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Harry Potter and the Heart of the Hero | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Nymphadora Tonks, Oliver Wood, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape Genres: General Warnings: Mild Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 206 Summary: Dumbledore is gone, or is he? Harry feels the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, but he is soon to learn that his brooding nature and desire to face his fate alone may be his greatest weakness. It is his emotions, or rather his capacity for emotion that makes him strong, and his relationships his greatest source of strength. When the summer begins and he faces a fortnight with the Dursleys everything he knows, or rather thinks he knows comes into question. Can he... should he do this all alone? And is he anywhere near ready? Hogwarts is to be re-opened, the Ministry officially endorsing it as the safest possible place to be. As his birthday approaches there are monumental surprises in store for Harry. Who is he really? And what about his family, who came before his mother and father? Why is the Potter name so famous, and yet so unknown? Encouraged not to run off to face his fate he returns to Hogwarts for his final year, but surprises abound at the school as well. Can Harry become the wizard he needs to be to face the Dark Lord? Will he let the people he respects and love really help him? And what of help from unexpected sources; sources he might never trust? Hitcount: Story Total: 118359; Chapter Total: 1490 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: As always, a big thank you to beta readers Arnel and Seeker's Destiny. |
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Hogsmeade Migration Hogsmeade, as the only exclusively Wizarding community in Britain, and neighbor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had long been a quiet little hamlet on the Northwest edge of Loch Meade, going along day-to-day, with little appearance of outward change. Just to the Northeast lay a small part of the much larger loch that had many distant years before become a separate lake. The students of Hogwarts called it the great lake, or just the lake. Very few remembered that it had an older local name “Loch Dubus.” The truth of history was that the Hogwarts founders had been attracted to the smaller lake because of the village of Merpeople that lived there and the number of other magical species that flourished in the forests near the lake, particularly a large population of Centaurs. They had chosen to build their school there in part so that they could ensure the long-term protection of the lake and the forests. Today it represented the largest magical preserve and magically protected region in all of the United Kingdom. The village of Hogsmeade had been founded some said, as early as the turn of the tenth century by a legendary Wizard called Hengist of Woodcroft. Stories of the founding of the village ranged widely depending on who was doing the telling. Some said Hengist was a lost and bumbling figure, who in his wanderings was attracted unknowingly by the magic of the region. He discovered the magical lake and forest, they would say, purely by accident, and established the village only after being driven from the nearby forest by Centaurs, and from the magical lake by the Merpeople. Others depicted him as a benevolent figure that established the village expressly to provide a Wizarding presence as a protection for the black lake and its surrounding forests. Regardless of which version of history was nearer the truth, it was agreed, at least, that Hengist of Woodcroft was the first Wizard to live there and that it was he who established the village and given it its name. He was also generally thought to be responsible for the treaty which agreed to confine Wizarding activities to the larger loch and leave the smaller loch and forests to the magical species that dwelled there ensuring that they would continue to do so peacefully. The naming of Hogsmeade was the subject of equally colorful stories concerning Hengist. The most commonly told tale was that after being chased away from the black lake, or after establishing friendly relations with the Centaurs and the Merpeople, depending on the version, he came upon a relatively flat expanse of forest that was populated by wild hogs. He then discovered a beautiful open meadow - while running from the hogs in some versions - where he would establish his farm and declare it “Hogsmeade.” The larger loch would then come to be called Loch Meade by the Wizards who soon began to settle the area at Hengist’s invitation. The Lord Provost of Hogsmeade, Abhainn Armitage, sat at his paper-crowded desk, in his small, plain, office, trying to determine what he should do first. Armitage was a highly respected and well-regarded member of the Hogsmeade community. A man of entirely average height, weight, and the physical presence of an individual easily lost or overlooked. He had been raised a farmer and a fisherman and had the weathered look of a man who’d worked in the outdoors for most of his life. As such, his clothing was simple and practical; trousers and a wool, turtle neck, pullover. Robes had never been conducive to life on the loch, so outside of ceremonial, formal, or official occasions, he generally chose not to wear them. His hair was cropped close at the sides, longer on top and now that he had passed his one-hundred twenty-fifth birthday it had gone grey, thick, and wiry. He wore a chin beard, preferring to shave his upper lip. His most distinctive feature was his pale green eyes, the color of sea moss, bleached in the sun. The Armitages were one of the oldest established families in the Loch Meade area, generally believed to be descended from Hengist of Woodcroft, and Abhainn took considerable pride in his heritage. His family possessed an extensive holding of land along the Southcentral shore of the loch. For most of his life, it had been a working farm, but about fifty years ago, near the end of his father’s life the property had been converted to a hunting lodge and Abhainn had turned to fishing as a profession. He fancied himself a Wizard of the earth, he valued the work he could do with his hands, using magic merely to assist. When he’d turned one-hundred ten, he decided it was time to slow down and lead a life of relative leisure. A friend had suggested he run for Lord Provost, and as the position was largely ceremonial, speeches on holidays, the odd civic award, and commencement once a year at Hogwarts, he thought it might be a good fit. After first winning the position, he had remained in it, unchallenged, for the past fifteen years. In that time, the Village had changed considerably, not only had it grown, but the populace had demanded modernizations that sometimes made him uncomfortable. Still, the job had remained slow and his duties mostly for show. It was unusual that he had to come into his town office more than once every couple of weeks. Now, however, it was a very different story. Just over a year ago it had been revealed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned, and suddenly there was a rush of Wizarding families who thought there might be safety in an all-Wizarding community. All the influx of population had caused his workload to increase exponentially. All the available properties had been snatched up quickly and at a premium. Then the Macpherson’s had sold their farms South of the Ogilhinn River to a developer named Gideon Glebe, and within months the Village had tripled in size. Glebe was building, not only, some of the cutest single-family cottages on the South edge of the village, he had also started building some multi-story flats along the river. The population of Hogsmeade had easily quadrupled over the past year and that trend had only increased with the death of Dumbledore at the end of the last school year. Other developers too had sought land acquisitions and planning permits and the Village Council had backed a plan for road construction clear into the Three-Falls area creating a need for parks and public areas to be defined, and well, frankly, it was all much more work than Abhainn had ever signed up for. The village had more than tripled in land area and the residents had begun to refer to the newer areas South of the river, as South Hogsmeade. It had been formally proposed that the area be named Hogsglen, which, while an apt description of the land area, to Abhainn’s ear, didn’t sound right. The Village Council had first approved and constructed Muggle-style municipal water and sewer services before his tenure as Lord Provost. It seemed the modern Wizard had tired of having to refresh household spells to pump and purify water or banish waste. With the larger population, the existing systems in the main of the Village were in dire need of replacement. With the recent attack by Death Eaters, causing severe damage along the High Street, much of that recovery work had been expedited at the expense of other projects. There was also the construction of Camp Contego, just beyond the North limits of the village, as the home of The Ministry’s new Army, and the Ministry’s first-ever Branch office. If the Ministry didn’t step in and help out the village in providing basic services, there would surely be a revolt when the village announced the need for more taxes. Numerous other municipal concerns needed to be addressed. He had been promised by the council that an Assistant Provost and at least two Municipal Clerks would be hired to handle the increased village business and record-keeping, but none of that had yet happened. Along with the increased population came all the increased business. He had easily over a hundred requests for business permits on his desk along with associated requests for various services, and that was just those who wanted to do business properly. He had never imagined that the village would ever grow as it had, and the only thing he knew was that he was done with the job of Lord Provost, as soon as the election came around in November. No one had yet seemed to notice that he had not registered as a candidate. Unfortunately, neither had anyone else. He was not exactly sure what would happen if no one stepped forward to take on the job. He just knew that the job was no longer fun. He was going to bring it up at the next council meeting. He imagined himself for a moment in his little boat, out on the loch, a line in the water and the cool breeze on his face. He sighed heavily and reached for the first business application atop the thick stack on his desk. He glanced over it briefly. “A joke shop,” he said quietly to the empty office as he read the annotated document. Everything seemed to be in order, and the proper registration fee was accounted for. “Well,” he said aloud again to the empty office, “Unless Zonko’s reopens, they will not have any competition, so, who am I to say no?” He sighed again, stamped the application, set it aside lethargically, and reached for the next one in the stack. “You’re sure, mate?” Harry said as he opened his locker and pulled out his Quidditch pads. “I’m sure, Harry,” Ron replied, as he pulled his jumper over his shoulders and took his keeper pads from his temporary locker. “So, if she’s figured out the truth, why hasn’t she said anything? Harry scoffed tiredly, “I, mean, I am not sure how much more of this I can take.” “It’s been a very busy week,” Ron retorted. “Hermione’s just got to get it all straight in her mind, then she’ll come round.” “Well, I will give you, it has been a busy week,” Harry agreed, but that didn’t make him feel any better. The new locker room was abuzz with Gryffindors suiting up for Quidditch try-outs. As he finished dressing, Harry took a minute to appreciate the new facilities. Head Mistress McGonagall had been good as her word about taking Quidditch more seriously. The pitch had been completely updated, and could now be called a proper stadium. Two locker rooms had been added, one on each side of the pitch, complete with showers and proper equipment rooms. Captains and Vice Captains had been assigned permanent lockers in individual House designated areas. Team members would be assigned lockers in due course, but for try-outs students were welcome to use any unoccupied space. Each house was now assigned a viewing box on the first tier of seating, and three additional tiers had been added to accommodate visitors. New to the facility was the addition of concession stands. The viewing towers had also been expanded to allow for more premium seating. Rumor was that the school’s matches would be opened up to the Wizarding public through ticket sales. This would in turn support the new facilities. With the village of Hogsmeade growing so rapidly, and Camp Contego, the new Wizarding Army base, there seemed a convenient audience within walking distance. Truthfully, any wizard was just an Apparition away, so it was curious that the games had always been seemingly restricted to the school. Now families would be able to come see their students play without having to ask special permission. Sportswriters from magazines and the Daily Prophet would now be able to report on the games, and team recruiters from the professional leagues would be able to attend as well. Harry had never seriously considered a professional career in Quidditch, but all this new hype was swaying his thinking a little. For now, though, he just needed to get through team try-outs. He and Ron stepped out of the locker room into the covered team area. On a game day this space would be decked out in the colors of the team house, but now was simply a large bench tucked under the first tier of raised seating at ground level. Ginny was waiting there ready to take the pitch and Harry could hear the many eager candidates gathering behind them. He stepped up next to Ginny and with a nod of acknowledgment they stepped out together onto the pitch. From the ground the new pitch was impressive. The added seating made the play area feel more contained and a little smaller. The towers, now set further back, were larger and more imposing. As they walked out onto the pitch Harry could see that there was a fairly large number of observers in each of the house boxes. This was typically the case as the other teams would want to check out the competition. He also noticed several groups of people spread throughout the seating areas. At first, he didn’t recognize anyone, but then he noticed a couple of blokes in a small group of what had to be army recruits, based on the uniforms. The two were pressed to the third-tier rail and seemed to be waving at him. Looking closer Harry realized that it was Kenneth Towler and Eddie Carmichael. Towler had been a victim of the twin’s product testing and Carmichael, as Harry recalled, had been a Ravenclaw, who had tried to sell He and Ron a brain elixir before their OWL exams. Harry waved back at them reflexively, but he wasn’t sure why either of them would be here at the try-outs. Harry thought it curious that so many people had come to watch try-outs, but it didn’t bother him, and it would only help his team get used to playing in front of an audience. He and Ginny reached center pitch and turned to face the team area. It appeared that nearly everyone in Gryffindor had come to try out, and that included a large number of the first years. Harry, cleared his throat, then in his best pitch voice, spoke. “Welcome, everyone, to try-outs for the Gryffindor House, nineteen ninety-seven, ninety-eight, Quidditch team. My name is Harry Potter, and I will be your team captain this year.” The students began to applaud, and Harry, gesturing, tried to quickly quiet them. “You all know there have been several changes to the program. Not the least of which is this wonderful new pitch.” Harry waved his arms one at a time in each direction drawing their gaze to the new facilities. “Vice-captains have been added to each team and I would like to introduce to you, your vice-captain, Ginny Weasley.” The applause erupted again. Ginny stepped forward and gave a little bow. Harry continued, “Today it is our task to select eight of you to represent Gryffindor house, along with Ginny and myself. This is a rebuilding year for the team, so we will be looking hard for the best new talent. School rules allow for seven starters per team and three reserve players for a total of ten, and as it appears the house has come out in force to try out, we will have a busy morning. Those of you who survive the process long enough will be allowed to try out for up to three positions. To begin we will run you through some warm-up drills. For that, I turn you over to our vice-captain.” Ginny stepped forward and with no hesitation, took command of the group. “All right, you lot. We’ve got a bunch to do today and in order to get through everything, the first thing I am going to need from you is good listening. Anyone not listening, or caught fooling around, not taking try-outs seriously will be asked to leave, is that clear?” The group looked around at each other sheepishly and nodded silently in response. Ginny’s volume raised sharply, “When I ask you a question, I want a response! Now is that clear?” “Yes, vice-captain!” came the unpracticed, group response. Ginny continued, “All right, then. On this team you will be judged by talent and potential, there will be no separation by year. Each of you will compete equally. As you may have heard the school has acquired new brooms this year and the rumors that those brooms are all Firebolts is true.” The group broke into applause again. “Each member of each school team will be assigned a new broom for the duration of the Quidditch season. However, for tryouts, you must provide your own broom. This presumes that you are practiced with your own broom and will therefore display your best skills. As your team captain said, we’re going to begin with warm-up drills. Let’s start with some good stretches and some pitch sprints. Then we’ll line up for a quick session of Quaffle toss.” After warm-ups, several of the least experienced students had already dropped out. Ginny had everyone remaining demonstrate a running broom mount and that eliminated several more. They then formed smaller groups to begin timed laps around the pitch. As Ginny and Harry watched closely, assessing speed and stability, the eliminations continued. After time trials, they split into groups by desired position, and with little time to rest between exercises, the field of competitors began to narrow quickly. Two hours in and they had carved the competition down to about twenty potentials. Then began a series of knowledge demonstrations by position. Keepers had to demonstrate various named saves while under assault by eager Chasers demonstrating flight speed, pass accuracy, and general broom prowess. Beaters had to demonstrate bat handling, strike force, and accuracy. And Seekers had to chase an actual Snitch for five minutes each. Harry and Ginny were relentless, pushing hard for the best performances from everyone, neither taking a break other than to drink a few gulps of water for hydration. By the time they finished, just before lunch, everyone in the group was exhausted, some laboring to catch their breaths. They had narrowed the field to just fourteen competitors. Harry addressed them. “Great work today everyone. You should all feel proud of your performances. Ginny and I have some very difficult decisions to make. Before we dismiss you, I just want to thank you for coming out and showing such great interest in the team. I have no doubt whoever we pick, we will have an outstanding Quidditch team this year. We will post the final team roster in the common room by noon tomorrow. Thanks again everyone, now go and get cleaned up and I will see you all at lunch.” The tired, but excited group quickly moved toward the locker rooms. Ron, who was still a little winded, clapped Harry on the back. “Blimey, Harry, I knew you were gonna take the team seriously, but that was quite the workout just now.” Ginny approached from Harry’s other side. “We’ve got good reason, Ron. There is an extra team this year. That means five games instead of four, and the Beauxbatons’ team is not only an unknown quantity at this point - they also have their roster set and have already begun practicing.” “Yeah, I suppose it would be a big thing for them to sweep in and take the School Cup,” Ron said. “I am certain that is their intention,” Harry said, as they followed the rest in the direction of the locker rooms. “It will be our job to defend the school. I mean - I haven’t seen how the other House teams will shape up, but we’ve all got to rebuild, and frankly, Slytherin has always been our main competition. This year, with the number of students who didn’t return, I don’t know how they are going to have much of a team.” Ron and Ginny both nodded in agreement. “So, Harry and I agree,” Ginny said. “We are going to put together the foremost talent the House has to offer and we are going to work them hard to become the best that they can be.” Ron nodded again, and Harry took Ginny’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Well, if that’s the plan, this morning was a good start,” Ron said. “You know I’ll do my part for the team.” “That’s assuming you make the final cut,” Ginny interjected teasingly as she peeled away toward the woman’s changing room. “Good thing McLaggen graduated last year.” Ginny grinned as she disappeared down the open hall. “What was that about, Harry?” Ron asked, sounding a bit unsure. “Ginny’s just having you on, Ron,” Harry reassured as they continued into the locker room. “You’ve been practicing, and you had a good try-out. The only one who came close to your number of saves was Orin Doxmuth, and clearly, he’d rather play Beater based on his try-outs. Ginny and I will get this all sorted later today. Right now, I just want to shower, change, and get to lunch.” About twenty minutes later Ron and Harry exited the pitch, where they found Ginny talking with Kenneth Towler and Eddie Carmichael. The two were dressed in olive drab Military uniforms, with a heavy cloak that could be worn back, or pulled forward like a robe. Harry shot Ron a raised eyebrow, and they stepped over, nodding in greeting. “Nice to see you, Eddie, Kenneth,” Harry said politely. “Saw you up in the stands.” “Blimey, Harry, good to see you mate,” Eddie began. He extended his hand to shake, and Harry obliged, Ron following suit thereafter. “We jumped at the chance to come watch your try-outs. Looks like you have some nice talent this year.” “Yeah, we’ll make do,” Harry replied, “Wish we didn’t have to choose so many new players this year, but we’ll get the team in to shape soon enough.” Towler, who had kept his hands firmly in his pockets up until this point, spoke up. “Eddie here petitioned the Camp Commander to let us form an Army Quidditch team. We thought it might be fun to play against the Hogwarts’ house teams, but they aren’t going to build a pitch at the camp, and they said the age differences of the players wouldn’t be fair.” “Well, that is an interesting notion,” Ron responded. “I am sorry to hear it’s not going to be allowed. It might have been fun to play those games, even unofficially.” Ginny nodded her head in agreement. “Well, even if we can’t form our own team, it will be lots of fun to be able to come see your games in this new stadium,” said Eddie. “You two are at the new camp, then?” Harry asked. “Yeah, Camp Contego, we came in with the first recruits about two weeks ago,” Kenneth answered. “Contego?” Ron interjected. “Funny sort of name for an Army camp, in’ it? Sounds Spanish.” “It does kinda, doesn’t it,” Eddie offered. “They told us it’s Latin for ‘Shield,’ so like the shield spell ‘Protego’ which really means protection. But we’ve all been say’n pretty much the same thing.” “What made you want to join the Army?” Ginny asked. “Honestly, it’s about the best paying opportunity around just now,” Kenneth said. He looked over at Eddie who nodded slightly, and he continued. “Plus, with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rearing his ugly head, a lot of regular job opportunities have dried up.” “I figure, if there is a fight coming, that we are going to have to deal with it anyway, I would rather be prepared for it, and the Army is giving us extensive Magical combat training, three meals a day, and paying us as well,” Eddie added. “So far it has been a lot like being at Hogwarts if you only ever took Madam Hooch’s first year flying class and anything taught by Snape,” Kenneth said through a restrained chuckle. The others all laughed as well. “Oh, and we run a lot.” “It’s not so bad though,” Eddie said. “We get to go into Hogsmeade lots of evenings and pretty much every weekend. Maybe we’ll see you there on your weekends?” “Anything is possible,” Ginny said. She had managed to step close to Harry and take his hand. “So, did you just come for try-outs today? How’d you even know we were holding them?” Harry asked. “Well, about that. It’s the first weekend of the new term, so it just makes sense that you would be holding them. But we were actually asked to come, so we could make a delivery,” Kenneth said. “Familiar faces, as it were.” He pulled a small folded parchment envelope out of his chest pocket and handed it to Harry. “The Camp Commander, asked us to deliver this message to you, in person,” Eddie said. “Do you know what it says?” Harry asked. “Haven’t a clue,” Kenneth responded. “Do you need a response?” “Wasn’t asked to wait for one.” “In that case, I’ll look at this later.” Harry shoved the envelope into his jumper pocket. “We better be off to lunch before we miss it.” “Yeah, I expect we should be going ourselves,” Kenneth said. “I enjoyed watching the try-outs. We’ll be looking forward to coming back for the games.” They exchanged last departing pleasantries before turning back to the path up to the castle and the awaiting lunch. Ron’s stomach growled. Severus Snape descended the stone steps going round and round a wide spiral toward the ground level of the Castle. Upon reaching ground he pushed open a broad wooden door that revealed beyond, a cobblestone courtyard surrounded by sheer stone walls. At ground level around the periphery were a series of wooden structures; what once would have been stables and work stalls for all of the guild artisans and tradesmen required to keep the castle functioning. An old blacksmithing forge was evident, surrounded by now silent tools. At its height, around the mid-eighteenth century, this would have been the heart of the castle community. Here, protected in the courtyard by strong defensible walls and a heavy back gate, was where deliveries of all sorts would be made. The various stalls would have been filled with smiths and farmers, wood wrights, leather workers, candle makers, weavers, masons, and more, all employed in the business of supporting life in the castle. None of this work took place on-site anymore, or if it did it was done by house-elves and they preferred not to work where they could be observed. Snape crossed the courtyard quickly, arriving at a stone structure tucked into a corner against the castle wall at the back of the courtyard. There was a heavy oak door and high barred windows, making the building look formidable. It would have once been an armory and therefore secured against forced entry. Now, however, it was being used to keep one particular prisoner within. One potentially formidable prisoner, considering the work he was doing and the resources required to accomplish that task. The door itself was not locked, but Snape could feel the physical weight of the personalized wards as he passed through them, toward it, like passing through layers of a shallow, slow motion, waterfall. Upon opening the door and entering the room he was assailed by the scents of freshly cut wood, boiling Linseed oil, sweet and pungent aromas like those familiar to a potion laboratory, and there was something more. The earthy, subtle scents of decay. Light streamed in the high windows, obscured by the smoke of several small fires, filling the room with a sort of dull daylight. It required a moment's adjustment when entering from outside. There were piles of various types of wood, mostly local, but it was all sectioned branches one to three inches in diameter. It looked more like random gatherings of firewood from the forest floor than a deliberate collection and indeed Snape would not have known which piles were for feeding the fires and which were not. Further into the room, there were large pots set over the fires, giving off a variety of the curious scents. Toward the center of the room there were several work tables strewn with what looked to be woodworking tools. In a back corner near a fireplace was a cot, a chair, a small wardrobe, and a table to prepare and eat meals. “Ollivander,” Snape called as he stepped further into the room. “Yes, yes, yes, I am here,” came the strained, tired, response from Garrick Ollivander, as he shuffled slowly from the personal area toward the center of the room. “Of course, I am here. Where else would I be?” He looked old and quite worn, his clothes were dirtied with soot from the many fires and he clearly had not been afforded the time or the accessories required to properly bathe and keep up his appearance. He moved tentatively and with a slight limp. Snape suspected that at some point recently he had been shackled about the ankles. “Severus, is that you?” Ollivander questioned as he came closer. “Yes,” Snape responded indifferently. “Thank goodness,” Ollivander exclaimed, sounding relieved. “You at least know how to be civil. Some of the ruffians that come in here demanding new, more powerful wands, think that just because I am here against my will, that gives them leave to mistreat me.” Snape chuckled darkly. “Some men cannot help but flex what little power they possess. Unfortunately, being a prisoner does make you a rather easy target. I am sorry about that; I will speak to them again. As long as you continue to cooperate, there is no reason your stay should not be as pleasant as possible.” Ollivander had reached the center of the room. “Thank you, Severus. Now, what is your Master’s desire today?” “Tread lightly, Garrick,” Snape warned. “He is quite literally your Master as well, at the moment. Best to show a little deference at the very least.” For a long moment both men were silent and still. “He desires a report on your progress.” Ollivander nodded, knowingly, and motioned for Snape to come closer as he turned toward a cabinet at the back wall. “I believe all is ready; I simply await instruction. I need only choose and prepare the wood.” They reached the cabinet together and Ollivander placed his hand on the door handle. “I have chosen, what I believe are the most powerful core candidates. I can proceed at any time.” He pulled open the cabinet door. The cabinet itself sat upon a base of drawers. When Ollivander opened the door, it revealed the right half of the inner cabinet. There was a single shelf at just about chest height. Above the shelf, suspended from a peg was a tuft of thick silvery hairs, obviously, from the mane or tail of a unicorn. It was bound by a maiden’s linen ribbon, and the whole bunch appeared to shine slightly. Separated from the bunch, just a few inches forward, there was a single strand, suspended from a wooden armature that ended in a small clamp, much like a clothes peg. This single hair was noticeably thicker, hung perfectly straight, and appeared to be so highly polished that it was mirror. It was so reflective that it seemed almost to glow. “Best Unicorn hair, I have ever found,” Ollivander whispered. Snape suddenly realized he was leaning in slightly. Ollivander opened the other side of the cabinet, revealing on the left half of the shelf what appeared to be a tall, narrow, aquarium. In the bottom of the aquarium was what appeared to be a large, pocked, chunk of black, volcanic rock. It was shaped roughly like… Snape realized suddenly that this was the Romanian Longhorn heart. Ollivander had drawn his wand and brought it near the front of the aquarium. He spoke clearly, “Igni Lumen.” A small ball of flickering flame appeared about an inch from the wand tip. “It takes a flame. Other sorts of light won’t work,” he whispered. As they watched a number of strings began to immerge from within the petrified heart. They looked like thin eels, most of them fifteen to twenty centimeters long. Each glowed like a pulsating flame as they undulated through the water. They seemed to cooperatively navigate the aquarium, taking a quick turn around the perimeter before coming to rest in swirling, looping, patterns on the glass facing the flame. More appeared from within the heart, successively longer and thicker, glowing brilliantly in reds, oranges, and yellows. As larger strings came to the glass the smaller ones made way, adjusting their patterns so that each new string could fit on the glass never directly touching another. Finally, a string began to emerge from the heart that was larger and brighter than the others. It was thick as an earthworm and once fully visible at least forty-five centimeters in length. It moved a bit more slowly than the smaller ones, but it glowed in fiery hues like a lone tendril of flame. It plastered itself in a tight spiral on the glass opposite the flame, the others all giving way, and it flashed and flickered so brightly that Snape had a momentary fear that it might melt the glass. “That is the one,” Ollivander whispered. “That is the one the Master will want.” He shook the end of his wand and the flame disappeared. Within, moments the heartstrings began retreating just as they had emerged the largest first, returning slowly to their place within the petrified heart. “Is it your first time, seeing dragon heartstrings?” Ollivander questioned. “Yes, actually,” Snape responded. “I understand that harvesting is a particularly delicate procedure, and to be honest there is no presently known application for them in potion-making.” “Impressive, aren’t they?” Ollivander asked. He did not wait for an answer but continued. “Beautiful, and powerful, and difficult, very difficult, but about the most powerful core there is. Only the phoenix feather can be potentially more powerful, and that is only potentially.” He paused for a moment and slowly began closing the cabinet doors. “Under normal circumstances, I only work with the three supreme wand cores. Phoenix tail feathers, dragon heartstrings, and unicorn hair. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has provided now, an ample supply of two of my preferred three. Phoenix feathers are rather more difficult to come by unless you know someone who has a relationship with a phoenix. In the last fifty years, I have made only two phoenix feather wands, and as we know, the Dark Lord already possesses one of them.” “Indeed,” Snape conceded. “There are one or two reputable dealers in China from who I have purchased phoenix feathers in the past,” Ollivander continued. “Such acquisitions require making the trip of course. Years ago, there were a couple more phoenixes, one in Ireland and another in Germany. My father was lucky enough to secure feathers from these birds before their companion Wizards passed, but that was during my apprenticeship. There has only been one source that I know of in Europe and the U.K. for over one hundred years, and sadly that source is now gone as well.” “I am aware of the phoenix of which you speak,” Snape said coldly. “Why do you prattle on about phoenix feathers when you now have an ample supply of unicorn hairs and dragon heartstrings?” “Because, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does not need me, kidnapped and confined, making wands for his henchmen,” Ollivander said, his voice strained slightly with frustration. “If that was all he wanted he would have stolen, rather than destroyed my inventory. That would have given him more wands than I have made during this imprisonment. He wants me to make him a new wand, a special wand. One more powerful than Harry Potter’s wand. I am not certain that it can be done.” Snape raised a single eyebrow. It was not much of a reaction, but it communicated enough to keep Ollivander talking. “I knew that the wands were related, of course I did, I made them both. And, I knew that ‘Priori Incantatem’ was a strong possibility should the two wands ever face one another. But, when I made the wands, I had no idea of their destiny. I did not know when the first wand chose the young Tom Riddle, that he would grow to become He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Nor could I know beforehand that the second wand would choose Harry Potter. I had no idea at the time that the Dark Lord would return. These were events clearly beyond my control. When I was first taken and brought before the Master, I was questioned quite pointedly on these matters.” Ollivander rubbed reflexively at his arms as though recalling his painful interrogation. “The Dark Lord seemed quite fixated that one wand should be greater than the other, but in truth they are equals. Because the wands are in a word sibling, they simply refuse to truly fight one another, hence the ‘Priori Incantatem.’ It does not matter which is the more powerful wielder. A simple fact that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named understandably finds quite frustrating. Therefore, the Master wants a new wand, one more powerful than he presently has. The problem of course is, the one he presently has is one of the two most extraordinary wands it has ever been my honor to create. And, I fear neither the near-perfect unicorn hair nor the extraordinary dragon heartstring he has provided are quite enough to do it. “Short of finding the mythic Elder wand, one of the fabled ‘Deathly Hallows’ from the children’s tale of ‘The Three Brothers,’ the wand he already has is perhaps one of the most powerful wands yet made.” “Do you believe that the Elder wand is real?” Snape asked calmly. “I have never, in all my years as a wandmaker, heard anything but hearsay to support its existence,” Ollivander said quietly. “I would have to say that I do not believe the Elder wand is anything more than a story. Further, if it does, or ever did exist, I wouldn’t have a clue as to how to find it.” “I admit that I agree with you, as does the Master,” Snape confirmed. “That leaves us with a bit of a problem. Have you any possible solutions?” Ollivander was quiet for a long moment. “Many years ago, my father taught me a method to weave together two complementary wand cores and put them in a single wand to increase the effectiveness of lessor wand core material. Like Kneazle whiskers, bound with Mandrake root. Neither of these materials produces, in my assessment, a satisfactory wand core. However, bound together they can produce a wand that is reasonably responsive. Once, dual-core wands were quite common, though, it has been my impression that as a practice, dual-core wands have fallen out of use in the last hundred years or so.” He paused for a long moment as though collecting his thoughts. “I have never tried to bind any of the supreme core materials together, but speculatively a dual-core wand of supreme core materials would yield a wand more powerful than either of the respective cores. I am just not certain it could be done given the nature of the cores. While unicorn hair is generally quite cooperative, in life, unicorns and dragons are mortal enemies. The dragon heartstring, I am certain would only willingly bond with a core it could dominate, and if I had any phoenix feather, I fear, its nature is too independent to bond with any other core material.” “I understand your concerns, but how do you know a thing cannot be done before you try to do it?” Snape questioned. “You have a good quantity of supplies here, could you attempt to bond a few of the lessor unicorn hairs, with a few of the smaller dragon heartstrings, just to see what results you get?” Now it was Snape who paused. “In potion-making, when dealing with two ingredients that normally do not mix well or when combined yield an unsavory result, it is quite common to introduce a third ingredient, an herb or oil, maybe an animal element, and this third ingredient will often act as a catalyst for the other two allowing them to come together cooperatively, with often surprising results. Perhaps something of the sort would be needed here?” Ollivander looked as though he was suddenly lost in his own thoughts. “I realize that we are talking experimentally,” Snape said pointedly. “The Dark Lord is going to eventually demand a new wand, and it is in both our vested interest to make sure that he is satisfied. I would be willing to work with you, bringing my knowledge of Potions, and perhaps we could find a solution?” Garrick Ollivander looked hard in to Severus Snape’s eyes. Slowly, he nodded in agreement. Harry and Ginny had spent most of Saturday evening going over the results of tryouts and coming up with a Quidditch roster that would give them the best prospects for a winning team. Harry was very optimistic they had picked a group that would come together well and would be willing to work hard. Ginny was satisfied they had picked young enough players that there would be good team continuity going into the next year when presumably, she would be the team captain. The message that Kenneth Towler and Eddie Carmichael delivered had turned out to be an invitation to visit Camp Contego and meet with the Camp Commander. The visit was to take place Sunday afternoon, and it included permission from the Headmistress to leave the school grounds as well as instructions to use the secret passage from the Hogwarts’ grounds as a security precaution. They allowed themselves to sleep in later than usual Sunday morning and didn’t show up for breakfast until nearly half eight. Harry had always been an early riser, but he had enjoyed the bit of a lie-in after all the decision-making the night before. Breakfast was quiet as most of the team candidates, knowing that Harry typically took an early breakfast, had already eaten. He was quite pleased to enjoy his breakfast in relative calm with Ginny. They had not been there long when Luna entered the Great Hall. She looked as though she had been up most of the night and obviously had come straight from bed so as not to miss breakfast. She was wearing flannel pajama bottoms in a light blue tartan print with orange fluffy slippers and an olive green knit pullover. Her hair was a bit wild but mostly held back by a neon green hair bobble. She plopped down at the table next to Ginny, and mumbled a barely audible “Good morning.” Ginny did not hold back, “Luna, you look a fright this morning, whatever have you been up to?” Luna looked up from filling her plate. She seemed to be having trouble focusing. “Oh, I was up most of the night helping Hagrid with the weanling Thestrals. We had several very unhappy foals chasing after their mothers. We couldn’t get them to eat, they had us quite worried.” The idea of Luna and Hagrid, together worrying over the young Thestrals struck Harry as quite a curiosity. “Did you finally get them to eat?” he asked. “Oh yes,” Luna responded, she seemed to be coming slowly more awake. “We tried all sorts of things, ferrets, squirrels, Hagrid even slaughtered a goat. Finally, Hagrid, soaked strips of goat meat in a bucket of Whiskey, and that finally did the trick.” “I’ll bet Hagrid had his share of the whiskey,” Harry said with a laugh. “From the look of you, I am guessing you had a little yourself?” Ginny said to Luna teasingly. Luna looked up from her plate again, still a bit blurry-eyed, and grinned broadly, “But we can’t tell anyone, I’ll be fine before noon and I do not want to get Hagrid into trouble. After all, we were just looking after the Thestral herd.” They all laughed a little and Harry pushed the coffee decanter closer to Luna. “I don’t know if you drink this stuff as Ginny does, but I am guessing you need it this morning.” With only twenty or so minutes of breakfast service remaining, they concentrated on finishing their meals as Luna shared more about the Thestrals and her previous night’s adventure. After breakfast, Luna left them to go back to her dormitory for a shower and Harry and Ginny took the long way returning to the Gryffindor common room, by way of the castle courtyard. When they did arrive at the common room there was an unusual number of students lounging about for a Sunday morning. It seemed that everyone was waiting for the Quidditch roster to be posted. Harry could feel the weight of all eyes watching as he and Ginny moved toward the dormitory stairs. As they climbed the stairs Harry whispered, “Should we post the list and get it over with, or, should we make them wait until noon?” “It’s ready so let’s just post it,” Ginny replied. Minutes later, Ginny entered the common room lounge, strode up to the notice board, and posted the roster. She had to duck and back away to avoid the crowd gathering to read it. She quickly made her way back to Harry on the stairs. Not everyone could be chosen. There were a few disappointments of course. Mostly though, the room erupted with celebration as the new members of the team were cheered. The posted roster read: Gryffindor Quidditch Team Roster 97/98 1. Potter, Harry Team Captain, Seeker 2. Weasley, Ginny Vice-Captain, Chaser, Reserve Seeker 3. Robins, Demelza Chaser 4. Torrgess, Anthony Chaser 5. Thomas, Dean Beater 6. Peakes, Jimmy Beater 7. Weasley, Ron Keeper 8. Stanton, Sabina Reserve Chaser/Beater 9. Doxmuth, Orin Reserve Beater/Keeper 10. Tamburlton, Kerry Reserve Seeker/Chaser Once all the new team members had been acknowledged, Harry said a quick word of congratulations welcoming them all to the new season and expressing his commitment to working hard and winning the house cup. He ended with a reminder to show up for practice on time, ready to sweat. Ginny reminded them to see her before the first practice to get their seasonal locker assignments, and broom numbers. Later that afternoon Ginny decided to walk Harry as far as the Whomping Willow so that he could leave for his meeting with the commander of the new army camp. As they stepped out into the courtyard Ron and Hermione were there waiting on a bench. As soon as Hermione saw them, she stood up, pulling Ron with her. “Harry,” she said, perhaps a bit more loudly than intended. “When you told Ron about going to visit the new army camp, he figured you would be coming this way.” “And how exactly did you figure that, Ron?” Harry said defensively. “Well, they are building that camp right in the area where the Shrieking Shack used to be,” Ron answered. “When they tore down the shack, they must have discovered the passageway. So, I figured they kept it for security, and you would be using it.” “Yeah, well, you figured that brilliantly,” Harry retorted sarcastically, still on the defense in Hermione’s presence. “Well, it makes sense, really,” Ron said. “If you know about the passageway already, and well, we do. I know I’ll never forget.” Harry chuckled a little allowing the tension to break just a bit. “Me neither, mate.” “Harry,” Hermione chimed in, having found her voice. “Harry, it is hard for me to admit, but I - well, over the last week - I’ve made some terrible assumptions and thought some things of you that I knew just had to be wrong. I was mad, because I thought you had used your newfound wealth to swoop in and solve a bunch of problems for me, without discussing it with me first, and it felt like a betrayal of our friendship.” “You made that very clear ten days ago, standing in Madam Malkin’s.” The defensiveness had returned to Harry’s voice. “And you’ve hardly said a word to me all week.” “I know, Harry, and I am sorry,” Hermione said a bit pleadingly. “I had to get all the facts straight in my mind so I could understand the truth, and well, I am extremely sorry I doubted you.” Hermione’s voice broke a little and tears started to form in her eyes. “I understand now, Harry, that the betrayal of friendship was mine, not yours. I had to piece together what happened and figure out how it all converged as it did, to make me overreact so terribly. I am so, so sorry I doubted you, Harry. I promise, I will never break the trust between us again, and I just need to know that you forgive me and we can put this in the past?” Harry squeezed Ginny’s hand just a little and for a moment she wasn’t sure what it meant. The expression on Harry's face softened, and she could feel him relax next to her. “Done,” Harry said. “Forgiven and forgotten, now can we please get back to something resembling normal?” He chuckled again. “I know for me normal is a bit of a stretch, but that’s why I need us all to be agreeable.” Hermione flung herself at Harry and hugged him. They all walked Harry out to the Whomping Willow to see him off for his meeting. Along the way, Hermione talked about the upcoming Student Defense Club organization meeting. Clearly, she had much she felt needed to be said. Harry was simply happy that the matter between them was settled. “I am not sure what they want with me at the camp, but I will make this visit as short as possible,” Harry said as he stepped down into the secret passage. “I plan to be back for dinner this evening.” “We’ll watch for you, mate,” Ron responded. He, Hermione, and Ginny were standing back out of range of the Willow’s limbs, for when it shook off the temporary stillness caused by opening the passage. Harry waved as he disappeared in to the dark. Please review - Thanks! NEXT Chapter Twenty-Nine Chamber Chasing |
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