Harry Potter fanfic--Student Teacher at Hogwarts
Chapter Seven - Of Wands and Worries
July 4, 2001
Terri wondered the next morning if Molly Weasley came from a family of Italian witches; she had to refuse seconds on the scrambled eggs and sausage at least three times, and Molly looked a bit disappointed. "It's okay, Mum, it just means more for me," said Ron, helping himself to thirds. Terri shook her head, remembering how much the teenager had eaten the previous night at dinner. How did someone who ate so much stay so skinny?
"Growth spurt," Deidre whispered to Terri, and nodded in Ron's direction.
"Lucky dog," Terri whispered back, reflecting sadly on her meager five-foot-two-inch frame.
Breakfast at the Burrow was not nearly as formal an affair as dinner had been -- which wasn't to say that the previous night's dinner had been all that formal. Since the kitchen table could not hold the entire family at once, some (like Ron) ate standing up, or waited for their turn at the table. Terri and Deidre, being guests, ate with the "first shift", which included Arthur and Percy. Percy and Mr. Weasley quickly finished their breakfast, and stood up so others could sit down. Percy carefully wiped his lips, handed his plate to Mrs. Weasley, and said "Thank you, Mother; I'll see you when I get home." With that, he Disapparated.
"Wha...?" exclaimed Deidre, staring.
"That's Apparating," said Terri, not looking up from her scrambled eggs. "Blinking out from one place and blinking in somewhere else."
"Wish I could do that!" Deidre laughed.
Terri smiled, and caught her friend's eyes. "I can teach you, once you get some magic under your belt," she said.
"Only hundreds," Griphook corrected.
Bill winced. "There's a time for everything. Oh..." He turned to Terri and Deidre. "I might not be able to drive you two back to the Burrow, so just head on over to the Leaky Cauldron. It shouldn't cost you more than a sickle for the Floo to get back." With a quick nod, Bill headed back to one of the doors off the lobby.
Fred watched him go, then gave his brother a nudge. "What do you suppose that was all about?" he asked.
George shrugged. "Some kind of hush-hush mission, maybe," he said.
Soon the four were back out in the sunshine of Diagon Alley. Fred threw his hands out in a grand gesture, as if to embrace the whole of the area. "Diagon Alley, ladies," he said with a grin. "Home of the finest, most exciting wizardly goods your hearts could desire...well, short of some stores at Hogsmeade, anyway." He nodded at the women and asked, "What's our first stop?"
"Looks like we had fireworks today after all!" laughed Deidre. The two women paid for their wands. Terri paid a bit extra for the charm to repair her old wand -- not to use, but for sentimental reasons. By this time it was about a quarter after eleven, and Terri wanted to find the store where the students bought their textbooks. She figured she could get a list and check it against her memory of the books she had at home, and pick up any books she didn't have. This way, Deidre would have everything she needed to study from, and be well on her way to full-fledged witch status by the time they returned in September.
"Flourish and Blotts," said Fred, snapping his fingers. "Come on, we know a shortcut!"
by Terri Wells
"Hey, can you teach us, too?" piped Fred. He'd taken the seat his older brother had vacated and was starting to fill a plate with sausage. George grabbed the chair vacated by their father, and started filling his plate with the scrambled eggs.
"And your eighteenth birthday is WHEN, boys?" said Mr. Weasley sternly.
"April first," said Fred and George, looking glum.
Deidre looked from Mr. Weasley to the twins, and finally to Terri. "What's that got to do with it?" she asked.
"Can't Apparate without a license, and you have to be a certain age before you can get that," Terri explained. "It can be dangerous."
"Oh," said Deidre. She looked as if she thought learning how to Apparate might not be such a great idea after all.
Mr. Weasley turned to his wife. "I'd best get going, Molly; they're planning more raids..."
"Not tonight, surely?" asked Mrs. Weasley, a note of worry in her voice.
Mr. Weasley shook his head. "No, dear, not tonight." Terri thought she heard a slight emphasis on that last word. Tomorrow night, then? she wondered. "Oh," he continued, "and I might be bringing someone home with me, so plan for one extra. Just in case." He gave Mrs. Weasley a wink and a kiss, and then he, too, Disapparated.
Bill dashed into the kitchen just then and grabbed a slice of toast. He again wore jeans and boots, but a leather jacket covered his tunic, and his long red hair hung down behind him in a braid. "Ready, ladies?" he asked, noticing that Terri and Deidre had just finished eating. At their nod, he said "Follow me," and walked to the door.
"You're going into work dressed like THAT?" demanded Mrs. Weasley.
Bill sighed. "Mum, I've told you, they don't care how I dress, they only care that--"
"Oh, all right," sighed Mrs. Weasley. Clearly, this was another constant point of contention. "But you be careful with that motorcycle!"
"I will, Mum," Bill promised, and gave his mother a peck on the cheek before leaving. Then he turned to Fred and George, who were still eating breakfast. "Meet us at Gringotts in an hour and a half -- that's 10:30. All right?" At their nods, he headed out the door. Terri and Deidre followed.
Bill led them around the side of the house towards a large wooden shed that clearly had seen better days. "Dad likes to putter around out here," he explained, and continued to the back
of the shed.
Terri gasped when she saw the motorcycle, then grinned appreciatively. The bike had a traditional style to it, not like some of the newer ones she'd seen on the road recently, all sleek and curvy. This one had curves, but seemed to be built for comfort as much as speed. Despite the matching paint, the sidecar looked like a new addition. So, apparently, were the black seat harnesses. And, come to think of it -- not that Terri was an expert on motorcycles -- the space between the handlebars had more buttons on it than she thought a normal motorcycle boasted...
"Here." Bill handed Terri a visored helmet, then took another one from the sidecar and handed it to Deidre. "They'll adjust to your head size. Better put them on now; I want to do a sound check." Ignoring their puzzled looks, Bill reached into the sidecar for his own helmet and put it on. The two women followed suit. The helmets did indeed adjust themselves to their heads. After they'd adjusted the straps, Bill tapped the side of his helmet. "Can you hear me?"
Terri's eyes widened; was this magic or technology? Either could have done that..."Perfectly," she said.
After all three confirmed that they could both broadcast and receive, Deidre climbed into the sidecar ("I've never ridden in a sidecar before!") and Bill told Terri to mount on the back of the motorcycle. He showed them how to fasten and unfasten their harnesses, then made sure they were secure before mounting the bike himself. Once he'd fastened his harness and verbally checked that his passengers were secure, he said, "I hope you're prepared; you've never had a ride like THIS before!" The motorcycle purred to life. "I'd better take her out on the road, just in case Mum is watching," he said, and smoothly turned the cycle out onto the street.
Terri was just beginning to enjoy the feel of the wind and the scenery passing by when Bill said, "Right, then, we're out of sight--brace yourselves." He pressed a stud on the motorcycle--and abruptly, the motorcycle and its three riders ceased to exist. At least, that's how it looked from Terri's point of view. While she could still feel the bike throbbing under her, and Bill's back in front of her, she could no longer see them -- which did quite a lot for the view. Deidre's surprised exclamation confirmed that she, too, was experiencing this odd presence-yet-absence.
"Invisibility circuit," Bill's voice cut in then. "Guess you've never been invisible before, eh?"
"Only to my boss," Deidre replied, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Then she laughed. "And if she could see me now!"
"But she can't -- and nobody else can, either. And that's the point." Terri couldn't see Bill's face, of course, but he sounded like he was grinning. "And believe it or not, this old relic already had the circuit built in -- I didn't add it, I just repaired it. It had some other stuff built in, too...so hang on." Bill must have pressed another button, because Terri abruptly felt
herself rising. When she looked down, it was as if she was getting taller and taller...
"Woo hoo! We're FLYING!" exclaimed Deidre.
"Ouch! Not so loud," said Terri, but she and Bill were both laughing. Now she understood the extra precautions with the seat harnesses. She looked down at Ottery St. Catchpole, which lay before her like a miniature town constructed around a model railroad. Even flying in Muggle planes had never afforded her such a view.
"Where did you get this?" she asked.
"Dad picked it up in one of his raids; when it got put on the list to be destroyed, he `rescued' it and brought it home," Bill explained. "Mum didn't want him going near it; said he was too old to be dashing around on such a thing. She couldn't say that about me, though." Bill laughed. "'Course, this bike is practically as old as I am; had an amazing time finding the parts. If it wasn't for Mundungus Fletcher, she'd still be rusting in the yard."
"Who's Mundungus Fletcher?" Deidre asked.
Bill hesitated. "Well, let's just say he has a talent for finding things," he said at last.
Before Terri was ready for it, the trip ended. Bill landed the motorcycle in front of a huge white building. "Take a good look, ladies," he said, "because I'll have to park this in the underground garage and take you in that way. Just thought you might like to see the front of Gringott's first."
Gringott's was quite a sight. It towered over all the little shops in the area. Its white stone steps led up to large burnished bronze doors, guarded by two goblins dressed in scarlet and gold uniforms. From what Terri had heard of Gringott's, the goblins themselves were less to be feared than the other protections on the bank and its contents.
Bill drove the still-invisible motorcycle around the block to the back of the bank. As soon as he approached the entrance to an underground garage, the cycle and its riders became visible again. Terri gasped in surprise. "Oops, should have warned you about that," Bill said by way of apology. "It's an Anti-Invisibility Field -- part of Gringott's protections." He continued forward into the garage, parked the cycle, and helped his riders with their harnesses and helmets. As they walked away from the parking space, Terri noticed that the ground underneath the cycle turned from white to blue. She remembered Gavin teaching her a similar charm to secure her bicycle...but then it had only left a bit of blue on the handlebars.
A seated security goblin, also dressed in scarlet and gold, nodded when Bill held out his badge, and scribbled him into a large black book. "And those with you are...?" he asked, quill raised in mid-air. He turned his beady eyes on Bill's companions.
"My American cousin, Terri Weasley, and her friend Deidre Freedman," Bill said. "They're here on business."
The goblin grunted. "You know the rules; you'll have to take 'em to the front before you check in."
"Aye aye, sir," Bill replied, awarding the goblin a sloppy salute. The goblin gave him a look of mild irritation and waved with his quill toward the stairs.
Two flights of stairs later they emerged through a heavy bronze door into a hallway. Several doors along the hallway bore name plaques lettered in golden writing: Catchcoin, Assistant Expedition Officer; Greeble, Unforeseen Circumstances Manager; Gorglatt, Examiner of...but Bill moved too quickly down the corridor for Terri to make out any more names. The hall ended in another door, which Bill opened. With a smile, he gestured the ladies through the door.
The bank lobby was larger than any that Terri had ever seen. Two rows of goblins in dark business-like robes sat at high desks helping a variety of customers. She spotted at least twenty of these, from a couple with a young boy who was carefully counting out galleons, sickles, and knuts under the eyes of a watchful goblin (Must be opening his first account, Terri thought) to a tall blond man dressed in black holding an attache case and speaking severely to another goblin. Was it Terri's wild imagination, or was there a higher level of anxiety in the air than she normally felt at a Muggle bank?
"Wow," said Deidre, watching one of the goblins take an intricately-carved wooden box from another customer. "Is it always this busy?"
Bill looked around and frowned. "It is unusually busy for a Wednesday," he reflected. He caught the eye of an unoccupied goblin and sauntered toward him, nodding to Terri and Deidre to follow. "Good morning," he said to the goblin. "These ladies would like to open up accounts." As the goblin glanced at Terri and Deidre, Bill took out his badge. "And I have a meeting with Rackbar," he said, showing the badge.
The goblin raised his eyebrows, then checked something at his desk. "Ah, you're expected, of course," he said. "If you know where his office is, you can go right on in." Bill nodded, gave the two women a reassuring smile, and went through one of the many doors leading off the marble lobby.
The clerk turned to his customers. "Name?" he asked.
Deidre nodded at Terri to go first. "Terri Weasley," she said.
The goblin began flipping pages toward the back of his large black leatherbound book. "Weasley, Weasley..." he muttered, beginning to slow down as he approached the right page.
"She won't be in there," piped Deidre. "It's a new account."
The goblin looked down at Deidre from his high counter, brows furrowed, a frown on his face. "How do you know she's not in here?" he demanded. "And even if she's not," he continued, "I still have to put her on the right page!" He glared at Deidre for another moment, who shrank back under his gaze; then he turned back to the book. Two more pages, then he began running a finger down the page. "Weasley, Weasley...ah! Here." He spared Deidre another withering glance. "Shows what you know. Griphook!" Another goblin came running up. "We have a 7-AT. Terri Weasley." The clerk's voice was neutral, but the new goblin raised his eyebrows.
"A 7-AT, did you say? With or without?" he asked.
"With," replied the clerk. He opened a file drawer, rummaged around a bit, and drew out a nine-by-twelve-inch folio. The gold-colored folder was closed with green ribbons, and clearly marked "Terri Weasley -- 7-AT." Terri could also make out a series of fairly recent dates on the folder, each one year apart.
Griphook accepted the folder, then executed a short bow to Terri. "If you will follow me, please," he said, and began walking to one of the numberless doors leading off the lobby.
"What is this about?" Deidre whispered to Terri as the two women followed the goblin.
"I haven't the slightest idea," Terri whispered back. What the heck is a 7-AT?
The goblin opened the door and led the way into an ordinary-looking office. No, not so ordinary as all that, Terri amended. It lacked certain personal touches...no family photos or distinctive desk mess, for instance. And no computer, of course. Instead, the large oak desk featured another set of scales like the ones she'd seen used by the clerks in the lobby, two inkwells (one black, one red), a few assorted quills, and a small black box labeled "Owlery" in flowing white script. There was also a wooden rolling cart that would have looked more at home in a hospital than a bank. It held glass bottles filled with several different colored liquids, magnifying glasses, three or four goblets, a carafe filled with a clear liquid, and several devices that looked vaguely medical in nature. Terri sensed rather than saw Deidre's look of horror at the cart...and felt her own tension increase along with her friend's.
"Please sit down." Griphook took a seat behind the desk while Terri and Deidre's knees gave way into the two chairs in front of it. He dropped the file onto his desk, undid the ribbons, and opened it without looking up. "Always provisions..." he muttered to himself as he picked up the top piece of parchment in the file and began reading.
"Er--just what is going on?" Terri asked. It came out rather more timid than she'd intended. Lord and lady, all she wanted to do was open an account...!
"Eh?" Griphook peered over the top of the parchment and looked at Terri as if just remembering she was there. He looked back at the parchment again, then back at her, and started. "Oh, of course! You've no idea about this. Good, you're not supposed to yet." He laid down the parchment and gave it another quick glance before looking at Terri once again. "Right, then. Code 7-AT. It's a special case. Can't explain it all yet; first I need to confirm you are who you say you are. Can I see your Apparition license?"
Terri slapped her head. "I wasn't expecting to Apparate; different continent and all, and I'm only staying a week this time..." She trailed off.
Griphook looked none too pleased. "Birth certificate? Diploma? ICW card?" he shot at her.
"That I have!" said Terri, glad to be able to give a positive answer. She took a small black cardholder from her purse and presented it to the goblin with a flourish. The card displayed within, neatly calligraphed (except for Terri's signature), showed Terri's standing among the International Confederation of Wizards, along with what region she voted in for representation.
Griphook frowned, removed the card from the holder, and barked a command word. Instantly, a three-dimensional, six-inch-high image of Terri appeared, standing on top of the card. "Is that you over there?" he said to the image, moving it so it could see the full-sized Terri.
The image took one look and nodded. "Yup. Anything else you need to know?"
"Nah, not from you," said Griphook.
"Oh, you're no fun anymore," said the six-inch Terri. She huffily winked out.
Deidre tugged on Terri's shirt and put her mouth close to her friend's ear. "Did you have some kind of attitude problem when you got that card made?" she asked.
"Nobody takes a good image; my Apparition license is worse," Terri replied with a shrug.
Griphook replaced the card in the holder and handed it back to her. As she put it in her purse, he picked up one of the items from the cart: a magnifying glass in a gold frame with a thick silvery-gray gem-studded handle. "It's good, but not quite enough for our purposes," he explained. As he moved toward Terri with the instrument, he said, "Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit."
"Just what do you think you're doing? She's just trying to open an account!" Deidre exclaimed. She moved to stop the goblin, but Terri put her hand out and held her back. The red-haired witch suddenly recognized the device...and also thought she just might have figured out what the code "7-AT" meant. I hope I'm right, she thought nervously.
But she kept her thoughts to herself. With a smile at Griphook, she held out her hand and said, "Proceed."
Griphook's expression, which bore threatening stormclouds, cleared at once. He manipulated several of the gems, which turned out to be buttons or controls of some sort, and looked through the magnifying glass at her hands, face, eyes, ears, hair, and even feet (asking her to remove her blue sneakers for that purpose). As he did so, the magnifying glass shifted from clear through every color in the rainbow, finally settling on green when he finished. Griphook grunted, then returned the device to the cart. He rummaged among the bottles for a moment; over his shoulder, he said, "You've no objection to taking a Canceller, do you?"
"None, so long as it was mixed properly," Terri replied. She did, actually, but it was a matter of taste--literally. The last time she drank one, it was so sour she thought her nose had fallen off her face. But if her suspicions were right, this would be part of the procedure as well. They'd need to cancel the effects of something such as a Polyjuice Potion, and while they could wait the hour until it wore off, keeping her confined in the meantime, this did not lead to good customer relations--something even a monopoly needed to be concerned about.
Griphook turned back around, holding out a goblet filled with a viscous purple liquid. The potion contained some green irridescent flecks. Terri raised an eyebrow as she accepted the goblet. She swirled the potion in the glass and took a whiff; it confirmed her suspicions. "In vino veritas, eh Griphook?" she commented, inclining the glass toward him. The goblin looked mildly offended.
"How dare you suggest--" he started, but Terri cut him off.
"It won't be the first compulsion I've had put on me this trip," she said, swallowing the goblet's contents.
Deidre whipped around to face her. "Compulsion? What's in that potion?"
Terri gagged; it had been more viscous than she remembered, if less sour, and somehow that only seemed to make it worse. Griphook took the glass from her, filled it from the carafe, and handed it back. She gratefully swallowed the clear water and caught her breath. "The Canceller cancels the effects of whatever potions are affecting me," Terri explained to Deidre, "so I can't disguise myself that way. Unless my eyes and nose are mistaken, Gringott's added a special ingredient--a diluted cousin of Veritaserum, I think. Ah." She closed her eyes. Yes, she could feel the effects already. "It puts me under a mild compulsion to tell the truth when asked questions. Makes it a lot harder to hide under a disguise. Not impossible, but not something someone would undertake to do casually." She cocked her head at the goblin. "You are aware that use of the Veritaserum is strictly regulated under--"
"Gringott's received an exemption," Griphook cut in. "And I'll give you a pure Canceller once I've finished confirming your identity, if you wish."
"I do wish," Terri insisted. Deidre looked relieved...then disappointed. Terri pushed the thought of what her friend might ask her while she was under the influence out of her mind, and nodded at Griphook. "Ask away."
The questions were all the standard ones, plus a few twists. "Have you ever considered breaking into a bank? Have you ever received any kind of mark on your body? Have you ever displayed a serious lack of judgement?"
"Only in the men I date," Terri mumbled in answer to the last question. Griphook gave her a hard look at that, but continued.
Seeming satisfied with her answers, he said, "Okay, you're not disguised, and you seem to be you. I have one last test for you." He took one of the goblets from the cart, and poured a dark red liquid into it from one of the bottles. Then he picked up a small envelope lying in the folder, opened it, and withdrew from it a small lock of bright red hair. MY hair, Terri suddenly realized, again recognizing the potion he was using. As he dropped the hair into the liquid, she wondered HOW did he get hold of my HAIR?! Numbly, she held out a bit of her own hair, knowing what would come next. Griphook picked up a pair of small gold scissors in one hand and the potion in the other. Almost smiling to see that she was ready, he held the potion under her hair and snipped off a bit with the scissors. As soon as it touched the opaque red liquid, the potion lost its color and turned transparent.
This time he did smile. "We have a match. Very good!" Griphook placed the scissors and the goblet back on the cart. He then handed Terri the pure canceller he had promised, and seated himself again behind the desk. "We guard our secrets well at Gringott's, but now I can tell you what's going on. Miss Terri Weasley, you already have a sponsored account here."
"Oh, that explains," said Terri. She quickly choked down the Canceller, which wasn't quite so bad this time since she was better prepared for it. Then she frowned. Who would sponsor an account for her?
"Not to me it doesn't," said Deidre grumpily. Terri rolled her eyes.
"It's like an account made in trust for someone else. Right?" She explained, taking in Griphook when she asked the question.
Griphook made a sour face. "That's an oversimplification, but essentially correct." He sorted through several envelopes in the folio, and extracted two. These he placed in the box labeled "Owlery." Holding onto one side of the box, he gave the other side a firm slap. The box made a popping noise; when Griphook looked inside, he gave a satisfied grunt. "Those'll go out with the morning mail. Now for you." Turning back to the folio, he extracted two more envelopes, checked something on their fronts, then put one on top of the other before nearly climbing over the desk to hand them to Terri. "Read'em in that order," he explained.
There was a date in the upper right corner of the envelope, but Terri didn't notice when it was, other than within the past few months. All she noticed was the blocky printing, and the names on the envelope: From Edward Weasley, to Terri Weasley. She knew that handwriting, even though she hadn't seen it in years. Edward Weasley. Her father. A Squib who chose to live as a Muggle...and who had been hostile when his daughter displayed her wizardly talents and heritage. What was a letter from him doing here?!
She sensed, rather than saw, Deidre's look of concern. Taking a deep breath, she turned the envelope over and opened it. Slowly, she removed and unfolded the parchment. It displayed the same handwriting, in fine blue ink.
Dear Terri,
If you're reading this, I'm alive, and you've chosen to walk the path I turned my back on so many years ago. I confess, Gavin Bones gave me the idea; he thought it would be "only fair," since I'd already set up a trust fund for you. He suggested splitting the contributions and sending half to a sponsored account at Gringott's, by way of "giving you a choice." As you've gathered, that was done a number of years ago -- seven, to be exact, or right around the time you graduated high school.
Also, if you're reading this, you're old enough to make that decision. Acting through Gavin, I put conditions on the account such that it could not be claimed until you either finished college or had held a job and an apartment for at least three months. This may not be an ideal definition of maturity...but if there is some magic that tells when someone is suitably mature to make these kinds of decision, I don't know what it is.
This isn't easy for me. I knew it would be hard. I didn't know how hard it would be. I spent some time talking with Gavin about this...[ Now THAT was a surprise, thought Terri; the two had been civil, but never chummy--at least, not in front of her]...and, contrary to what you might think, I'm not bitter, and I'm not jealous or envious, and I'm certainly not angry at you. Truth is, I've been...afraid for you. When I heard the reports of chaos during Lord Voldemort's reign, I prayed that it would not spread. I may be an accountant by training, but I know my history--and Voldemort looked a lot like Hitler to me. I wasn't about to see my daughter with a tattoo on her left arm if I could help it!
But you're certainly old enough now that you don't need my protection...if you ever really did. I've seen you blossom into a fine, talented woman, and I would have been proud of you whatever choice you made.
Terri swallowed hard, in a way that had nothing to do with the potion she'd just drunk. She felt her eyes grow warm as soft tears slid down her face. Brushing away Deidre's hand on her arm, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and kept reading.
But, since I can, here's a little something to ease the transition. Truly, it isn't all that much...but now it's yours. Gringott's should be making the arrangements even now to transfer the account to your name and remove the sponsorship status. I know you'll manage it wisely.
Edward Weasley
The signature was the only part of the letter that was in cursive; the rest was printed, so easy to read despite a few shaky spots here and there.
Terri swallowed again. "He never said he was proud of me before," she whispered.
"Oh, Terri..." Deidre said softly, gently putting an arm around her friend's shoulders.
Griphook cleared his throat. "There is one more letter," he reminded her. Turning to Deidre, he added, "Let's get your account set up in the meantime."
Terri shut out the sound of Griphook and Deidre making the arrangements to open Deidre's Gringott's account while she placed her father's letter back in the envelope and went on to the second letter. This envelope had Gavin's name on it, and like the other one, was dated to within the last few months. Terri smiled as she opened the envelope and withdrew the letter. She could tell that this one had been written with a quill, rather than a ballpoint pen, as her father's letter had been. Always the traditionalist, she thought as she unfolded the parchment and began to read.
My dear Terri,
If you're reading this, your father owes me dinner at FINS in Salem, and I'm looking forward to collecting on that bet. [Oh Gavin! Terri thought, amused.] Don't hold it against the poor chap; it's been so long since he's lived in the wizard world I do believe he's forgotten what it's like. Though truly, with his being a Squib, I'm not sure he ever fully understood what magic means to the rest of us.
As you've probably gathered, I acted as the official sponsor on the account, but the money came from Edward -- well, mostly; I added a bit myself to top it off. Now, to clear up a little mystery (I know you're quick on this): remember when I took you to the beauty parlor just before your Muggle high school graduation? [Oh, you sneaky little Brit! thought Terri]. "Accio Terri Weasley's hair" works whether you whisper it or shout it -- and, like you, I don't need a wand for the accio charm. Edward and I agreed that the account needed that level of security...neither of us are quite convinced, even after all this time, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone for good. And there are too many people capable of brewing a Polyjuice Potion...but never mind.
There is one thing I would like to add. I have seen you function in both the Muggle world and the wizard world successfully. Like Edward, though, I believe you will have to choose between the two one day -- perhaps sooner than you would like. You know we'll both respect the choice you make (though of course we each want you in OUR world) [Gentlemanly but honest as always, Gavin thought Terri]. Of course, you're the one who has to live with your decision.
I wish you the best of luck in all your endeavors, my dear Terri. Oh, and one other thing: I know I've always tried to teach you to be practical, but do spend a little of that money on something frivolous. Even wizards only live once, after all.
Cheers!
Gavin Bones
Terri smiled as she finished the letter. She pushed aside the serious issues Gavin raised, about choosing between two worlds, as matters to think about for another day. Serious or silly, Gavin was Gavin, and always would be. It felt nice to have something to hang onto even as her world changed around her.
Griphook looked up from the large book he'd opened on the desk as Terri folded up the letter and returned it to the envelope. "Are you ready to claim your account, then? Good! I've just finished with Deidre here, so I can take you both to your safes." He passed a small key to Deidre, and handed a quill to Terri, taking back her empty potion goblet as he did so. "If you'll just sign in the book here, so we can complete the change of status on your account..."
Terri made a face, but walked around the desk nonetheless. She dipped the quill in the bottle of black ink and managed a clumsy signature next to her name in the large book, where Griphook pointed. The goblin blotted the page, then closed the book with a resounding thud. He took a tiny envelope from the portfolio, and extracted another small key attached to a long chain. Then he closed the portfolio, making a note on the front. He picked up the file and stood up.
"If you'll come with me..." said Griphook, leading the women out of the office. He brought the portfolio over to the clerk who had first given him the file. The other goblin took the file with a nod, then went back to work. "Right. Come along, please..." Griphook led them to another door. This one, however, did not have an office behind it, but a cavern. Griphook closed the door and gave a shrill whistle that echoed down the cavern. A few seconds later, a mine car slowed to a stop next to them. As they all boarded, Griphook checked the number on Terri's key, then handed it over to her. "Right. Number 316." And they were off.
The trip felt rather like the last time Terri had been on Space Mountain -- with certain differences, of course. The mine car went faster, and made more twists and turns. The scenery was different. And this ride was a bit longer, and more exciting. By the time they'd reached safe number 316, both women were giddy and giggling.
They disembarked. Terri went to the safe, and paused before opening the lock. "What's the galleons to US dollars exchange rate these days?" she asked Griphook.
"It was $7.25 to the galleon when the market opened," he replied.
"Right, okay," Terri said absently. Her father had said there wasn't much in the account. Hmmm. On the other hand, he was an accountant, so "not much" could mean anything. Fifty galleons? One hundred? She had no idea. Shrugging, she put her key in the lock and turned.
Deidre stood on tiptoe to look over her shoulder; this was made necessary because Terri stood stock still in the opening to the vault. "Oh my Goddess!" she cried. "There must be...thousands of
gold pieces there!"
Terri shook her head and blinked, finally registering the amount that was in the vault. "I'm sure you'll manage it wisely," her father had said. Well, she certainly hoped so. Turning round to face Deidre, she said, "I don't believe it. With all my dad's accounting experience, I don't believe he forgot about compound interest." She entered the vault, and gestured to Deidre to join her. "Put out your hands."
"What?"
"Put out your hands," Terri insisted.
"But...Terri, no," said Deidre, turning pink. "This is your money, you can't..."
"It is my money...so of course I can." With a wicked smile, she added, "Gavin told me in his letter that I should spend a little of my money on something frivolous, so..."
"Oh Terri!" Deidre gave her friend a look, but held out her two hands nonetheless. Terri scooped up a little pile of galleons and dropped them into her hands.
"To help you open your account," she said by way of explanation. "So don't say I never gave you anything, Deidre."
Deidre rolled her eyes at that comment. Terri scooped up more galleons and put them in her fanny pack. Thus loaded, the two women re-entered the mine cart and went to Deidre's safe. It was empty, of course, but that didn't last long; Deidre deposited most of the coins Terri had given her into the safe. That task done, the two women traveled back to the main lobby of Gringott's. The customers had turned over; the blond man who had been hassling the goblins was nowhere to be seen, but two identical redheads perked up as soon as they saw the women.
"Wow, ten-thirty already?" Terri asked, consulting her watch.
The twins nodded. "I hope we'll have time to show you some of the sights here," said Fred. "I know you have some errands still, but there are a few things that simply should not be--"
"Don't even think about it, Fred," came a voice. Bill was walking over to the small group, wearing a worried look on his face.
"Bill! You wound me! Surely you know us better than that!" Said Fred dramatically.
"Yes, I do," Bill replied, glaring. But his face resumed its worried look, and Terri had the distinct impression it had nothing to do with where the twins planned to take their American guests. Sighing, he tapped a sealed envelope on his hand, then gave the twins a thoughtful look. Finally, as if making up his mind, he nodded. With a quick glance around the lobby, he handed the envelope over to George. "See that this reaches Mum as soon as the two of you get back, okay? Put it into her hands personally. And don't open it. Don't even try to read it, okay?"
George nodded and took it, slipping it into a pocket of his robes. Fred looked a bit bewildered. "Geez, Bill, you're starting to sound like Professor Moody. `Constant vigilance!'" Fred grinned at his own imitation of their old DADA teacher.
Terri tapped the thin black velvet bag at her waist, which held her damaged wand. "Olivander's," she said.
In the short walk to the wand shop, Terri felt the anxious mood she'd picked up in the bank mirrored on the street. Witches and wizards gathered in little knots in front of stores, looking at goods for sale, and doing as much chatting as buying. It was the size of the crowds and the sound of the chatter that struck the red-haired witch as somehow "off." She could not judge, of course, never having been to Diagon Alley before -- but many people spoke in hushed tones, wondering "Could it be true?" "Has he really returned?" Those who denied it did so loudly, heartily, in voices just a bit too high.
Even Fred and George seemed to notice. "I didn't think it got this crowded until the last week before school starts," said Fred.
George nodded. "And if it's like this now, what'll it be like then?" he wondered.
Soon enough they stood in front of a store with a mahogany wand sitting on a faded purple pillow displayed in the window. Peeling gold letters over the door read "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C." Terri entered first, and heard a soft jingling as she opened the door.
Two customers already held the shopkeeper's attention, so Terri began to browse around the tiny store. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves, and boxes were perched on all the shelves. BEECH, DHS, 10 1/2, read the end of one, while another said OAK, PHX, 9; she understood the wood designation, and figured that the last number must relate to size (length?), but had no idea what the middle designation referred to. Try as she might, though, she couldn't help eavesdropping on the customers.
"I need something strong...good for guardian spells," said a male voice. "I still have the last wand you sold me, of course, and it's a fine wand, but--"
"Guardian spells?" came a female voice. "You-know-who can break through those like a pestle through garlic! If he's really back, you'll need something to magnify offensive spells, like I'm getting, not--"
"Please, please!" came an older male voice. Terri spared a glance at that. An old man, immaculately dressed, stood behind the counter, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. His eyes shined like moonbeams on his two customers. "I'm not one to dissuade a determined customer...but you know it is the wand that chooses, and if you both already have wands you are satisfied with--"
"But will it be good enough?" demanded the male voice. Terri could see now it belonged to a slender wizard dressed in brown robes that seemed two sizes too big for him. "How will I protect my family if the worst happens?"
"Ha! You can't protect them, that's what I've been trying to tell you!" The witch, a short, dark-haired woman so ugly that Terri suspected she might be half-hag, rolled her eyes at the man's naivete. "You can fight the Imperio, you can even fight the Cruciatus for a little while -- if you've borne a few kids," here she looked the skinny wizard up and down with scorn, "but NOTHING blocks the Avada. Unless you're Harry Potter."
"Nobody knows why Harry Potter lived," the male wizard insisted. "He could well have had a Guardian spell on him--"
The argument continued in that vein as Terri eased herself towards the counter. With the two other customers, Fred, George, Deidre, the shopkeeper, and her in the store, the place was rather crowded. She managed to catch the eye of the man behind the counter just as his cool professional manner showed signs of wearing thin. His eyes lit up, as if she'd just handed him a lifeline.
"Excuse me," he said, and had to repeat himself several times to be heard over the argument. "I have another customer--several, in fact," he said, glancing over at the twins and Deidre. "I would be happy to help you, but I can't do so while you're arguing. If you insist on continuing your argument, PLEASE take it outside so that I can help my other customers." His words were unfailingly polite, but spoken in a tone that brooked no disagreement.
They had the desired effect. "Hmph!" said the witch, glaring at the shopkeeper and the thin wizard in turn. "Well, don't you come running to me when You-know-who busts through your pretty defenses!" So saying, she stalked out of the shop.
The other wizard glared after her, then shook his head and sighed. "Perhaps another time, Mr. Ollivander," he said to the storekeeper, and shook the man's hand before he, too, left the shop.
"So you're Mr. Ollivander!" Terri exclaimed when he turned back to her. As old as the business was, she hadn't expected it to still be in the family.
"Yes. And you must be Terri Weasley." At her surprised look, he permitted himself a small smile. "Minerva McGonagall sent me an owl about your problem yesterday. Let's have a look at the poor soldier." He indicated the countertop.
Terri slipped her wand out of its black velvet bag and gently placed it on the counter. Fred and George leaned forward to look, while Ollivander frowned and tutted over the damaged item. "It's always sad to see them like this," he whispered, half to himself. He raised the wand in both his hands, tenderly feeling along its length. "Hmm...pine and...goodness, a salamander's tongue?!" He looked up at Terri. "Professor McGonagall mentioned that you had made the wand yourself, but I could hardly credit it--it's a very exacting task, making wands, you know, with equal parts art and science to it." He frowned again, moving the wand carefully through the air while trying not to strain the hasty repair in the center. "Amateur, but not bad for all that. A decent first effort, I daresay." He sighed, and laid the wand back down on the counter. "Let me see directly the extent of the damage." He picked up an ebony wand from just under the countertop and tapped it to Terri's wand at the point of repair. The tape unwound into the air.
"Gee, I'd like to learn that one," whispered George appreciatively.
"Can you fix it?" asked Terri after the Spellotape finished unwinding and turned itself into a ball next to the broken wand.
"Patience," urged Ollivander as he held a jeweler's loupe up to his eye. He brought the damaged area close to the loupe. "I need to see the core...oh." His face fell. "I was afraid of that."
"How bad is it?" Terri asked. Wordlessly, Ollivander passed her the loupe and the wand.
"If you made this wand, you'll be able to tell how bad it is," he said sadly.
Terri looked at the wand through the loupe. "Oh," she said when she found the damaged area. She could see straight through to the core...and there were cuts and nicks in it that she knew weren't there when she'd cast the binding and finishing spells on it. She'd rejected three salamander tongues before this one when making her wand for lesser blemishes.
"I could fix the wood," Ollivander explained, "but when the core is in that condition, it doesn't channel efficiently. It might hold up for a bit longer--" the wandmaker's skeptical tone of voice betrayed his opinion of the wand's likelihood of lasting "--but it could blow apart with any spell." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but it's really not worth repairing."
"Oh," said Terri again, lowering the loupe from her eye. She'd been afraid of that herself. She looked up at Ollivander, and could see in his eyes that he understood what she was feeling. It had been her first wand...but then, he must have had a first wand, too--one he'd made himself, more likely than not.
As Fred took the jeweler's loupe from Terri's hand to have a look at the damage himself, Deidre approached the counter. "Can't you repair the core?" she asked.
Ollivander shook his head. "Damage to the core like this makes the binding spells start unraveling. The core's own magic can start to break loose. And I'm not familiar enough with this sort of core to even attempt a repair." He turned back to Terri. "How long did you have the wand?"
"Thirteen years," she said.
"Thirteen years! Well, that's a good length of time for a first wand. Many don't last that long, thanks to the rough handling they get." Ollivander directed his last remark at Fred and George, who by now had finished examining the damaged wand and were looking at their hands, clothes, and anything they could reach through the loupe.
"We still have our first wands!" Fred insisted. He put down the loupe and took his out to prove his point.
"And hardly the worse for wear, too," agreed George.
Ollivander smiled. "One beechwood, one birch, both bendy, eleven and three-quarter inches--with unicorn hairs taken from the same unicorn at the cores," he said.
"Twins, like us," said George.
Ollivander caught Terri's eye again, and his face grew serious. "A first wand goes through a great deal with its owner. Certainly, some wizards still have their first wands--but many more find they must replace them eventually."
Terri nodded sadly. "I know--it's just that it won't be the same as one I've made myself. No offense intended," she added hastily.
"None taken," Ollivander replied, smiling. "Indeed, if I made be so bold, I daresay you'll find that an Ollivander wand is better than the one you made yourself." He explained how every Ollivander wand was made from the finest magical substances, with no two exactly alike, while he pulled several boxes with wands down from the wall for her to try. After she tried each one, Deidre couldn't resist giving them an experimental wave. But the willow was too bendy; the oak, too rigid; the ash just didn't feel right--she'd gone through eight or nine wands and was beginning to feel a little hopeless when...
"Wow!" Deidre's eyes went big and she nearly dropped the wand she was holding when it shot off multi-colored sparks from its tip.
"Looks like you're having better luck than I am," Terri laughed.
"Cherry, nine inches, unicorn hair," said Ollivander, nodding in satisfaction.
"My first wand," said Deidre, hugging it to herself.
"Oh, a latecomer?" asked Ollivander. "I should have known. That one's particularly well-balanced; you'll find it easy to--"
"Oh my!" Terri had casually picked up another wand to try while Ollivander continued his explanation. To her surprise, she suddenly felt--complete. A flush of warmth came over her, and as she swirled the wand in an arc, red, white, and blue sparkles shot out of the tip.
"Oh brava!" cried Ollivander. "Rowan, ten and a half inches, with a dragon heartstring--very good indeed, yes. Now doesn't that feel better than your old wand?"
It did feel better than her old wand. She'd had no real comparison with other wands; the times she'd tried out Gavin's wand, it had felt a little "off" to her. She hadn't dared ask other wizards if she might try their wands, since it was such a personal item. But clearly, a well-made wand made a big difference -- rather like the difference between walking through ankle-deep mud and walking on solid ground. Such a clear channel for magic--
