Inell's Fanfiction Archive

Evan Rosier was a shifty little boy when he first came to the shop for a wand, sneaking furtive glances at the shelves as if he was fighting the inclination to pocket whatever was in reach. At twenty-two, he’s become a shifty young man who behaves very suspiciously when he enters the shop. Henry Ollivander is immediately aware of every move the young man makes, even as he smiles vaguely and gives an impression of absentmindedness that serves him well. With the whispers of Voldemort preparing to begin a war the likes of which their world hasn’t seen since Grindewald, it is wise to be alert and careful.

He greets Rosier with a thoughtful ‘8 ½ oak with a drop of troll blood’ and feigns disinterest when he is presented with a roll of rough material. It is an unfamiliar fabric that he quickly decides must be of Muggle origin, which intrigues him when he considers the rumors regarding the Pureblood standing before him. The fabric falls open to reveal a well-crafted wand that did not come from his hand.

There is a stammering story of a great aunt from France who died, and Rosier doesn’t flinch as he spins his lies as if they are gospel. The wand is obviously stolen, Henry knows, but he rarely lets such things bother him. The craftsmanship is amazing, the wood is one he knows hasn’t been used in wand making for over a century, and there’s an energy around it that prevents him from reaching out to touch.

Rosier’s hand is shaking and he keeps shifting nervously, which makes Henry realize they need to conclude their business quickly. A sum is named, galleons are exchanged, and Rosier leaves the cloth covered wand behind. After the shop is empty again, Henry picks up the wand and carefully wraps it back up before taking it into the backroom.

He can’t explain why he doesn’t prepare it for resale, but he somehow knows that this wand is special. The war is growing outside the walls of his sanctuary, after all, and a wand with this powerful energy is something he feels he needs to protect. Once it is secured with the strongest protection charms that he knows, he transfigures a small table to block the concealed cabinet as a secondary precaution.

Content that he’s done what he can and feeling rather foolish for his actions, he walks back into the showroom and sits down. It isn’t long before the door open once again, and he smiles as he greets the woman and child with a knowledgeable ‘9’ ash with unicorn hair’.

End