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Sanctimonia Vincet Semper

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Just as the old saying goes, oil and water do not mix. Yet, Draco had been dumb enough to forget.

His mother was staring down the Hogwarts groundskeeper with a steely gaze that made Draco shiver even though it wasn't directed at him. Surprisingly, Hagrid was holding his ground. Sure, he had gone red in the face, but Draco knew from experience that just meant he was deciding whether or not to put his giant genes to use.

Narcissa’s nostrils flared. “And you are?” Her tone did nothing to soften the rudeness of her words.

Hagrid noticed. He drew himself to full height, which, all things considered, was actually sort of intimidating. “Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts. I'm helping Harry out with his school things.” To emphasize this point, Hagrid threw an arm around his charge. Harry's knees buckled under the weight.

Narcissa smiled. Her eyes remained cold. “Ah, of course. How silly of me.”

Draco could see that this conversation was one word away from a duel in broad daylight. He turned to Harry. “So, Ollivanders?”

Harry beamed at him and repeated the question to the half giant. Hagrid didn't answer at first; he was caught in a staring match with Narcissa.

“Wha-oh! Oh…” Hagrid shifted, facing an obvious internal conflict. Harry was clearly happy to have found someone his age to talk to, but on the other hand, that someone was a Malfoy.

Pity won out in the end. “All righ’. You can go. But wait fer me in the shop.” He added sternly. “In the meantime… I'll get you a present.”

Harry's face turned a furious shade of red. “You don't have to get me anything.” He said in a small voice.

Hagrid scoffed. “Nonsense. Tell you what, I'll get you an owl. Dead useful, they are. Carry yer mail and everything.”

“Excellent.” Narcissa clasped her hands together, pointedly ignoring Hagrid. “Now, Harry? Shall we set off?” She put a hand around his shoulder and they were walking away before he could respond.

Draco winced. He sidled up to Harry and muttered under his breath. “Sorry about her. She's in a bit of a rush.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “That's ok.”

It wasn't a long walk to Ollivanders. Strangely, Harry hadn't asked a single question the whole way. He appeared to be lost in his own excitement.

Draco couldn't blame him. He couldn't wait to get his wand back.

A bell chimed as they entered the wandmaker’s shop. Harry looked around the store in undisguised curiosity, eyes drawn to the teetering stacks of dusty boxes. Meanwhile, Narcissa waved her wand, causing one of the smaller stacks of boxes to vacate a faded armchair. She had just taken a seat when Ollivander spoke.

“Lady Malfoy. Thirteen inches, dragon heartstring, willow. Fairly stiff, if I remember correctly.” The wandmaker, unlike Harry, was exactly as Draco remembered: an old man with creepy eyes. Said creepy eyes went directly from his mother to Harry, pausing only for a moment to acknowledge Draco's presence.

He didn't mind. A year ago he might have cursed the man for such an insult, to ignore the heir of Malfoy.

“Hello.” Harry offered, despite looking a bit queasy.

“Ah, yes. I was wondering when I'd be seeing you.” He nodded cryptically. “Harry Potter.”

Harry tensed, throwing a panicked look in Draco's direction as he tried to gauge how he would react. Draco tried his best to look appropriately surprised, but this had the opposite of the desired effect. Instead of being placated, Harry shrunk impossibly smaller into his oversized Muggle hand me downs.

Ollivander continued, oblivious to the distress he had caused his customers. “It seemed like only yesterday that I sold your parents their wands.”

He paused, waiting for Harry’s response. When none came, he turned to consider Draco for the first time.

“Who would like to go first?”

“I will.” Draco volunteered quickly. He was eager to get his wand back. Without it, he felt extremely vulnerable.

Harry shot him a grateful look, still eyeing Ollivander apprehensively. He seemed to want to ask the wandmaker questions but was far too intimidated to actually do so. So, Draco started rattling off everything he knew about wandlore: how personality affects the flexibility of the wood, what combinations of core and wood are good for what kind of spells, and that, no, not every tree was suitable for use as wand wood. Ollivander occasionally supplemented his explanations, looking more impressed by the minute.

When Draco spared a glance at his mother, he realized he was heading into dangerous territory. She looked a combination of proud, impressed and utterly baffled, having no idea where he had learned any of this. Draco stopped talking abruptly and continued to try wands in silence, ignoring Harry and Ollivander’s attempts to reignite the conversation.

There was no way he could admit where he learned it; in a dream, from Ollivander himself, who had been imprisoned in Malfoy Manor?

Two words: Saint. Mungo’s.

He did notice something strange, however. It was taking an awfully long time for him to get his wand. The pile next to him was now stacked as least as tall as he was, but Ollivander just hummed happily and handed him wand after wand.

Part of him wanted to scream at the wandmaker- no, not willow, you moron, hawthorn! He refrained.

After a while, Ollivander stood back and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Difficult, difficult… Maybe..?” He looked Draco up and down, circling him. “Perhaps, perhaps.”

Without further explanation, he vanished into the back of the store. Harry took the opportunity to nudge Draco.

“Is it supposed to take this long?” He asked.

Draco shrugged. “Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't.”

Harry nodded as Ollivander returned with a single box in his arms. He did not immediately hand it to Draco as he did with the others.

“Now, you must understand I have not sold a wand like this in thirty years,” Ollivander said, then lowered his voice so only Draco could hear. “But I haven't had one of your kind since then either.”

My kind? Draco raised an eyebrow at that. It was obvious that this wasn't following what he remembered at all. He swallowed, trying to calm the thundering of his heartbeat.

With extreme care, Ollivander removed the wand from its box and handed it to Draco.

He shivered, a pleasant coolness suddenly spreading from his hand to throughout his body. He slashed the wand down, a trail of bright white light following in its wake.

His mother politely applauded, and Harry caught on and followed suit.

Draco stared at the wand in his hand. It was wrong. All wrong. Instead of a dark, almost black, it was a cream color. It was longer, too, and thin like it would disappear into nothingness at any moment.

That wasn't all; it felt different. The wand he remembered was chaotic and bright, this was controlled and calming. If he didn't know better, he would say the wand felt wise .

It fit him. Somehow, it was more right than the other wand would have ever been.

But it was wrong.

Ollivander was nodding, looking immensely pleased with himself. “Splendid, Mr. Malfoy, splendid.”

Draco rolled it in his palm. If this part of his vision was wrong, what else might be?

“Most other wizards will find that wand as useful as a regular stick, but it will perform marvelously for you. Not many people tend to buy that kind of wand…” He tilted his head as if deliberating whether or not to divulge a particularly juicy secret.

“Fourteen and a quarter inches, springy, with a core of unicorn hair.” He paused. “And made of silver lime.”

Draco wracked his memory. He couldn't recall anything about silver lime…

“Very fashionable, a century or two ago.” Ollivander nodded, setting his measuring tape on Harry. “Last one I ever made. They don't sell often. Some have been sitting in my store for longer than I can remember… you'll be the second customer I've sold one too, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco had a sinking feeling. He didn't like where this conversation was headed but wanted to hear what Ollivander would say.

“Oh yes-” He began handing Harry wands. “Rowan, nine inches, dragon heartstring. Nice and whippy- Silver lime tends to work for a rather particular kind of person.” Absently, he snatched a wand away from Harry and replaced it with a different one. “Blackwood, twelve and a half inches, with a core of unicorn tail hair. Slightly yielding.”

He turned back to Draco. “I am curious. Is there any Seer blood in your family?”

“Neither the Black family nor the Malfoy family has produced any notable Seers.” Narcissa interjected before Draco could process what had been said. His mother’s eyes narrowed. “Mr. Ollivander.”

Ollivander ignored- or did not hear- the warning in her tone. To inquire so bluntly about such a private matter of family history was nothing short of rude.

“Yes, but I do believe the Black line has produced some rather powerful Legilimens?”

Narcissa sniffed, neither confirming nor denying it.

The exchange was cut short when he snatched another wand away from Harry, who had been listening with wide eyes.

Ollivander hummed. “Another tricky one, eh? Perhaps…” He disappeared into the back, emerging- as he did for Draco- with a single box.

“Quite an unusual combination, this one. Eleven inches, holly, phoenix feather core. Nice and supple.”

Harry took the wand gingerly, brought it above his head and whipped it through the air, causing a shower of gold sparks.

Ollivander clapped the loudest. “Well done, Mr. Potter! But, curious, curious…”

His voice fell thoughtful again.  

Harry piped up, perhaps expecting revelations of family history similar to Draco's. “What's curious?”

“Well…” Ollivander's eyes darted in the Malfoy's’ direction. “That wand… the Phoenix who gave the feather for that wand gave only one other. And it just so happens that the other wand… gave you that scar…” He reached out and brushed Harry's hair back, knuckles grazing the legendary lightning bolt.

“The two of you are certainly the most interesting customers I've had in awhile.” He said quietly.

Malfoy had to stop himself from gasping aloud. That was something new. His mother was equally surprised, her eyebrows disappearing behind the curls of her hair.

On the other hand, Harry looked deeply disturbed. Draco supposed he would feel the same way if his wand shared a core with the wand that killed his parents. Either way, he looked happy when Ollivander bowed them out of the shop.

Hagrid was waiting for them outside with a snowy white owl Draco recognized as Harry's. Upon seeing this, a wide smile split Harry's face, along with an outbreak of stuttering.

It was several minutes before Harry had finally finished stammering his thanks to Hagrid and instead began to stare at his new familiar thoughtfully. He bit his lip.

“Do you… Would it be alright for me to write you?”

Draco looked at Harry carefully. He was having a hard time remembering what the Harry from his memory had looked like. Hadn't he been taller? Didn't he have a much meaner glint in his eyes? Because all he saw was a small lonely person.

A small part of Draco wanted to turn away and sneer. But that part was tiny and petty, a ghost of a schoolboy whose feelings had been hurt by the rejection of the singularly most important person in the wizarding world.

“Of course.”


 

Narcissa watched Harry Potter wave goodbye with a frown. She turned to her son.

What exactly had gotten into him today? It was almost like he was a completely different person. Making friends with Harry Potter, of all people?

And the nerve of that wandmaker! Inquiring into the genealogy of both the Black and Malfoy families?

As far as Narcissa was aware, there had been only one Seer in the family; one of Lucius’ great aunts, Celeste Malfoy. What that had to do with Draco's wand, she had no idea. Ollivander had always been a bit off- maybe he had finally lost it.

“Draco,” she said. “Come, we must meet your father.” She paused. Should she say something about the Boy Who Lived? Surely, Draco knew his family's inclinations.

She decided against it. There was a light in his eyes she hadn't seen before; she didn't want to extinguish it. He was probably excited to speak with someone on his level. Draco had always been a smart boy, it was no surprise that he was finally tiring of Vincent and Gregory.

She took her son’s hand, and together they walked into the darkness of Knockturn Alley.


 

Author’s note: info on wands gotten from pottermore. Normally I don't like much that is on there, but the wandlore stuff is neat. Highly recommend. 

Oh, and don't worry. Harry will get over his shy phase soon. Like next chapter soon.