The Price of Magic
Title: The Price of Magic
Characters: Severus, Ollivander
Word Count: 450
Prompt: Severus, The Wand of Destiny
The skinny boy's eyes were framed by lank black hair, bracketed by his fingertips on the counter, which were circled in turn by rings of dirty coat-sleeves obscuring the rest of his hands. Ollivander approached and at once the boy appeared taller, second-year. He had not come for his first wand, then. No. Ollivander remembered him from the year before, and his mother bargaining at the door for a second-hand wand.
Silently, he looked down at the boy, waiting.
"Tell me more about my wand, please."
All right. He was polite, and Ollivander found a smile within him as the boy removed a wand from the horrible coat and unwrapped it carefully from a scarf, green and silver, the only bright thing he seemed to have. Ollivander took it and weighed it in his hand, feeling its life, recalling its creation.
"Walnut and Augery feather," Ollivander stated. It was sturdy and inflexible. He looked keenly at the tight thin-lipped boy, frowning at the wand, dissatisfied, wanting it to be special. "This is not your wand." He touched the point to the top of the boy's head, watching his eyes as they followed it, then snapped back to Ollivander's, wanting more. There was none.
The boy frowned up at him, clearly disappointed. "Nothing?"
"Nothing more. It is not your wand. A wand must choose you. This wand chose someone else." Ollivander took pity on him. "I cannot give you a wand. A wand must be purchased, but here is a holster. You should have your wand at the ready. Don't worry. This will keep it better than your scarf." He took the latter, placing it gently around the boy's neck, noticing the slight smile of pleasure. He was a boy after all.
"What is the most powerful wand in the world?"
Ollivander leaned forward. What did this boy want with such things? But he was earnest and his eyes burned black, sincere, wanting, reaching. This one could be great. And he could change all the world with his will and the trajectory of his aching. Intently, he told this child, "It is the Elder Wand. The Wand of Destiny. It will work all wonders, weave and turn Magic in its very grain. But it is treacherous! It passes to a wizard who defeats the wand's owner utterly. And such a deed invites repetition! Down through all of time."
The boy's lips parted, eyes unblinking as he listened silently. He knew his words were not worth any of Ollivander's. Yet.
Ollivander was curious, still leaning close. "What do you think that means, lad? A price, payment: wonders for doom? Is worth it?"
"Yes, for the magic."
first posted to my dreamwidth account.