Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Carefully Tangled Webs of Darkness	By : Ladygreychaton Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 37460 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter, characters, rights to, any books, movies, songs, poems or references made. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, this is just for fun, with no intentions of profit.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
[[ Do not own Harry Potter, characters, rights to, any books, movies, songs, poems or references made. Several hints to Harry Potter books, but again belong to J.K. Rowling. Any further things belong to their original owners, aside from original characters. Used with no intention of profit!
Quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, hints at other books, or other things I may have forgotten, none of them belong to me! ]]
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His guide must've noticed him floundering on Gringott's front steps, the polished white marble bright in the mid-morning light. After a few moments, the Scottish witch nodded. "Right then, Mr. Potter---"
Harry cut her off for a moment. "It's Potter-Black, actually. Um... Professor, that is, apparently I've assumed a new title as Regent and now I'm a Black, too." He smiled sheepishly, feeling embarrassed.
The smile seemed to do something to the stern looking woman, for her eyes got distant and misty, and after a moment she continued, "As you say, Mr. Potter-Black, since you can't seem to decide where to begin, I'll escort you and your family to Ollivanders. There, we will see about getting you a wand of your own. You won't be able to use it until school is in session, but it is important to own one as a wizard."
The tartan dressed witch then lead them to the south, along the cobbled road to a shop that read, 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.' in peeling gold letters. Harry was a bit dubious that such a shabby shop could offer him a quality wand, but went inside when his Professor ushered him in, holding the door for the Dursley family to follow.
Inside there was a single richety chair covered in dust and god knows what else, and Petunia turned her nose up in disgust, holding Dudley to her. The rest of the shop was filled with dozens long narrow boxes littering high shelves, packed to the brim with what Harry could only assume were wands. The table at the front had a dim oil lamp, offering very little light for which to see. Harry was beginning to get impatient when a voice spoke.
"Ahh, Mr. Potter, I had wondered when I would see you... or is it Potter-Black, now?" Came the sudden query of a wizened old voice, followed by a man appearing from between a bunch of shelves quite abruptly. He looked the part of an eccentric wand-maker, his eyes rather light coloured and all-seeing, hair static as though he were constantly inventing something brilliant.
Harry nodded, but the man (whom he could only assume was Mr. Ollivander) was already on to addressing Professor McGonagall. "Nine and a half inches, fir, dragon heart string. Perfect for Transfiguration, I did say and so it is... a bit stiff, though."
The Scottish woman sniffed a bit but nodded, making no comment about her apparent wand characteristics.
He glanced at the Dursleys and gave them a small smile to which they did not return, but made no comment. Finally, his eyes moved back to Harry. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, you see. From your mother, 10 and 3/4, willow, extra springy... good for Charms." He glanced knowingly at Harry for a moment, then moved on, "To your father's, mahogany, 11 inches, pliable and excellent for Transfiguration. What will you end up with, I wonder?"
He moved through the shelves, and proceeded to offer Harry various wands. This was indeed a tiring affair. For when instructed to, 'give it a wave', things would catch fire, blow up, fly off the shelves, spark, rattle or jump about. Some refused to be touched by him, like the holy wand with the pheonix feather. It flew across the store the moment he tried to grasp it's handle. Naturally, Mr. Ollivander found this highly amusing, while Professor McGonagall scowled in disapproval at his humor. Aunt Petunia seemed a bit frightened by it all, and though Dudley flinched at a few reactions, he was a bit starstruck.
Eventually, the old wandmaker called him to a stop and extinguished his desk with a careful flick of his own wand. "I see, I see," He murmured with quiet cheer. "I'm afraid there aren't any current wands for you at my shop, Mr. Potter-Black."
Harry stared in dumbfound horror at the man. He couldn't get a wand? But that was a required item on his list! McGonagall saved him from replying, seeming to bristle for all of them. "What do you mean, Ollivander? Do you recommend he go to another shop for a wand, then? The boy needs a wand to go to Hogwarts."
Garrick Ollivander laughed, turning to the Hogwarts Professor with a smile. "A wand he shall have, Madam, worry not. And it shall be one of mine... but it can't be one of these in the shop at present, for none of them are compatible with him."
They all stared in confusion at the wandmaker for a moment before Harry hesitatingly asked, "So... does that mean you'll be making me a custom wand, then?" McGonagall whirled to look at the boy wizard in horror, only for Ollivander to laugh.
"Oh, yes, boy! Smart child, smart. I shall be making you a custom wand. We shall match you with the materials, and then see about sending you off to the Ministry for your license," Ollivander stated with clear amusement, his eyes bright and shining.
"My what?" Harry repeated slowly, ignoring for a moment the thought of being paired with materials. "I need a license for a custom wand? Why? Don't you have one?" The thought was uncomfortable, as though he was being tried and found wanting just to get a wand in a world that he had yet to truly enter. He didn't like it.
Mr. Ollivander nearly guffawed with laughter for a moment, quite startling them with the wheezing sound. "Oh, yes, Mr. Potter-Black, I have a license and permit to make your custom wand... just as I have one to own this shop. But you, young child.... do not have one to own something that has not yet passed regulations, been noted in International Confederation Offices, or had the Trace put on it. That is why it is very important that we quickly pair you with the proper materials and then ship you to the Ministry to get this started."
Harry gulped, glancing at his guide who was tight-lipped, but nodded. After a moment, she spoke. "It appears you're going to be a handful as a student, Mr. Potter-Black. I'll be keeping an eye on you...."
He smiled sheepishly then moved forward to the now slightly scorched table where he had placed the wands before. Now, it was filled with various wand woods. Aspen, cherry, maple, holy, cedar, all spread out in long boxes for him to peruse and hopefully find a match.
Harry glanced at Mr. Ollivander, who nodded eagerly for him to continue, then began to rummage his hand among boxes of the long sticks. Some felt better than others, like the oak. Some, like the aspen were very close indeed. And some were downright repelling to the point where he wanted to rub his palm on his pants afterwards. Finally, near the end of the table he settled on a walnut. The wandmaker smiled and tucked a few a way after he had picked three, in order to see which best would react with the core.
"Now I would like to take a small sample off your person, I usually use blood, Mr. Potter-Black," Ollivander began, the wisened old man noting the Transfiguration Professor's flinch but ignoring her. "This way I can find your best match and any characteristics you might have with magical creatures to make a compatible wand core. The excess blood will be disposed of afterwards, you have my word. Your line and secrets are your own, my only interest is matching wands to the witches and wizards who need them."
Harry tried to feel reassured, taking a deep breath, sucking it in through his teeth. Pheobe soothingly danced across his pectorals, whispering support and her never-waivering faith in him. Nodding, Harry moved to do as instructed by Ollivander, momentarily panicking when he was instructed to peel back his gloves and shirt to reveal his arm to offer the blood. But, after a silent and wary deliberation, he took his left glove off, and unbuttoned the sleeve. Rolling it back to the elbow, he offered the bare arm to the wandmaker who seemed thoroughly delighted and far too knowing.
Carefully, Professor McGonagall pressed her wand against the vein at the bend of his inner elbow, and Garrick Ollivander held a glass vial beneath his pale arm to catch the stream. With a small flick and a murmured incantation, a knick appeared on the flawless skin, noting that it began to bleed immediately after. Ollivander moved the vial closer, collecting as much of Harry's blood as he needed, waiting until the vial was full before nodding to McGonagall who murmured a quiet 'Episkey'. The cut healed over, the flesh closing quickly and the blood drying. Harry smiled, and after a quick 'Tergeo', he was rolling his sleeve back down and buttoning it back into place, securing his glove.
He paid twelve galleons, and was given a flier for further purchase from the shop. Harry was told that after he got his license, his wand would arrive by owl-delivery within three days. With that said, they shuffled out.
"Now! On to the Ministry, Mr. Potter-Black... you seem to have quite the head for causing a quick trip to be filled with long delays and side journeys," She muttered to which Petunia snorted to her own horror. Dudley seemed to grin though, so all was not lost.
They moved on to the Ministry, and his Hogwarts guide was now looking a bit worse for wear. Her eyes were pinched with lines around the edges, and her mouth was a thin line, her posture rigid. Harry's sharp intelligence easily picked up that she did not like the Ministry of Magic, or was very uncomfortable taking him there, for some reason or other. With that in mind, he decided to stay close and keep his eyes open. His eyes flicked to his Aunt and cousin, both of which were trailing about, casually acting like tourists. Petunia was relaxing a bit, but appeared a bit hesitant. Dudley, however was blossoming back into a boy that spoke and interacted with the world around him.
Harry made a note to watch out for them as well, even if neither of them particularly liked him. With that in mind, they made their way into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Petunia gawked at the various people milling about, foreign witches and wizards arguing in various languages, gesturing wildly, muggle artifacts that had been enchanted and were clearly cursed to blow up on whoever touched them in plain sight. Large fireplaces kept turning green and spitting out fully grown adults.
After making sure they were all together (Dursleys included), McGonagall lead them to the lifts, in which several floating airplanes buzzed about, waiting their turn to exit. When they had boarded, the Scottish witch angrily began to huff, muttering a bit to herself, "I haven't a clue what floor gives out wand permits! Heaven forbid that man tells you, no. Garrick Ollivander just loves to be mysterious, but it'd be nice if he was helpful for once!"
So, after a bit of deliberation, she searched through the numbers and punched '5'. A woman's voice announced, "Basement level 5 selected, Department of International Magical Cooperation." Harry was a bit confused at this, as he didn't think a permit for a wand had much to do with International Cooperation, but decided not to voice his concerns or argue. Sobek moved to his shoulder, moving about as to get a better view and feeling.
The lift let out a ding, and the voice of the woman announced that they had arrived, Harry and the rest piled out. Glancing to the side, he followed along with his group, feeling a bit like the Transfiguration teacher was herding them about. Quickly she marched them up to the International Magical Office of Law, and stood regally in front of the secretary witch.
"Reason for being here today, Madam?" Droned the tired and slightly dowdy woman behind her desk without looking up.
"Mr. Harry Potter-Black needs a license to own and carry a custom made wand, one which Mr. Ollivander is making for him," Professor McGonagall stated clearly, the austere woman looking down her nose at the Ministry worker.
The secretary jumped, glancing up quickly and jerking her head about. Her eyes searched out Harry, and immediately flew to his forehead, finding his scar after a moment and tracing over it with reverance. After a moment she seemed to gush, "Oh! Harry Potter! Right away, a custom wand? Go right in, I'm sure the boss will see you."
They were shown to a door that had a gold plaque that read : Bartemius Crouch, Head of International Magical Cooperation. The door opened and a serious looking man with short grey hair, neatly parted to one side and a smooth toothbrush mustache looked up. For a moment he looked slightly puzzled, eyes roving the group of them before focusing on his guide.
"Ah, Professor McGonagall, Hogwarts business is it? How may I help you? I wasn't aware we had an appointment today," Mr. Crouch said in a rather curt tone, setting aside a rather fancy looking quill. He folded his hands on the desk before him, looking for all the world as though he had expected this, a somber business man.
"I haven't an appointment, Crouch," McGonagall began slowly. "We were instructed by Ollivander to see about getting Harry Potter-Black a permit for carrying a custom wand that he is making for him, seeing as legal matters in the Ministry are testy about such things. The boy did not match with any wand, over-powered them all." It felt a bit like she was repeating the story over and over again, Harry thought a bit to himself.
"Did he really?" Mr. Crouch remarked, stroking the side of his mustache. "Well, produce the boy and we'll get started on getting him a license in time for the wand's creation. We wouldn't want Harry Potter... Black, did you say?" McGonagall nodded again. "--To be wandless when it comes time for his Hogwarts schoolyear."
Harry was nudged gently forward, and Bartemius' eyes instantly snapped to him. Homing in on the scar on his forehead, it felt like this was the beginning of a strange standard among the wizarding world. After a moment the man nodded, "Well then, do you have a form of identification?" He scanned the group. "A relative perhaps, willing to vouch for you?"
Petunia hesitatingly stepped forward, jutting her chin forward, though she pressed Dudley behind her back. "I am the boy's Aunt, and he lives with me. He is a rather responsible individual, if that is what you're after," the blond woman sniffed, and Harry had to stare in shock at her. It appeared that though she hated him, her stubbornness against magicals in general was winning out here.
Mr. Crouch nodded, stood and came round his desk. Producing his wand, he tapped it over Petunia Dursley's head who instantly flinched as though she expected something horrific to happen. In actuality, nothing but faint letters began to appear beside her, a read out of information.
It read : Petunia Dursley (née Evans) 1959 –

Elder Daughter to Mr. and Mrs. Evans,

Married to Vernon Dursley and mother to Dudley Dursley

Sister to Lily Potter (née Evans) 1960 – 1981. (deceased)

Aunt to Harry James Potter-Black.

Muggle with squib ancestry.

The sooty letters faded as his relatives gaped at them, but Crouch seemed satisfied. "And you say he's a responsible boy?" He peered at Harry as though he highly doubted a ten year old (soon to be eleven) was capable of rational thought.
Closing her mouth for a moment, Petunia pursed her lips. "I'll have you know that this boy does work far above his grade level in school. He was bumped grades. Harry is never late for school, never late for curfew. Despite this, he still helps around the house, takes care of chores and helps his cousin with his homework. This boy has gone out of his way to work with his Uncle on his blood pressure and health. He is an asset to our family. He reads near constantly, and when he does visit friends he is always kind and courteous. When it comes to allowance, we never worry he will be frivilous, and he has even bought us things with it. Harry Potter-Black is a responsible young man and you needn't worry about putting anything in his hands."
Harry's eyes were watering. Though she had left out his oddities, and their own harassment or perhaps their original treatment of him, it was nice to hear her say these things about him. Even Professor McGonagall seemed to sniff for a moment and murmur something quietly. Mr. Crouch stared unblinkingly then nodded, appearing unmoved by her passionate speech. He was, after all, a rather serious business man.
"Right then," Bartemius Crouch said in a brusque sort of manner. "I will give you your license, provided you take good care to stay on the good side of the law. It will be registered so that Mr. Ollivander will have to provide details of it's materials used, and you it's owner. The International Confederation will keep a file open in case there is ever a need of it. Keep your nose clean, and your permit will be good indefinitely. Let this be the last I see of you in my office for a while, boy."
With that, he moved on to fill out the proper forms and presented Harry with a small rolled scroll, which he carefully tucked away in the files he'd gotten from Gringotts for safekeeping. Mentally drained, they all moved to the lift and made their way quickly to the Atrium in record time, eager to get out of the Ministry of Magic and back on track. Soon, hopefully they could continue their shopping trip in Diagon Alley as scheduled without further interruption...
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CDGamer : I hope this answers some of your question about his wand, as others reviewers have asked. The core will be answered shortly, but going through procedures seemed like something my version would have to do. As for meeting someone in the robe shop... most likely. House will be answered in good time, only two he can go into. I hope you like it! Already working on the next chapter...
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Carefully Tangled Webs of Darkness