said to Bellatrix, who clearly did not seem to appreciate being ordered around.

The three of them watched the elderly man walk to his shop's front-desk. "Come here, please," he said to Bellatrix, as he removed a box that had been seated inside one of its drawers.

Bellatrix neared the counter, and she viewed the man place the large box onto the desk. She noted there were around thirty or so wands inside the box. "These are not yet wands. They're woods only – they do not have a core yet. They're samples to narrow down your 'true' wand," he said. "Please, pick up each one individually – you'll know on your own which wand wood is your 'true' type." Bellatrix nodded, and soon placed her slender white hand into the box. She lifted a walnut wand-wood, believing that it would be her true wand-wood, since she had used a walnut wand for years.

The elderly man quickly shook his head. "No—" he hastily began, "I do not believe that's the wand-wood for you!" Bellatrix felt the elderly man's fingers brush on the skin of her palms, as he quickly removed the wand-wood from her hold. Suddenly, she remembered her father's fingers as they had brushed against her palms, when he had removed the wand that had selected her as its master.

Meanwhile, Harry (who had been standing still next to Tonks) noticed how Bellatrix's eyes had lingered for a second too long on her palm that had been holding the wand-wood. "I… I had a walnut wand," he heard her speak. Her voice had been soft – the way he had heard it when they had been in front of the fireplace, and also just a few hours ago when she had said, 'Nothing's permanent'. However, Bellatrix had quickly returned to her usual demeanor. Harry watched her, as she continued to pick up each wand-wood — holding it in her hands for a few seconds, then plopping it down onto the desk in the growing pile of wand-woods.

Finally, the only wand-wood left in the box was hawthorn. She slid her hand into the box, and her slender fingers curled around the wand-wood. Suddenly, she felt warmth tingle from her fingers up to her arm. A faint smile flickered on her face for a few seconds – Harry had noticed the smile and so had the elderly man – though she herself hadn't. "Ah," the man kindly grinned. "your wand-wood?"

"Yes, I presume," she replied coolly, the smile untraceable on her now cold-face.

The elderly man grasped the hawthorn wand-wood from her hand, and placed it back into the ornate box it had been in a moment ago. While all this occurred, Harry had the image of the warm smile that had flickered for a millisecond on Bellatrix's face glued in his mind – he did not understand why it was there, and he tried his best to force it out.

The elderly man swished his wand, and suddenly three cardboard boxes came into view on top of the front-desk, replacing the ornate wooden box that held all the wand-woods. The man opened the three cardboard boxes, and removed the wands that had been placed individually in each of them. "Please try these three first – to narrow down your hawthorn wand's core-type," he said warmly, gesturing Bellatrix with a swift motion of his aged hand to try them.

Bellatrix nodded, and began to pick up one of the three wands. Although, she felt the familiar warm feeling rush through the tips of her fingers – the man shook his head. She dropped the wand onto the desk, and picked up the other one with her slender white hand, but the elderly man began to shake his head again – and so it was quite apparent that the wand-core that her wand would have would be of the remaining wand left on the desk. Slowly, she lowered her slender hand, and her ivory-skinned fingers wrapped around the wand — a faint spark of white light flashed out of the wand's end.

The elderly man's face flashed in delight. He seized the wand from her hand and said, "Dragon heartstring! Ah, a very powerful core-type! Especially well-suited for extravagant and powerful spells!"

Bellatrix recalled that her old wand (though it had been made out of walnut) had also had a dragon heartstring as its core. She watched the man curiously, as he then incanted another spell. All the hawthorn wands that had dragon heartstrings as their cores appeared on top of the counter, and the three wands she had previously picked up vanished before her eyes. "Please, pick up each wand!" the man smiled.

Bellatrix nodded weakly, and began to pick up each wand, and with each wand she picked she found the elderly man shaking his head. At last, she had run through every wand, and had arrived to the very last wand that she had not as of yet picked up. The wand hadn't been put into a cardboard box. It had been positioned in a glass encasement. She looked up at the man with a tilted eyebrow lifted in curiosity, and noticed that he had a faint frown on his usually warm and upbeat face. The man opened the glass box with a trembling hand, as she neared it.

Her eyes were glued on the wand for a minute or two. It had 'A.F' carved on it horizontally in simple handwriting – perhaps by the individual whom the wand had belonged to when he or she had been a child. She dropped her lean hand into the glass box, and her fingertips brushed the wand for a second or two. A very warm feeling that was quite pleasant thundered through her, as her fingers touched the wand, but she suddenly backed her hand away.

There was something familiar about the wand.

She quickly swept the irrational thought aside, and placed her hand into the box. Her fingers curled along the wand, and she lifted it from its glass encasement. She glared at the 'A.F' carved on it, but her attention suddenly changed directions when red-green-blue sparks began to fly wildly everywhere from the wand.

"How peculiar," she unexpectedly heard the elderly man mumble. Bellatrix turned around to view him, and watched from the corner of her eyes, as the sparks emitting from the tip of the wand she was holding ceased to stop. The elderly man did not have to explain that the wand had chosen her, it was very apparent that it had – "This wand you're holding," he began, "belonged to Alice Longbottom."

Her firm hold on the wand wavered. Her legs began to feel weak – images of Alice's distressed and agonized face, as she incanted Crucio upon Crucio flashed through her mind. Her bosom began to rise and deflate harshly, she quickly threw the wand back into the glass box, took a few steps back, and began to shake her head. Harry watched with large eyes, as her expressionless eyes began to burn with something he couldn't comprehend. "No," he heard her croak, "it can't be."

"I had received it after you – after Alice Longbottom had turned mentally unbalanced. Augusta Longbottom – my dear friend - had given me this wand, because I had always told Alice, her daughter-in-law, how beautifully carved it had been, and how much I would have loved to have it in my wand collection. Augusta had informed me that Alice had said to her that she would have liked me to have the wand – if anything ever occurred to her and she could no longer use it," the man's face had morphed into an expression that Harry could understand – pure loath. Though, the man tried his best to remain in his calm and warm demeanor, Harry could tell that he did not like the notion of Bellatrix having Alice's wand— and neither did Harry. "I do not know why – but this wand has come here out of its own accord – it was locked quite safely and securely at my home with my other collections—"

"You can have the wand," Bellatrix interjected. "I don't want it!"

"No – this wand has chosen you. It is yours now," the man beamed, his face suddenly lightening back into a warmer manifestation.

Bellatrix gaped with alarm at the wand she had thrown back into the glass box. As she stared at the wand in the box, the elderly man began to explain to her the attributes of it, "Hawthorn wands are quite strange and contradictory, as full as paradoxes as the tree that gave it birth, whose leaves and blossoms heal, and yet whose cut branches smell of death," he said, "they are quite complex and intriguing — more often than not so are their owners. They are wands that are particularly adept at curses though they are very suited to healing magic as well." Bellatrix turned around and viewed the elderly man with a arched eyebrow, she had her arms wrapped around her bosom — her bosom was still rising and deflating riotously.

"Please — I have a son — a baby!" Alice pleaded—

She shook her head, thrusting the memory as best as she could into the furthest reaches of her mind.

Harry watched her with confusion and interest, while he listened to the elderly man return to describing the features of the wand —Neville's mother's wand, "Hawthorn wands seem most at home with an individual that is passing through a period of unrest or a person with a conflicted nature…" Was Bellatrix passing through a period of turmoil? Harry could not help but wonder. He looked around at Tonks, and noticed that she too seemed to be just as interested as he was in what she had heard the elderly man say. "… Hawthorn wands also have a peculiarity; their spells can – when badly handled – backfire, thus it is very important for a hawthorn wand to only be given to a witch or wizard of proven talent — but I am sure madam, that you are quite capable at handling a hawthorn wand," the man smiled, and soon reeled his head around to Harry, while Bellatrix absorbed all the knowledge he had given her on the wand.

"It is your turn, young man," the shopkeeper said to Harry, and then began to walk towards the glass box stationed on the counter. He grasped the wand Bellatrix had thrown into it feverishly, strolled back and gave it to her. Her hand hesitantly grabbed the wand from his hold, and her eyes glided over the 'A.F' that had been engraved over it horizontally in child's handwriting – when Alice had been a child she had carved her name on the wand.

Another half an hour or so passed by, and the elderly man had taken the same steps to find Harry's new wand. The wand that had chosen him was a yew wand — Voldemort's wand had been made out of yew. He began to breathe harshly – the old man had caught on. "Yew wands are among the rarer kind; and their ideal matches are likewise unusual. Yew wands are best suited for spells that revolve around the Dark Arts – but that does not mean the owner may be Dark. The wizard or witch best suited to a yew wand tends to be quite a fierce protector of others – especially their loved ones. Wands made out of yew have been found in the possession of heroes quite as often as villains. Do not think young man that you will turn Dark because of a wand – that is nonsensical," the man finished.

Harry gave a nervous laugh and nodded his head jaggedly. "I had a holly wand before," he mumbled. "Why is it that a yew wand has chosen me now?"

"Ah, holly and yew are quite alike – quite alike," he mumbled, "but I have been studying wand-woods and wand-cores for years – and I do believe that the wand you're now holding is your 'true' wand. Olliviander stopped selling yew wands, because he had given You-Know-Who one. He was afraid of having another individual in possession of such a wand-wood that is greatly adept at the Dark Arts. Nevertheless, you asked why the holly wand had chosen you. The holly wand was your second-best wand. Meaning, it was the wand most suitable to your nature after the one you're currently holding."

Harry watched the elderly man turn around to Bellatrix, and then back to him. "I find it quite peculiar that the wand you're holding and the wand in madam's possession," he referred to Bellatrix, "are both brother-wands. They both have their cores taken from the same dragon..." he let the information sink in, and then continued onto mumble, "interesting – quite interesting."

'Great' Harry said in his head, as he stared at the yew wand that he held with a tight hold. Why did he always have someone else with a wand that had the same wand core as his? And always – they always had to be people he deplored! He grimaced, and turned around to Bellatrix, who had been far too lost in thought to have noticed that the elderly man had said that she and Harry had brother-wands.

Soon enough, Tonks had paid the elderly man. She turned around to Harry, "Harry, school's starting soon. Since we're already here at Diagon Alley– we might as well do your school shopping." Harry blandly nodded in response, and Tonks beheld him as he stared back at his wand with furrowed eyebrows. Tonks turned her view to Bellatrix who seemed spaced-out and rather adrift in her thoughts. Bellatrix's soft-featured face was now converted into its usual empty mien, while her large and dark eyes were glazed with a bearing that Tonks could not gauge — Tonks found it quite strange that Bellatrix's and Harry's wands had turned out to be brother-wands, but she quickly brushed the thought aside, swiftly reckoning it as just a mere coincidence and nothing more.

Author's Note: So here's chapter 7. I hope you enjoyed this bit. Please feel free to leave a review, and tell me what you think of my work. I won't be updating so quickly anymore, because - well - of the blasted thing called school. However, I will *try* my best to update twice or once a week, but I still have to finish reading the Deathly Hallows, so you may find that I'll be gone for a few days or so to finish reading it in order to continue this story. However, I do believe that I will complete chapter 8 this week and upload it sometime next week (during the weekend, hopefully).

P.S — To 'Guest', I've already written this in my previous chapter, but I will do so here as well in case you haven't read it. I fixed the paragraphs where 'dreadfully' had been written far too much - you're right, after I had re-read the chapter I too came to the conclusion that it read 'oddly'.