Chapters 191-200

Defeat

‘Thanks for coming along, Harry,’ Hermione said, when they were walking down Diagon Alley two days later. ‘Severus is in a really foul mood.’

Harry snorted. ‘Can’t say I blame him, after being ripped apart by Andromeda…Who would have thought that a home-maker and wife of a Muggle would turn out to be such a formidable witch?’

Hermione frowned at her friend. ‘Why wouldn’t she? And I’d be really careful with such comments around Molly, if I were you.’

‘Oh, come off it, Hermione. I didn’t mean anything negative with that remark, and you know that, too. It’s just…she’s not the Andromeda Tonks I first met three years ago.’

Hermione sighed. He had a point there. They all had changed. First because of the war, and then—well, probably the way everyone changed in the course of life.

‘All of us have changed,’ she admitted conciliatorily. ‘And she is Sirius’ cousin.’

‘Exactly.’ Harry grinned at her sideways. ‘The Blacks are not exactly known for their mild manners and reticent rhethorics.’

‘Which reminds me,’ Hermione said. ‘Whatever happened to old Mother Black? I can’t say I missed her screeching diatribe yesterday, but I couldn’t fail to notice its rather conspicuous absence.’

Now Harry’s expression turned positively smug. ‘George, it turns out, is not only a dab hand at sticky Charms, he’s also very good at unsticking things that got stuck somewhere somehow. Also, I figured she’d be happier with family. I gave her to Draco for Christmas.’

‘You did what?’ Hermione stopped in her tracks and gaped at Harry.

‘I got George to remove the frame from my wall, and then I gave her to Draco.—She’s actually almost friendly with him.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘I don’t know if I’m supposed to despair of you or applaud you.’

Harry gave her an elegant little bow. ‘Applause is always appreciated. Right. Here we are.’

oooOooo

Inside the shop, Hermione noticed with some amusement the awe in Harry’s expression, as he turned around in the bright and clean interior of the refurbished shop.

‘Hello ‘ermione,’ a bright young voice greeted them. ‘And Mr. Potter! It’s an honour to meet you.’

‘Hi, Genevieve. Harry, this is Genevieve Ollivander, Mr. Ollivander’s grandniece.’

Genevieve beamed at Harry, clearly delighted to make his acquaintance. ‘What can I do for you today? More research?’

Hermione nodded. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact. Is Mr. Ollivander in? We have some questions for him.’

The wizard in question appeared from the narrow hallway at the end of the room so suddenly as if he’d thrown off an Invisibility Cloak. ‘I am here. Madam Snape. Mr. Potter.’

‘Good to see you again, Ollivander,’ Harry started in briskly. ‘We’re here to make some inquiries on behalf of Headmistress McGonagall.’ He glanced meaningfully in Genevieve’s direction, implying that they were here on secret Order business.

‘I think Genevieve should stay, Harry,’ Hermione suggested. ‘She’s a gifted wandmaker. Maybe she can help.’

‘Right,’ Harry agreed. ‘Ollivander, I’m sure you remember this.’ He reached into his robe and unceremoniously dumped a long, rectangular box on the counter.

The old wandmaker reached for the lid of the box and opened it.

‘Ah.’ He shuddered, his great silver eyes darkening to a stormy grey. ‘The Deathstick. I was wondering if I would see it again. There have been rumours, you know, since Kingsley Shacklebolt died.’

‘There are always rumours,’ Harry muttered disgustedly. ‘Apparently the Elder Wand was stolen when Dumbledore’s tomb was destroyed. I assume you’ve heard about that, too?’

Ollivander only nodded.

‘Somehow the wand ended up in the hands of Dolores Umbridge. I assume you’re aware that she’s dead, too?’

Again, the wandmaker nodded wordlessly.

‘We suspect that I lost ownership of the wand somewhere along the way. The legends claim that the Elder Wand only responds to power, that its ownership can be transferred properly only in a duel, when another wizard proves to the wand that he’s more powerful than its previous master. But I don’t think that can be quite correct. Draco Malfoy was never more powerful than Dumbledore. And I didn’t really disarm Draco, I just snatched the wands away from him. I have no clue how exactly the ownership of that damn wand gets transferred, but I seriously doubt that it’s as formal and dramatic as those legends make it.’ Harry scowled at the wand, intense dislike clearly visible on his face. ‘Anyway. We need to know who’s the current owner of the Elder Wand. And it’s really urgent.’

‘I see that you are still pursuing deep questions, Mr. Potter. As I have told you before, wandlore is an incredibly complex and very mysterious area of magic,’ Ollivander said in his thin, susurrant voice. ‘But I think you must be right. My best assumption is that Elder Wand reacts to power, to danger of death, and to defeat; in the magical, mundane or even metaphorical sense of the term.—Have you been defeated by anyone during recent months? In a matter of life and death?’

Harry just groaned. ‘I’m an Auror, Mr. Ollivander. Defeat and danger of death are pretty much a matter of routine in that job!’

Hermione stared at the sinister length of the Elder Wand. She felt defeated, and not for the first time in recent months. Since becoming Severus’ apprentice and his wife, her life had been a roller-coaster of surprising victories and awful defeats…Defeats. Oh no!

‘Harry,’ she croaked. ‘You lost to Umbridge in court. When you defended Severus.’

Harry put his elbows on the counter and covered his face with his hands. After a long moment of silence he raised his head and faced Ollivander. ‘Would that count as defeat for the Elder Wand?’

‘Possibly, quite possibly,’ the old wandmaker replied.

Harry sighed deeply. ‘Right. Well, I definitely counted that as a defeat. I can’t really blame the wand if it did, too. But that still doesn’t tell us who the current Owner of the damn thing is.’