4. Six

Persephone pushed open the door to Ollivander's as her red lips twisted up into a beatific smile for her mentor.

"Master Ollivander," she said respectfully, acknowledging his status. He smiled at her in response.

"Ah, Persephone of the rose, my dear riddle," he greeted. Persephone snorted.

"I'm hardly a riddle, I've known you since I was seven," she pointed out.

Ollivander's silver eyes took on a mysterious glow. "You were destined to be a riddle, little rose," he said simply. Persephone narrowed her hazel eyes as she tried to puzzle out the meaning behind his words. Ollivander's smile widened, laugh lines crinkling his ancient face.

"You are not ready for the answer, little rose, so you will not be able to find it." Persephone pursed her lips. She prided herself with thinking outside the box and not limiting herself to assumed rules; it was how she came to be Ollivander's student.

It had been a competition as it was required for all 'Masters' to have an apprentice, and Ollivander was about a century overdue. He had devised a test to find an apprentice with a skill he could value, as was tradition. He had chosen 'problem solving', prepared to be disappointed and written IX on a piece of parchment. Without using a wand and using only one line without taking the quill off the parchment, the contestants had to turn the IX into six. After a fortnight, no one had managed it. The numerous people had tried failingly to use wandless magic, which ruined the whole theory of 'use one line' as Ollivander looked on disapprovingly. Others tried to manipulate it into the Roman numeral for six, but only succeeded in the numeral for eight, IIX.

It was then a little girl with red hair and hazel eyes had taken one look at the rules then the parchment and had immediately picked up the quill and drew a single line without taking the point off the surface. Ollivander's eyebrows had risen far up on his forehead as he plucked the parchment away from her and swept his eyes over it before studying her intensely, an unspoken question in his eerie silver eyes.

"It worked," shrugged the girl. "My name is Persephone Lestrange, by the way. I have to go now, but I'll come to see you tomorrow for the details, "she said, running off to where her parents must be.

"No it isn't," Ollivander whispered to the retreating girl, an answer she would never hear. He put down the parchment and proceeded to take down all the signage that advertised the contest. He had found his apprentice.

Sitting innocently on the counter for any that wished to look was her entry. Drawn in an ornate, practised hand in front of the IX was a single 'S': SIX.

After all, who had said the line had to be straight?

Ollivander came back to himself and stared at his apprentice amusedly. He knew her so well he could almost hear the words she was thinking as she scolded herself internally. He had tutored her for years in potions, runes, spell crafting, magical theory, alchemy, wand lore and crafting. All the things her mother, father and uncle couldn't teach her. He let her stew for a moment before speaking.

"That is enough now, Persephone. Your fate is obviously not for you yet to know." Persephone's eyes narrowed dangerously. She hated being out of control of her own life.

"Oh really?" she mumbled. "We'll see about that." Ollivander sighed. The girl was always so damned stubborn!

"Shall we actually move on to your lesson?" enquired Ollivander, "or shall we mumble about currently unimportant things?"

"Unimportant!" Persephone exclaimed but followed him into the backroom where the majority of her lessons took place.

"Now, how far along are you?" asked Ollivander, moving a stack of books out of the way to leave the floor in between the stone fireplace and the shabby arm chair free, before reclining in the chair.

"I think I have it," she replied. "It was the claws I was having trouble with, but I have them now."

Ollivander nodded. "How long did you hold the form?"

"About thirteen hours." His eyebrows rose and Persephone blushed. "I was in front of the fireplace in my room and fell asleep."

"That must have given your parents quite the shock when they came to wake you up," he said drily and Persephone shrugged.

"They're used to finding strange experiments in my room. Father opened the door, took one look at me, shrugged and left."

Ollivander chuckled. "Go ahead then," he said, waving his hand indicatively.

Persephone's face took on a look of concentration for a second before her body began to morph. Within a second, a large black panther was in her place. Its fur was sleek and smooth, its strides graceful and precise as its muscles coiled beneath its coat as it walked. The feline's ears stood straight up, detecting every sound in the room and its tail moved constantly to give it perfect balance with every step it took. Its hazel eyes roamed the area, as if seeing it for the first time.

Ollivander smiled. "Well done, Persephone." The panther's ears twitched towards the sound. She loped up to him and placed a cat's version of a kiss on the back of his hand, which was on the armrest. He chuckled and scratched behind one of her ears. She purred appreciatively.

"Good kitten," Ollivander teased and Persephone growled at him. He smiled again, retracting his hand. "You can turn back now." Persephone shifted and looked at him expectantly.

"So?"

"You have mastered your animagus form. A gold star to you!"

"Sarcastic, frustrating bastard," said Persephone fondly.

"On that note, are you aware that you reached master status last month?" asked Ollivander nonchalantly and Persephone's mouth dropped open.

"You mean I've been without the trace for a whole month and you didn't tell me!" she screeched.

"I may have," Ollivander admitted. He ducked as a very thick book flew directly through where his head had been moments ago. Righting himself, he smiled pleasantly at her. "Have a lovely day," he said cheerfully before ducking into his crafting room which was warded so that only he could enter. Persephone scowled after him before dropping into his vacated chair.

Ollivander had talked about a fate she had. Destined to be a riddle, he said. Couldn't fight it, he said. Won't figure it out to the time is right.

Great.

It wasn't the first time Ollivander had dropped hints of what was to come. At one point he had even commented that it would be a momentous occasion on the day she met the owner of the brother of her wand. It wasn't exactly useful information; it wasn't like she could ask someone she had just met if they had a phoenix feather in their wand and, if so, which phoenix it came from. Morgana, she didn't even know which phoenix the feather in her own wand had come from.

She bit the inside of her lip carefully. What was he alluding to? What was so important that it was destined?

No matter how hard she thought, she could not grab hold of an answer.

Hi everyone!

Once again, thanks for all the F's, F's and R's. And leave the names of good fanfics behind. I am bored out of my mind, people! Texting can only sustain you for so long! (also because of credit).

Tell me anything you want to see in this fic, and I'll try to deliver if it fits in with the storyline.

Persephone will meet up with Tom again in two chapters. Yay! Maybe at the very end of the next one, we will see.

The usual shebang,

Electra2Pandora