Heart of the Guardian

16. Tom Riddle's Wand

The owls bearing replies to Snape's letters arrived just after breakfast the next day, tapping at the window in his quarters. Minerva's was a concerned query about whether he wanted her to return early. He sent that owl back immediately with his, "No need." Kingsley's contained two words: "Yes. Ollivander." Arthur's was even shorter: "Come." He returned Kingsley's owl with a request that the Minister arrange some things, and Arthur's with "On our way."

The boy had gone to the kitchen to visit the house elves. He returned shortly after Snape sent off his replies, knocking at Snape's door. I'll have to set a password for him, Snape thought, crossing the room to let him in. Potter looked around, obviously still expecting to see Snape's things from McGonagall's office. Snape diverted him with a question.

"Up to another trip?"

"Where?" Potter began, then spotted the owl posts in Snape's hands. He paled. "Did you – did Kingsley find it?"

Snape nodded, drawing the boy into the room and pushing him toward a chair at the table.

"Where is it?"

"Ollivander's."

"Ollivander? He's... his... what's he doing with it?"

"Reselling it, I imagine. It's not uncommon," he said at Potter's appalled splutter, "if the witch or wizard dies without an heir or has not been disciplined, in which case it would have been snapped."

"He'd do that? How could he do that? After what..." the boy said, shocked.

Snape crossed his arms and leaned back against the table next to Potter, looking down at him, considering the boy's question seriously. "It has always been my opinion that Ollivander... sees these matters differently than do most wizards. I don't know if that is a peculiarity of his profession, if his view would be shared by other wandcrafters, or if it is merely a peculiarity of his own personality."

Potter snorted.

"You have a different opinion?"

"Not really. He always gave me the creeps a little... I mean," the boy hurried to add, "I'm sure he's brilliant... but I was never sure if I liked him."

Snape nodded. "Indeed. In any case, it is to Ollivander's we must go if we hope to find... that damned wand."

"And then what?" the boy asked, meeting Snape's eyes. "What if it is..."

"Potter..."

"Harry," the boy corrected him, absently.

"Potter – I've told you, it's not possible."

"I'm sorry, Professor, but do we even know what's possible – with Voldemort, I mean?"

Snape conceded that the boy had a point. He did not want to lie to the boy, but did want to reassure him. "Then, Potter, I shall deal with it," he said, reaching for his robe, thrown over the chair he had been sitting in that morning.

"You? But – no! Sir - it should be me!" Potter protested, and Snape paused mid-reach.

"Absolutely not. I forbid it," he said, alarmed.

"I'm sorry, sir, but – you're not my professor anymore," the boy responded.

A fine time for him to pull that out.

"If you think I am going to allow you..." he began.

"I wasn't asking permission, Professor."

"Nonetheless, Potter..."

"It's Harry, sir, and if there's a risk, I'll handle it!"