Up and Down

Seen and Heard

Spoilers for "Wand Mastery".

Anna thought she knew where things stand in the world. The sky is blue, the snow is cold, and she is very hungry after spending hours in the dusty Ollivander shop, waiting for the special wand to be crafted.

She didn't dare to leave even for the neighbouring Three Broomsticks, instead pacing along the small room over and over again. She is angry at herself for being so paranoid but she can't help it. She has to protect the artefact being crafted into a wand at all costs, and so she continues to walk up and down the small room.

It's Hogsmeade, for crying out loud. There wouldn't be any danger, she can leave to get a bite to eat...

But she doesn't.

At last, she feels a pulse, a ripple of ancient magic running through reality. She knows then that it is done before Mr Ollivander even walks out of the back room.

The old wandmaker thanks her for her help with Jackdaw once again as he hands her the box. She is reminded that Ollivanders are the only ones out of the Sacred Twenty-Eight to be a traditionally Ravenclaw family and feels a surge of affinity and deep gratitude to the elderly man in front of her.

"Thank you, Mr Ollivander. For everything."

He smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners behind his large glasses.

"The gratitude is all mine. Go. Make our House proud."

She nods and steps outside, breathing in the smoky air. The sun is already dipping below the mountaintops. She walked into the shop in the morning. Her stomach grumbles in indignation and Anna cringes at the sound. She really could use some-

"Why hello there, little bird."

Anna gasps, spinning on her heel, wand swishing through the air. She knows this voice. She is not mistaken.

Victor Rookwood saunters over to her up the High Street in his dapper blue coat and tophat. He chuckles at her raised wand, dismissive.

"Oh come now, my dear. There is no need for that."

Anna looks desperately around, searching for someone, anyone to help her, but the street is hauntingly empty of people. Only a ragged, trodden-on page of the Daily Prophet tumbles across the worn cobblestones with the wind.

She hears a noise behind her and throws a glance back at the shop she just came out of. She gasps. Through the murky glass, she can see a figure inside pointing a wand at Mr Ollivander, blocking his way.

"I made sure we would not be interrupted this time," her head snaps back to face the wizard in front of her. Rookwood's tone is pleasant, conversational. As if he is merely inquiring about the weather.

Anna suppresses the tremble of fear. She has dealt with the men like him before. But Rookwood unnerves her with his brazenness, his open defiance of both wizarding and societal laws.

"Surely you would know that our interests align now more than ever," he croons softly, spreading his arms at the elbows as if in an invitation.

Her mouth twists and she tightens the grip on her wand.

"Our interests would never be aligned!"

"Wouldn't they?" He raises an eyebrow at her, circling her like a large, intimidating vulture, "I hear all sorts of interesting things said about you."

She can feel her blood draining away from her face. What did he hear?

The man smiles, and it would have been a charming smile had it ever reached his icy eyes.