Harry heaved a sigh as he sat in the Hogwarts library, trying to cram two years of knowledge into his head. It wasn't that he was adverse to learning, like Hermione would accuse, it was just that he did better in the heat of a moment. Ron played the role of pre-combat tactician, Harry led from the front alongside Alfone and their personal regiments, making decisions in the heat of battle.
At least Ron was suffering right alongside him. He was looking longingly out the window and at the Aether Keep.
"Thinking about Lysithea?" Harry asked casually, turning the page on the Standard Book of Spells, Year 3.
"Yeah, she has an appointment with Madame Pomfrey in a bit to check if she'll be able to undo the worst of the damage done by the Agarthans. I still can't believe you went under their knife, mate, knowing what they did to Thea and El."
"Sometimes you need to risk it to get stronger," Harry said, feeling the microfibers in his chest expand and contract as he did, taking out the Breidablik and examining it, "Go be with her, I'll make up some excuse if Hermione comes knocking."
"Thanks, Mate," Ron slipped out of the Library without another word as Harry continued to read. Honestly, he wanted to be snuggling with one of his girls out on the grounds, but Hermione was fierce that could only after studying for five hours a day.
"How are you?" Harry jumped as Fjorm approached; he cracked a tired smile and said, "fine, just worried about the new school year starting in a month. I think I'll go visit Hagrid and Deathclaw. It's been close enough to five hours.
—
Fjorm walked across the castle grounds with her hand in Harry's, wearing a light blue summer dress. It was still strange, even after two years in Askr, to have it not be frigid all the time. Not bad, just… Strange. The warmest areas of Nifl were still only as warm as a spring day during summer.
Harry was wearing a light, red shirt and a pair of shorts, exposing the literally wiry muscle the Agarthans had infused into him, the Breidablik by his side as always. As they approached Hagrid's hut, they heard the rustle of wings and Deathwing took off over the top of the building, landing in front of Harry and nuzzling into his neck. Harry laughed, running a hand down the feathers of Deathwing's head.
"Wingy!" Hagrid came jogging after it, only to sigh in relief as he saw Harry and Fjorm, "Sorry 'bout tha' 'Arry. Wingy here sometimes smells rabbits and goes after them."
"They are his favor food," Harry said softly, letting the griffon nuzzle him more, "He hasn't been too much trouble for you, Hagrid?"
"After Beak-?" Hagrid stopped, looking like he was about to cry, "after some 'o the other creature's I got ta take care 'o? Wingy here's really well trained. Can I invite ya both in for a cuppa?"
"Sure, Hagrid, we'd love to," Harry said.
"Good, good. 'S been too long since we had some together. I still remember when I was first sent ta get ya. Out on that rocky island."
"One of the best days of my life, Hagrid," Harry said, earnestly, "that and going to Diagon Alley for the first time will always be happy memories to me."
"We should pro'lly get'cha back there, pick up wands for ya girl's and refill ya wallet. Molly and Arthur have been taking care of ya Nimbus and trunk, if ya care. Heard Molly fret 'bout the state 'o the clothes before."
—
Edelgard stepped into the, admittedly quite impressive, marble building. Short, pale men and women with pitch black eyes and long, spindly fingers were walking around and sitting behind teller stations; Goblins, from what Harry said. Harry walked up to one of them in his Askrian noble uniform, a red tailcoat over black pants and with the signature Askrian white and gold cloak draped over one shoulder, "Harry Potter, to visit his vault."
The Goblin glanced up, before saying, "and does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?"
Harry pulled a key out of his pocket, handing it to the Goblin, who turned it over in his hands several times before nodding, "and is these anything else we can help you with before you're taken down to the vaults?"
"I'd like to have the key replicated three times," Harry said, causing Edelgard to share confused looks with Fjorm and Lucina. The goblin pulled out a piece of parchment, placing it on the desk in front of him and having Harry sign it, before three keys appeared suddenly. Harry turned, passing one to each of the three princesses.
"Harry-" Edelgard started.
"Trust me, El. I want you to have that."
They then followed a Goblin to an empty minecart, climbing aboard and taking off at speeds that drew a shriek of surprise from Edelgard, Fjorm grasping her hand tightly and looking just as startled as Edelgard felt.
They were thrown side to side on a winding, suspended track that was built into a cavern so large Edelgard couldn't see the bottom when she dared to risk a look down. Finally, they stopped in a hole in the wall marked 687.
Edelgard and Lucina got out, both brushing their long hair out of their faces. Lucina smiled sweetly and said, "Harry?"
"Yes?"
"A little warning next time you decide to include us in something death defying would be nice."
"Yes, dear," Harry said sheepishly, the goblin that was with them snorting.
"Nonsense, the carts are enchanted to keep everyone in them from falling out! Now, key, please."
Harry handed her the key, and she unlocked the door, letting it swing open to a decent sized fund of money.
—
Lucina stepped into the small shop, the six of them, her lovers plus Ron and Lysithea barely fitting into it together. Immediately, more than even the alley outside, Lucina could feel the magic clinging to her like a shroud. Her hand absentmindedly lowered to the Falchion's grip, thumb running over the pommel.
A elderly man that, appearance wise, reminded Lucina of a white eyed Solon came sliding into the front of the shop. Given El's grip on her ax, she wasn't alone, she wasn't the only one. The man smiled a calming. welcoming smile, and said, "Mr. Potter, welcome back. Mr. Weasley, welcome back to you too, but I don't think we ever met in the first place? Yes, I know every wand I've ever sold, and I can't recall yours."
"My parents had me use my brother's old wand, Mr Olivander," Ron said, red around the ears, only for Lysithea to slide her hand into his comfortingly. Everyone knew money was a sore subject for the redhead, even with the Order of Heroes paying a nice sum each month.
"Charlie's? Oh, dear, no no no," tutted Olivander, "Ash and unicorn hair? As far as an inherited wand goes, they couldn't have gone worse."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked.
"Ash and unicorn hair are a combination that cleave to one true master, they will weaken and even die completely if given to another master. I take it that happened to yours?"
"Yeah," Ron said.
"Well, let's get you all sorted. Mr. Potter, what is your wand doing? Does it need maintenance?"
"I don't use the wand I bought from you very much anymore, Mr. Olivander," Harry said, whirling the Breidablik up and into the form of a wand. Olivander's eyes grew wide and he gently held out his hands.
"May I?"
"Sure," Harry said, handing the relic to the old man. He ran his fingers down it reverentially.
"Amazing, I can't tell the substance or core, but I can feel the magical energy flowing through it. I find it interesting you seem to have it in the form of a muggle gun."
"That's the Breidablik's default form," Harry said, taking the wand back.
"So, who shall be first, don't be afraid, step up, step up."
Lucina took a breath, and stepped forwards, "I'll go first. My name is Lucina."
"A pleasure, now, may I see what arm you'd be doing magic with?"
The answer, honestly, probably was neither. Lucina hadn't inherited her mother's aptitude for magic. None-the-less, she understood how important having a wand was in the Wizarding World so she held out her left hand. Olivander measured it and several other measurements, though nothing Lucina would consider "private" before finally going ouy back and coming out with a cobwebbed box, "Beech amd unicorn hair, 9 inches, rather springy. Give it a wave."
Lucina waved it, and it immediately lit up with blue light.
"Beech is a wood for those who are wise beyond their years, and detest the narrow minded and intolerant. It's a wand of artistry and subtly no matter the core, but with Unicorn Hair, it will be even more subtle. This is a wand for someone who has magic, but doesn't use it without intent. No flashy light shows, no earthshaking displays of magic, but a perfectly good wand for those looking to get by day to day. Next?"
El stepped up, thrusting her left hand out and holding it there while waiting for Olivander to examine her.
"I know," Olivander said, disappearing and returning with a far cleaner box, "I finished this one last week, in fact."
He pulled out an ivory white wand, turning it over in his hand, "I'll let you in on a secret, Ms…"
"Edelgard, Edelgard Von Hresvelg," Edelgard said.
"Miss Hresvelg, the measuring tapes are just for show. It's how people act, how they behave that really tells me what wand to start with. And for you, I give this, Aspen, dragon heartstring, 11 inches, rigid and unbending."
El took the wand and snapped it to the side, causing a wave that staggered everyone back a few steps, Harry hitting the window and cracking it; Olivander fixed the damage with a flick of his wand.
"Aspen, other than its beauty, is a wand of duelists. Fighters and warriors are picked by this wand. It is a wand that, time and time again, has been found in the hands of those revolutionaries who will shake the world with their convictions, for better or worse. Paired with Dragon Heartstring, it is particularly dangerous and powerful. Mr. Weasley, why don't you go next?"
Ron stepped up, and Olivander gave him a once over before walking to a box, pulling it from the pile and offering it to Ron. "Willow and unicorn hair, 14 inches, rather bendy."
Ron took it, waving it and causing a small tornado around him. Olivander looked happy, continuing, "Willow is a wand of potential, Mr. Weasley. The Olivanders have a saying, "He who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow. I expect you to learn in leaps and bounds. Now, which of you two lovely ladies will go next?"
"I will," Lysithea said, stepping to the front of the group far easier than the others due to her diminutive height. Olivander examined her, before going to get a wand.
"Red Oak and Dragon Heartstring, 16 inches, heafty," when Lysithea caused a black spike to drop on the table, Olivander nodded, "The ignorant would say Red Oak is a wood for those with quick temper-" there was a lot of good-natured snickering at that, "-but in my opinion it is for those for quick reaction times and have a signature spell. And finally, we come to you, Miss?"
"Fjorm," Fjorm said, stepping forwards.
"I can already tell," Olivander reached back and drew a wand, "Cypress and Phoenix Tail Feather 8 inches. Cypress is a wood for nobility, their wielders, if asked to, would throw away their lives for friend and family. It is a wood for the self-sacrificing. And those who aren't afraid to confront the shadows in theirs and others lives.
—