- Rating:
- PG-13
- House:
- The Dark Arts
- Characters:
- Albus Dumbledore Harry Potter
- Genres:
- Action Suspense
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Stats:
-
Published: 04/01/2004Updated: 04/01/2004Words: 1,222Chapters: 1Hits: 683
The Wand and The Wizard
Mila
- Story Summary:
- Most people believed that he was Ollivander's brother, or else otherwise related. But he wasn't any relation to him. Great wandmaker that Ollivander may be, his wands were standard, every-day things. They weren't powerful or great or rare. But his ... his were a different story.
Chapter 01
- Chapter Summary:
- Most people believed that he was Ollivander's brother, or else otherwise related. But he wasn't any relation to
- Posted:
- 04/01/2004
- Hits:
- 683
Most
people believed that he was Ollivander's brother, or else otherwise
related. Perhaps it was the similarities in their names, along with the
similarities in their professions. But he wasn't any relation to him.
Great wandmaker that Ollivander may be, his wands were standard,
every-day things. They weren't powerful or great or rare.
But his ... his were a different story.
Once, many years past, in the days of Merlin, every wizard knew who Occidian was. They knew that if they were chosen by one of his wands, they were destined to do great things.
And unlike his pseudo-brother Ollivander, he sold more than just wands. Wizards Staffs and Battle Staffs of all varieties were also his specialty.
Then as the years past, the truly great wizards became fewer and far between. The number of trained magickians who knew or had even heard of the arts of Wizard Staffs dwindled, and the Wizarding Battle Arts disappeared for good.
And Occidian was forgotten.
But he didn't mind. Dark times were coming, like the world had never known before, and he would be ready for it.
No one had entered the shop in over two hundred years and he doubted that anyone even remembered where it was. He lived in his store, spending his time creating new wands and staffs. Every twenty years, he'd disappear for a decade to collect new samples and ingredients. And then it was back to work again.
The monotony was actually rather pleasant. He never grew bored with his work, creating and molding the raw power and ingredients. And now there were no distracting customers to draw his attention from his work.
And then, in the silence of the shop, the little bell above the door roused itself from its long slumber and gave a feeble little ring.
He froze in his movements, wondering what that sound meant. And then he remembered: he had a customer.
Rousing himself, he opened the door that separated his workspace from the rest of the store.
And he found himself peering over the counter at an unsure-looking young red-headed wizard.
They stood there, just staring at each other. And then the child summoned up the courage and squeaked, "Mister Occidian?"
Occidian nodded impassively. Emboldened, the boy continued speaking. "My name is Albus Dumbledore," he said. "I have come to purchase a wand."
The name was familiar. Dumbledore. He had sold wands to Dumbledores before. A rather large percentage actually. The family had once turned out good, solid wizards one after another. But then, like the others, they too had forgotten about Occidian and his shop.
Occidian assessed the young Dumbledore critically. While he seemed to have steeled himself, Occidian's trained eye still detected the minute trembles that ran through the boy's thin flame. He observed how the boy's clear blue eyes darted around the shop nervously, never stopping to gaze at anything. He saw the tight white-knuckled fists formed by the boy's long-fingered hands. And he had pity on him.
He conjured a chair for the nervous child and ordered, "Sit, boy. You appear to be on the verge of a collapse."
With a near-audible sigh of relief, Dumbledore perched on the chair and calmly observed the wand-maker as he pulled several dusty boxes from the equally dusty shelves.
Occidian rounded the counter and conjured a chair and a small table. Sitting down in the chair, he placed the wand boxes on the table beside him. As he busied himself opening the boxes, he asked his young customer, "Well, then, Master Dumbledore, tell me: how is it that you came upon my shop?"
"I had been talking to some of the portraits and ghosts in the castle, sir, and they mentioned you. And when Father sent me to Diagon Alley to buy a wand, I thought I might as well stop by."
Occidian glanced at the boy. "You walked?" he asked, a touch of concern in his voice. "From Diagon Alley, through Knockturn Alley, and deep into Kediral Alley?" At the boy's confirming nod, he continued, "Are you insane or just suicidal?"
Before Dumbledore had a chance to reply, he shook his head and said, "Never mind that. Now, give this wand a nice swish. 11 1/8 inches, ziricote wood, core of liquid occamy silver."
Dumbledore blinked down at the wand that was placed in his hand. The smooth dark brown wood was streaked with black. He gave it a swish and then looked up at Occidian.
The wandmaker was frowning down at him. "I see. Well, that wand is plenty good for offensive spells." He took it and placed it back in its box before removing another wand. "Try this one. 12 inches, padauk wood, core of powdered dubog teeth."
A swish and then, "Never mind then. That wand was good for tracking spells."
And so they continued. He tried wands with cores of nundu saliva and demiguise hair and augurey down and billiwig venom. He tried wands ranging from 7 inches to a monstrous 15 inches. He tried woods from ebony to african mahogany to granadillo. And still nothing.
As Occidian placed the last wand that Dumbledore had tried back into its box, he paused and stared off into the distance, lost in thought. Then he blinked and turned to his apprehensive customer. "I do believe I know what you need," he told him calmly before getting up and disappearing into the rows of shelves.
He returned with a box that looked like all the others. As he sat down, he removed the wand from its protective enclosure and held it so that Dumbledore could get a good look at it. It was a rich reddish-brown color accented with dark brown and black ripples. The wand was polished so highly that the sun reflected off of it with an almost blinding force.
"This wand once belonged to a very powerful wizard," Occidian told the boy before him seriously. "I will not tell you who it was, only that he was very famous and very powerful. Thirteen and one-third inches long, this beauty is. Cocobolo wood with a core of graphorn hide. It is excellent at all defensive spells and quite good at offensive ones as well. Here, try it."
As Dumbledore's fingers closed around the wand, a glow surrounded his hand. Along with it came a sort of tingling sensation, sort of like pins and needles, but it grew stronger and stronger and more painful until it felt as though nails were being driven through each and every knuckle. And then both the pain and the glow were gone. Dumbledore looked at the other chair and realized it was empty, and Mister Occidian was happily re-shelving his other wands.
"I-" he started to say, but Occidian interrupted him.
"Fifteen galleons," Occidian replied brusquely. "It is a good fit."
The boy glanced at his new wand before placing it carefully in his belt and fishing out the required money. "Thank you sir," he told the wandmaker as he walked to the door.
"Master Dumbledore."
He stopped and turned at the sound of his name. Occidian smiled at him. "Be sure to come back and visit some time."
He stood there, looking at the old wand-maker for a few seconds longer before smiling back. "I will, Mister Occidian. Don't you worry. I will."
But his ... his were a different story.
Once, many years past, in the days of Merlin, every wizard knew who Occidian was. They knew that if they were chosen by one of his wands, they were destined to do great things.
And unlike his pseudo-brother Ollivander, he sold more than just wands. Wizards Staffs and Battle Staffs of all varieties were also his specialty.
Then as the years past, the truly great wizards became fewer and far between. The number of trained magickians who knew or had even heard of the arts of Wizard Staffs dwindled, and the Wizarding Battle Arts disappeared for good.
And Occidian was forgotten.
But he didn't mind. Dark times were coming, like the world had never known before, and he would be ready for it.
No one had entered the shop in over two hundred years and he doubted that anyone even remembered where it was. He lived in his store, spending his time creating new wands and staffs. Every twenty years, he'd disappear for a decade to collect new samples and ingredients. And then it was back to work again.
The monotony was actually rather pleasant. He never grew bored with his work, creating and molding the raw power and ingredients. And now there were no distracting customers to draw his attention from his work.
And then, in the silence of the shop, the little bell above the door roused itself from its long slumber and gave a feeble little ring.
He froze in his movements, wondering what that sound meant. And then he remembered: he had a customer.
Rousing himself, he opened the door that separated his workspace from the rest of the store.
And he found himself peering over the counter at an unsure-looking young red-headed wizard.
They stood there, just staring at each other. And then the child summoned up the courage and squeaked, "Mister Occidian?"
Occidian nodded impassively. Emboldened, the boy continued speaking. "My name is Albus Dumbledore," he said. "I have come to purchase a wand."
The name was familiar. Dumbledore. He had sold wands to Dumbledores before. A rather large percentage actually. The family had once turned out good, solid wizards one after another. But then, like the others, they too had forgotten about Occidian and his shop.
Occidian assessed the young Dumbledore critically. While he seemed to have steeled himself, Occidian's trained eye still detected the minute trembles that ran through the boy's thin flame. He observed how the boy's clear blue eyes darted around the shop nervously, never stopping to gaze at anything. He saw the tight white-knuckled fists formed by the boy's long-fingered hands. And he had pity on him.
He conjured a chair for the nervous child and ordered, "Sit, boy. You appear to be on the verge of a collapse."
With a near-audible sigh of relief, Dumbledore perched on the chair and calmly observed the wand-maker as he pulled several dusty boxes from the equally dusty shelves.
Occidian rounded the counter and conjured a chair and a small table. Sitting down in the chair, he placed the wand boxes on the table beside him. As he busied himself opening the boxes, he asked his young customer, "Well, then, Master Dumbledore, tell me: how is it that you came upon my shop?"
"I had been talking to some of the portraits and ghosts in the castle, sir, and they mentioned you. And when Father sent me to Diagon Alley to buy a wand, I thought I might as well stop by."
Occidian glanced at the boy. "You walked?" he asked, a touch of concern in his voice. "From Diagon Alley, through Knockturn Alley, and deep into Kediral Alley?" At the boy's confirming nod, he continued, "Are you insane or just suicidal?"
Before Dumbledore had a chance to reply, he shook his head and said, "Never mind that. Now, give this wand a nice swish. 11 1/8 inches, ziricote wood, core of liquid occamy silver."
Dumbledore blinked down at the wand that was placed in his hand. The smooth dark brown wood was streaked with black. He gave it a swish and then looked up at Occidian.
The wandmaker was frowning down at him. "I see. Well, that wand is plenty good for offensive spells." He took it and placed it back in its box before removing another wand. "Try this one. 12 inches, padauk wood, core of powdered dubog teeth."
A swish and then, "Never mind then. That wand was good for tracking spells."
And so they continued. He tried wands with cores of nundu saliva and demiguise hair and augurey down and billiwig venom. He tried wands ranging from 7 inches to a monstrous 15 inches. He tried woods from ebony to african mahogany to granadillo. And still nothing.
As Occidian placed the last wand that Dumbledore had tried back into its box, he paused and stared off into the distance, lost in thought. Then he blinked and turned to his apprehensive customer. "I do believe I know what you need," he told him calmly before getting up and disappearing into the rows of shelves.
He returned with a box that looked like all the others. As he sat down, he removed the wand from its protective enclosure and held it so that Dumbledore could get a good look at it. It was a rich reddish-brown color accented with dark brown and black ripples. The wand was polished so highly that the sun reflected off of it with an almost blinding force.
"This wand once belonged to a very powerful wizard," Occidian told the boy before him seriously. "I will not tell you who it was, only that he was very famous and very powerful. Thirteen and one-third inches long, this beauty is. Cocobolo wood with a core of graphorn hide. It is excellent at all defensive spells and quite good at offensive ones as well. Here, try it."
As Dumbledore's fingers closed around the wand, a glow surrounded his hand. Along with it came a sort of tingling sensation, sort of like pins and needles, but it grew stronger and stronger and more painful until it felt as though nails were being driven through each and every knuckle. And then both the pain and the glow were gone. Dumbledore looked at the other chair and realized it was empty, and Mister Occidian was happily re-shelving his other wands.
"I-" he started to say, but Occidian interrupted him.
"Fifteen galleons," Occidian replied brusquely. "It is a good fit."
The boy glanced at his new wand before placing it carefully in his belt and fishing out the required money. "Thank you sir," he told the wandmaker as he walked to the door.
"Master Dumbledore."
He stopped and turned at the sound of his name. Occidian smiled at him. "Be sure to come back and visit some time."
He stood there, looking at the old wand-maker for a few seconds longer before smiling back. "I will, Mister Occidian. Don't you worry. I will."
Author notes: Random thought that was floating around in my head. Tell me what you think. Will be updated sporatically.
Contact Info:
AIM - xplosionsrus
ICQ - 179148458
Yahoo - manticore_9509