not as it seems | eleanor

[Albus Severus Potter]

don't speak too soon.

THE LITTLE WORKSHOP WAS NOTHING MORE than a hole in the wall, but inside it was far larger than it appeared. Towering ceilings with light spilling in until it was warmer than he expected. There was no bell above the door that he heard, as there often was not in Horizon Alley. It was Diagon Alley's darker, moodier cousin, but Knockturn Alley's tame little sister. Albus wouldn't have expected a wand workshop here, but there it was, exactly where he'd been told it would be. Rosie had told him, his insider to everything he shouldn't know as a trainee enforcer.

Albus had had the same wand since he'd first went shopping on Diagon. An Ollivander, with a classic core and typical length. It had been sturdy. Phoenix feather, just like his father. But, he'd found himself more and more at odds with it and it knew. Wands were almost sentient, he'd been told. They were linked to the owner like an extra limb. It recognised his rebellion, his growing discontent with its fatherly familiarity and he felt it rebel back. More than once a simple defensive spell had backfired. It was very much the reason he sported a bruise on his jaw and an ache in his wrist as it had thrown a spell back at him while he'd been out on a job. He did not apply a balm to the bruises, he kept them defiantly. Since the news of his aunt Hermione's death, the streets were uncharacteristically quiet. He'd heard his last condolence for the week, his patience fraying.

All Albus wanted to do was something he shouldn't. So, he left his wand in a locker at his office and made his way to Queen's Wands. It was a corny name, but he didn't say that as he approached the front desk, his bruised and bitten fingernails drumming on the top. A brass bell sat on the top, but when he reached to ring it it didn't make a sound, clicking hollowly. "Anybody here...?" He called, leaning across the top to peer around the back, with no reply, he invited himself around, prodding a few empty wand boxes and choking on dust. A noise draw him round the back, where he found a slim, hunched figure, like a wooden waif or wood sprite. Long, bark like hair growing down her back. "There's nobody at the front desk." He said by way of explanation, hands deep in his pockets. 

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“Fuck.” Nell didn’t curse at all, but the table she was working on was being particularly testy with her today. There were parts of woodworking that she could get away with by using magic to speed the process up, yet this step wasn’t one of those. A long sliver of wood had come off as she tried her best to everything in place, exactly what it wasn’t supposed to do and was beyond strange for that to happen, and made its way into her hand. She was used to splinters and cuts - that was part of the job. When she got them from stupid things like this though? That frustrated the Ollivander girl more than anything. To make it worse, suddenly there was the sound of a voice coming from behind her. It made her jump into the air comically, her current project clattering onto the floor.

“Was the bell not working again?” she asked as she immediately recognized the boy standing at the other end of the room as a customer. Of course the stupid bell wasn’t working. It had a mind of its own, and apparently her repair charms weren’t up to snuff for it to be permanently fixed. That’s what she got for picking it out of the free box at a yard sale. “Sorry…let me just…” Nell brushed off the saw dust on her work apron, immediately slipping it over her head and tossing it over one of her many workbenches. “What can I do for you today?” she asked as she started to move across the room, hoping the boy would head back out into the shop so she could actually do her thing out there. There was nothing worth looking at in this room, unless he wanted power tools or something. She’d seen weirder clients walk into Ollivanders before.

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[Albus Severus Potter]

don't speak too soon.

WATCHING THE FIGURE LEAP IN TO THE AIR, AL leaned back slightly. He hadn't meant to creep up on her, but it was hard not to when she appeared to be the only soul in the entire shop. Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all, they clearly weren't very busy. But, instead of leaving, he nodded his head in answer. "Didn't make a sound." He added, pulling his hands from his pockets so he didn't look so awkward standing there in her workshop.

He backed up in time with her approaching steps, taking her cue to head back in to the front room - she probably had confidential rubbish back there that she didn't want him peering at, which made him crane his neck slightly before he turned and returned to the right side of the counter. "Are you... Queen?" He asked flatly, raising his brows as he cast another look around the empty room. "I'm looking for a wand." He added, as if it were entirely obvious, his lips pursed thinly. She seemed a little more harebrained than he expected. 

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There was a twinge of disappointment when the boy asked if she was ‘Queen’; that was a common mistake that she had seen a lot of since opening a few months ago. At first she thought someone had charmed her shop sign to remove the word ‘The’ at the front of it, but apparently it was only because everyone was used to her family’s store, and just assumed this one was owned and operated by the elusive Queen character. The only pedigree she had was her lineage as a wandmaker, and that certainly didn’t make her a queen of it. There were plenty of superior wandmakers both past and present, some of which were her own ancestors. The actual reason behind her shop’s name had more to do with her middle name and the literary work it came from, but she wasn’t going to bore a potential customer to death with a history lesson on that.

“Nell Ollivander, actually,” she corrected him gently as he seemed to take an interest in looking around her still empty shop. One day it would be able to compete with Ollivander’s and the other furniture stores in Diagon and Horizon. Right now she was still relying on the fact that she was the second black sheep of the family, though only in her sister’s eyes.

The boy stated that he was looking for a wand, and her eyes lit up. That was better than a charmed rocking chair or self-stacking hutch cabinets. Those were all to order right now, and she had been dying to show off her wands for the last few weeks. “Well, I certainly have those,” Nell stated as she turned around to open up the cabinet behind her. It housed all of the wands she had made to date, a motley crew of a few dozen wands made from virtually anything she could get her hands on. With her back still turned to him as she ran her fingers from box to box, she continued, “So is this an upgrade or a replacement? And what kind of spells do you find yourself using the most?” Even without an answer yet, Nell still pulled a few boxes out of the cabinet and set them gently down on the counter in front of the boy. “Also, I’d like to see the wand you’re currently using.” Once all of that was completed, she figured she’d be able to accurately guess what he needed.

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[Albus Severus Potter]

don't speak too soon.

THERE WAS NO HIDING AL'S SURPRISE. BROWS lifting and eyes widening. He looked at her differently then, the revelation tinged with suspicion and confusion. "Aren't you in the wrong shop?" He asked boldly, his lips threatening to curl in to a smirk. Of course, he knew that wasn't the probable answer, but he found it curious. When had an Ollivander ever cut away from the fold and dared to compete in the market? His Ollivander wand weighed a ton from its strap against his wrist, hidden from view.

Nell's scattered excitement quickly out won Al's curiosity. Her voice trailing behind her as she rushed to the cabinet, stacked haphazardly with wand boxes all teetering together dangerously. She looked at it with complete confidence, her questions pairing with her careful wandering finger. "Uh, I'm a potioneer, mostly." Albus said, hands tucking in to his pockets as he felt nerves begin to prickle his skin. He hated talking about himself. "Well- actually, I'm an auror so defence spells are typical." This, like always, occurred to him a second late. When would he feel like a proper Auror? "It's a replacement." He added quickly, realising he hadn't specified.

Pulling his old wand free, it shone with health and vitality. He looked down at the unmarked boxes she had laid out before him. They lacked the professional glean of Ollivander's but Albus... liked that. It felt more real, more authentic. His father surely wouldn't buy a wand from a freelance carpenter. Placing his old one beside them, he felt embarrassed. It looked exactly like his father's. "I want a wand of my own, one that won't confuse me with my father." His nostrils flared when he looked up, catching her pretty brown eyes with his own. "I heard you do... unconventional matches." He said conspiratorially.

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“Nope,” Nell responded back to the boy when he asked if she was in the wrong shop. “This is my shop, and has been since March. When I opened it.” Unfortunately this exact conversation had happened multiple times in the last three months. People would figure it out eventually, it was only a matter of time. She understood how strange it sounded – an Ollivander not working at Ollivander’s. Not only was that unheard of, she was the first in centuries to make wands and not be at the family store. And to be competition at that! In her defense, the family formula was growing stale, and she enjoyed taking the family recipe and mixing it up with whatever she could get her hands on. It obviously worked out in her favor. The store proved that.

As she lined up the four wand boxes on the countertop, she listened to the boy explain that he was a potioneer…as well as an auror. Well that was certainly a wild combination of careers. And here people couldn’t wrap their head around the fact that she made both wands and furniture. “You’ll definitely need something better then,” she agreed when it came to replacement, but was resolute about the ones she had already put in front of him. She didn’t necessarily need to know his career choice, since he had given her a pretty good idea of his personality already.

He placed his current wand out so that she could see, and went on to explain that he wanted his own wand, sort of as his own identity. “I wouldn’t call them unconventional…” Nell began, wondering where that rumor had started. She could probably place a healthy bet on her sister. “But I tend to use different cores than my family historically has.” She mentally kicked herself for bringing out the english oak with phoenix feather, but it would work as a solid basis. Picking up the boy’s wand, she looked it over, immediately recognizing it as her dad’s craftsmanship. “Birch with phoenix feather. Not bad. Pretty run of the mill for a starter wand though,” Nell observed. It was a very standard wand. She pushed forward the english oak wand box first, and then the twin wands, acacia with hippogriff and yew with hippogriff. “Try this one first. It’s english oak with phoenix feather. And then try these ones in whatever order.” The fourth wand was a slightly more impressive piece, and she didn’t want to have him see it first and fall in love with it. It tended to have that effect on people. The other three would work best with his career path though.

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[Albus Severus Potter]

don't speak too soon.

AWKWARDLY, AL NODDED ONCE AT NELL, HER stiff defence making his palms sweat. Al would take a vicious duel over awkward small talk any day. He was always talking his way in to difficult situations. Now he looked like a right prick, talking down to her while trying to hire her services. Plus, if anybody knew about familial expectations, it was Albus. "Good for you." He remarked, jerking his chin as he avoided eye contact.

The wand boxes were lined in front of him carefully, one after the other. Al felt no true draw to any of the nondescript rectangles. Each as boring as the last, but she wasn't a gift boxer. She was a wand maker, what mattered laid inside. He curiously reached for one, but stopped short. "Well, that's now what I've heard." He retorted, smirking slightly as he rested his fingers on the edge of the wood. "Tradition is overrated," He muttered, worrying at the skin on the inside of his lip. His mom would freak when she found out he'd swapped his wand.

When she pushed the first box towards her Al was curious, but he stopped its retreat across the table abruptly. Her hand pressed against one side, his own on the opposite. Warring possession. Phoenix feather, he had a wand of phoenix feather. "No." He said with a hard shake of his head, nostrils flaring. "No, I don't want that one." He didn't specify why immediately, feeling his defences rise with heady aggression. "If- if I wanted your run of the mill phoenix feather, I'd have bought a new wand from your sister." And then he released his hold on the box. Leaving just her fingers, pale against the dark casing. 

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The kid was already starting to annoy her. Wandering into her workshop was one thing – there was no sign explicitly stating customers needed to stay out (and that was something that was going to change immediately after this guy was gone). But the fact that he was sort of condescending towards how this was her shop, and the way she did things? She didn’t like that. Obviously people were going to compare her to her sister. That had always happened and probably would for the rest of their mortal existence. Nell had no way of preventing that from happening. Discussing the differences between her shop and Veronica’s didn’t really bother her though. They ran things completely different, and Nell made more furniture than wands these days so that was bound to happen.

What irked her was the way the boy basically scoffed at the first wand she had offered him made her eye twitch involuntarily. He said he was an auror and a potioneer, and that sort of wand was perfect for him. It was a proven fact. Irrefutable. Apparently it was all about cosmetics with him though. She snatched the box back, taking two of the other three with her, and placed them back on their shelf, selecting one more and placing it next to the last remaining box on the counter. The one she previously thought wouldn’t even come up in conversation because she knew the first wand would fit him. Just to stall on it, she opened up the new box first.

“This one is Acacia with a hippogriff feather core. Made as a partner for someone who has a complicated job. Like you. It’s not to be used as a tool though, because trust me, it doesn’t like that.” Nell begrudgingly lifted the top of the box to reveal the light brown wand, its hilt engraved with the outline of the same feather that resided in its core. She didn’t dare tell him that there was a partner wand to it, because that would remove its ‘uniqueness’ or whatever the boy was blathering on about. She went to remove the lid on the second box after giving him a few seconds to look over the first, “And this is pine with werewolf whiskers. It’s more suited for transfiguration and charms, but still powerful. I can’t say I know what aurors do on a daily basis, so this one may work as well for you.” She had a feeling he’d probably go after the second one, only because it had remained amongst the original set and was definitely considered out of the ordinary. Nell had no idea if it would work for him though. “I’d give both an honest try, if you’re serious about getting a new one. Starter wands are built to bend to your will. These ones are not.”

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[Albus Severus Potter]

don't speak too soon.

HIS REVULSION TOWARDS HER FIRST WAND WAS genuine. Albus felt his hackles rise at the prospect of a Phoenix feather core. He knew it was a rare type, that wizards and witches alike were often heralded if a phoenix feather wand chose them. Alas, Albus couldn't move past his father's clinging legacy. Pushing the box away as if it were tainted in some way, his mouth sternly turned down at the corners. He knew it had annoyed her, but Albus couldn't bring himself to be sorry for refusing to even take it out of the box.

"I'm not looking for a tool." Albus said reasonably, trying not to be rankled by her tone. He had, after all, questioned her judgement. But, his interest was piqued as he took it from its soft innards, the wood cold to the touch. "I like it..." He added, looking at her anxiously, lest she decide to throw him out. His thumb ran over the feathered pattern engraved in to the handle, a pleasing roughness that he didn't dislike at all. "Is it supposed to feel cold?" He asked curiously, setting it down as a surge of power stung his fingers.

"Werewolf whiskers?" Albus asked with a slight smirk on his mouth. He thought of Lily, and how comedic she would find it if she found out her disapproving brother had coined himself a wand like that. Still, he picked it up against his better judgement, curiosity shocking his fingers when he rolled it between them. "It's got a good weight." He complimented it, still feeling like he had something to make up for, but not entirely comfortable with revealing just why he couldn't stand a phoenix feather wand. "Well made..."

With the werewolf whisker wand held in a loose, spelling grip, Albus turned away from the counter and pointed at the window by the door. With a quick flick of his wand, he uttered, "Alohomora!" The lock turned so fast it broke from its latching's, sending a sharp crack in the pane of glass above it. "Oh... oh no..." Albus muttered, turning and dropping the wand back in to its box. "No, I don't think that ones right." From his back pocket he retrieved his old wand, which felt heavy and petulant in his hands - it knew what was coming, but it still diligently spat a spell towards the window to mend his mistake, as if to show off. His old wand went back in to his pocket with a sorry smile. 

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The honesty behind his declaration of not wanting a wand that worked as a tool was nice. She didn’t hear that often, then again not many witches and wizards knew what kind of wand they actually needed. And then sometimes certain ones worked for no good reason, other than that they bonded well with the user. Her own wand, which suited her just fine, was about as basic as it could get. She had tried making plenty for herself over the years, but they never fit the right way. Eventually she realized that was because she was trying to make them as a tool for herself, and wands didn’t always like that. Sure, there were ones that were more submissive, like starter wands, but anyone worth their salt could get one of those things to work. Especially an Ollivander starter wand. They didn’t make them simple and easy to use for no reason.

As for the acacia with hippogriff feather feeling cold in the boy’s hands, the comment had Nell narrowing her eyes at the wand. She had never gotten a feeling like that from it (though she didn’t from most of her wands), but it wasn’t uncommon for reactions to happen of that sort. “It could be indifferent to you right now. That doesn’t mean it’s not the right one for you though.” She watched him place the acacia wand down and pick up the pine one. Had the first wand felt hot and started spewing red sparks from its tip, she would probably be a little concerned. But he also didn’t cast anything on the first one, the pine with werewolf whiskers apparently catching his attention more right now.

With the potential new wand pointed at the lock on her window, Nell watched the boy attempt to unlock the latch, instead causing it snap off. She barely moved from her spot, now used to people accidentally blowing things up both in her shop and at Ollivanders. “I agree. I don’t think its right. But it definitely likes you, otherwise it wouldn’t have given that kind of surge.” She also didn’t want to be on the other side of a Ministry inquiry about selling an auror a wand that could blow someone’s head clean off while intending to cast a simple unlocking charm. “Why don’t you give the first one a shot? See if it still feels cold after you cast a spell.”

Albus Severus Potter ● 404 ● (Theme From) Red Dead Redemption by Bill Elm & Woody Jackson

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[Albus Severus Potter]

don't speak too soon.

FEELING RED WITH EMBARRASSMENT, ALBUS managed a tentative smile of acquiescence. She didn't even flinch as the lock was broken and then promptly fixed. Albus thought, with a curl of humour, that it appeared almost natural to her. She might've been young in appearance, but there was a wizened knowledge to her voice when she spoke to him. He admired it internally.

"I think my sister... she'd like this one." Albus revealed hesitantly, thinking of Lily's vicious stature when wielding her wand. How the power he'd felt surge through it would probably pair nicely with Lily's nature. He said no more, with his old want pocketed and his head turning back to the cold Hippogriff feather. It was almost as if he could feel the chill just from looking at it, though that might have been his own overactive imagination.

"I'll just-" Albus reached for it before he could overthink it. His hands curling around the cool golden brown wood. His fingers fitting neatly in to the feathered grooves as he drew in a slow breath, turned on his heels and pointed the wand at the same lock. "Alohomora!" He cast, the inflection almost perfect, the wand dip exact. Albus wasn't a charms expert, but he worked hard enough to make it look adequate. The wand seemed to warm in his palm, the grooves melting in to the pad of his thumb as power surged forward and shot directly at the lock, snipping it off with a sharp clack.

Albus smiled, drawing the wand closer as the end let off a gentle plume of smoke before settling it. "This is the one." He nodded resolutely, turning it around in his palm as the cold feeling fled and a steady thrum started from his palm, all the way his wand-bearing arm. "What should I do with my old one?" Albus asked, brows pulling together. He didn't ever think there would come a time when he'd have to say such a thing. "I mean, bury it?" He joked with a snort, but he thought he felt the wand pulse against his thigh at the mere question of it. 

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Nell had seen enough witches and wizards paired with new wands to know that the one the boy was using to cast alohomora now was probably the one intended for him. Acacia with hippogriff feather. She liked that combo and it was the type of wand that would never be found in the new stock at Ollivanders. A forefather or two had probably put one up on the wall of boxes once upon a time but Nell had never personally seen that combination sold to a customer before. She was fairly decent at remembering who bought what. And the fact that the now-repaired window lock snapped open so cleanly made it that much more memorable. That previously cold feeling that he had whilst handling the wand was probably gone now that his magic had been infused in it. Which meant she had been correct. As for the werewolf whisker wand, he stated that his sister would probably like it. “Really? Send her my way then. I’d like to see how she fairs with it. As long as you can guarantee I’ll still have a window after the fact,” Nell joked, though if this sister of his was as intense as he was, the whole front of the shop would probably be obliterated with such a simple charm cast.

He asked about his old wand after saying that he would take the acacia wand, and Nell nodded her head. “Keep it just in case. Accidents happen, and sometimes people like using a more comfortable, tame wand at home,” she shrugged. Starter Ollivander wands had that sort of temperament and were good for learning and relaxation. It was the difference between having to wear a belt at work and sweatpants at home. Personally she preferred the always relaxed feel of wands and clothes but knew that wasn’t the case with everyone. That was the one downfall of being able to use almost any sort of wand if she wanted to. Everything felt and operated at an equal level, which was neither good nor bad. In her line of work, passing was acceptable because it meant it would fit someone else perfectly.

Pushing the werewolf whisker wand box to the side of the counter, she pulled the acacia wand box towards her and the cash register, quickly punching in the price that was on the side of the box. “That will be…eighteen Galleons,” she said as she looked over the counter at the boy. Hippogriff feathers weren’t easy to come by and unfortunately she had a limited supply of them. That and she had to make money somehow, because she would never be able to undercut her sister’s prices.

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[Albus Severus Potter]

don't speak too soon.

THERE WAS A PARTICULAR EXHILARATION WHEN holding a new, bonded wand. Albus hadn't really appreciated it as a child, when he'd been sweating profusely in the heady heat of summer. Nervous and jittery, frightened that no wand would chose him at all. He'd just been relieved when he'd found his original wand, and privately pleased at the time that it had made his parent's happy. That had changed with time and new resentments, when he'd felt the weight of his father's legacy hanging on every tapestry at Hogwarts. This was different, this was just for him.

"Ha!" Albus laughed shakily, a cautious smile on his lips as he turned the wand in his palm curiously. He could laugh at her joke, thinking of Lily in a wand shop now. Barely fitting herself in the confines of its walls, filling it with her own brand of chaotic energy. "I don't think you'd have a shop left once she was done with you, I'm afraid." He quirked his brows and eyed the wand on the counter, sitting back in its box. "I'll give her your card, though." He warned her, casting her an uncharacteristically teasing smile.

Albus's smile dropped at the prospect of keeping his old wand. "What about the allegiance?" He asked, the serious frown overtaking his face. It was so familiar on his face that he looked almost at rest. "Won't it interfere with the new wand?" He wasn't entirely sure, having a very limited knowledge of wand lore. It sounded right, though. A part of Albus just didn't want the wand anymore, though. Like he might be tempted to change his mind otherwise. Or, maybe it was guilt for switching his wand in the first place without speaking to his family. It just didn't feel right.

"Take it." Albus tossed the old wand at her carelessly. "I don't need it anymore." He shrugged, but it was a little too stiff to be totally thoughtless. Clearing his throat and looking away, in case she tried to talk him around. "How much do I owe you?" He asked stiffly, pulling a bag of clanking coins from the pocket of his jeans. Anything to change the subject. 

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The thought of having her shop completely obliterated by the young man’s sister didn’t illicit any reaction from Nell, because she knew her own sister could do the same if she really wanted to. Thankfully there was insurance for that, and if she really wanted to get back at Veronica for damage done to her supplies, she still had a key to the back door of Ollivander’s. The nice part about having been the apprentice for seven years was that she was the one that had done all of the inventory and counting of stock. She highly doubted Veronica had done that since the big move, and taking a few dozen wands to replace anything destroyed would go completely unnoticed. Especially ones that Nell had made herself and were never sold because they weren’t ‘up to par’ with what her sister wanted. Which was bull because she wouldn’t be selling wands right now if they weren’t halfway decent.

She pushed a business card across the counter to the boy as he questioned the allegiances the wands would hold with him, especially having two now. Personally, Nell had never had that sort of issue. She was also a bit of an enigma, seeing as she handled all sorts of wands of every make and model. There really wasn’t such a thing like that with her, nor any wandmaking Ollivander for that matter. Before she could tell him that there probably wouldn’t be a problem using two, as their personalities didn’t inherently conflict with one another, he threw his old wand at her. Nell caught it as it rolled across the counter towards her, the familiar grooves in the birch handle feeling right at home in her hand. She hated seeing wands treated like this, especially one that her dad had so carefully put together and for the boy to have used it for the entirety of his life so far. A sudden change in owners didn’t bode well for some wands.

“Eighteen Galleons,” Nell repeated, a little louder this time as she carefully placed the birch wand in front of her. She was going to hold onto it for a while, just in case he came back looking for it. If not, she didn’t mind keeping it as a spare for her own use or seeing if her dad would want it back. She couldn’t resell it in good consciousness, as that wouldn’t be fair to the wand at all. “Hippogriff feathers are costly these days. Closed borders and all that.” Really, she should have upped the price because of how he treated his old wand. The new one would definitely be a pain if he did the same thing to it.

Albus Severus Potter ● 451 ● Childhood by Roo Panes

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[Albus Severus Potter]

don't speak too soon.

THOUGH IT HAD FELT INCREDIBLY FREEING TO finally be rid of his wand, there was something niggling at the back of his mind when he tossed it over to the wandmaker. Like he'd just cut off something incredibly vital. Albus tried to shake it off as he pulled out his pouch of galleons, carefully counting out the eighteen with stiff, anxious fingers. It was pretty pricey, he thought privately. And just as he'd thought it, she lifted her voice. Gone was the easy confidence, replaced by a coolness he lifted his head it. In her hand was his wand, her fingers running reverently along the grooves of the old whippy wood. 

"Right..." He muttered in agreement with her, not really caring about borders. Albus had figured a new wand would be expensive, especially as he was older and it was a smaller business. The wands were not so easily produced, nor as popular as their counterpart on Diagon. But, there was something in her posture that did bother him. "Does it bother you?" asked bluntly, a curious look on his face as he stacked the coins on the table between them. Eighteen perfect gold galleons, four little towers that he laid down, along with an extra two for a tip. "That I just threw it at you, or that I don't seem to mind if you destroy it?" He wasn't being cruel, Albus truly wondered. 

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