Future Nostalgia / Harry Potter Fanfic

Way Down We Go

Their plans were made, their preparations complete; in the smallest bedroom single long, coarse black hair (plucked from the sweater Estella had been wearing at Malfoy Manor) lay curled in a small glass phial on the mantelpiece.

"And you'll be using her actual wand," said Harry, nodding toward the walnut wand, "so I reckon you'll be pretty convincing."

Hermione looked frightened that the wand might sting or bite her as she picked it up.

"If you don't want to do it, I'll do-"

There was a chorus of, "No's!"

She raised her hands in feign arrest.

"I still don't see why I can't," she muttered.

Harry had moved closer, consciously or unconsciously Estella didn't know. His leg and shoulder pressed against her. He seemed to be reminding himself that she was there and not being tortured. Estella couldn't tell who Harry hated more anymore, Bellatrix or Voldemort.

He glanced at the girl. "You're still recovering," said Harry.

Estella scoffed.

"You weren't saying that when-"

Harry covered her mouth and looked at the girl with wide eyes.

"When what?" asked Ron, looking lost.

Hermione whacked his arm.

"I don't think you want to know, Ron," she said.

Harry nodded.

Ron's eyes flashed in recognition and his face scrunched up in disgust.

"Why-"

"Ron, you said you wouldn't ask questions," snapped Harry.

Estella laughed as she saw the pale blush rise to Harry's cheeks and Ron shudder. She didn't think he'd ever get over what had happened months ago in the Burrow. Hermione simply shook her head. She'd grown accustomed to Estella and Harry's endeavors. Estella and Harry were nowhere near as bad as Charlotte and Fred.

"Anyway, I hate this thing," Hermione said in a low voice, looking at the wand and changing the conversation. "I really hate it. It feels all wrong, it doesn't work for me...It's like a bit of her."

"It'll probably help you get in character, though," said Ron. "Think what that wand's done!"

"But that's my point!" said Hermione. "This is the wand that tortured Neville's mum and dad, and who knows how many other people? She just used it to torture Estella! This is the wand that killed Sirius!"

The atmosphere in the room had darkened.

Ron's expression had dimmed and Harry's jaw clenched so hard she was surprised it didn't break.

Estella shrugged. She was completely healed, but the memory of the Cruciatus Curse being inflicted on her skin remained. She wouldn't forget what had happened but she wouldn't let it control her. She hadn't forgotten her uncle's demise and who'd been responsible. The memory of him lived on and he'd be avenged, Estella knew that.

"I miss my wand," Hermione said miserably. "I wish Mr. Ollivander could have made me another one too."

Mr. Ollivander had sent Luna a new wand that morning. She was out on the back lawn at the moment, testing its capabilities in the late afternoon sun. Dean, who had lost his wand to the Snatchers, was watching rather gloomily.

The door of the bedroom opened and Griphook entered. Estella nudged Harry as he reached for the hilt of the sword and drew it closer: the goblin had noticed.