Symmetry and Discord

CHAPTER FOUR

MILITARY AND CIVILIAN

Tonks was over the moon about Robert's cooking. Never since his sumptuous hotel dinner with Vittora Vetra in Rome had he seen a woman eat with such gusto. More so, her sheer enjoyment of his breakfast made Robert feel proud, warm, and appreciated.

"So, what's the plan for today, do you want to see Harvard?" Robert asked, "The Fogg's open today. I can take you over there, show you my office..."

"Actually, Robert, Professor Dumbledore told me about a place here in Boston called Tituba's Crossing. I'd like to go there for a little bit this afternoon."

Robert blinked. "Harry mentioned that, too. Tonks, in all my years living in Boston, I've never heard of Tituba's Crossing. What is that?"

"Remember I told you about Diagon Alley?" Tonks stood and collected the plates and silverware from the table. Robert nodded. "It's a place like that. It's magical, and it's only accessible to witches and wizards. In fact, what is great about that place, is it actually is Diagon Alley."

Robert squinted. "What do you mean?" Robert, too, stood and began collecting the condiments. "How can Tituba's Crossing be Diagon Alley?"

Tonks scraped the excess food into the trash bin. "It's hard to explain. Kind of a spatial magic. Take the Leaky Cauldron, for example. Say, if Remus Lupin was at the Leaky Cauldron in London, and we enter the Leaky Cauldron here in Boston, we'd see him. We'd be able to shake hands with him and talk to him. Not many Americans go to the Leaky Cauldron, though, they prefer Madame Prynne's. Ollivander's wand shop is the same here as in London, so is Gringott's Bank, Flourish and Blotts, and Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes - in fact, the Weasley Twins just bought the rights to branch out of London and use space here in Boston. I think they're in all the major English-speaking wizarding centers now: San Francisco, Sydney, Chicago, and Toronto, too."

Robert shut the refrigerator and cleared his throat. "So, you're telling me that if we brought Hedwig with us, gave her to Remus at the Leaky Cauldron or wherever, Hedwig could fly home without having to cross an ocean? So... that's how she got here!"

Tonks looked up from the dishes and regarded Robert for a moment. "Hedwig brought those letters? Yeah, I suppose so. You could say that."

"What do you need there?"

"Couple of things," Tonks opened the dishwasher and looked at Robert as if asking what to do.

"Just stick them in so the plates face inward. I'll take care of the rest."

"Well, I want to get a proper job here, so I'll need to speak to the USWPC and see if they'll take on a fully trained British Auror."

"USWPC? I'm almost afraid to ask."

"United States Wizarding Police Corps. It's actually a military-like branch of the FBI. It's kept even more secret than the location of the CIA headquarters in Quantico."

Robert winced. He knew exactly where the CIA headquarters was - it was not in Quantico -- and it was really no secret.

Tonks continued, "You'd be surprised how much your government regulates wizarding. Unlike in Britain, where wizards generally govern themselves, over here, it's different. There's checks and balances we don't have back home." Tonks placed some dishes gingerly into the machine.

"Really?" Robert was intrigued.

"Yeah, it's pretty spiff actually," Tonks continued, wiping her hands on a towel, "the FBI has the USWPC, the CIA has a wizarding intelligence branch, and your Congress has a subcommittee. There are two Senators and five Representatives in your Congress who are wizards."

Robert blinked, his mouth agape.

"Obviously, it's kept mum, and that subcommittee is kept secret. Also, there's a Cabinet position no one knows about - the Secretary of Magic - appointed by every President since Washington. The current one is Secretary Jane Lodi-Poynette from Wisconsin. President Bush appointed her just last year after the previous one resigned. She's like our Minister of Magic - regulates everything magical within the United States. She has more power than any other Cabinet member, believe it or not."

"So, you mean to tell me that Dubya - our right-wing-religious-conservative man of a President knows..." Robert leaned against the back of a chair, the trailings of shock beginning to rise within him.

"About us? Yes. He has to, whether he likes it or not. The existence of these government agencies is passed down from President to President - has been since Washington. He and the directors of the CIA and the FBI are the only ones who know about them on the Muggle side of politics. Otherwise, they're hidden, given different names in the directory. Most of the FBI agents think the USWPC is like a militaristic X-Files group, investigating paranormal activities. They all think they're nutters."

"But what about the USWPC? What if they arrest someone? Wouldn't our justice system know...."

"Nope," Tonks said, "checks and balances -- there's even a separate court system, separate jails. The judges are all appointed by the President and have to meet the approval of a majority of the other sitting judges, the members of the subcommittee, and the Secretary of Magic."

"So," Robert challenged, "where is this Court? Where is the office of the Secretary of Magic? It can't be in Washington. Can it?"

"Not in Washington," Tonks grinned, "In Chicago. For separation and secrecy's sake, everything wizarding in the US is centered in Chicago."

Robert was incredulous. "Chicago? Yeah, right. Where?" Robert stood and crossed his arms on his chest. "I know that city like the back of my hand, and I've never seen..."

"Of course you haven't! It's hidden from Muggles, Robert! Do you know the One East Jackson Building?"

Robert's face now gave away his utter disbelief. "Yes," he said slowly, "but, that's DePaul University - a Jesuit Catholic school - that's where the law school is! It can't be in there. In that building? A Catholic Church-run University? Where?"

"Ten floors below -- the basement."

Robert rolled his eyes. "The basement is the Music Mart, there's no other basement in that building."

"Exactly."

Robert remained silent, his arms still folded on his chest. His eyes darted in rapt contemplation, trying desperately to understand what Tonks had just told him. "How do you know all of this?"

"Auror training. We have to know the governmental makeup of the UK, the US, Canada, and Australia before we can move on to other countries, and before we can finish training. Aurors have to know who to turn to and where to go if we're in another country and we're in a bind."

"Okay," Robert scratched his head, resigned, "you want to meet with this wizarding corps. That sounds great. What else do we need to do at Tituba's Crossing?"

"Well, for starters, we should buy some floo powder if Dumbledore's going to get your fireplace on the network. Even more important, you need to get a wand of your own. You can't learn magic using someone else's wand. Mr. Ollivander will set you up right with one. And you need to open an account at Gringott's, change some American money to Galleons, and start collecting interest."

"What's the interest rate?"

"On a savings vault, not too great. Probably between fifteen and twenty percent per annum."

Robert's eyes flew open. "Twenty percent?"

Tonks looked sympathetic. "Yeah, a pittance, I know. Those goblins are very stingy."

Robert furrowed his brow and frowned. "No, Tonks! That's an incredible percentage rate! Most Muggle savings books only pay out about two percent at best! Hell, I'll sell all my stocks and CD's and transfer it all into that account right now!" Robert pointed upstairs. "Get up there and get showered. I'll finish down here. Let's get going!"

* * * *

The drive from Cambridge to Boston should have taken a total of ten minutes, but with Tonks' enthusiasm about Robert pointing out every Harvard structure they passed along the way, it took forty-five. Robert drove so much that he actually had to stop for gas on the corner of Cambridge and Broadway, after driving Tonks around Harvard Yard five times. It was as if Tonks was trying to memorize every building in the yard - to become quickly acclimated to Cambridge society.

Not that he minded - in fact, he loved her even more for it. Robert had spent the last twenty or so years of his life in this college town, and he was extremely proud of it. Cambridge was a vibrant, beautiful place, and the Harvard area made it famous.

Once Robert was finally able to pull Tonks away from the Yard, he turned southeast, crossed the Longfellow Bridge on Main Street, and headed into downtown Boston on Charles. Hedwig, perched in a magically makeshift rattan cage in the back seat of the Saab 900S, hooted with mild panic as they crossed the bridge.

I hope that noise doesn't mean she's making a bird mess on my leather seats...Bird mess...Oh, wonderful.

Robert knew these streets extremely well, and he cheerfully pointed out places of historical interest, such as Beacon Hill, the State House, and Boston Common.

Of course, Tonks being a Brit, understood very little of the significance of these places. Robert heaved a great sigh and rolled his eyes when Tonks told him that she wanted, more than anything, to see the site of the...

"Boston Tea Party?" Robert asked, incredulously. "Oh, come on Tonks. There's so much more here!"

Tonks stood her ground. "No, Robert, I want to see it."

"But why? That's all the way down in the Fort Point Channel."

"Because I want to see the place where a bunch of Colonist nutters wasted tons of perfectly good Darjeeling over something as paltry as a little tea tax. That's why. You Americans make no sense at all, you know."

Robert pursed his lips and glared at Tonks. "That's hitting below the belt, limey, you know that. And you -- your people went and closed down their most lucrative harbor in the Colonies over that paltry little tea tax. I'd call that nutters. No wonder we won the war."

He stopped his Saab at a stop light, pounded rhythmically on the steering wheel, and sang, "No taxation without representation. No taxation without representation. No taxation without representation!"

Tonks chuckled, covering her eyes. As Robert continued his ersatz tirade, Tonks pointed surreptitiously to the vehicle next to him. Robert stopped abruptly, looked to his right, and grinned, blushing. "Uh, hello officer."

Hedwig's frantic hooting from the back seat sounded something like a fit of giggles. Tonks, herself laughing, turned and glared at the great owl. "Hush, you."

The motorcycle policeman gave Robert a sarcastic smile and wiggled his fingers in a wave. "History lesson, sir?"

"Uh, yeah," Robert choked out, "she's English." The cop nodded. Robert rolled his window back up, sank down in his seat, and pulled an embarrassed face. "Thanks, Tonks. Thanks a lot."

When Robert heard the angry sounds of beeping behind him, he looked up and realized the light was now green. Instead of making the left turn onto Beacon Street, he continued, begrudgingly, south -- down Congress, toward the God blessed Boston Tea Party.

After Tonks had her fill of telling horrible Colonist jokes, and when she saw how really boring and uneventful the site was, she and Robert climbed back into his Saab and headed back north. "Where is it we're going again?"

Tonks pulled a sheaf of paper from her jacket pocket, unfolded it, and read the address. "Eighty-four Beacon Street. It says here its near Boston Common by the Soldier's Monument."

Robert squinted slightly as he turned onto Court Street. "I know that area, and there's nothing called Tituba's Crossing there. Eighty-four Beacon Street. By the Soldier's Monument. What kind of place are we looking for?"

Tonks scratched her head. "Well, in London, the entrance to Diagon Alley is a pub. So I'd presume that we're looking for a pub here as well."

Robert could think of only one pub on Beacon Hill fitting that description. He squinted, thinking hard for a moment. "No, that's impossible. It can't be there. Not that place."

"Why not?"

"Tonks, did you ever watch American Muggle TV?"

"Yeah, my dad - he was Muggle born -- was a newscaster on Satellite One, so I'd watch the American sitcoms that came on before the news report."

Robert turned his Saab left from Tremont to Beacon. "Ever watch a show called Cheers?"

"Yeah, with Sam Malone and that stroppy Diane and that pub in the basement of a building, and everyone said, 'Norm' when that chunky guy sauntered in. They were always drinking and getting good and squiffy."

"Well," Robert said, as he approached Eighty-four Beacon Street. There it is." He pointed at the faux antique sign hanging from the ornate black wrought-iron fence. "The Bull and Finch Pub - otherwise known as Cheers."

* * * *

Being a Friday early afternoon, Robert had little trouble finding parking along Charles Street up Beacon Hill. The normal rush of daytime traffic and evening tourists was all but gone, leaving the area somewhat deserted. Robert and Tonks walked hand in hand back down the Hill toward Boston Common. Robert carried Hedwig's cage awkwardly.

Heavy damn bird.

"Here it is." Robert stopped at the top of the cement stairs leading down to the pub. "Once we get in there, where do we go?"

"It's a lot like Diagon Alley. We go out the back, and then, it says here, there's a door on the other side of the alley that only we can see - and this is the only way to get to the alley. That should be the door to a place called Madame Prynne's. We just go in there, and there we are -- Tituba's Crossing." Tonks looked at Robert, concern showing on her face. "When we get in there, to Bull and Finch, I mean, should we have lunch or a beer or something, make it look like we're actually there for something other than just passing through?"

"Not necessary," Robert waved it off, "people walk through there all the time. I don't think we should stay, actually -- especially with bird brain here. There's a gift shop in the back. We can just say we're there for a t-shirt, and no one will think anything of it. This is such a touristy place - I'm really surprised this is the entrance, but on the other hand, it's perfect, isn't it? Lots of traffic in and out, lots of people just passing through. Brilliant."

Robert and Tonks headed down the stairs and through the entrance. Tonks had expected to see a sweeping, open room with a square bar in the middle. She deflated slightly when she saw that the Cheers in real life looked nothing like the television version. "Now that's false advertising, that is."

Robert laughed. "Everyone says that. This place is actually more typical of an old Boston pub than Cheers on TV. They needed an open set for that show. Couldn't exactly fit cameras in these little hallways, now could they?"

Despite Tonks' disappointment, she was fascinated by the place. She was even more despondent when they reached the back door and entered back out into the sunlight. Just as the note said, there was a door immediately opposite the alley to the back of the Bull and Finch. The door was made of the same bricking as the rest of the alley walls, and the sign saying, "Madame Prynne's" was very faint and rather ethereal.

Robert pushed open the door for Tonks, and it swung inward upon a shining, immaculate, expansive pub littered with numerous round, antique-looking mahogany tables. The matching mahogany bar stretched the length of the back of the pub, and the rear wall was covered in odd-shaped and strangely colored bottles - all of which were polished to a brilliant shine.

Robert felt his mouth fall open, and he felt compelled to set Hedwig unceremoniously on the floor - to which the bird hooted crossly. The place was filled with lunching patrons, some of them wearing robes, others Muggle clothes, and others, military uniforms. He simply couldn't believe how many witches and wizards there were in Boston. I never would have guessed - I honestly thought I was the only one. Glad to know I'm not alone.

As Tonks entered the room, Robert was startled by a loud scraping noise - caused by numerous chairs being pushed back at once. Hedwig squawked and rustled her feathers in her own auditory distress. At least twenty of the patrons, all in crisp blue uniforms, rose to their feet in unison, dropping their forks, spoons, or what have you to the tables with a loud clank.

One of the uniformed men shouted in a loud, barking voice, "Attention! Superior officer present!" The rest gave a deep, forcible, "Four-oh!" and then presented - and held onto -- sharp, American salutes.

Robert did a double take as he watched Tonks snap to attention herself, placing her open-faced right hand against her right eyebrow - the British salute.

Robert, for some reason, felt as if he should salute as well. "Tonks, what the...?"

She whipped her hand down in a sharp gesture, and in her own booming voice yelled, "Wotcher, men! As you were. Back to mess." Each of the uniformed persons within the bar sat back down at their tables, lifted their glasses or forks, and resumed their meals or conversations.

Robert looked Tonks over - from head to toe - in utter amazement. "That ... all that...that was for you?"

"Yes," Tonks said, slightly embarrassed. She walked toward an empty table near the bar and sat down. Robert followed suit, Hedwig again in tow. "As an Auror, I outrank most of the officers here. The USWPC runs on a military-style organization. We don't - I mean I don't have a rank per se over there. I'm just an Auror, but if I were to take a job here, which I hope to do, I'd come in as a Major or at least a Captain. I have more extensive training than they do here, and my years at Hogwarts count toward that."

"So, you mean to tell me that you outrank every officer here?"

"In this pub, yes, probably not in the entire USWPC. I imagine I'd have a Colonel or a General to report to. They must have somehow known I was coming today. I'm not even sure how they knew it was me. Oh well, Robert, I've learned not to ask anymore."

Yeah, me too. Robert shook his head in utter awe and admiration. "I never knew you were a military mucky-muck...I'm impressed. I'm very, very impressed. I feel like I should call you Major Tonks from now on." He grinned wickedly and then sang, quite off key and in a terrible David Bowie impression, "Ground control to Major Tonks....Ground control to Major Tonks...."

"Don't," Tonks chuckled, giving Robert a slight shove, "stop that nonsense this minute, Langdon, or I should have to report you. I'm a civilian as an Auror, and I hope to keep that civilian attitude, even if I do work for the USWPC. I'm definitely not the military type."

"So I've seen," Robert joked. Before Tonks could slug him one in the shoulder, a short, dark-haired, round-faced officer approached their table.

"Permission to join you, ma'am?" He saluted sharply.

"Wotcher, Captain. No need to ask. Take a seat." Tonks smiled warmly. "And no military stuff. No more saluting, please. I have the feeling I'm going to get my fill of that sooner or later."

The officer sat down and extended his hand, offering it to Tonks. "Captain Eli Dresner, USWPC. Your commanding officer, Kingsley Shacklebolt, asked me to come and meet you here today about you coming on board with us for a while. I'm a senior investigator and I'm also a recruitment officer. I understand you're a fully-trained Auror. We'd be honored to have you on our side."

She extended her own hand and shook the Captain's heartily. "Nice to meet you, Captain, and thank you. I'm Nymphadora Tonks, but you probably already know that."

"Yes, ma'am, I do, and it's a pleasure to meet you, as well."

Tonks bristled slightly. "Crikey, Captain. I'm not Ma'am - that's my mother. Please, call me Tonks." She pointed ceremoniously to Robert. "This is Robert Langdon."

The Captain again offered his hand, which Robert accepted. "Eli Dresner, Mr. Langdon. Pleasure to meet..." Eli's voice trailed off suddenly, and he gripped Robert's hand tighter. "You're not the Robert Langdon who works at Harvard and lives up there on Concord, are you? Not that Robert Langdon, the symbologist?"

Robert blinked. "Yes, that's me. Why?"

The Captain's manner loosened up considerably. He clapped his left hand over Robert's right, enveloping Robert in a vigorous grip. "Then, you know my mother! She talks about you all the time, especially since you were in the news last year with that Vatican stuff, and especially now since she heard about your achievements at Hogwarts..."

"Your mother - knows -- me?" Robert scrunched up his face in bewilderment. As he did so, his eyes landed on the Captain's name plate, and the light bulb switched on. Dresner... Good Lord, Mrs. Dresner -- a witch? "Mrs. Dresner? Helena Dresner? The owner of Granny D's Grocery, is your mother?"

"One and the same. And I tell you, she adores you. My brothers here in the U.S. and I, we're all jealous, especially when she makes her sweet challah bread for you."

Robert leaned over the table and whispered. "But then that means that Mrs. Dresner, she's... she is a...a...," the word stuck in Robert's throat.

"Witch, yes," the Captain smiled. "And you don't have to whisper about it, not in here, at least. You never knew, I suppose, just finding out yourself about magic. When you did find out you were magical - oy vey! Then, to top that, mother saw your name and read about what you did over there in Scotland in the Salem Sun, and she had a conniption fit to end all conniption fits. She got all verklempt on us -- she was so proud of you, that you actually learned that you were magical. She couldn't wait to talk to you about it - in private, of course, not at the store."

Robert leaned back on his chair and rubbed his temple. "But I've known her for twenty some years."

"Robert," Tonks interjected, "you've known yourself for forty-five years and you just found out about your own magic. Why is not knowing about Mrs. Dresner so strange?"

For a rare moment, Robert Langdon was struck speechless.

* * * *

After listening to some extended police talk between Tonks and the Captain, Robert stood up from the table. "Listen, Tonks, it sounds like you two have a lot to talk about. Why don't I go to the Leaky Cauldron, and take care of our friend here," he motioned to Hedwig's cage, "and go get my wand. I can be out of your hair for a good forty-five minutes or so, and you can meet me back here."

"Are you sure, Robert?" Tonks asked.

"Positive. You two need to talk business, and I'm just a third wheel here. Simply point me in the right direction."

The Captain stood and pointed to the entrance on the opposite side of the pub. "There. Just go out that way and that'll lead you right out onto the Crossing, Mr. Langdon. Ollivander's is two doors to your right, and the Leaky Cauldron is a block to your left."

Robert smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Captain. Much appreciated." He hefted the cage and turned to walk out.

"Robert!" Tonks stood and rummaged in her bag. "You'll need Galleons to buy your wand. I don't think Mr. Ollivander takes Muggle money."

"I can just go to Gringott's, right? Exchange some?"

Eli and Tonks shared a cagey glance. "Er, uh, Robert..." Tonks made a disgusted face, "I wouldn't go in there alone for the first time. Let me go with you when you exchange your money."

"Why? It's a bank. What can be so frightening about a bank?"

"Trust me, Robert, you don't want to meet the goblins on your own without someone who's been around the block with them. They're awful."

"Goblins...that bad, eh?" Robert's face showed trepidation. Tonks and Captain Dresner nodded simultaneously. "Okay, then. Where else can I change money?"

Tonks pulled a small sack of coins from her bag. "Take this. You can't change money anywhere other than Gringott's. Your wand - it's on me, darling. Call it a..." she searched for the word, gesturing airily, "welcome to the wizarding world present." She chucked the money sack at Robert, who caught it deftly.

"Thanks, Tonks," he shook the bag, "this means a lot to me."

"Yeah, yeah," she waved her hand, "there should be about seventy Galleons in there, your wand should cost about twenty, so buy me something nice with the rest."

"Deal." Robert pocketed the coin bag, and exited the pub.

The scene he walked out onto reminded Robert of a concert fair in Milwaukee, Wisconsin that he attended when he was a college student. The small, cramped alleyway was extremely crowded - teeming with witches and wizards of seemingly every dress, age, color, and nationality, slowly pushing their way through from store to store. Where the outside world of Boston was nearly deserted on this Friday afternoon, Tituba's crossing was alive and bustling. The people were as colorful as those he saw on Platform Nine and Three Quarters only days ago - the day his amazing journey began.

Ten days ago...

Wanting to send Hedwig home as soon as possible, Robert turned left and headed toward the Leaky Cauldron. As he walked up the street, he was enraptured by the various storefronts, all displaying unique and rather odd wares for sale: broomsticks in Quality Quidditch Supply - oh, so that's Quidditch; strange candy and ice cream in Madame Malkin's; wizard's robes, magic books, cauldrons, magical animals, potion ingredients, and most enjoyable, wizarding jokes in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Despite his fascination, Robert was relieved to finally find the Leaky Cauldron. He entered the pub, which was much older, and obviously dustier and dirtier than the more modern and more posh Madame Prynne's. No wonder the Americans prefer Prynne's. Robert thought it unbelievable that he was, by simply crossing the threshold, literally stepping out of Boston and into London, England.

I will never get used to this.

Robert immediately found the barman, who introduced himself as Tom, and asked for help with sending Hedwig home. Tom, recognizing the owl immediately as that belonging to Harry Potter, obliged Robert with gusto.

Robert pulled out the envelope of floo powder Harry had sent him, and with detailed direction from Tom, released the floo powder into the overlarge hearth, stating clearly, "Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts!"

Robert didn't know what to expect, but he certainly did not anticipate that Hedwig would go up in a flash of green flame. Robert jumped back from the fireplace, fell over a chair, and knocked into one of the long trestle tables.

"Holy crap!" Robert exclaimed. "What the...what just happened?" My God, did I kill the bird?

"Ain't you never seen floo powder before, sir?"

"Uh, no," Robert stammered. "What happened to her? Where did she go? Is she okay?"

"She's fine, sir. She went where'er you sent her, sir. From the sound of it, you sent 'er back to Hogwarts." Robert continued to gape at the now empty fireplace. "You is a wizard, ain't you, sir?"

"Yes, I'm just new at it, I guess." Robert sighed. "Thank you, thank you very much..." Robert eyed the fireplace again with growing suspicion. "Do...do people... travel that way, too? In a pillar of fire, like that?" Robert couldn't help but think of Camerlengo Carlo Ventresca's spectacular suicide on the balcony of St. Peter's Basilica nearly a year ago.

"All'a time, sir."

"Is it...is it safe?"

"Perfectly. Only one or two accidents in the last hun'red years."

After convincing himself that Hedwig was actually safe and back in Harry's possession, Robert staggered out of the Leaky Cauldron - out of England -- and turned right back into Boston and Tituba's Crossing.

Tonks will never, ever get me to travel that way. I'll go in an elevator, I'll go in a helicopter for Christ's sake before I set myself on fire like that. That is just crazy!

Robert walked in pure astonishment and continued shock over the mechanics of floo powder -- so much so that, before he knew it, he found himself at Ollivander's Wand Shop. He looked up, rather startled that he had missed the majority of the Crossing in his upset about yet another magical oddity.

I'll never get used to this. Never, never, ever.

He peered in the window, and pushed the door open. The store seemed deserted. The walls were lined, floor to ceiling with racks containing long, rectangular boxes of every color imaginable. He approached the counter and peered into the back of the store. Just like in the front, every bit of the walls contained small, blocks of colored cardboard boxes - each box containing a wand.

Robert turned and walked toward one of the walls. He gingerly pulled out one of the boxes, and opened it. Inside, wrapped in a plain, white muslin cloth, was a crooked-looking wand made of a dull blond, knarled wood. This looks nothing like Blaise's wand... Robert reached his hand inside the box, and curled his fingers around the base of the magical instrument.

Before he could lift it, a voice directly behind him stunned him, causing him to drop the entire box, wand, muslin and all. "I wouldn't touch that one if I were you, Mr. Langdon. It is definitely not for you."

"What...what?" Robert wheeled around, visibly startled. "I'm sorry, I just.... How did you know my name?"

"That Muggle curiosity will take some time to train out of you, I see, Mr. Langdon." The man standing before Robert was very old, wizened, and obviously quite clever. He was thin and hunched over slightly, but still had an air of youthful vigor about him. His hair was short and shocking white, the stark color carrying down into a pair of to long mutton chop sideburns. His eyes were equally as striking - pale white blue with dark circles around the irises. Just this man's appearance compelled a feeling of great respect within Robert.

The wizard bent over to pick up the mess.

"No, sir let me, please," Robert knelt down, gathered the spilled wand and box, and handed the entire package to the wizard. "You...you must be Mr. Ollivander."

"One and the same, Mr. Langdon." Mr. Ollivander set the box and wand on the counter, folded his hands, and looked Robert over consideringly, as if measuring him up. "I knew you'd be coming, and I am quite glad to see you. I just finished fashioning a rather unique new wand that I am convinced will be perfect for you."

"But, Mr. Ollivander," Robert wasn't even going to ask how he knew he was coming...somehow, everyone in the wizarding world knew him, and he suddenly knew how Harry Potter had felt, "why can't I just use the wand I have?"

"May I see it, please?" Mr. Ollivander held out a slender, wrinkled hand.

Robert reached into his coat pocket and removed Blaise's wand. With two hands, he gingerly relinquished it to the wand maker.

Mr. Ollivander gasped, and Robert thought he saw the hint of tears in the old man's eyes. "Twelve inches. Ebony. Mermaid hair core. This is one of mine, Mr. Langdon. I know it well. With this composition, it undoubtedly belongs in the Zabini family. If I'm not mistaken, this very wand belonged to Master Blaise."

Robert sighed. "Yes. His mother gave it to me after Blaise died."

Mr. Ollivander's face suddenly hardened, and anger overtook his otherwise placid features. "Was murdered, you mean. Tell it like it is, son, he was murdered."

Robert was taken aback. "Yes...yes sir. He was... murdered."

"He died to save your life."

"Yes, he did." Robert was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with the conversation.

Mr. Ollivander remained quiet for a moment. As suddenly as his anger sparked, he calmed again. The wand maker smiled sadly, and handed Blaise's wand back to Robert. "A noble thing, that boy did. A very noble thing."

"Yes, sir. But, why can't I use..."

"Mr. Langdon. Every wizard has a wand tuned to his own magic. I've always said that the wand chooses the wizard, and I believe strongly that it is true. In this case, Blaise Zabini's wand, while very powerful, mind you, is wrong -- completely wrong for you. The elementals are incorrect. Wide of the mark, they are. This wand is without your proper, individual balance - it is completely water dominant - something Blaise was, and you definitely are not."

"But, frankly, Mr. Ollivander, I've always considered water my element. I love the water. I'm a diver, a swimmer, and a water polo player. I know the water like a fish does."

"You don't understand, do you, young man?" Mr. Ollivander shook his head. "Wait here. I'm quite certain I have the proper instrument for your use." Mr. Ollivander turned and disappeared into the back store room. Robert, still unsure, placed the ebony wand back into his pocket.

After a short few minutes, Mr. Ollivander re-emerged from the rear, carrying a bright blue box. "This, young Langdon, this is yours, I believe." Mr. Ollivander opened the box, and moved aside a piece of green shimmery fabric, revealing a highly-polished, pale-white and red wand. "Twelve inches. White Birch and Redwood. Dolphin bristle core."

Robert smiled. "White Birch is the symbolic tree of my home state, New Hampshire. I used to climb one in our back yard when I was a boy."

"Like I said, Mr. Langdon, you certainly did inspire this creation." Mr. Ollivander winked knowingly.

Robert curled his mouth in slight confusion. "That's wonderful, the birch wood, but, a Dolphin...bristle? I didn't think dolphins had any hair."

"When they are first born they do. As they grow older, they shed the hair. At birth, the dolphin calf is infused with its mother's magic. The bristles, therefore, are very powerful and are perfect for carrying human magic - for the right human, of course."

"Dolphins are magical?" Robert was fascinated. "Did you know, that my colleagues and students, they call me The..."

"Dolphin? Yes, I did know that. That is what gave me the idea for this wand. I also understand that you conjured a dolphin-shaped Patronus."

Robert nodded, again without asking how or why Mr. Ollivander knew anything at all about him. "But what about dolphins and magic?"

"Dolphins are more magical than we are. They just hide it better." Mr. Ollivander gave a curt smile that told Robert he would say no more on the subject.

"You mentioned elementals. A dolphin is a water creature, why is that any different than a mermaid?"

Mr. Ollivander lifted the wand from the box and studied it intently as he spoke, turning it over and over in his hands. "Dolphins are marine animals, yes, Mr. Langdon. However, while they are drawn physically to the water, and need it to survive, their actual, their spiritual -- if you will -- element is air. They are therefore, a combination of both - water and air. Dolphins breathe air, they soar through and play in the air. Not only that, young Langdon, but a dolphin's personality traits as we know them are purely of the air elemental.

Dolphins are thinkers - rational beings. They excel in teaching and mentoring, have a strong intellect and an insatiable curiosity. At the same time, they can be arrogant, vain, initially aloof, and extremely naïve. On the other hand, they are affable, tranquil and jovial creatures, ones that befriend and love loyally and passionately." Mr. Ollivander paused, allowing the information to sink into Robert's mind. "Does that sound like anyone you know?"

Robert let go of a single chuckle and lifted the corner of his mouth in a knowing smile. "I think you just described me to a T, Mr. Ollivander."

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" The wand maker handed his product to Robert. "Take it, and try it. I assure you, this wand is for you."

Robert grasped the wand by the redwood handle. Like Blaise's wand before, Robert felt a flow of energy - of immense power - through the wand, into his hand, up his arm, and through his core. Except, this time it was...different. It felt more comfortable, more like a true extension of his own body, his own mind...his own... magic.

"You feel it don't you, young Langdon."

Robert gripped the wand tighter, and nodded slowly.

"Try a charm, a simple one. Try a summoning charm."

"But I'm really not good at summoning charms yet," Robert winced. "Things end up hitting me in the face every time I summon them..." Except this morning, Robert thought.

Mr. Ollivander fixed Robert with a fatherly look, wordlessly telling Robert to simply -- try.

Robert looked around the room, and found a book laying on a bench near the door. He aimed the wand, and concentrated. "Accio, book!"

Unlike Robert's prior attempts at the spell - which sent the object hurtling in a jagged, stuttering line toward him, this time, the book flew gracefully in a long arc, landing softly and easily into Robert's outstretched left hand. Robert stared at the book, and the wand, and back to the book in complete incredulity. I did that. And I think I did it right!

"Keep this wand with you at all times, young Langdon. It is your protection, it is your weapon, and, Merlin forbid you need it for that purpose, but it can also be your lifeline."

"I understand, and I'll take it, Mr. Ollivander. How much do I owe you?

* * * * *

After a few more stops, Robert met up with Tonks back at Madame Prynne's. As he entered the pub, he saw Tonks and the Captain rise from their chairs, shake hands, and part ways. Tonks turned and, upon seeing Robert, flew at him and threw her arms around his neck.

"Wotcher, Robert!" Her embrace sent all of Robert's packages -- including a bag containing a pound of floo powder, some kind of magical water plant he was talked into buying at the apothecary's, a box of sweets, the wand, and a wrapped shirt-sized box -- flying and landing scattered on the pub floor.

"Oof! Ouch! What's all this for?" Robert enveloped himself in Tonks' embrace. "Whatever happened here, I'm happy for it."

"I got the job!" Tonks released Robert and did a quasi-happy-dance, attracting frightened stares from some of the remaining USWPC officers. "I start on Monday and I'm coming in with the rank of Captain, with promotion to Major in a month!"

Robert clapped his hands and pumped his fist in the air. "Yes! I knew you'd get it! Now we have a real reason to celebrate tonight." Robert knelt down and began picking up the packages, clandestinely keeping the larger parcel out of Tonks' sight. "I got my wand. Here it is. You can look at it in the car."

"Excellent!" Tonks took the blue wand box from Robert and slung her arm around his waist. "You know, Robert, you mentioned some place called Rialto for dinner tonight, right? What kind of food do they have there?"

"It's Italian - Florentine, actually -- why?"

Tonks pursed her lips. "Hmmm, I was hoping to try something...more exotic."

"Exotic, like how? Thai? Indian? Burmese? There's a great African place where you sit on the floor and..."

"No," Tonks bobbed her head and rolled her eyes upwards, "I can get that lot anytime back in London. It's just that Asian and African restaurants, and especially curry places, are a dime a dozen over there. No, I was thinking more along the lines of your American version of curry."

"American version of curry?" Robert was at a loss.

"Well, there's not much curry over here, and back home we have it all the time. In the UK, there's not much, well, there's not really any Mexican food, and over here, it's pretty much all over the place. Did that make any sense?"

"So, you're telling me you want Mexican food, then." Robert chuckled and nodded with approval. "I know just the place, and it's not Taco Bell. Your wish, my dear, is my command."

Robert paused, and grinned sheepishly for a moment. "Can we please go to Gringott's now? I'm really, really dying to get in on that twenty percent interest rate."