Three Hallows, Two Weasleys and One Broken Girl

Chapter 46: Wands a Wander

Fred and George had raced away from the bridge toward the lake where they knew there was a little boat house. Everyone was still inside the school so they had been uninterrupted as they had stolen the boat and rowed it across the lake to the stream that poured from it into the river that partially formed a moat around the school.
Frustratingly, despite freezing themselves swimming and magically exhausting themselves casting accios, they had no luck.
The twins wanted to scream in frustration, but they had to accept that they were on a quest and the hallows wouldn't simply fall into their laps.

They returned to the hall after mustering a couple drying charms, and their haggard appearances blended in perfectly with the rest of the wix present.
Following their whole family and Harry back to the burrow felt odd. There was a complete disconnect between them and the others. For Harry, Hermione and for all the Weasleys, that battle was the end of the story, the resolution. They were staggering about (especially Harry) trying to work out what they were supposed to do now, if they even had the energy to think in the first place.

For Fred and George, the story was far from over, they'd just reached a point where they were so physically and mentally exhausted they could do little else but stumble into their old bed, a thought for the woman who should be lying between them crossing their minds only briefly before passing out.

———

The week that followed was...frustrating.
Everyone around them seemed to be experiencing the equivalent of a days long lazy morning. Relaxing as they processed where they were, flexing their minds like stiff muscles as they mentally adjusted to a life post Voldemort. The lazy attitude was everywhere, even Molly barely got up before ten. And yet every hour of everyday, all that Fred and George could feel was her absence.
The others were considerate, their mother smotheringly so...but they understood it was hard for anyone to remain somber for their sakes after such a wonderful outcome to the battle. It was hard for them to try and fake mourning her death when all they felt was desire and determination to bring her back.

The worst part was that wand.
Fred and George had snuck back to Hogwarts three days after they'd left it, and once again exhausted their magic and muscles searching the river bed. They'd had to accept that the wand was nowhere to be found. But compared to the stone and the cloak, they had a far greater lead so were reluctant to abandon it.

They decided in the end, to visit Olivander.
It was a wand after all, wand lore was mysterious and secretive. Both of them highly doubted a wand created by death could be destroyed by snapping it...Harry was an upstanding bloke but he couldn't have been the only person in a thousand years to have access to the wand and wisdom to know not to use it. Women for starters existed after all.

It was almost disturbing in the mess that was Diagon Alley, to find Olivander's so unchanged. There was even an eleven year old in there with his mother getting fitted when they arrived..and Olivander was his usual creepy self.

"Ah, Mr and Mr Weasley." He greeted after handing the nervous kid her wand. He looked first at Fred, "Fir for the forthright, couragous and unflexible," then his pale eyes flickered to George, "and blackthorn for the protector, bending but unbreaking. Twelve inches for stability and shared heartstrings from the same dragon for unity above all...I suspect our discussion is best held in the back room."

Two things stood out to George in Olivander's address. The symbolism in their wands he'd never explained before - which was cool, but most especially the absence of condolence on their loss. This was a man with impeccable insight, if not foreknowledge of his own. Still creepy.
"Uh, yeah." Managed Fred, and George gave a surprised snort.
"We could greatly appreciate some of your time, thank you sir." He elaborated, and took an elbow in the ribs with a smirk as they both followed the ancient man back into the recesses of his shop.

The back room was jarringly clean and modern in comparison to the musty shop front, all art deco furnishings and clean copper kitchenware.
George blinked at his surroundings but Olivander ignored them both in favour of making some tea.
"Well, Mr and Mr Weasley? I believe you have a question for me." He prompted as he cast a heating charm silently on the kettle.
"Erm, several now," started Fred.
"But only one that we really want answered." Finished George.
The man handed them each a mug filled with tea and quirked an eyebrow. It was a strange mannerism on the ancient creepy wandmaker, but George took it in stride.
"We want to know what happens to a wand when its owner- its wizard loses it."
The man narrowed his eyes at them threateningly, and Fred and George both hastily revealed their own wands were safe before he murdered them.
He did relax at that, settling in one of the kitchen chairs and gesturing for them to join him.

"The wand chooses the wizard...but some do have poor enough taste to chose absentminded ones." He murmured, taking a sip of his tea. "Wand lore is still very understudied, no thanks to Albus removing magic theory as a NEWT subject since the 50s, but there are several possibilities."
George and Fred took deep gulps of tea and watched the older man closely as he put together the right words.
"Loyal or light-orientated wands - unicorn hair...beech, holly or hawthorn, tend to be found where their owners will find them regardless of where they were originally lost, awaiting their rediscovery."
George nodded for him to continue, the elder wand certainly wasn't light orientated, and it stretched the term loyal a bit too.
Olivander hummed, "wands of weak wizards will always remain where they were lost, though it is unknown as to whether this indicates a reluctance to be partnered with a weak wizard, or simply a lack of magic preventing the wand moving like more powerful light or loyal ones."
Fred hummed attentively, whilst George took another sip of tea - it was good.

"Dark wands tend to be more prideful. They take being lost as being undervalued and rarely are found again by their original wizard, more often falling into the hands of a youngster whose power and orientation is similar and who is yet to be bonded with another wand."
That didn't sound good for them, George knew neither he or Fred were truly light wizards, but they certainly weren't dark or powerful enough to draw the elder wand from hiding.

Seeming to grasp that he had yet to answer their true question, Olivander gave them a searching look, "it is thought that truly powerful wands...ones handed down and known throughout history, tend to return to the origin point of their making, letting ambitious seekers of power and knowledge search for them, instead of the other way around. Then again, that knowledge is limited to only three legendary wands...Circe's Rhabdos, the original Lotus wand of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, and Merlin's Nerys."

Fred glanced at him, and George took another sip of tea only to realise his mug was empty.
"Well..." Fred started.
"You have some research to do I presume." Said the wand maker dryly. "Next time you fish for information, you should have your excuses ready. Especially if it is about the deathly hallows. You two of all Hogwarts students should do better than this."

Olivander tutted at them as George tried to work out if he was embarrassed or relieved that the old man had seen through them.
Fred pouted, "it's not exactly a subject we could broach subtly, and we already kinda guessed you knew more than you're letting on!"
The man shook his head before getting unsteadily to his feet, "considering you were almost Slytherins you have disappointingly little cunning. Or urgency." He scowled as he led them back out to the shop floor, "Delphi is among the dead, surely you know her demons well enough to know whose eyes she must look into there, yet you mumble excuses and drink tea. Behave like Gryffindors and charge forward, earn the auspicious wands I gave you, and the love and sacrifice my great granddaughter offered you."
They were booted out of there without another word and stood in the bright sun of Diagon Alley.

"Let's unpack all that later yeah?" Asked George.
"Yeah." Managed Fred clearly just as unsure as to whether they should be feeling ashamed, panicked or motivated by Olivander's rant. "Where was the elder wand made...well our first task should be working out where the Peverells lived."
"The hall of records?"
"Urgh the ministry."
"In the name of love."
"The things we do."

Unfortunately, it wasn't that straightforward.
You need a permit to look at the records.
Good thing Fred and George were expert pranksters, it was always on their bucket list to take on the ministry.

———

And so it begins....

What superpower would you chose to wake up with tomorrow?