Thursday 1st December 1988.
"Master Harry," Mipsy called, as she tugged softly on his sleeve as he sat reading in the sunroom.
"Yes, Mipsy?" He replied, not taking his eyes from the book.
"Miss Hermione is upset. She be asking if you can come get her."
This finally drew his attention fully from the text. "What? Why?"
"Her parents are upset that she can't control the elf magics. Apparently, it's like when she was an elfin all over again. But they can't get her here themselves."
"Of course, tell them I'll be right there." He replied, putting the book aside without even marking his place.
The one thing he hated most about living in this huge manor was it was occasionally difficult to find his parents. Even the elves didn't have a way of determining exactly which painting they were in at any given moment unless summoned.
It took several minutes of jogging through the halls before he found them both tucked under the tree in a tiny little landscape hanging midway down the main hallway. He should have known, as it was his mother's favourite place to think, the light Italian lakeside apparently as good as a vacation in amidst the often-dreary British artwork.
"Mum, Dad. I'm going to Hermione's. Something is wrong."
"No, you aren't. You are grounded, mister." James replied simply, not even turning to look at his son from the lapping waves.
Harry's eyes narrowed at the painting wanting to retort but decided it was not worth the struggle of an argument right now. His friend needed him.
"Fine, see you."
And with a pop he was standing in the Granger's dining room being stared at by the adults before Hermione assaulted him from the side, wrapping him up in her arms.
"Harry, thank you. I can't help it."
"Shhhh, Hermione. I know what it's like, trust me."
"So, you knew this was going to happen?" Richard growled from the far end of the table.
"Daddy! Stop it."
"No, Hermione. First, some painting tries to tell me my daughter is a witch, a ridiculously offensive thing to say, by the way. Now your gifts are going haywire because of some freakish little monster. I want you to fix this, now boy."
"Fix this? What do you think I can do to fix this?" Harry asked, looking at Richard over Hermione's shoulder, eyes narrowing once more. What was with all these adults?
"Get that little beast over here and take it back. Surely you can undo this nonsense and give me my daughter back."
"Give her back?" Harry was stunned by this. In all the time he had known the Grangers, he had never seen any of them behaving in this manner. "Your daughter is right here, sir. Crying on my shoulder because her father is scaring her."
"Harry, don't," Hermione whispered.
"No, Hermione. He needs to hear this. Your daughter is special. In a world of ordinary, she was already amazing. Her brain alone made her stand out. Throw in her magical abilities and she became something else altogether. Now she is broadening those abilities and you are angry at her for it. Why?"
"It's not right. Moving things with your mind is one thing. I'd made peace with that. But some of the things she's done in the last few days. The walls on the second-floor bathroom still won't stop changing colour. My best golf club vanished because she yelled at me while I was practising my swing, and then there is this!"
He held up a #1 father mug that looked to Harry to be in fine condition. His confusion clearly showed as Hermione piped up next to him.
"I broke it a week after giving it to him on Father's Day when I was 3. There should be a crack running through the number one. But I picked it up to hand to him this morning and it just healed. I didn't mean to."
"That crack meant something to me, boy. It was a connection to my daughter and this, mutation took that away. Fix it!"
Harry was beginning to see red now. His arms tightened around Hermione and he was about to unleash a torrent of words that would likely to get his mouth washed out.
"Don't, Harry. Please."
Distracted from his rage for a moment he looked at his friend, tears still streaming down her face. He'd only ever seen her like this once before and that was the night, they'd learned she was a witch. Years of being her friend in happiness and in less than a week since learning of her magic she seemed to be miserable.
"Fine," Harry stated, answering both Hermione and Richard at once.
He locked eyes with the eldest Granger and, sticking out his tongue, popped away again.
ϟ
Hermione shivered as a soft breeze blew across her wet cheeks. Opening her eyes, she noted she was standing in a small clearing with ankle height grass and bordered by tall swaying trees. The shiver increased as she felt Harry's arms release her as he stepped away and with a wave of his hand one entire side of the clearing became wider as every tree along that edge was ripped from the ground with a violent tearing noise and sent careening backwards into the dark under the trees behind them.
"Fix it! Like you're broken or something." Harry yelled at the air as Hermione watched on, slightly fearful.
She'd seen him angry once or twice, but never had Harry looked this dangerous. His hair was whipping about his face and his eyes seemed to have a light glow pulsing deep in his irises. She could feel power pulsing from him as he stood there puffing at the trees he'd just uprooted.
A quick karate chop to his left sent up another horrid screeching sound. This time he had split the tall onyx block resting in the centre of the clearing in two. What must have been a few tonnes of rock slowly peeled open, only the depth it sat into the soft earth preventing it from just falling flat to the sides.
"A mutation. How dare he. Your own father."
As he spat the last word, Harry pushed both hands forward and the split onyx too went flying noisily off into the underbrush.
"Harry, STOP!" Hermione yelled, squeezing her eyes and hands tight as she tried to reign in her emotions from the conversations, she'd just been involved in. When they opened again, she saw Harry staring at her, a look of bashful remorse spread over his visage. He looked every bit the scared eight-year-old again, not the powerful presence that had rampaged over the clearing since their arrival.
"Sorry," he mumbled, collapsing to the ground and hunching forward.
"S'alright," Hermione replied as she plonked down beside him.
"I shouldn't have done it."
"Well, I'm sure the owner might be a bit miffed when he sees your redecorations…"
Harry laughed but did not look up. "The owner is a butthead."
"Harry!" She admonished, slapping his arm.
"What, I am!"
"You… what?"
"It's mine. This clearing is the exact opposite point of the Manor. Or I should say the farthest point from."
Confusion remained the primary expression on her face as she stared at him.
"Right, I never did explain that, did I? Some… one of my many ancestors took the Manor at the time and pulled it out of the world. Don't ask me how." He cut off the clear question in her eyes. "Some magic is just lost to time. But it's why we're here. This place doesn't really exist on earth. You can't get here by walking or driving or flying. From this spot here, walk in any direction and in less than an hour you will arrive at the Manor. No one can get in unless we bring them. Or, sometimes if they've been here before and can apparate. It doesn't work for everyone, though."
Hermione was stunned. If magic could do something like that, what else could it do? "Why you're here?"
"Yeah, figures you'd notice that out of everything I just told you. I'm in hiding. Have been since I was fifteen months old. The night my parents were murdered, and a lunatic tried to kill me."
Her hand flew to her mouth to prevent the questions and scream that her body wanted to unleash. To think only minutes earlier she'd been fighting with her parents over something so insignificant. What if they were to be killed like that? What if it had been her fault?
"Relax, Hermione. I'm not made of glass. Or porcelain." He chuckled.
"Hey!"
"Ok, easy. You know there is no way to break it like that again. You'll just have to try and drop it again."
"Harry." She scolded.
"Fine. Turns out some prophecy said I was to kill the loon. So, he came after me. Dad died downstairs, forgot his wand and tried to snot the bugger in the nose. Zap. Down he went. Mum was in the room with me. Refused to move. Zap. Down she went. Points his wand at me, fires off a curse and Boom. Down he went. That's when Mipsy brought me here. Except for school and visiting your place, I've spent my entire life since then in this 'bubble'."
Hermione was shocked. At all of it. His cavalier description of an utterly life-changing event. The fact that someone who had seemed so alive and worldly during their talks was basically a prisoner in his own home.
"So, I know this place pretty well by now. This is my favourite place to be alone, though. I've never been here with someone else before. I was just so angry at what Dick was saying… Guess I should fix it up though. I think that stone was an anchor for something or other."
Hermione was still too busy processing his story to think clearly, so she sat in silence and watched as he waved his hands about and the massive broken pillar slowly soared back into the open air. A few clicks and claps later and it was once more buried in the earth, a single cohesive piece of rock, oddly smooth and shiny.
"I'll have Mipsy prepare a room for you to crash out in. We'll get her and Pops to show you how to manage the new magic. Then you can go back home again."
Looking up at Harry, he had his hands extended out to her and pulled her to her feet.
"That wasn't a favourite I hope."
Hermione looked at him with confusion as he indicated her shirt. It was now changing colours much like the second-floor bathroom. She scowled at the shirt.
"Can you ask Mipsy to fix that? The bathroom I mean. Dad's had to turn away several visitors because there is no way to explain it."
"Sure, I'll send her over as soon as we get back to the house."
"And, can you finally teach me how to pop about like that?" She replied, a nervous yet determined look on her face.
Harry smiled. All the things that had been forced through her mind in the last hour and she still wanted to learn something new.
"Never change, Hermione."
ϟ
Monday 19th December 1988.
Nemea was happy to have her young mistress back in the Manor again.
The almost week where she'd returned home with her parents had been borderline torture for the wee elf. She felt the absence of her mistress as an almost physical pain. When she had confided in Mipsy, the elder elf had hugged her tightly and promised to do what she could to ease the hurt.
She hadn't expected Mipsy to get her mistress back into the manor though.
Her joy at having more to do than take finishing lessons on how to be a personal elf, rather than the standard household elf she had been getting trained for, was palpable. She trailed after her mistress like a puppy, looking about as happy as one too.
Though her mistress did spend an inordinate amount of time in the library. Something about meddling portraits hiding the good stuff.
Nemea rather enjoyed the muggle books that had been cycled in front of her mistress before the facts of her magic had come out. For it was where she had spent most of her visits to the manor before that fateful day.
"Tea, mistress?" She asked, stepping up with her freshly brewed batch.
Mistress looked up from her book and smiled brightly at her. The sight swelled Nemea's already buoyed presence.
"Not right this moment, thank you Nemea. You should pour yourself some though, if you're thirsty. I know from experience you make a wicked good cup."
Nemea's pallid cheeks quickly became rosy at the compliment. She had heard stories from the other elves of the politeness and fair treatment they received from the Potters. But given the only one she'd ever had to interact with was Harry, she had no personal experience to go off.
The smiles on both their faces quickly vanished though, as Nemea felt a wave of familiar magic surge over her and the nearby bookshelves began ejecting their books out over the floor. Even her freshly brewed tea was knocked aside and shattered on the hard wooden floor.
Tears welled up in her Mistresses eyes and Nemea felt her heart go out to the little lass.
"Pops…" Hermione sniffled.
The elder elf appeared with a soft noise and proceeded to slip onto his behind in the hot tea spread over the floor. He landed with a thud and his eyes quickly narrowed in on Nemea with a disappointed tinge.
"Clean the mess, Nemea." He ordered as he regained his feet and turned to Hermione. "Yes, young mistress?"
"I wasn't even upset this time. And I would never treat books like that! How can this be my unconscious mind?" She waved her hands at the books now spread over most of the visible floor of the library.
"The mind is a perplexing place, young mistress. Nobody truly understands accidental magic. But in this case, if I'm not mistaken you were feeling very happy, were you not?"
Hermione considered a moment before nodding.
"Happiness may be more enjoyable, yet it is still an advanced and powerful emotion. Emotion tends to be the catalyst of most accidental magic, especially in us elves."
He stepped forward and climbed, slightly awkwardly, into the chair facing Hermione in the little nook. He clasped his hands and rested them in his lap as he cocked his head slightly and looked at his newest charge.
"Put the book on the side table please." Hermione obeyed quickly, marking her place first. "Now close your eyes and your mind. Let nothing in but my voice."
Nemea watched enthralled as Pops ran her mistress through another session of control training. It was the other thing mistress had done since returning, and Nemea thought she was picking it all up so quickly. With young master and all the elves helping her, she had only had one major outburst since her arrival.
"I felt it, Lily, even Harry's wasn't this wild." Nemea heard from a nearby alley of the shelves.
Many thought the bond between owner and elf was a one-way street. That the owner benefited from the magics of the elf serving them and the elf simply obeyed. But she knew now, it went deeper. Or it most certainly did between herself and mistress. The girl's insatiable curiosity had certainly spawned within herself and now she couldn't help but indulge the strong desire welling within her.
She disillusioned her form and snuck forward until she could see the figures in the painting. Old master was pacing, and his bride was watching him closely. Old master's parents watched him pace but said nothing.
"The poor girl had no training at all before she came here, James. Why would she have Harry's natural control?"
"I know, it's just frustrating. The Grangers have sent a nasty letter every day since she arrived. I'd never even heard some of the words in those first two letters. And the whole thing was in capital letters, who does that?"
"The real question," Ancient master added, "if we're training them on this, what's the difference in preparing their normal magic?"
Old master turned to stare at his father, a pensive look on his features. "They'd need wands for that."
His bride smiled at the idea. "You think they run amok now. Imagine the chaos if they were armed."
The quartet broke into soft laughter at the idea, but Nemea was enthralled. She knew she would never cast wizard magic, but she had also never seen it cast in her lifetime. She longed to see it, to feel its flavour wash over her.
"It would be best to focus on it now, that way they have true control before returning to classes. I don't want to keep them from school any longer if we can help it. They both love it there."
"We'd have to find a way to get them to Diagon Alley. I won't trust my grandson with any other than an Ollivanders."
"Oh, Charlus, hush. I know you were good friends with the boy, but there are other options."
"True, Dorea. But Garrick makes fine work. They would serve the children well."
Another soft crack from behind her drew Nemea's attention once more. She turned the corner of the aisle to see her mistress looking much happier, and Pops was nowhere to be seen.
Her mind whirled. The masters wanted the children to learn all magic, and she would be there to watch it. As young mistress's personal elf, she was not required to tend the daily chores, she needed to always be free to assist her mistress. She would be able to see it all, up close.
And a good house-elf showed initiative. They guessed their master's needs before they were given the command. It was why a great elf was never seen, they had already completed the task and moved onto the next. And she knew what the next great task would be.
Nemea smiled as she popped to her room, to await young master's return with Mipsy. Then she would show the family her true worth as an elf.
ϟ
As the soft crack rent the dusty air, Garrick nearly stumbled from his perch on the small step ladder. He was unused to loud noises when not actively seeking a match among his wares and even though the sound had likely been quite faint, in the still air of his narrow shop, it carried like a gunshot.
Softly stepping down to the floor, he glanced down the thin alleyway, walled on either side by his enormous stock of cores and wood to see two young children at the front of the shop, accompanied by a wee house-elf.
"NEMEA! Quickly, seal the door and flip the sign." The boy called, swinging his eyes about as though afraid to be seen.
And Garrick nearly immediately noted why. He may be getting on in years, but neither his craft nor his eyes had suffered as a result. The messy black hair swishing back and forth was unmistakeable for someone who had provided the last three generations of his family with their first wands. One of whom was his first customer after taking over the shop full time. But it was the eyes that removed any doubt. As they flickered over the dark confines of his shop in a panic, Garrick noted the distinct shape and shade he'd only seen once before. So long ago, yet also a blink of an eye for one with as many years as he.
Harry Potter was alive.
Harry spun back to look at the elf who had just sealed his shop. "Obscure me, quickly."
Garrick smoothed his robes and dusted a light feather that he'd disturbed at the crack from his shoulder and shifted his position to the far aisle. It was time for his second favourite part of the job.
"Well, well. What a treat." He cooed as he dissolved out of the shadows on the far side of the shop from the children.
He got the usual thrill as the trio spun to face him and he could see the shock in their faces at his sudden appearance.
"A touch young for Hogwarts yet, I think. But no matter. The law, after all, does not say when one can buy one's first wand, only when and where one can use it."
He was in full mystery mode now as the youngsters eyed him warily.
"Indeed." Came the now disguised voice of Harry Potter.
His eyes now a deep blue and his features distorted just enough that unless you knew him, you'd not be able to put the pieces together. Those eyes locked on his own as Garrick surveyed the boy closely.
He looked exactly the right size for a boy of his age, so he was well kept, wherever he had been secreted. And there was a fire in his eyes that the glamour could not hide. He was ready to fight dependant on the next words from Garrick's mouth. The now sandy coloured hair was James to the root. He'd never seen any other family with hair so unruly, except perhaps the wee girl beside him.
But before the glamour had come down, despite the shock of seeing the dead, he had clearly seen the vibrant green eyes of Lily Evans. The boy was his parents' child, in body and spirit from what he could see.
His eyes flicked to the girl and he noted Harry stiffen. A slight smile tugged at his lips, but decades of experience with mystery mode kept it from showing. But more interesting was the look in her eyes. While Harry was firmly in mid-fight-or-flight, the girl was analysing him almost as surely as he was her. There was a deep intelligence in those brown eyes and so far, she did not seem impressed with what she had seen.
Well, that would not do at all. While he was immensely proud of the quality of his works, what Garrick truly prided himself on, was his showmanship. People always remembered the day they were found by their wand and he recalled them all too.
"Shall we begin?" He offered gently, hands spread in a gesture of peace.
"We need two wands," Harry replied, his posture loosening slightly at the gesture, but still watching him closely.
"As there are two of you present, I had assumed that to be the case," Garrick responded as he quickly circled the counter and disappeared once more down the dusty aisles. He quickly gathered a handful of options before returning to the desk. "Who's first?"
He held a light-coloured wand, handle first, in the direction of the pair. The light apple and unicorn a favourite of his for first attempts. The reaction helped him narrow his focus quickly due to his many years of experience.
Harry slowly raised his arm but froze mid-way up. He turned and smiled widely at the girl. "You first, Hermione."
She beamed back at him and took a step forward, her hand closing about the handle and Garrick felt a jolt at his end. An interesting reaction. One he had not felt in a long time. He looked at her eyes as she gazed at the wood in her light grip, but he knew the look was wrong. It was on the right track, but not the right piece.
He quickly lifted it from her grip and found himself staring into a pair of glowing green eyes. The power seeping over him had overpowered the glamour and his true eye colour now shone out as Harry glared at him, suddenly standing much closer.
"Close, but not right." He lifted the wand and indicated the end to Harry but glanced to the side to see the downcast eyes of Hermione. "Fret not, miss. We'll find your perfect match. It's never the first one."
Hermione brightened at his comment and Harry's throbbing magic receded. Garrick was enthralled by the reaction. He realized he had underestimated the boy with his selection. Something with more power would be needed here.
Harry gripped the end of the apple wand and Garrick watched his eyes closely. The glamour had failed completely, and the green remained as he looked down at the wood in his hands. There was no reaction at all. A complete mismatch as he had expected after that showing.
"Good, good." He whipped the wand from Harry's hand and danced back to the counter.
Unicorn hair seemed to favour the girl, but none of the components reacted to Harry in the slightest. He glanced at the options on the counter and soon freed the next from its box.
"Cypress with a phoenix heart." He held it end first once more to Hermione and she grasped it firmly, as though afraid he'd rip it from her hand again.
He could feel the upswing in power in the air. This was closer to her wood, but the feather rejected her utterly. There would be no true reaction from this wand. He offered his hand and smiled at the girl as she returned both.
Offering the handle to Harry, he watched closely as the boy inspected the wand. There was the slimmest glimmer in the eyes as he held the wand. "Give it a wave, boy."
Harry eyed him before turning to the side and waving it at the wall. A dark red curve of magic followed the sweep of the wood and left a dark gouge in the wall opposite. A deep, dark gouge.
Ollivander's eyes widened at the showing. And with an unmatched wand. He offered his hand again and Harry sheepishly returned the wand as if afraid it might attack the man unbidden. The boy grew uncomfortable under his gaze, but Garrick found himself enthralled. A true prodigy perhaps?
He returned the wand to its box but noted a wave of slight anger in the wood. It had not liked the spell the boy had forced through it.
"I wonder." He shot back down the aisle, ignoring the pile he'd originally brought forth and grabbed a couple of distractions as he approached the back corner. He'd secreted this one away in the seventies, acting as though he'd not made it for the longest time.
He returned with a new armful and pulling the first free of its box, waved the wand and sent the first set flying back to their positions. He held the wand out for Hermione.
"Elm this time. Dragon heart."
She gripped the wand and again he noted a reaction in her, but again it was off. She was difficult, perhaps as hard as Harry would have been, had he not happened upon so brilliant a link.
Still, he passed the returned wand to the boy, keeping up appearances. It wouldn't do to tip his hat too early. An odd feeling permeated the air as his fingers closed on the wood and he turned without instruction and waved the wand again. This time, healing the fracture he had put in the wood with his first stroke.
Garrick was amazed, usually, the magic he saw leaving his wands in here was decidedly mundane. But the boy seemed to have a disturbing level of control over his magic.
Harry returned the wand with a grin; clearly happy he had repaired the damage he had caused.
Garrick spun and dropped the elm wand on the desk and freed the next from its confines. He spun and handed it unceremoniously to Hermione, who did not react in the slightest to wood or core. He was a little impatient now and pulled the wand a little roughly from the girl's hand.
He paused before pointing the handle at the boy. "Holly, with a phoenix feather core."
Garrick watched like a hawk, all his senses now focused on Harry. The moment of truth was here. Harry's fingers closed over the dark handle of the wand and Garrick was immersed in a swirl of magic from the boy. He smiled momentarily as he watched, the wand…
BURST INTO FLAMES!
Harry yelped and dropped the offending piece as an intense white flame spread from the tip downward at a serious clip. Within a second the entire wand was engulfed in the hot white flames and within several seconds, it was completely gone.
"I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean to do that." Harry pleaded.
Ollivander did not reply, his mouth was wide, and his eyes fixed on the pile of ash laid on the floor before him. A second flare of white flame burst up for a moment and when it receded, a single red feather was sitting on the floor. He flicked his eyes up at the boy again but was still unable to form words.
He turned to the counter and without thought pulled another wand from a box, handing it slowly to Harry, the first he passed as he turned back.
Harry looked at the wand with a perplexed look. Part fear, part confusion. Were his thoughts more composed, Garrick might have reacted, but his mind was still on the obvious choice now destroyed on the floor of his shop. He wasn't even paying enough attention to see Harry attempting to return the wand.
After a moment, Harry handed it to Hermione and a swirl of her magic burst through the store, blowing away the remaining holly ash and causing a few boxes to tumble in the back of the store. Her hair billowed wildly, and a broad smile spread on her lips.
The reaction finally drew Garrick from his own thoughts as he looked at the perfect match in front of him.
"Uh… may I, Hermione?"
She held the wand to him with a look of trepidation. She was clearly afraid he'd take it from her for good. He inspected it closely, remembering forging it some sixty-three years earlier. Made of elder, a most disagreeable wood to work with. He had attempted seventeen elder wands over the years, most in the same vain attempt that all wandmakers fell to at one time after hearing the tale. But this one had paired with a delightful surprise in its core.
"Elder, eleven inches, precisely. Springy, despite the normally stiff nature of these wands. And unicorn hair core. I was very surprised at that as elder usually likes to change hands, while unicorn hair oft refuses to do so. Odd in that the mare refused to offer from her tail, too. This hair came from the most glorious mane of hair I've seen on a unicorn. A truly powerful and loyal wand, I think you'll find this to be."
Hermione glowed as he passed the wand back to her and a lesser reaction occurred once more, this time only blowing her wild hair outward.
Garrick turned back to Harry and realized he'd not even noted the boy's reaction to the girl's wand. No matter, he still had a client to match and now he had to fear for his wares as well.
He eyed the stack of wands left on the counter and noted another oddity among them. He pulled the wand free and spun back to Harry. The glamour had failed further under the pressure from the girl's outburst and now he looked almost himself once more.
"Rowan, this time."
Harry gripped the wand and the entire store shook. Garrick lost his footing at the sudden shaking and bumped his head lightly on the side of the counter as he fell backward. The girl quickly wrapped her arm around Harry's, but his reaction was the most amazing. His eyes flared with a deep glow and his hair whipped about much as the girl's had. There was power pulsing off him as he looked at the polished pale wood in his hands.
Hermione reached out and plucked the wand from his fingers and the reaction ceased immediately. Garrick couldn't take his eyes from the boy. While he had not matched to the wand he had expected, he had certainly proven the belief behind the offering was sound. That boy was dripping power and he seemed to barely notice. Great things indeed.
"Antipodean heartstring that one. One of the few cores in here I didn't collect myself." Ollivander gave as he stood back up, dusting his front and settling the precarious stack of boxes on the counter before they succumbed to gravity.
"I'm told he was the jewel of their reserve, outliving all others of his kind by a substantial marker. And, if the rumour was true, he chose to end his life. Cut out his own heart and laid it before the Reserve Master only a decade ago. A former student of mine at one point, he sent me the central heart-string immediately and I just had to make something special of it."
Harry looked at the wand in Hermione's left hand with awe.
"And rowan is a delightful wood. Tremendously protective, and with that heartstring, powerful too. Great things." His eyes flicked between the pair as he gave a chuckle and he chose not to share the other tidbit about elder and rowan. "Both of you are clearly bound for great things. Curious that they both come in at precisely eleven inches, and are identically springy, given the difference in the woods."
Silence gripped the store once more as the quartet stood unmoving. A silence Garrick broke marvellously as he clapped loudly, causing the other three to jump, and rounded the counter.
"Excellent, most excellent. So, are we paying together then, or apart?"
Hermione glanced at Harry who just nodded, eyes still fixed on the rowan wand, and the girl turned to the elf.
"Nemea, please." She turned back and locked eyes on Ollivander. "How much?"
"Normally not terribly much, but these two pieces are some of my finest work."
"And the Holly," Harry whispered.
"Pardon?"
"We'll pay for the Holly wand too. I'm still sorry about that." He replied, looking away from the wand for the first time.
"Very well, if you wish. All three together would come to 27 galleons, I'm afraid."
Hermione looked confusedly at him. "And how much is that in pounds?"
Garrick eyed the muggleborn for a moment before his eyes flicked to Harry. The boy still looked down for some reason. Why was Harry Potter standing there with a muggleborn girl? Especially one still so young?
"I'm afraid we only accept Galleons, my dear."
"Nemea, home," Harry called and the elf vanished in a moment.
It was several long seconds before she returned with a much older and much angrier elf.
"Pops?" Hermione whispered as the elder elf marched to the counter and lobbed a bag of Galleons onto the countertop, an impressive feat given Garrick couldn't even see the top of his head over the bench.
The elf stormed back over to the kids and held out his hand. Hermione placed the rowan wand in his grip before the old elf grabbed Harry roughly by the arm and, with a crack, was gone.
Hermione looked up at him for a moment before the younger elf slipped her hand into the girls.
"Thank you, sir." And with a second crack, she was gone as well.
Garrick slumped back into the chair he kept behind the counter. That day had definitely not gone as he had expected. The brother was destroyed. The boy was alive. And the mystery of the girl. Garrick was not often given over to a need for answers. He was quite happy in his work and his knowledge, but the day had his mind whirling, and he needed to know.
So, he left the shop sealed and rushed to his office, where he pulled out a quill and began to write a letter.
ϟ
Tuesday 20th December 1988.
Albus grinned broadly as he read the letter. At last, he had the final piece of the puzzle he had been denied so long. No wonder the bloody goblins had denied him. The true-born heir still lived, though how he lived was anyone's guess. Hagrid had shown up too late, no residual magic was detectable in the rubble.
But now he had new options. Before he was acting blindly. Now he had a target.
He leapt from his desk and moved to several small silver objects. The one he needed, a tall tripod with a hanging silver pendulum with a delicate point.
He returned it to his desk and withdrew a map of England from a drawer, placing the tripod over the centre and applying a drop of his own blood to the top of the pendulum before tapping it with his elder wand.
The pendulum began to swivel, soon moving in concentric circles, growing tighter and tighter as the scrying spell sought its target.
Albus smiled, soon the legacy would be in his grip and he'd have what he had sought for so long.
The smile vanished as the pendulum widened again and without warning shifted to almost ninety degrees from the map and shattered violently against one of the tripod legs.
He sank into his chair as the now destroyed trinket wound down.
Scrying still didn't work. Where was the boy being concealed so perfectly? Even Hogwarts would not prevent a scrying spell of that power from finding him.
Where in the world was Harry James Potter?