Broken Wands

Chapter 2 - Broken Trust

The air in the shop had grown thick, laden with unspoken tension and the faint smell of burnt wood that clung to Gregorovitch like a second skin. The words that had hung between them in the last chapter of their conversation still echoed in the silence—risk more than that. The weight of those words lingered, refusing to dissipate, even as the minutes stretched on.

Ollivander hadn't moved. He stood like a statue, the flickering light from the wand cases casting long, distorted shadows over his face. His thoughts churned, swirling like eddies in a dark river, but he gave no sign of the storm brewing beneath the surface. Instead, his eyes—sharp, calculating—remained fixed on Gregorovitch, who sat hunched in the chair, head bowed, his breath shallow and labored.

It was strange, seeing him like this. The Gregorovitch Ollivander remembered had been a man of vigor, pride, and arrogance. A man who had never hesitated to boast of his superior wandmaking skills, who had never missed an opportunity to sneer at Ollivander's methods. Their rivalry had been legendary, though it had always been tempered by a grudging respect for each other's craftsmanship.

But that Gregorovitch was gone. In his place was a man broken by time, hunted by forces that neither of them fully understood. His once-proud shoulders sagged under the weight of too many years, too many losses. The fire in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by a hollow, haunted look that spoke of long nights and even longer regrets.

Ollivander's gaze drifted to the wand lying on the counter beside him. It was unfinished, the smooth birchwood still pale and raw, waiting for the final touches that would transform it into something far more than just a piece of wood. He ran his fingers over its surface, feeling the familiar grooves and imperfections beneath his fingertips, grounding himself in the tangible, in the craft he had dedicated his life to.

"Tell me everything," Ollivander said finally, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Gregorovitch looked up, his good eye narrowing. For a moment, he hesitated, as though weighing whether or not to trust the man standing before him. But what choice did he have? He had come here, to the one person he had sworn never to ask for help. He had no other options.

"They came at night," Gregorovitch began, his voice rough, ragged. "The Dark wizards. Ivanov's men. They... they wanted information. They thought I still had the Elder Wand." His hands clenched in his lap, knuckles white with tension. "When I told them I didn't, they didn't believe me. They destroyed everything. My shop, my home..."

Gregorovitch paused, swallowing hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. "They killed anyone who got in their way."

Ollivander remained silent, his fingers still tracing the grain of the wand on the counter. He could feel the anger building, a slow burn deep in his chest, but he kept it in check. There was no room for anger here. Only cold, calculated decisions.

"You should have known they wouldn't stop with just your shop," Ollivander said, his voice flat. "Ivanov is not the type to leave loose ends."

"I know," Gregorovitch muttered, his voice low, bitter. "But I had no choice. I thought... I thought if I could run, if I could hide, they would lose interest. I was wrong."

Ollivander's lips pressed into a thin line. It was a fatal flaw, one all too common among those who thought they could outrun the dark forces of the magical world. Gregorovitch had made the mistake of believing that distance would grant him safety, that his skill as a wandmaker would be enough to shield him from the consequences of his past. But the truth was, there was no hiding from someone like Ivanov. No running far enough, no magic powerful enough to escape his reach.

"And now you've brought them here," Ollivander said, his voice as cold as the winter wind outside.

Gregorovitch's head snapped up, his eyes flashing with something akin to defiance. "I had no choice!" he snapped. "You think I wanted to come here, Garrick? You think I wanted to drag you into this mess?" He leaned forward in the chair, his body trembling with the effort. "I came here because I have no one else. No one I can trust. You and I... we may have been rivals, but we're also the same. You understand the power of wands, the importance of what we do."