Harry stared down at his empty breakfast plate. "When does this shop you need to visit open again?" he asked Bellatrix. They were sitting at a corner table in the Leaky Cauldron, having just finished a somewhat mediocre breakfast. Harry wasn't all that eager to get underway so early, having spent the night sleeping on a floor. All he wanted right now was to crawl back into bed. Bellatrix, on the other hand, appeared well-rested, which was no wonder considering the fact that he'd let her have the bed.
"Not much longer," she told him. "Actually, I reckon if we leave now, it'll be open by the time we get there."
"Do we really have to?" Harry sighed heavily. His head lolled to the side, and he had to jerk himself upright in order to stay awake.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "How'd you ever get anything done, Ashworth? No wonder you ended up
on the losing side; no one's ever won a war by sleeping the day away."
"For your information," Harry grumbled under his breath, "you snore really loud."
Bellatrix crossed her arms and glared at him. "I do not snore."
"Do too."
"Do not!"
Harry abruptly closed his mouth, suddenly feeling too tired to get into their usual verbal sparring. "And you haven't told me yet why we're going to this mystery place and why you can't just tell me what it is. It's not down Knockturn Alley, is it?"
"Calm down, Ashworth. It's nothing illegal. For your information, the place is in one of the more
reputable locations in Diagon Alley. And you'll see when we get there. Now come on."
With a muted complaint, Harry rose and followed her out of the pub into Diagon Alley. They idly chatted about random things as they passed the variety of stores that populated the shopping center. Bellatrix seemed surprised that dungbombs would remain a prankster staple in the future. In turn, she was disappointed when he didn't recognize her favorite potion and tincture shop. As they passed Madam Malkin's and Quality Quidditch Supplies, Harry's suspicion began to grow.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?" he asked in a tone that made it clear that he
could very likely guess their destination.
"We're going to pay Mr. Ollivander a visit," she replied evenly.
Harry stopped in his tracks. "I didn't realize you were in need of a new wand," he told her quietly, knowing full well that she wasn't going to take the bait.
"I'm not. However, you are going to be getting a new wand today."
"And you just decided this… why?"
Bellatrix glared at him, stemming her fists into her hips. "Listen, Ashworth. Last night I couldn't
stop thinking about how we were facing a dark lord, and all you had was a piece of rubbish for a wand." Her voice rose. "I mean, did you even think what could've happened as you were apparating yourself around the countryside with that thing? You could've splinched yourself, or apparated into a wall, or out into the sea-"
"I get the picture," Harry winced. "To be honest, the same thought had crossed my mind."
"Then why are you still carrying that damn thing around with you?"
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but found that he couldn't. The excuse that he was afraid of what Ollivander might find out no longer cut it, not in light of the threat they were facing. With Voldemort looming over their heads, going into the proverbial serpent's den with only a junk wand was pure foolishness, something for which Harry almost wanted to slap himself, now that he thought about it.
"Look, Ashworth, I don't know why you don't want to go to Ollivander's. I reckon you probably think you've got a good reason," Bellatrix explained a little more calmly. "Maybe you're even afraid that he'll know something is up, Merlin knows the man is almost freakish sometimes, with the way he can just see right through people. But if you're going to go into danger, then I'm going to put my foot down and make sure you can defend yourself. Especially if I'm coming along. I'm planning on living to a hundred, at least, got that, Ashworth?"
"Sure." There wasn't really much else he could say. It appeared that he would be getting a new wand today. Of course, that still presented him with the problem of the brother wands that he'd had in his original time. Maybe he would get lucky, and Fawkes hadn't donated the second feather and his wand hadn't been made yet. Or maybe he would get a different wand this time around. Getting a different wand would certainly make it easier to fight Voldemort, Harry thought absently as they entered the shop.
The bell chimed, and Ollivander appeared almost instantly from the back room. "Bellatrix Black!" he declared jovially. "Cherry, twelve inches, dragon heartstring!"
"That's me," Bellatrix smiled, pleased at being remembered.
"And I don't believe we've met before, Mr… . "
"Ashworth," Bellatrix supplied helpfully. "Harry Ashworth is his name."
"Thanks, Bellatrix, I can speak for myself," Harry replied dryly.
"I know, you were doing such a good job of it."
"Ashworth, hmm?" Ollivander looked at Harry. The man appeared exactly as he had in Harry's time, and his timeless silvery eyes still made Harry feel as if Ollivander could tell everything about him by a mere glance. "It's been a long while since I've sold a wand to an Ashworth. They reside in Australia these days, if I recall?"
"Right," Bellatrix nodded. "He just got here, but apparently, he's been having trouble finding a decent wand. I was hoping that you might be able to help him out with that."
"Naturally." Ollivander peered at Harry over the rims of his silver-edged spectacles. "What kind of wand are you using now, Mr. Ashworth?"
Harry's hesitation earned him an elbow to the ribs from his companion. Reluctantly, he withdrew his wands from his sleeve. "Err… I've been using these ever since my old wand… backfired."
"Backfired?" Ollivander's eyes widened in surprise.
"Yeah, it kind of blew up in my hands."
"My word, I would think that whoever matched you with your old wand must have done some shoddy work, indeed. These are your replacements, then?" Ollivander took the two twigs from him.
"Right… temporarily, anyway. I just haven't found the time until now to go look for a better one," Harry said.
Bellatrix sighed dramatically. "He's been making do with these pieces of junk for a few weeks now. Can you believe it? He's actually teaching a class with these!"
The wandmaker hummed to himself as he turned them over in his hand. "Those are not wands," he concluded with a wry smile. "I cannot even begin to guess what was used as a core for these, but my guess is that they use a cheap catalyst instead of a real core. The wood is certainly too light to hold up to the strains placed upon them by a proper magical focus core." He tapped one with his measuring tape, causing it to break apart. "Ah, there we go. Yes, I've seen this construction before. It's a cheap mass-production model that seems rather popular in the East."
Harry blinked in surprise. "Okay," he said.
Harry blinked in surprise. "Okay," he said.
Ollivander looked up, as if just remembering that he had customers. "Oh, my apologies. Shall we get started?" At Harry's nod, the wandmaker released his measuring tape, leaving it to flit around Harry much the same as it had the first time he had come to this store. While the measuring tape got busy, the man himself vanished into the back room, searching through the shelves.
It was a much shorter wait this time around until Ollivander returned with a handful of boxes. Once again, Harry touched one wand after the next; this time, though, he had had more experience with foreign wands, and he could feel the subtle differences between them. It didn't take long for him to reach one that felt right. The red and gold sparks that erupted from its tip confirmed his guess.
Harry spared a quick glance for the wand and let out a sigh of relief as he noted that it wasn't his holly wand. Maybe there was a way he could fight Voldemort, after all. The feeling of warmth that spread in him relaxed his earlier tension. Maybe I should've gone here earlier, after all, he mused quietly.
"Excellent!" Ollivander exclaimed, his enthusiasm apparently undaunted by having helped wizards and witches find their matching wand half a million times. "A perfect match! Yew-thirteen and a half inches with a phoenix feather core."
Harry's blood ran cold at the declaration. He had not recognized the wand by sight, but he knew its description well enough. Harry looked down at the wand and then up at the wandmaker desperately. "This must be some sort of mistake…"
A/N: Happily the plot is moving along. I'm going to ask advice again. Plotwise, how do you feel about Lily and the Marauders? Should they get more screen time? If so, what kind of things do you want to see and what kind of things should we just gloss over?
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