cornflakes2013

“They were starving him, Mum. There were bars on his window,” Ron explained. Molly’s eyes widened. “They did WHAT?! Harry, is this true?” she asked. Judging by the look in Molly’s eyes, Harry knew she would see through a lie. “Y-yes, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry admitted. “Is that all they’ve done to you?” Molly asked, her eyes blazing with fury. Harry sighed and began explaining his life from the beginning. How, before coming to Hogwarts, he'd been sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs. How his relatives insulted his parents, calling them drunks who had died in a car accident. The insults, the times they'd starved him, the bullying from Dudley and his friends, the hatred. Everything. As Molly listened, she grew more furious by the minute. No one mistreated a child on her watch, whether it was her own or someone else's. “Well, I think I'll have a chat with those relatives of yours,” Molly declared. Suddenly, Percy, who had woken up and heard everything, walked in. “I have a better idea, Mum,” he said. He quickly wrote two letters. “Hermes!” His owl appeared, and Percy tied the letters to its foot. Hermes flew away. “Percy, what did you do?” Fred asked. “Yeah, what was that?” George added. Percy smirked. “Ickle Freddikins and Georgikins, never underestimate your big brother. Let's just say those relatives of Harry's are going to get a visit from a tabby cat. And a giant bat.” Fred, George and Ron burst into hysterical laughter. Meanwhile... The portraits and ghosts of Hogwarts were startled to hear voices yelling throughout the halls. Shouts of “I TOLD HIM IT WAS A BAD IDEA!” and “THOSE MUGGLES WILL SUFFER FOR MISTREATING HER SON!” echoed through the castle, leaving everyone horrified. A few minutes later... Petunia and Vernon Dursley were spending the day fuming over the events of the previous night. “That boy's gonna get it when he gets back,” Vernon muttered angrily. Suddenly, the front door opened. Vernon was surprised to find two people standing there, wands pointed at him and fury in their eyes. “Hello, Vernon. We're here to talk to you about Harry Potter,” Professor McGonagall announced. “Cupboard under the stairs, was it?” Professor Snape added.

“Whomping Willow… unyielding… and a basilisk heartstring core?” Ollivander questioned, his voice catching as he stared at Harry in astonishment. “This… this is not the wand I sold you.” Harry shifted awkwardly. “Er, well, I… made it.” Ollivander examined the wand again, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Acceptable craftsmanship, I must say! And an excellent choice for fighting.” He seemed to be restraining a smile. “But… Whomping Willow wood and a basilisk heartstring? Those aren't materials one simply finds.” “Yeah, about that,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck, seemingly oblivious to the whispers spreading among the other champions, judges and journalists. “After the Willow broke my Nimbus 2000, I might have… pruned it. Quite aggressively, actually.” “And the core?” Ollivander asked, his voice filled with almost reverent wonder. Harry glanced at the reporters, who were now buzzing with questions, before answering steadily. “You know the thousand-year-old basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets that I killed a couple of years ago?” The muttering grew louder. Fleur, Cedric and Viktor all stared at Harry in disbelief. Rita Skeeter, quill and notebook at the ready, began pushing closer, clearly desperate for details. Ollivander ignored them all. His attention remained fixed on Harry and his creation. “You harvested the basilisk yourself?” “Well, yeah,” Harry replied, looking a little bashful. “It seemed a shame to leave it to rot, and the heart was just right there. I figured, to the victor go the spoils, you know?” Ollivander nodded, his hands trembling with excitement as he examined the wand. “Quite the saying, indeed, Mr Potter. Whomping Willow wood is rarely used, given its incredible resilience and unwillingness to cooperate. But paired with a basilisk heartstring? Brilliant. A highly aggressive wand, exceptionally powerful… and dangerous.” Fleur crossed her arms, frowning thoughtfully. “So you 'ave created a wand from scratch?” she asked, her usual aloofness giving way to open astonishment. “Oh, it took ages,” Harry said, warming to the subject. “Getting the Willow wood was tricky. I had to keep dodging branches, so I ended up learning the Summoning Charm ahead of time. But the basilisk was harder. Getting a heartstring from a dead serpent that size was more… complicated than I expected. Not to mention yucky. I had to burn those clothes afterwards. They stank.” Ollivander nodded knowingly, examining the slight asymmetry in the wood's grain. “And yet you managed. Remarkable. What wand-lore did you study? Self-taught, I presume?” Harry beamed, scratching his head. “I found a few books on wand-making in the Restricted Section, and a really old one that was a gift from…” Sirius. “A friend. The Willow wood had to be carved very specifically to stop it lashing out at anyone who wasn't its master. And getting the core settled properly… I probably redid it four times.” The crowd grew louder, several people trying to interrupt, but Ollivander and Harry were completely absorbed in their conversation. --- “Now, Mr Potter — Harry. It's easier to match a wand to a child when you get a feel for their magic. The wand is easy; you simply hold it. With the child, you have to bring it out. A strong emotion does that,” Ollivander explained. It had been a while since he'd had such a receptive audience. The boy was practically lapping up every word! Harry rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “Is that why you act all creepy? To bring out our magic? I honestly thought you just enjoyed scaring children.” Ollivander smiled. “Oh, I do. Multitasking, Mr Potter.”