'-

Diagon Alley


Diagon Alley. In which Anthony and Thomas figured that the Wizarding World chooses their Clothes based on Acid Trips. A Stopover at Gringotts. A Visit to Ollivander's.

'-

There is a large difference in knowing that magic exists and seeing magic.

Anakin was currently having a firsthand experience with just that. He had stopped to stare at the magical establishment hidden between the mundane ones around it. The Leaky Cauldron, its sign proclaims. How could a place hold a Force-suggestion field over it permanently? He could see it shimmer in the air, a local distortion in the normal background wash of the Force that resides in non-living things. He saw how the non-magicals, which he supposed were non-Force sensitives, bypassed the place completely. He understood that a Jedi could suggest distraction to other people, but the flow of Force in the process was clear. The Jedi channelled it to the target. But a dinky pub?

It can't possibly be sentient enough to be channelling the Force, is it? Is it even possible that there is a way to imbue buildings with sentience through magic, through some lost arts of the Force?

"Come on, Anthony. There's a much better things to stare at inside," Tom had said with amusement in his voice as his twin pulled him by the elbow and stopped him from speculating even wilder.

"It's just—argh! How does it… what keeps that distraction field there, all this time? Nobody's constantly charging it at every hour of the day, right?"

Tom scoffed, before it shifted into a wry chuckle. "Of course not. People have more important things to do, you know."

They avoided the people passing on the pavement, their own minor distraction field active around them. Tom pushed the doors of the place and the distinctive scent of beer-soaked old wood and some fried food hit them. Anakin found his mouth watering slightly at the prospect. The furniture here was annoyingly large at his current size, but he was getting used to that inconvenience lately. What he couldn't wrap his head around was why the lowly lit place used candles; what was wrong with putting in some lamps? He didn't even care if they were of the archaic heated filament kind still in vogue in this era, it would've been better than these. Other patrons were having a meal or two, with mundane clothes that were somehow worn… wrong.

Like pyjama bottoms and dress shirt sort of wrong.

"They sell rather good fish and chips, but we'd stand out too much as unchaperoned kids," Tom said. "Maybe later when we'd put on a disguise. Damn, I'm not looking forward to all the years that needs to pass until I get my height back."

The dark-haired twin walked out at the back into an alley leading into a dead end, pulling him along. Dead grass and a bricked up wall. He stared at his brother in disbelief when Tom stopped right there. This was where they were going? Is he serious?

"We're waiting for someone to pass. Anyone would do," Tom explained, taking pity at his sibling's confusion. "Because we can't enter without a wand. Well, not without letting out a too-large magical burst, and that would catch all the wrong attention."

"Enter where?" Anakin asked.

He seemed to have been waiting for that question because he smiled. Used to seeing Tom's rather dry sense of humour and familiar smirks, it was unnerving to be on the receiving end of the charm he usually turned on other people.

"Why, observe, Padawan."

"Hey, who died and made you Jedi Master?" Anakin said, earning a smirk from his brother.

"I've never thought about it before, because I obviously have no idea about the Force approach to magic. If you enter a deeper connection with the Force, I'm sure it would be visible." Tom said, walking right up to the wall. "This is the entrance… but would you believe me when I say that, while your eyes are showing you something else?"

Anakin took that as a challenge and deepened his connection with the Force. It wasn't as swift here as it had been on other planets, but he could still manage it faster than many Jedi he'd known. He entered a lighter state of meditation and saw his surroundings on a different level, the Force interlaced in the environment. He gaped and hurriedly closed his mouth.

The wall was not there.

To be more correct, it wasn't a wall, it was… made of rectangles of bricks, certainly, but the bricks weren't bricks. There were Force-weave all over them, inside and outside that he couldn't quite figure out what it had been before it was… Force-affected and turned into something brick-like. He saw his brother's form, glowing slightly nearby, dimming for a moment as he could see threads of light reaching out from him before he brightened—seems like Tom was also entering a deeper state in the Force.

Look at all this little folds in the Force threads in the bricks… so it's a concertina, eh? Ingenious. Tom commented.

He did see the pattern in the weave, lines like the clever folds some masters could do to paper to create towers out of them, but he wasn't quite sure what that had to do with everything. Another person then walked into the dead end, glowing a nice pale yellow in a way that non-magicals didn't. The woman had a wand in her hand, and Anakin watched with interest as he saw the vibrant Force-glow of the object, almost as bright as the person itself. Tom stuck to his side of the alley and Anakin the other.

Be prepared to follow her before the entrance closes, Tom said.

No more questions were possible when the witch tapped a brick. Somehow, she channeled the Force through the wand to the wall. That spark of pale yellow that she sent rippled outwards among the Force-weaved bricks of the wall…

…and the bricks folded.

As they folded and pressed against each other outwards, a hole emerged. He had no better way to describe it. So that's what the patterns were for, he thought, while closely following her from behind into what he supposed was the entrance that his brother meant. Tom kept close on her other side, stepping into the cobblestones of a busy thoroughfare. When the witch walked away, the entrance on the wall started to disappear as the bricks unfolded into their original position.

Anakin pulled himself carefully out of the deeper connection with the Force and saw his brother doing the same. He stared back at the wall behind him, now looking completely ordinary.

"That was a really nifty trick! The brick had force weaves all over it! It could change shape. It's—"

"Magical, I know. I did live here for a while." Tom said with the same smug smile. He was inclined to forgive his brother for now, because it was very interesting. For all that, Tom's eyes also lit up with the same excited glee as he explained. "That was what I meant by channelling magic using focus objects—you saw how the wand looks through the magical-sight, I take it? Then, there's imbuing an item with magical properties—that would be the bricks. I know the theory behind it but I've never thought I'd be able to see what the actual, magical structure would look like. It was worth every failed boring meditation you dragged me through at the beginning—"

"Hey, you owed me those instructions in getting better." He complained. Anakin knew he wasn't always the best teacher for meditation, because his own methods were slightly unorthodox. Tom hadn't stopped smirking though, and to his brother's surprise, he nodded with actual acknowledgement.

"Yes, I suppose I did, didn't I? Thanks."

Then, he paused and turned around to face his brother, bowing with the flourish of a natural showman. "As the prior resident of the wizarding world, allow me to welcome you to Diagon Alley."

Then, he stood aside and stayed quiet, allowing Anakin to pay attention to the buildings around him, all the people in robes outlandish and severe going on their business and clothes that were anywhere from being several decades out of date to several centuries away. If there was anything to be said about the wizards, it was how they loved colour. They proved that by using a great number of combinations, some not entirely sane—the twins found themselves wincing at almost the same time at the same wizard in orange, neon green and hot pink.

"The Hogwarts uniform is nothing like that, right?" Anakin asked.

"If they were, I'll burn them myself." Tom said. It was a good enough answer for his brother.

The buildings around them were the opposite of the clothing; most had been earthy and grounded in colouring, but what fascinated Anakin more was how some seem to teeter at the edge of falling over. Others looked reasonable enough—provided that one was standing one one's head when staring at it. There were enough constructions that seemed to defy gravity, and not due to any feats of engineering as he had often seen in advanced planets. These buildings seem to do so by sheer willpower, stubbornness and pure fancy.

Even without being immersed so deeply in the Force, he could feel it pulse in stronger waves around him than he'd ever felt it in the orphanage or other strictly non-magical places.

"How do some of those buildings even stand up? Not to mention…"

"Like I said before," Tom said lightly, "Magic."

'-

Anakin took one look at the Gringotts goblins, took note of their features and alert shifting eyes, and moved on to follow Tom through the great marble lobby of the wizarding bank. When one has seen more than a dozen sentient spece-faring species before, a new one barely earns a second glance. He noticed their martial tendencies (goblins are conservative by nature—being over-armed is always better on their books than under-armed). He saw the unease some wizards or witches demonstrate to goblins that the goblins gladly return with their sneers. He also saw their professionalism, for the guards kept to their post and maintained their alertness and other than menacing the more spoiled children, they generally ignored the visitors.

The first rule of getting things done in the universe is to act like you know what you're doing. If you can manage that people will generally leave you alone. As Tom moved with the distracted air of someone who already gone over what he had to do too many times now and just wanted to get it done quickly, he fulfilled that requirement admirably, even if unconsciously.

The goblins at the counter were usually of a more aware sort, though, and the one Tom encountered stared at them in suspicion.

"What d'you want?" The goblin grunted at them.

"I want to see Account Officer Dammerung," Tom said. "I need a small, routine maintenance withdrawal from the Slytherin family account."

"Look here, kid. If y'think this is a good joke—"

"Get me Mr. Dammerung. Now." Tom cut in. "You don't want to force me to invoke the Contract of Service here just to prove that I can certainly access to all the rights of a Slytherin retainer, do you? It's still a blood contract, after all. If I did so, it might be a bit… messy here."

He stared the goblin down and then smiled widely and flashing bright teeth. After three seconds the goblin was gone in a hurry to relay the message to his superiors.

It needed to be noted that in goblin culture, to show teeth is a sign of either aggression, challenge or danger—not friendliness.

"Still wonderfully speedy service, as usual," Tom noted with satisfaction. Anakin watched all that with interest.

"Was he supposed to run and froth at the mouth like that?" He thought he could see fear in the goblin's face. A lot of fear. On that note, he looked as if he was running for his life.

"Of course. Goblins always respect a display of power. It's practically part of their culture." Tom said.

Anakin was eyeing him doubtfully even if he hadn't said a word about it.

'-

Tom had always just sat tight and gritted his teeth whenever the cart ride down the bowels of the goblin tunnels came up. The death trap had always careened too fast and too close to the rocky walls that he can't stop thinking about how he'd be minced meat if it went off rails. Thus, he was not at all surprised that Anakin's response to the ride was to shout and holler with glee.

"That was awesome! Can we do that again?"

"Unfortunately yes." Tom said, his tone voicing the depths of his unsaid regret. "We still have to go back up, after all."

The taller, graver looking goblin that accompanied them had gone down first before they followed. They did not spend a long time in his office after the scared front desk goblin had called him. Tom took a knife to the tip of his finger and left a mark on a parchment and passed it on to his twin. Anakin doubtfully did the same. The parchment had recognised them to have retainer rights and responsibility over Slytherin's inheritance. Dammerung hadn't been satisfied then, and he still wasn't now.

"Messieurs," He began in front of a gigantic door. "I saw that you are admitted as retainers due to blood proximity. It is my belief that you are far closer to the main line than that. If you would activate the Proof of Inheritance—"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Dammerung," Tom said. "Not now. We would gladly do so later, but to do so at the present would reveal too much to people that I prefer to be kept in the dark about our comings and goings."

The goblin nodded in acquiescence. "That is a good decision, your lordships."

"I am not your lord," Anakin corrected softly. It was loud enough on goblin ears, and Dammerung's smile was as sharp as the three axes he carried.

"Not yet a lord, but I am sure it will change very soon. Or would you fault my conclusion?" He didn't give them the time to answer as he turned around and opened the vault, for only the formally recognised heirs could've opened it instead of relying on goblin assistance.

Anakin gaped at the gold and riches, but what caught his eye the most were the various heirlooms and relics. Specifically, the weapons rack; many of the objects on display were not just ceremonial ones.

"Let's take—"

"No."

"I haven't even said anything!"

"I know what you were going to say. Where are we going to put them?"

"You said there are spells to reduce the size of objects or make them invisible?"

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, now you inform me that you're actually listening when you complain that I was boring you with my lectures?"

"Are you actually saying no?" Anakin asked, a knowing grin on his face.

Tom sighed, well aware that he wasn't going to win when he felt a similar impulse to his brother's to practise his swordsmanship skills better. He knew he was going to regret this later.

"We're taking the daggers, then."

"Just daggers?"

"Are you telling me you have the height for a sword?" A mournful silence answered him. Tom snorted. "Yes. I thought so too."

'-

Two mokeskin bags, a lot of galleons, several books some heirlooms and two daggers later, the Riddle brothers left the Slytherin vault with a satisfied swagger on their steps. Anakin was still putting things into his mokeskin bag and taking them out repeatedly.

"One galleon." He called as he reached into the bag and pulled the coin out. He placed it back in.

"Seven galleons." He managed to grab four of them, and the bag regurgitated the remaining currency he'd called out. Anakin caught that and piled them all back in.

"Vase of Preservation," he called. His hand felt the lips of the vase, and he gripped it before pulling it out partway. Satisfied with it, he dropped it into the bag again.

"Would you please stop that?" Tom held his wrist to stop him from trying to take something out again from it as they walked the hallways of Gringotts again, this time unchaperoned. "It works. It's not broken—I've inspected it myself and you've checked it several times already with a hundred and one inane orders. Now tell me what in Merlin's underwear you are looking for before I decide to take that bag away because you're Driving. Me. Nuts."

Tom's smile was a little too wide when he said that. Anakin blinked. Wow. To think that I can actually reach the end of his patience.

"I just can't believe that it is what it is. It's pretty amazing stuff, you know?"

"The bag?"

"The dimensional storage—yes, the bag." Anakin insisted over his brother's completely blasé attitude. "I know you can make knots of space time; that's the principle behind the repulsor lifts. It's not easy though, nor is it cheap. I can't even imagine how you can begin to fold space into itself without the technology level for space travel! If the bag has enough space to store all that while appearing to be the same small size from the outside, I'm beginning to suspect that it has more than three spatial dimensions. If you're so willing to tell me everything about the wizarding world, then tell me how they managed to make that."

Tom opened his mouth for a second before hurriedly closing it again. "That's… I've never really studied it specifically."

"So there is something magical you don't know about," he retorted with a roll of his eyes.

The dark-haired twin shook his head, his gaze already lost a thousand miles away as his hands moved with the fluidity of his thoughts' outline. "No, no. I think I get the basic principle. It certainly relied on magic, so the level of technology was never the concern here. I've seen some of the arithmantic area folding arrays and the application of a very localised ward that I now know to be designed to envelop it properly. Where exactly have I seen it, I wonder? I have to locate the books. Now all I have to figure out is…"

Well, that didn't make much sense, but Anakin thought he could leave Tom up to it. If they had one thing in common it was how once they managed to get their teeth into an interesting problem, they would gnaw at it like a dog with a bone until they can take it apart. If Anakin did it more often with machines and mechanical marvels and Tom more intrigued by magical manifolds and mathematics, that was for the best. It certainly made it easier to divvy up problems between them.

'-

The two of them stood right outside Master Wandmaker Ollivander's store, with Tom debating the merits of it in the luxury of his own mind—he could hear the various sides and arguments Tom was going through all the way over here in his own head, even with the slight shield that usually kept. It was driving him nuts. Was Tom seriously considering on not buying a wand now? Wasn't that why they took the trouble to go all the way here, halfway across London, getting on combustion-engine era public transport and their associated smog? Anakin rolled his eyes, his arms folded in front of him.

"Come on. We're here and we're going to buy a wand and that's it." He said.

"I'm not sure whether this is a good idea," his twin murmured.

"Why not? It's easier practising magic with a wand rather than a pencil. I know I'd feel less like an idiot."

Tom still had a hand on his chin. "Maybe we're supposed to buy it with our magical guardians. I've never really heard of anyone who bought their own wands themselves. Ollivander also has a long memory and acceptable observation skills. Do you know that every single magical on Britain has to have passed through his shop? And he remembers all the wands he'd sold to each and every one of them. I can't imagine what he'd tell Dumbledore of this encounter if we did buy a wand now—"

"Wouldn't he have some customer confidentiality agreement? Considering how crucial his job is, I thought someone would've offed him long before now if he was such a blabbermouth."

Tom took this into account. "Good point. I think I did that, but to remove a wandmaker also has the strategic importance of restricting weapons supply. I wonder…"

The blond decided that if his brother wasn't going to make up his mind anytime soon, then he will. He took hold of Tom's arm and started dragging him forward, pushing the door open using the other hand. His prompt sneak attack had successfully brought them inside the shop. By the time Tom had succeeded in slipping out of his grasp, the dun-coloured, ageless appearance of Ollivander had already emerged in front of them as if he had been waiting a long time already. Curiosity shone in his eyes.

"Have you two lost your way?" He asked them. Anakin shook his head.

"No. We need wands. Uh, Mr. Ollivander, Sir."

"A little young to get one, aren't you?" He chuckled when he saw the fire in Anakin's eyes and the annoyance in Tom's. "Do you know why wizards and witches don't usually get their wand until right before entering Hogwarts? Because their magical cores aren't usually well-developed until a year or so before that, and sometimes earlier. A wand matched now might no longer fit you well years after."

"Oh, it would fit us permanently, Master Ollivander. I can guarantee you on that front." Tom said with a grim smile.

"Ah, the wonderful confidence of youth." Ollivander sounded more amused than annoyed.

If Anakin hadn't felt the edges of his discomfort brush across his own shields, he wouldn't have known Tom was more than a little tetchy. Images of a destroyed Ollivander's store went past his mind, sometimes superimposed on the present. Dissonance, Anakin thought, and he gripped his brother's wrist without a second thought.

Breathe, he mentally said. We're here, and those memories are not real here.

Two measuring tape flew out from behind a counter, floating in the air and almost taking Anakin by surprise. He really needed to get used to the idea of being in a Force-using population right now.

"Extend your wand arm, please."

"He's just taking our measurements for the wands, to make it easier to locate a match." Tom said.

"Yes. Wandlore is an exacting art, young masters. It seems that your education has been sufficient for muggleborns. Who are your guardians?" He asked. Anakin had just batted the tape away after getting too close in measuring the width of his nostrils and he sneezed. How on earth does that have anything to do with the wand he'd use? He couldn't have been measuring nose hair

"We're orphans. Anthony and Thomas Riddle," Anakin said. "We don't know our parents."

"So you might not be muggleborns at all," Ollivander noted.

"Mum said she's a witch in a letter she left for us before, before she died." Tom added quickly. From the calculating look in his eyes, it was clear that he'd decided to start building their alibi for magical knowledge there and then. Anakin gave an approving nod to Tom. Smooth, he thought.

Why, thank you.

"What's her name?"

"Merope Gaunt." Anakin supplied. "Of Little Hangleton?"

"Ah, little Merope… eleven and a quarter inch ebony, swishy, with thestral hair core. Unusual core and unusual combination, suited for delicacy and precise work even if not built for power." He sighed. "I'm sorry to hear your loss, boys. I'm afraid I can't do anything about how death seems to follow her. One can already see the pall it casts even then."

There was a solemn silence between the dust motes dancing in the afternoon light. Anakin stared at the wizened old man with uncertainty, while Tom did it with speculation. Ollivander smiled.

"Forgive an old man his ramblings, the past won't be going anywhere for a while now, will it? There is always something to do in the present. You two, for one, hmmm… it seems that you're correct after all, Master Thomas. Your magical cores have matured indeed. Surprisingly so." Ollivander had reached his shelves already somehow, long, thin boxes piled on his arms. When he turned to them, there was a strange twinkle in his eyes. "And neither of you will let even death slow you down, would you? No, no you wouldn't. I've only probed a little and I could already feel your power. It would be an interesting year in Hogwarts indeed when the two of you come around."

The twins exchanged glances of alarm and speculation at that observation. Just what did the old man noticed?

"Could you please keep that to yourself?" Anakin asked. "We don't know much about how the wizarding world is like. I don't want to stand out too much."

Fortunately for them, he looked only the slightest bit offended.

"Of course. I don't rat out my customers. Your secrets are safe with me." He started to create two piles of boxes on the counter. "Here, give these a try. Master Anthony's pile is the left one while Master Thomas is the right one."

Anakin's eyebrows rose up. "A try?"

"Just give it a wave and a swish," Tom said. His brother was staring at him with a sceptical look.

"How do I know I've gotten the right one?"

Ollivander had opened boxes and started shoving wands at them. "You will."

"Not exactly inspiring a vote of confidence, there." Anakin muttered.

Tom picked one, waved it with no reaction, stuffed it back into its box and had moved on to the next one already. The dark-haired twin had conjured pigeons flying out of a sprightly, light-coloured wand, and they all ducked as the birds made their escape. Anakin waved his first with feelings of uncertainty, and a bouquet of lilies popped up on one end.

"No, that's not exactly a good fit," Ollivander had muttered. "Try the next one."

After being blown a little by an indoor wind, a fire that nearly caught a counter, three explosions and arc of electricity and two frozen counters later, the two of them were nearly ready to call it a day. This wasn't counting the less dangerous reactions that by now have generated several bunches of flowers, herbs and grasses on the desk and some songbirds and a hen. The pile of wand boxes only grew higher.

"Does it always take this long?" Anakin asked, after cursing indistinctly in Huttese. What he didn't mention was, was it always this unstable? Tom was already too annoyed as well to remind him to keep the languages of the different universes separate.

Ollivander was frowning. He'd gone away somewhere and reappeared in front of them with a pair of boxes. There were several more that he'd set aside for now. "No. No it shouldn't, but perhaps it's my fault. I should've seen something different about your magical cores before… here, try these at the same time."

"What's this?" Tom asked. He reached for his at the same time Anakin did and waved it. Golden light spilled from both their wands. It spread through both of them as their hands jerked to line their wands with each other's. A fragment of a haunting bird song filled the air, speaking of journeys taken and heroics done. A yellow thread seems to bind them from the tip of one wand to the other. Disappointingly, there didn't seem to be anything more.

"Holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather core," Ollivander said, pointing to the one Anakin was using. "Thirteen and a half inches of yew with phoenix feather. Brother wands, made from the same core. I'd thought I'd have the winning combination for sure, but it seems that I'm mistaken."

Anakin could feel Tom's urge to laugh bubbling under the surface, the reaction almost as visible in the small shake of his shoulders. It was not an entirely pleasant sound, something sharper lurked beneath it.

What happened?

This was my old wand, he'd said. And the one you're holding was Harry's. Interesting to know that Harry and I were given brother wands even as one of us were fated to kill the other, isn't it?

That snapped Anakin's attention. Tom was still too placid for his liking.

You're not the same anymore, Anakin decided. If the wand matches the user, then it's hardly a surprise, is it?

A small nod was the only reaction he received from his dark-haired twin. Tom's expression was less like cut glass and Anakin's shoulders' dropped down slightly. He hadn't even noticed he'd tensed.

Ollivander was caught up in the fervour that is wand matchmaking to pay attention to them. Their wands had been snatched out of their hands already. He gave them both long appraising looks before musing to himself as he rush back and then returned with boxes that was at least from the last century, judging by the layer of dust alone. "I should've known, really…something from the old country should do the trick."

"Now, try these."

Anakin and Tom picked the wands up, and met each other's gaze. They waved and flicked it to some unsaid signal at the same time.

Anakin could feel the Force ripple around the two of them from that simple act, and Tom's surprised expression told him that he was feeling much the same thing. The Force wave did not spread out, it spiraled, circled around them, and as the two of them turned around they saw flickers in the store in the wave's several fronts. When one went through the counter, he could see two steaming teacups there, but as the wave passed, there were none. In one front, chairs were set out for guests, and it disappeared again as it passed. In another, Ollivander was talking to a wizarding couple and child. In a different one, Anakin and Tom found their matches in Tom and Harry's old wand and were walking out of the shop already as they'd made their purchase. Anakin's eyes widened.

"These are—"

"—possibilities. All the probable futures." Tom finished, his voice quiet and awed.

The glimpses of the changes that happened were more and more different as the wave widened, the images increasingly faded as the wave left them. There was one where the place was wallpapered in mauve for some reason. Ollivander blinked, his hands still clasped in front of him as he carefully looked down and took note of everything. For some reasons he seemed intent to make sure that his limbs was still attached.

"Well. That doesn't happen often in my lifetime. It certainly hadn't happened in the last century."

Just how old is this guy? Anakin wondered aloud in his head. Tom sent him a mental shrug.

Even I don't know.

"It seems that you have both found your wand, young Masters. Holly, twelve and three quarter inches and yew, thirteen and a quarter inches. Both have phoenix feathers for their core from the same phoenix. Your elemental affinities are just as I expected to, along with the fact that they're brother wands."

Tom recovered himself first. "Between those two sets of wand… what's the bloody, magic forsaken difference?"

Ollivander chuckled. "I'm glad you asked. The phoenix was different, of course—the core for these is from the Scherezade of Araby. It took a while to reach her when one sets off from Suntown. She's mite strange and others would just plain state her as off her rockers. I'd stopped using her feathers as core two centuries ago because most of the wands have never found owners! Do you know why phoenixes the creatures closest to Merlin himself?"

"No." Anakin said, before Tom had the urge to disagree on the finer point of scholarly trivia or, heaven help them, ask for more details.

"They're the only ones who could choose how they traverse time. Us ordinary folks can only go one way. I've had more than my shares of years, but it still doesn't change that fact. Phoenixes, though, can choose which direction they travel for each life. Many are content with following us more mundane people." He paused, rubbing his hand together as his eyes locked on to some unseen and distant vistas. "A few, for reasons of their own, go through their lives entirely backwards—they have memories of the future instead of the past along with other differences."

He turned to them, amusement in his expression.

"Rarer still are those that can go back and forth on their whim within a single life. After all this time, I've met only one. You are now the proud owners of her essences."

The wandmaker was entirely too proud over something so baffling. Anakin also knew the knowing look Ollivander sent them both was making Tom entirely too jittery and paranoid, and it was starting to bother him as well through their bond. He had to give the mental equivalent to an elbow to the ribs to shake his brother. Tom cleared his throat.

"Thank you. We'll be taking the wands, then, Master Ollivander."

"Of course. I wish you success on your endeavours and may your great deeds be many, Lords Slytherin." He said with a full formal bow at them.

Tom probably made the land speed records at the haste he pulled galleons out of his mokeskin bag and placed it on the counter. Both Tom and Anakin found that they couldn't get out of the wand store fast enough.

"Sithin' creepiest old man I've ever met. If I don't meet him again in this life, it would still be too soon." Anakin muttered as they hurried to their next destination.

"I second that."

'-

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Author's Note:

This is really the last coherent chapter I've written so far. Trying to poke the rest of the ideas to congeal into something more solid.

'-