The Wand
When Sirius returned and found Lily dead. He had immediately turned onto Harry with rage filled eyes.
"Did you do it!?" he screamed, his voice full of pain and accusation.
"No," Harry replied quietly, still in the same position except with the book of chakras on his lap instead of runes.
Sirius screamed with anguish that was uncharacteristic to him. Emotions that he had locked up for years with patience had broken loose.
It was the first time Harry had lied. The dull green had made him do it and he felt it appropriate. Ending the non-existent life of his mother felt personal. He didn't want to share that moment with anyone.
It was his alone. It meant something to him. A sense of closure to a part of his soul. Her death had calmed his green.
A heartbroken Sirius didn't see reason to doubt him. According to Dumbledore the boy didn't know how to lie. Early next day, her funeral was held. She was buried next to Remus.
Harry, Sirius, Dumbledore and a lady with a vulture hat were the only ones present.
James had been kept sedated and asleep. When he had seen Lily he had been to scream hysterically.
Harry wanted to kill him but Sirius had stunned and taken him away.
Here lies Lily Potter.
Loving Mother. Wife.
Best Friend.
This time. Harry didn't feel a thing. He only smiled; thinking about his runes and ideas for his desert dream.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Thirty First August, Nineteen ninety-three – Diagon Alley
Time passed by in the cottage with an unsteady peace. Harry stayed out of Sirius's way. Sirius kept himself occupied with James. Dumbledore dropped by for the occasion visit and Harry finished his books. His head was fully consumed by basic runes, advanced runes, runic structures.
He experimented in the forest. Tried to recreate the language of magic in his diary. Filled it with notes and then began to fill another. By the time summer was over, Harry had successfully turned a boulder into sand using nothing but runes.
It was beautiful to watch.
He had drawn a structure that could easily be mistaken as geometry by a mathematician while in fact, it was an elaborate rune structure that was created after numerous trials and errors.
The boulder first began to change colour. The dark grey slowly turned pale. It almost became translucent before it started to look like it was being crushed into finer particles. A breath-taking moment later it collapsed into pale yellow sand. Beyond the runes, in an abyss apart from reality, magic that emoted no mercy whispered the process along.
Harry was delighted. It was a huge success! He could imagine the breakdown happening in Hogwarts and the vision was truly magnificent. Hogwarts, slowly turning pale and then collapsing into a mountain of sand. Harry felt glee at the thought.
But he calmed himself after the event. There was still so much to do. This had just turned a boulder into sand. The magic necessary to turn a world into sand…. Now that was the true dream.
Presently, Sirius had brought him to Diagon Alley to buy him his new books and robes. The school list had arrived a couple of weeks back and Sirius had finally made the time to take Harry to the Alley.
Harry had no interest in doing so but recognized the necessity of purchasing the school books. Maybe he could find some interesting texts on runes as well although he didn't care as long as he had his three books with him. One was about Indian Sages, the other a breakdown of runes and the best explanation out there and the last his personal diary: in which he wrote and created. In was a brown leather bound book with a strap serving as a lock. Harry had enchanted in with runes inscribed on the insides of the cover to ensure it never ran out of pages and remained at the thickness of a hundred-page notebook.
An hour later in the busy streets of Diagon Alley, Harry had had quite enough. The book stores had nothing that interested him. His school books had been purchased by Sirius and Harry felt repulsed to be in the Apothecary. The smell dissuaded him completely. Not to mention he found potions boring. Potions and Defence against the Dark Arts; they were the two subjects he disliked tremendously. They were utterly useless to him and his dreams.
Charms and transfiguration on the other hand; they were extremely useful in deciphering the language of magic through runes. Every spell was a short cut to summoning and reforming magic. They, in turn, helped him remake the runic form of the magic and understand the emotions of magic behind the spell. It was fascinating and helped move along his desert project.
"Last stop Ollivander," Sirius muttered. A visit was rarely necessary after a wizard turned eleven but a few days ago Harry had lost his wand. Sirius only found out a day before when he had begun to pack Harry's things.
A casual got your wand query got a I lost it response. Sirius had been shocked. How could Harry have lost his wand? No amounts of accios, point mes or manual hunting resulted in a positive search. The wand was lost until it was found. If Sirius had thought Harry capable of compassion, he would have searched near Lily's grave and found the phoenix wand fallen next to an overgrown weed. But he didn't and the wand was lost…. Until it was found.
Ollivander looks at Harry critically. Then he whispered in surprise, "You have lost the connection you had with your wand."
Harry shrugged. "It was of no use."
"Regardless," Sirius said with a scowl. "You need one for school."
"Curious… so very curious," Ollivander murmurs.
"Excuse me?" Sirius asked inquisitively. "What's so curious? He just lost his wand."
Ollivander looked at Sirius severely. "He hasn't just lost it Mr Black. He has lost connection with it at a deeply spiritual level. Such an event is rare. I wonder what could have happened to force this to occur."
Sirius frowned. "So…" he began slowly. "This is significant because…?"
"His magic has changed or…." Ollivander smiled mysteriously.
Sirius clenched his teeth. Was the man being annoying on purpose?
"Or his destiny has been rewoven."
An hour later an exhausted Sirius glared at a disgruntled Harry. They had tried wand after wand and found no matches. They either broke or provoked a violent reaction in magic. Nothing was suitable.
Ollivander instead of being happy in such a case was looking deeply troubled. The boy's magic was different. It was incredibly potent. No wand seemed capable of channelling it. In fact, he suspected no wand or staff could channel it.
"Come with me," Ollivander said at last, gesturing towards the back.
"To your workshop?" Sirius asked. "Are you going to make a custom made wand for him?" he added incredulously. Custom made wands were difficult to make for wand crafters and way too expensive for even the Most Ancient House of Black.
"Just you Mr Potter," Ollivander added helpfully as Sirius eagerly followed Harry.
Harry followed because he just wanted this done with. Apparently this was necessary for school so he supressed his mutinous desire to just turn around and walk away and resolved to get a new one and use it only when absolutely necessary.
Behind the wall of wands was a room that looked like a carpenter's workshop. There were muggle tools neatly stacked on a table that was placed at the corner of the surprisingly spacious room. Lying all around, standing up against every inch of wall available was hundreds of wood pieces, all of different kinds, and in various shapes and sizes.
Harry was almost blinded by the colours. Unlike wands which had a calm aura, these wood had a raw multi-faceted aura. Combined they felt like a wet mist pressing into him from all sides.
"As I suspected," Ollivander said softly. "You can see and feel magic."
Harry ignored the man. The colours of the wood were beginning to call out to different emotions in him. They were resonating in the Void. Some were calling out to him, some were screaming in protest. Others felt disappointed.
He was beginning to feel light headed.
"Calm," Ollivander whispered and suddenly the feelings retreated and the colours and auras died down to a faint glow.
Harry gasped in shock as he returned to normal.
"They are quite excitable aren't they?" Ollivander said with a small laugh. "It's been decades since another soul has entered this room."
Harry glared at the wood pieces. He didn't like the way he was overwhelmed.
"You can't possess a wand Mr Potter," Ollivander said, cutting to the chase. "No regular wand at least," he amended.
Harry smiled, looking relived. "Does this mean I get permission to not use a wand?"
Ollivander chuckled and shook his head in negative. "It means you need a different type of wand. One that is capable of channelling your magic. And in your case, I think I know the answer."
The wand maker beckoned Harry over to the table and directed him to sit on the only stool.
"Do you know why wands, in their core, have a piece of a magical creature?"
Was there a point to this? Harry wondered.
Ollivander continued like he hadn't expected an answer. "It's because they have a close connection to the source of magic."
Like runes, Harry thought. The language of magic.
"We can use magic, magical creatures however, are made of magic. To be more precise, they do not need a wand to channel magic. Their bodies are vibrant with it. That is why even a feather is enough to help a wizard or witch pull magic from their souls.
"You, Mr Potter, are such a wizard. You are somehow vibrant with magic. Not like magical creatures of course, but the similarity is remarkable. That is why your wand can only be a conductor. Wood is a natural specimen of magic and magic flows through it in abundance. Having a powerful core, wood is the only construct that can comprise and temper magic. Therefore, it is a perfect conductor for witches and wizards."
Harry listened. What the wand maker was saying held some interest to him.
Ollivander touched Harry's shoulder and closed his eyes.
Harry tensed. He felt the Void simmer in agitation.
A moment later Ollivander removed his hand. He looked sad. Like he had seen something tragic.
He had not seen but felt.
"Ténéré Tree," he murmured. He then went to a corner and bustled around before pulling out a bark of wood, about a foot long and cracked with age.
"What?"
"This is a piece from a tree that was once considered the most isolated tree in the world," Ollivander explained softly. "It is the only wood I could find that resonated with your soul," he said sadly.
He shooed Harry out of the stool and reverently placed the bark on the table and with a hammer, began to crush it into dust.
Harry watched with interest.
"The wood of every wand is crafted differently. Some I carve, few I cut, and rarely, am I compelled to crush and remake." Ollivander chuckled. "You are a truly unique soul, Mr. Potter. I do not understand it, but it fascinates me."
With practiced ease he summoned a vial of something and poured the crystal clear liquid on the what was now sawdust.
He waved his wand in circles around the sawdust once it was mixed and looked like a weird paste. The paste began to swirl and begin to take shape.
"I remember expecting great things from you when I met you for the first time."
Ollivander slowed down his wand motion and the paste was beginning to take the shape of a gleaming wand that was dirty white.
"Now I know for sure fate has dangerous plans for you. Yes. I expect great things from you in the future Mr. Potter." When Ollivander said great, it felt like he meant terrible.
The wand was ready. It was a sturdy dull white wand that was fourteen inches long and thicker and sturdier than most wands. It had no core.
Ollivander tenderly lifted the newly crafted wand between his fingers and motioned Harry to take it.
Curious to see what would happen, Harry took it.
Nothing happened. Harry frowned. That was strange. He didn't even feel the Void reacting like it always did when he held a wand.
"How does it feel?" Ollivander asked.
"Like nothing," Harry said. As soon as he said it, he realized it.
Ollivander smiled as understanding dawned in Harry's green eyes.
The wand felt like nothing. Just like the Void. It was perfect.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
First September, Nineteen ninety-three. Great Hall of Hogwarts.
For the first time, Harry had been directly taken to Hogwarts via portkey rather than the express. Harry found it strange that Sirius would do that but didn't question it. He really didn't care.
What mattered was he was finally back. Away from the rage inducing land that was Sirius's house.
They had exited through a floo room in Hogwarts that Harry had no idea even existed. The room had a fireplace and was otherwise empty and led out into the nearby corridor leading to the Great Hall.
Harry suspected it was there to prove a point. He got the feeling Hogwarts was very amused by the room. He didn't dwell on it and headed towards the Great Hall as that was standard procedure.
It was seven in the evening and Sirius had already left. Presumably to see the headmaster.
Harry entered the Hall and to his surprise found a few scattered students around. It seemed the Hogwarts express wasn't the only way all the students got to school. Seven thirty was the usual time when the feast began. Seven was the time the Express arrived.
He walked towards the Ravenclaw table where a burly older student was sitting grumpily and took his customary seat at the end of the table. There were mostly older students around, all looking bored out of their minds while they waited for the Express to arrive and their friends to return.
It didn't take long.
Harry meditated on his cores. His blue in particular. He had discovered during the summer, meditating on his blue helped ideas, when needed, to come faster. At the moment he was focusing on a unique problem in his project. He had turned a boulder into sand but drawing the rune on the boulder had taken hours. He wanted to see a world that was a desert. The hours needed to do that with his current method would be light years beyond astronomical.
How then to do it faster? Of course runes were the answer but which? And how to find it and realise it? Harry stroked his wand lovingly. Perhaps his new friend would help in his apocalyptic project. It was in his pocket and he couldn't seem to stop holding it, feeling it, revealing in its empty nature.
It was odd. The wand didn't do anything. The Void expelled out of his body, his hands, his eyes, his throat and passed through the wand if directed through said magical tool. It didn't feel magical at all except for the fact that channelling magic through it made Harry feel like smiling. Somehow, the wand was magical and it was touching his soul like a friend. It was magic he couldn't see and normally that would frustrate him. In this case he, with the curiosity of a child, would do his best to look for the colour of the wand, as if he expected to find it out of the blue.
The wand was something special. It was nothing like his old wand that, although held a lot of power, had no true connection with him. This wand held no power and yet felt like a part of him. Is this what Ollivander meant by the wand choosing the wizard? But Ollivander had made the wand for him. Did that technically mean the wand had chosen him?
Harry thoughts spun out of control.
If students hadn't begun to pour into the hall, Harry would have summoned the Void and probably done something beautiful to him and possibly terrible to the perspective of others. Just to attempt to see the colour of his wand.
The first years were welcomed, a song was sung and the feast begun.
Across the hall, watching Harry select and cut up medium rare steak into tiny pieces, Daphne smiled. Her summer had been incredible. It had begun mildly enough until a man had shown up at her doorstep. Daphne had been quite intimidated by the harsh lines in his face but when he introduced himself as the leader of a growing secret rebellion who had heard about her and wanted her to join them, she was stunned.
Then dangerous plans began to scheme themselves into existence as her mind processed the fact that she was asked to join a rebellion against the pureblood hegemony. If she played this right she had gifted a valuable source of power.
She had exclaimed in surprise a moment later and invited him inside. The man missed the dark shadow that moved behind her eyes.
Back in the present Daphne's eyes slid off Harry and around the great hall.; smirking at those happy faces that had no idea what chaos was about to descend upon them.