Godfather And Godson - Chapter 134

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Getting back to the gathering with Dumbledore, Harry saw that everyone was there; including champions and schoolmasters.

There were seats laid out for everyone and Harry took one as Dumbledore addressed the gathered group.

“May I introduce to you all, Mr. Ollivander?” Dumbledore pronounced, taking his place alongside the other headmasters and mistresses table and talking to the champions. “He will be checking your wands and other magical foci to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.”

Harry looked around, and with a jolt of surprise saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. Harry had met Mr. Ollivander before, a very long time ago when he was s new student and he was the wand-maker from whom Harry had bought his own wand from over three years ago in Diagon Alley.

“You don’t have to worry,” the old man smiled, “he is well versed in not only our European wands but nearly all major magical foci used around the world. So there is no one better to undertake this task.”

“Greetings,” the old wizard inclined his head to everyone as he stepped forward once Dumbledore was finished introducing him. “It has indeed been a very long time since some one from the Ollivander family has been able to be responsible for the magical tool weighing ceremony of the Triwizard tournament! It is an honor for house Ollivander to have this privilege again.”

A small round of applause echoed in the chamber as everyone gave a few polite claps.

“Your royal highness, could we have you first, please?” the old man bowed to the Russian princess.

Getting up and walking over to the old wizard, she summoned her magical tool and handed it over. Harry saw that Mr. Ollivander held a Scepter in his hand.

All around the world wizards and witches from different parts of the use distinct types of magical implements. The reason is because anything could be a magical tool to help you cast magic; all magical tools are just a focus and at its core, a magical focus is essentially a lens for magic. A focus gathers magic from the world around the caster and directs the energy into a spell.

A focus does not in itself perform magic, and a practitioner does not necessarily need a focus in order to work magic, but it makes it easier for a practitioner to perform a spell.

Many wizards and witches have found unique and interesting foci, and a wizard’s foci can often be very personal, chosen for their own reasons. You don’t have to just use a wand like most European wizards and witches do so there is a vast diversity of them everywhere.

Scepter are very close cousins to wands, unlike wands who make use of magical creatures parts for cores a scepter on the other hand uses a gem or crystal.

“A Khalni Gem, how very rare indeed,” the old wandmaker whispered as he turned the Scepter in his hand to which it let out a flurry of snowflakes. “They only form once every 10,000 years!”

“Yes, daddy alvays says only the best forr the royal line!”

“Hmmm, very powerful,” the wandmaker noted as he gave the scepter a few more tries, once he was done he handed it back. “Everything seems in order.”

“Mademoiselle Delacour, could you come up, please?” Mr. Ollivander turned to the mixed breed girl, once Catherine took her seat.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

“Hmmm,” the old man mused as he peered at the wand. He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood… and containing… dear me…”

“An ‘air from ze ‘ead of a veela,” Fleur declared as she crossed her hand over her c.h.e.s.t defensively. “One of my grandmuzzer’s, she is the Leader of the French Coven of Veela.”

So his little theory has been proven correct, Harry mused, Fleur is part veela, Harry thought.

“Yes,” said Mr. Ollivander, “yes, I’ve never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands… however, to each his own I say, and it would seem that it rather suits you.”

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, “Orchideous!” and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.

“Very well, very well, it’s a fine working wand,” Mr. Ollivander nodded his head, finally acquiescing.

“Mr. Turner would you like to come up next?”

James Turner got and handed his strange contraption to the old wizard, if Harry had to make a guess it looked like a rod.

Rod unlike most wands which use wood as the body are all made of metals and for cores, they use crystals and gems like scepters.

“It is a very strange magical foci,” the old wandmaker uttered hesitantly, unsure what else to say.

“I myde it myself,” the young Australian wizard smiled brightly. “I myde use of the Firaxite Alloy for the body….” with that he quickly went into great detail about the rod, describing every little tiny detail.

Cutting him off, the old man smiled at the artificer wizard, “Well it looks perfectly fine to my son. Now go ahead and take your seat.”

“But… but I have told you about the….” he tried to say, but Ollivander quickly turned to Tang Zhou.

“Could you come up Mr. Zhou.”

Taking the offered magical foci, the old wizard smiled, “Yes, the old Chinese magical foci, the Talisman. Did you know this was the first magical foci created?” he asked the young Chinese wizard.

“I didn’t, but thank you for parting your wisdom to me,” the wizard bowed his head.

“Looks alright to me,” the wandmaker nodded his head as he handed back the talisman.

“Mr. Krum, if you please.”

Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duckfooted, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

“Hmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, “this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I’m much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I would go with.. nevertheless fine work…”

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

“Hmm, hornbeam and dragon heartstring?” he shot Krum a look who nodded his head. “Rather thicker than one usually sees… quite rigid… ten and a quarter inches… Avis!”

The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

“Good,” said Mr. Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. There wasn’t much to be said of wands as most wizards and witches know of them very well they make use of two compounds the body and the core.

The body of the wand is mostly made of wood but in some cases metal or even other objects and the core makes use of a magical creature. Nowadays wizards only make use of magical beasts but before harvesting magical beings were fair game, but over the years after many revolts, wizards have slowly started to change their ways.

“Mr. Abbassid please come forward.”

Coming forward, the young Arab wizard reached towards his neck and unclasped a necklace… no an Amulet.

Amulets were the choice magical foci of most Middle Eastern and North African wizards and witches. They were close to Tailsmen to the talisman that most Chinese wizards used though they had their differences.

Amulets focus on the centerpiece, the stone in the center. The body and chain is important but it is all in the stone.

“It is made of quicksilver, correct?” the old wizard looked up from the amulet he was focusing on.

“Yes, sir,” the Jordan champion nodded his head.

“And Abonx cat eye if I am correct,” he mused as he stared at the black stone which looked like a cat’s eye that gave its name. He uttered a word and before they knew it flames, bright red flames exploded out which quickly disappeared.

“Yes to that as well, sir, you sure do know your stuff, Mr. Ollivander.”

“I try to be well read, my boy,” he said as he handed back the amulet.

“Ms. Sinopa if you could come up,” Mr. Ollivander called out to the native American girl.

Unlike wands these things have a very long and ancient history, a totem is a sacred object that serves as a symbol of a group of people, such as a family, clan, lineage, or tribe. They are very difficult to make as they need to be seeped in spiritual energy, but the outcome is worth it.

Ollivander seem to also think that as he stared at the object in reverie, “Is this really…” he tried to ask but couldn’t form the words as he ran his fingers over the object lovingly.

“Yes, it is one of my tribes’ totems, my sister has the main one,” he nodded her head to the Headmaster of Ilvermorny.

Staring at the two of them back and forth, Harry just couldn’t believe he couldn’t see the similarities. Both of them were indeed like sisters, and he only felt better when the other champions stared between them.

“I would love to learn the history of this totem, maybe one day you can tell me all about,” the old man smiled as he handed back the magical foci right after he gave it a test run and saw that it was working perfectly alright when autumn leaves started drifting down when he spoke a command word.

“It would be my please,” Sinopa responded.

“Mr. Diggory, you next.”

“Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn’t it?” Mr. Ollivander mused with much more enthusiasm compared to the other items he handled today, as Cedric handed over his wand. And who can blame him all craftmen have a deep love for their creation.

“Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn… must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches.. ash.. pleasantly springy. It’s in fine condition. . . . You treat it regularly?”

“Polished it last night,” Cedric grinned.

Harry looked down at his own wand, Dobby was kind enough to clean it regularly for him but thanks to all the use he put it through this year it was a bite worn out. He could see finger marks all over it, and stains of blood and sweat which must have fallen on it in the heat of battles.

He gathered a fistful of robe from his knee and tried to rub it clean surreptitiously. Several gold sparks shot out of the end of it and Fleur Delacour who was seated right next to him gave him a very patronizing look, and he just smiled and gave her a playful winked at her as he continued his action but in a very slow and sensual manner.

What was the issue with a man giving the old wand a ‘brush.’

She immediately blushed and snapped her head away while he silently chuckled to himself.

Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric’s wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, “Good, good.”

With that he handed it back and turned to Hinako Miya, “Why don’t you come up, Ms. Miya.”

Hopping off her seat, the perky young witch handed over the katana that seem too big for her over to Mr. Ollivander. Immediately once he took it he nearly feel over, but was able to with a lot of effort right himself, “Quite, heavy, huh,” he smiled at the Japanese witch.

“Sorry, Sir,” she blushed, “I.. I should have told you.”

“It is alright dear,” the old wizard said, “this must be the only things that must feel right in you physical augment wizard’s hands.”

“Yes,” Hinako nodded her head, “normal swords are too light almost like a feather in our hands.”

“That’s spell blades for you,” the wandmaker said as he pointed the sword tip with great difficulty at the wall and a ball appeared and bounced off the all.

“Seems good to me,” the old wizard declared as he seem relieved to have it out of his hands.

“Ms. Jasmine, please,” he called out to the dark skinned girl.

She came over and handed a book over to the wandmaker who flipped it in his hands back to cover. “A spell grimoire my how long has it been since I held one in my hand.”

The spell grimoires were what family grimoires were based on, the idea comes to great families of old to store their knowdgle in a grimoire when they saw these magical foci.

A spell grimoire does one thing, store spells so that you can use them on the demand. That might sound a bit too foolish since you were limiting yourself, but this is why African wizards are always the ones who master wandless magic.

Doing a spell over and over again until it just became memory is the key to learning wandless magic. And that is the edge most African wizards have, they must have cast that spell numerous times so the process became so much easier for them unlike other wizards who cast on the spot whatever comes to mind.

Testing it and seeing that it was working perfectly, the old wizard called out on Sílvia Senna.

When she came up all she did was hold out her hand.

“Ahh, Magic tattoos,” the wand maker voiced as he peered at the Latin American witch’s arms. “Who did them for you?” he asked.

“My father,” she answered as they were in for a surprise again as he pointed to the Headmaster of Castelobruxo.

“They are very well done,” the old wizard voice, “of course that is expected of our vaunted Headmaster.”

“Mh, he made me do most of it,” the feisty witch waved her head back.

“Excellent, could you give me a demonstration?” he asked since he couldn’t do it himself.

Watching her concentrate, her tattoos quickly light up, and then the growl of a tiger echoed in the room as a ghostly apparition of the creature appeared before them.

“Well done, well done,” the old wizard clapped his hands. “Now we only have… Mr. Potter,” he declared as he turned to face Harry with his pale eyes.

Getting up, Harry handed over his wand. “Aaaah, yes,” Mr. Ollivander smiled as his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. “Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember it.” Harry could remember too. He could remember it as though it had happened yesterday…

Four summers ago, on his eleventh birthday, he had entered Mr. Ollivander’s shop with Hagrid to buy a wand. Mr. Ollivander had taken his measurements and then started handing him wands to try. Harry had waved what felt like every wand in the shop, until at last he had found the one that suited him — this one, which was made of holly, eleven inches long, and contained a single feather from the tail of a phoenix.

Mr. Ollivander had been very surprised that Harry had been so compatible with this wand. “Curious,” he had said, “curious,” and not until Harry asked what was curious had Mr. Ollivander explained that the phoenix feather in Harry’s wand had come from the same bird that had supplied the core of Lord Voldemort’s.

Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody except with Sirius recently. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort’s wand was something it couldn’t help — just as he couldn’t help being related to Aunt Petunia.

Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry’s wand than anyone else’s. Eventually, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry.

“It is in perfect condition, a bit worn made. However, do you have the feeling that it doesn’t fit perfectly anymore in your hands?”

“Yes,” Harry slowly nodded his head, he did get the feeling that he was recently growing apart from his wand. As if it might have worked for the old him, but for the new him…

“I see,” the old man nodded his head as a smile spread across his face.

“What is the problem, Ollivander?” Dumbledore asked.

“Nothing, nothing,” the old wizard shook his head, “just that Harry has outgrown his wand and they aren’t compatible anymore.”

“Really?” Harry asked as he looked down at his wand, they really have been through a lot, but he guessed he just changed too much and his wand won’t be coming with him through his next journey in life.

“Then what are we to do?”Dumbledore asked, as his bushy eyebrows furrowed. “He needs to compete next month in the first trial, and if his wand isn’t working properly…”

“You my boy,” the wandmaker said as he turned to face him, “need a new wand.”