New Wands

All characters are JKR's. I'm just having fun with them and make no money with this story. Your review is reward enough.

New Wands

Grimly, Severus sat down for dinner. Several of the children were crying openly; others were sobbing quietly. Young Miss Burke, a second-year, was attacking her plate with vengeance. With her bushy brows furrowed and her prominent lower jaw stubbornly pushed forward, she reminded Severus even more of her elder brother. As he piled peas on his fork, Severus remembered his first encounter with the Slytherin boy, twelve years ago.

The formidably-built first-year had been the centre of attention, proudly showing a set of photos that earned him the respect of even some fourth-years. His suspicion aroused by conspicuously too much bare flesh, Severus had swiftly ordered him to hand them over, only to find a rosy newborn yawn widely to him while her brother stood there, his chest swollen in pride.

During the previous night, Patrick Burke had fallen together with his former house mates. For seven years, Severus had surreptitiously attempted to give them a little guidance and a few impulses to find their own way, but in the end, he had been unable to save them from the suction from the dark.

Absentmindedly, Severus took up his goblet to rinse.

Among the students on the left, arguments started heatedly. Sitting closest, Parkinson hurriedly hushed the commotion. Apprehensively, she glanced over to the high table and started severely when she caught glares from the headmistress.

Severus' eyes searched for Ginevra. She had eaten a few bits of her helping, but she was putting down her fork every other bite and shifted restlessly on her chair, staring at her roast without seeing it. Two students opposite observed her far too carefully for Severus' taste.

Thankfully, though, the clumsy boy next to her, who had melted a cauldron in the previous week, knocked over his plate and gravy splashed on Ginevra's sleeve. She jumped up to clean the mess, and Severus flinched. Not a single Potions lesson this period, but already the first of her two robes sullied. On the other hand, her attention was back to the here and now.

Enduring a lengthy staff meeting with lots of hollow words (exemplary performance, stimulate the natural thirst for knowledge, connect to the better self in every student, character building measures), Severus rested his eyes on the opposite wall. Next to the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, they found an oddly shaped mark and as he stared, the mark transformed into Ginevra's anxious face, and the more it resembled her, the more he stared. He had to find a way to reassure her.

Passing through the whimsy French door, Severus was forced to lift his robe to climb ungracefully over the well-worn, battered leather satchel Ginny used as school bag, which blocked his path in their crammed room. It was the best opening he would get.

"Ginevra, would it be too much to ask that you not leave your stuff in the doorway?" Severus raged as he entered their shared room.

Ginny uttered a meek excuse and shuffled her abandoned things together, clearly too preoccupied to really care.

"It must be a family trait, this penchant to block others' way," Severus hissed, between two of her vigorous, but futile attacks on the old clasps.

Somewhat befuddled, she looked up and asked, "Pardon?"

Severus reached for the teapot and continued in a bored tone, "As if it wasn't enough that those impossible twin brothers of yours tried to block our retreat with a wall of crimson-glowing, pungent smoke spelling out 'OOH, NOT YOU', in eight foot letters."

Severus heard her robe rustle as she shifted. He drawled on, "Thankfully, they made it out of everybody's sight after their annoying obstacle dissolved, a consideration I can hardly expect from you." With the last words, he turned to the teapot, hoping she got the hint.

"I'll endeavour not to remind you of them, Severus," came her level answer along with the metallic click of a clasp, closing willingly when treated gently.

"You do that," Severus snarled and sat down. He generously motioned behind him that she may serve herself some tea, which she did.

Half an hour later, when Severus followed her out towards the bathroom, pretending to patrol the corridor, he was satisfied to see her stride out vibrantly.

Another two hours passed with grading before he slid under the already warmed cover.

Ginny, who had calmed down enough for finally revising Transfiguration, hovered her book aside and stashed her wand between mattress and frame.

"Nox!"

Her gentle hand reached out under the duvet, over to his side, pressing his own hand hard. Severus turned on his back and let her head rest on his shoulder, one of the few places that were almost fleshy and soft enough to serve as a pillow. She turned her back to him to avoid all pressure on the itchy spell on her mouth, but she gripped his arm with both hands, stroking him gently. Minutes later, his feisty witch was sound asleep, her breath regular and deep.

Much later, a wide awake Severus dared to pull out his stiff arm to find an agreeable position for himself. The length of his body warmed by hers, he found sleep at last.

For the Potions master, the school was more time consuming than Hogwarts had ever been. He now taught two subjects, even if neither was taught in year zero. Severus had more essays to grade than any other teacher, and with the newly compiled syllabus, he also had to prepare each lesson. At least, he concluded, this meant he was allowed to stay in the same building as Ginevra for the daytime and most nights. He held his office hour in Professor Slash's office on Sunday, but every now and then Severus fetched tea from his own quarters, where everything was all right.

Over the next days, Severus observed his charge-that-was-his-wife surreptitiously. Ginevra ate and slept steadily enough. She worked on her readings and essays after dinner, and her effort showed in Potions, and she even surpassed her previous scores in Defence. Her other homework put her under a healthy pressure, but she found more time to rest and sleep than Severus had ever considered acceptable while a library was at his disposal.

When Ginevra came to dinner one day after Duelling, her eyes sparkled with delight. With a jolt, Severus remembered her determined face at lunch. Honed by months of drills with Mad Eye, she knew how to fight, but would she be lured into taking risks? Would Slash... Suddenly Severus itched to grab the man by his collar, demanding a report, but he swallowed against his anxiety. What should he, after all, demand? Certainly not that his wife was spared the training!

As Ginevra queued for the main dish, Severus found that her steady gait and confidence were, after all, also good signs. Zacharias Smith and Albert Flint even made way for her in the aisle and refrained from mocking her about the stains her cloak sported from an exploded cauldron earlier in the week.

More than once, Barnes asked Severus how to discipline the younger years, obviously unable to implement the suggestions. In the short discussion, he let slip that Ginevra was very active, well prepared and made profound contributions during the lessons. Barnes also expressed his regret that she wasn't making friends with anyone. The first time, Severus had felt like a Muggle parent, curious to get all petty details of their offspring's development, but he was relieved to get another opinion that seems to tally his own.

Barnes was the only one providing such observations.

After good-natured, if somewhat grubby, Professor Sprout with her annoyingly buoyant disposition, the nondescript Herbology teacher in the Academy could not fill any of the brats with enthusiasm. Every class returning from outside with brownish fingernails and smears of soil in their faces looked peeved, which was a stark contrast to the often boisterous lot that had driven Filch crazy. Ginevra made no exception, and why would she?

Severus certainly preferred them this way: at least a tad more under control of their actions and less likely to wreak havoc. All Severus expected from the woman was to teach them the basics on Potions-relevant herbs and that she would not let the plants, or the students, go out of control.

Flying was a pastime his wife had enjoyed from an early age, and her performance in Quidditch matches had become a real threat for Slytherin. Severus had no reason to doubt her qualification in either of the flying classes. Returning indoors in small groups, they always chattered amicably, and even if Ginevra wasn't joining in, her face was flushed, and she panted. A bruise or two was only natural—he'd be more worried if they came in unblemished! Regrettable, really, that both her Flying lessons were scheduled while Severus taught the elder students.

The only subject Ginny was quite obviously struggling with was Transfiguration. Professor Flank made no secret of her attitude towards the young Gryffindor—his paraphernalia!

The old shrew was blathering about her favourite pupils, and every time he was forced to listen. One of them was a fifth-year, Florence Hestrop, a previous Ravenclaw. She was too snooty to be already in a deep friendship with any of the Slytherin girls and had been quite versed in Potions. Severus decided he would pair Ginevra with her the next few times. Maybe they could form a functional liaison, or possibly even a light friendship?

Little did Severus know that Stunt still used his wife as cargo and did not allow her to participate at all. His colleague, Missile, didn't dare contradict the elder instructor's guideline openly, but he allowed Ginny a more active participation in general, and at times he even chose a civil, neutral tone towards her.

The staff meeting together with their master was still troubling Severus when he arrived in their room. The man must have been a workaholic as well as a genius in his own days. Of course, Albus had always warned them about Riddle's brilliance, but had he ever slept while at school?

To listen to the lunatic monster philosophise about the academic spirit he expected had torn at the nerves of the only experienced—and frustrated—teacher. On and on he had enthused about how the students should feel blessed at having the chance to prosper in the sublimity of the Academy. Really, the man was even more divorced from reality than Severus had already known for twenty years!

Mulciber, of course, could be counted on to absorb his every word like Magical sponge. After their master had Disapparated, she had addressed them with the giddiness of an Australian teen who had escaped a swarm of Billywigs. She'd start an Arithmancy club, and if someone had any other splendid idea for the gifted...

Everyone who didn't match the high requirements was at immediate risk. He'd have to encourage Ginevra to deal with Transfiguration and Herbology. The best time would be right on the spot.

However, when Severus flung their door open in full stride, Ginevra was already stuffing her day's work into her bag.

"No academic spirit tonight?" he asked, sounding sharper than intended.

With a huff, she grabbed her kit and headed for the bathroom, rolling her eyes when he followed her. "How would you know?"

Severus followed her quietly to the corridor, confused about her stooped form. What was that? He took up the essay full of blots and smears. He cast a Revelate Tempus and cringed at the layers it revealed. She had interrupted the work after each paragraph, probably to consult a book. This was normal. But there were too many stops within a sentence, re-formulations or just breaks in the middle of a thought, which usually reflected an unsuitable working environment with lots of diversions. What had occupied her mind?

As she returned, Severus tried an apologetic smile, but received an icy look in return. He supported her elbow lightly with his hand until they reached their bedroom. Ginevra didn't react in the least to his touch, a clear sign that he had gone too far. Now she was lying there, showing him her back.

Unable to reach her, Severus magicked the French doors closed and found himself straightening her clothes. He laid out each arm manually to give his hands something to do. As he shook the robe, he found four white, finger-shaped smears on her upper left front that were far too well designed to be an accident. Now he also remembered how his girl had been walking around with her arms crossed for half of the day. He had caught a glimpse on a corresponding stain on her bum in the morning. It had faded during lunch. Perhaps Draco had taken care of it.

Spelling their quarters safe again, Severus went to ask Barnes for help with the girl's only robes.

Now he knew for a fact that there were also ill-wishers among the students. He would need more time to figure out who it was, but then woe betide them!

With a shriek, Ginny woke up in the wee hours. Something icy-cold had touched her; had, in fact, passed right through her arm and chilled her bones. Severus jumped out of the bed, wand in hand already disarming the intruder. "Severus, calm down," the Bloody Baron chastised him with a raspy voice. "Not even you can kill me."

"My lord, my most sincere apologies," Severus conceded, bowing deeply to buy himself some time. "I did not have much hope I could welcome you here. We are most honoured..."

"I am wherever my Slytherins are taught," the ghost replied, staring at a wall, his cheeks darkening. "It appears, though, I have startled your... My apologies, Milady! Maybe, Severus, we can move outside for a little chat?"

"Certainly, my lord."

Tired though he was, Severus kept this unexpected visitor in good mood. They chatted for nearly an hour, Severus explaining the structure and syllabus of this academy, and the Bloody Baron revealing close to nothing about whatever was going on at Hogwarts.

"Would your highness be amenable to becoming the house ghost?"

At breakfast, the Bloody Baron made a spectacular appearance right through the headmistress' scrambled eggs. She shrieked, knocked her tea and was about to scold the prankster when she recognised him. Severus announced gladly that the Bloody Baron had volunteered to be a house ghost for all students here and everybody in years zero to five should consider him their house ghost.

Draco looked over to Ginny when Severus quickly raised his hands to clap, effectively covering over whatever might have been the problem with the elder students.

The lessons for the rest of the week went on uneventfully, if you don't consider Severus' leaving for two nights or Ginny's bruises and a broken finger from Flying Techniques where she still had no other role than being load or target. The mediwitch healed her rapidly and uncaringly.

Back home after the second period at the Academy, Ginny hardly dropped her bag before she faced her husband, who was still occupied with the last security checks.

"Promise me one thing, Severus."

Severus finished his routine. Probably she wanted more help on her school work, or maybe to be freed from household chores. Finished, he faced her expectantly, but her request took him by surprise.

"I need more freedom to walk and talk with others, or I get paranoid there."

"Ginevra," Severus began slowly, wondering what to reply. "We cannot take a risk." He purposefully said 'we', but it was not enough.

Ginny huffed. "We take a dozen every day already."

We do, and I hate to think of adding even one more to the list, Severus thought, but waited patiently for more explanation. Let's see how she would safely negotiate the corridors and use the library for her work.

Annoyed, she went on, her voice rising. "I'm not inspired in our little room."

Severus stood stock-still. Angered heat rose inside him, which he suppressed as he was used to. This is what we're talking about? Our little room bores her? Does she expect me to provide a suite and jacuzzi, maybe put up golden draperies? She clasped her hand over her mouth, looking worried, and Severus wondered, not for the first time, if she possibly noticed his mood. No one else, not even Dumbledore, had ever managed to read him.

"The size and décor of our room don't satisfy the lady's taste? It doesn't provide her with enough stimulation?" he snarled. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint."

Had she not stood in his way, he'd have left for the bathroom or bedroom. As it was, he looked straight ahead. Cold disappointment crept into his chest, replacing the heat. It wasn't an academic interest that bothered her; she needed cheap distraction!

"Severus, don't twist my words like this. You told me I have to speak out with what troubles me. Maybe I didn't select my words well, but I must get out of there—and I will."

"How can I trust your judgement in face of danger if you come up with totally immaterial facts? We're at war. You'll stay where it is safest."

Heat began to flush her face red, but she swallowed it down in acceptable time. Her brows furrowed, and Severus found himself observing and waiting, when he should have just left. Why had he been hopeful? What had he expected from a girl like her? She breathed in and out and looked at Severus once more.

With a soft voice, Ginny went on. "An ugly mirror or a too small chest do not trouble me; chipped teacups don't trouble me, Severus."

Severus could not help staring at her hands as they reached out towards him. He would not allow the touch, but they stopped mid-air and the gesture affected him more than he'd have thought.

"I cannot stand the closed doors and hours of dead silence. I cannot develop ideas without talking to others. Some can, but I'm not like that. I'm all wound up in there, and my essays suffer. Do you see?"

Something inside Severus warmed a bit, and while his stance hardly changed, the tension in his shoulders fell just a little bit.

"I must visit the library after dinner to work on my essays. Especially on Transfiguration."

Now she went to touch his elbow. "I know that it has dead ends and secluded areas, but it also has the books I need. What I collected so far," she continued, her arm swinging towards her bag, "is dreadful. Do you have any material on Transfigurations from one temperamental-class to another?"

For a moment, Severus contemplated if he had ever heard Minerva discuss temperamental-classes or Transfigurations between them.

Ginny's smug voice called him back when she said, "That's probably close to what I thought. Rumour has it that not even students from sixth form have ever heard of the garbled theory Flank developed.

"I'm more hopeful I find the theory on cultivation methods for Himalayan herbs somewhere here. They're a favourite of the teacher, although we don't have any in our small greenhouse. For hours, we perch on these stools, and she drones on and on. The rumours that the Dark Lord is unhappy with the Academy do not help either!"

Severus lifted his hand to halt her. "Ginevra, we'll work something out. Now, tell me what the Dark Lord wanted from you."

"Nothing new, I think," Ginny reported. "First, he stressed that he expects an exemplary performance from everybody. He envied us for having so much time for academic pursuit. Thank Merlin I stood second row. I was so much reminded of... Tom. Then he caught himself, straightened till he towered over the bookshelves and pointed out that the Academy wasn't the only place we could end up. Not that it was new to anyone, but he made less of a show of it than Mulciber and probably reached the very last one of my year as well. Albert Flint, the cheeky swank, stood next to me and shook like a leaf.

"The Dark Lord made us stand in single row along the shelves," she continued. "He passed along, pinning every single one of us down with a glare. Most stuck closely together, supporting each other, but a handful of pupils stood alone, straight and proud."

Her eyes fixed him eagerly when she added, "I have their names."

Imagining what havoc such a parchment would cause in the wrong hands, he burst out, "You didn't write them down?"

Severus received a glare as fierce as Molly Weasley used to shoot towards anyone doubting her cooking skills. "Do you think me a fool?" she asked. "I'd rather forget one of them than draw attention to myself that way—as we agreed to do."

A knot loosened in Severus' stomach, and he acknowledged her with a heartfelt, "Thank Merlin."

He must have used the wrong tone, though, because the girl wrought her hands and growled, "Well, thanks, I think, for not even trusting that I can follow an order that you cared to explain."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how to proceed. He could not risk that she'd start doubting herself! If someone confronted her with a Boggart, and it turned into a dead Weasley... "Ginevra, please. You're far too often left to your own devices. I... I don't like it."

"I understand that, Severus. I don't like your nightly trips either. And yes," she added a little louder before he could interrupt her, "it is the same: I know that you're not simply strolling in the moonlight, although you did with the Bloody Baron." She shuddered at the thought.

When Severus didn't reply, Ginny continued, "The Dark Lord intruded my mind, and I let him search around any school-related item. Now he knows that I'm doing fairly well in Herbology, a bit better in Potions, and really well in Charms and in Defence. I have to work more—and I want to do so!—for Transfiguration."

"You didn't go for a better-than-your-average performance in Transfiguration?"

"Merlin, no! He already despises people who brag with the abilities they actually have. Overestimate your capability, and you'll be disposed of before you can muck up."

This was precisely their master's thinking, as Severus had had ample opportunity to observe. "I'm... impressed."

"I've been living with... him for a year, Severus."

Severus twitched lightly. Instinctively, he pulled her close. "How could I have forgotten about that? Ginevra, be careful. He must not suspect that you can control what you show."

Glancing over a Transfiguration book that Draco had brought, Ginny saw Severus handling a long scroll with the names of all pupils. He added signs of +,0, or – behind each name. When he went through a second time, she saw a zero and a plus at her own, new name, Ginevra Snape. The zero stuck out in the column where the minuses clearly dominated. This must be Potions. She had received a plus in Defence then. Whatever the signs meant, she agreed her performance in Defence was better, and certainly Severus wasn't one to deliver pluses in Potions easily. A zero was praise already, and it warmed her heart.

Severus also brewed a lot, and Ginny was to help and learn. They discussed stirring patterns she already knew and some new ones. Brewing with three different cauldrons at a time, Severus wisely divided his attention to all of them with a sketched timetable.

After a three course dinner they had prepared together, they relaxed in quiet conversation. Severus even opened a bottle of sparkling cider, and Ginny got some diluted with water.

Severus leaned back and recollected the information on Alchemy from the local Muggle museum. "At least partly, developing potions follows the principles they explained. Let's assume we wish to use frog liver. If a substance in there disturbs the potion, we can use a different kind of frog, or we try and take a toad liver instead. We might also add counter ingredients to compensate an effect. We usually know very well what substance it is we wish to counter. They said Alchemists would not be that analytical."

Ginny nodded. "At least you know. Analysing potions starts only in the upper classes, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Severus admitted, then took up the thread again. "The Muggles are, however, right that we don't extract the desired ingredients from the liver or try to remove an unwanted one from the potion. The liver is one ingredient. I shudder at the thought of disintegrating it as these Chemists seem to do. The magic would be lost."

Very slowly Ginny repeated this statement. "The magic... would be... lost?" She contemplated on the idea for a while, her brows and mouth working in concentration. "Is this why Muggle medicine for fertility produces a Squib?"

Severus focussed on her sharply. "That is one example."

On Tuesday, Mr Ollivander was delivered once again. Before Ginny could bombard him with her questions about his customers, they all retreated to the lab, helping him brew the essences to soak unicorn hair.

Ginny wondered about the tiny differences that determined the temper of the wand.

"Let me see, sir. The strong acid of lemons on the wild unicorns, but the more moderate lime for hair from tamed herds like those around Hogwarts or those from Sweden or Spain. What does the wand search for in a wizard, sir, a match, or a complement?"

Ginny's jump from the academics to the application took Severus by surprise, while Mr Ollivander remained calm and encouraging.

"My great granny was certainly not timid, and I myself... I don't know if shy or tame describes me."

Severus snorted, received a glare and snorted again.

Ollivander said nothing at all, only fixed the girl with a curious look.

"Percy's wand isn't generally hard to operate," Ginny went on, "provided I hold it perfectly. George expects his to work even if wedged between his toes, and it does to some extent. It's a strange thing that one; it feels like rubber in my hand."

Severus had always felt that the Weasley twins had wound their way through life very much like an eel winds itself through water and was about to say so, when she added, "You know, I'd not be surprised if you told me that you mixed a soak when you produced it. Or, no, probably the unicorn was just exceptional for its breed."

"This... might be possible," the old man confirmed reluctantly. The thought of working one's wand with one's feet had clearly disturbed him, and he turned his attention to the cauldrons.

Before lunch, Ollivander opened a hidden sleeve pocket and presented a bundle of seven surprisingly short wands. He arranged them in a row along the dining table, encouraging Severus to check these lightning-wood wands. Soon Severus was engrossed with them. He hardly noticed his environment as he moved his hand over them and took some up to inspect and wave them.

Ollivander halted Ginny's questions and noiselessly opened his jacket once again. He laid out more wands with wild unicorn hair on the backrest of the sofa and beckoned his assistant of the day to inspect them. Hesitantly, Ginny went along the line. She let her wand hand hover an inch above the items on display. When her palm warmed up slightly, she gave the wand a wave and immediately produced green and golden sparks. It didn't feel bad, but was it better than hers?

A stench of smouldering sulphur wafted to them, and Ginny watched Severus fan the air without looking up. He was very occupied indeed.

Ginny's hand continued along the line. A yellowish-brown wand jumped right into her palm, warming it instantly. THIS one felt... perfect! With a light swish, she freed sparks of all colours, and the first uttered Wingardium Leviosa worked like... a charm. "Wow, I say!" she whispered.

She glanced over to Severus, but he was completely enthralled with another wand. Striking it lightly, he produced a bluish hue and his brows furrowed.

All the better! Quickly Ginny left the room. In the kitchen she went through the first lesson she had trained with Severus and Draco, alternating between this new, powerful instrument and her old friend. Yes, this felt perfectly workable. "This is a wonderful addition," she whispered as she clattered the dishes.

"You go about it wisely, I say. These wands are shorter on purpose; they fit into your sleeves easily," Mr Ollivander whispered. "You're destined for whippy, waning-moon walnut cored with a Madagascan dwarf-unicorn. A powerful combination for hexes and Transfiguration! Five and a half inches is just fine for this elegant wand," he continued in a low voice, while Severus was still transfixed with that wand of greyish wood. It wasn't much longer, and it obviously liked Severus as much as he felt affiliated with it.

"A fitting choice, that one, Mr Snape," Ollivander interrupted loudly as he laid out the cutlery. "Pistacia integerrima from the Hindu Kush, felled by lightning. A core of Manticore tail-sting. Six inches, quite rigid. You'll speed up five percent immediately, I dare say, and far more if you train. Without losing focus, of course, sir." Severus would have to believe him for the time being, since the elementary spells hardly allowed for a comparison.

At lunch, finally, Ginny could ask about his shop and his customers, but the thought depressed the old man visibly, and they continued their meal in silence. Over dessert, Severus inquired how he was now faring. Ollivander reported that the directives had been kept to the letter.

He stood and stacked the bowls, sighing. "If I could take my young assistant to your wonderful lab again, sir?"

Severus weighed the risk and nodded. He retreated with a stack of essays while Ginny and Mr Ollivander descended once again to brew several finishes and start the marinade for the dragon heartstrings. Ginny noted down the instructions on how to finish it. When they emerged, there was no sign of the two rolls of wands, and Severus had finished third-year training with the new wand already. Introducing a third wand to his other two was much easier than getting the first one to accept a competitor.

At dinner Mr Ollivander told Ginny about some customers but refused to tell her the names or affiliation. Instead, he steered their discussion to wand cores. "Mrs Snape, what do you know about Manticores?"

Ginny recollected their physique being a body of a lion, but red, and a head with human resemblance but three rows of teeth. Its tail reminded of a scorpion, or dragon, since it ended in a ball with poisonous darts that the Manticore fired off at its victims.

"Is this how you collect them for a wand?" She shuddered at the image forming in her mind.

Mr Ollivander shook his head. "After contact with blood, the stings are deprived of their power. Remember also that the Manticore devours its victim completely, including their bones and clothing—and with them its own tail-stings, or darts. No, Mrs Snape, the daring people collecting tail-stings for their magical properties conjure images of humans that keep the darted stings inwardly, unreachable for the Manticore. They must then tire the beast until it abandons its prey. In our modern age, they are reported to also use dummies, a Muggle invention to play car crashes. Manticore tail-sting hunters apply charms to make these objects resist the razor-sharp teeth of a Manticore. Still it is a very dangerous business, normally handed down from father to son in wizard families," he lectured. "Remind me, where would you look for a Manticore?"

"Look for? Beware of, rather. They inhabit the... caves in... Greece and in... Asia," Ginny remembered hesitantly. "The... south."

"Yes, today we find them everywhere between Persia and the Indian jungle. Originally, we assume, their realm must have reached Greece, which might somewhat explain the affiliation of Ukrainian and even Finnish wandmakers and wizards to this core, although over the last 500 years, there was no Manticore hunt in Europe. Today, Manticore tail-sting hunters almost exclusively come from the third lowest caste of Indian wizardry. Their family can prosper from their business, but will never reach a decent reputation."

For a long while, Mr Ollivander dedicated his attention to the lamb chops and vegetable before he spoke again.

"Indian wizard families often expect to be destined for a wand with Manticore tail-stings. I remember how affronted Mr Patil was when one of his daughters ended up with unicorn hair."

"One of them, Padma, is a Ravenclaw. Her twin sister Parvati, though, is Gryffindor, and her wand is... a bit peculiar, I might say."

"Well observed, young lady! As we discussed, the purely academic mind of a Ravenclaw rarely attracts a temperamental wand. My assumption is that wizards destined for Manticore would almost exclusively end up in Gryffindor or Slytherin. I had to sell an import to Mrs Parvati Patil," he admitted, clearly embarrassed. "The experience triggered me to resume my research in the field, and I stocked myself generously to understand their quality criteria. Who would have thought I would so soon be cut from supplies."

"Temperament, sir? Parvati uses her wand mostly for charming extra sparks on her golden earrings, conjuring fancy bracelets and all sorts of trinkets."

Mr Ollivander sighed, and Severus cocked his head in confirmation. Silence fell over the table.

"Sir," Ginny wondered eventually, wriggling on her chair. "Would one manage to make workable wands out of the sting of the Blast-Ended Skrewts, which Hagrid bred? Who could be destined for such a wand?"

Severus shuddered at the thought alone, but he bit his tongue. He enjoyed listening to the academics, especially considering that Ginevra was proving an attentive and creative participant. Her postures changed as rapidly as her threat of thought; a frown set her forehead into wrinkles or her eyebrows raised as she recalled half-rotten knowledge and made new assumptions.

"Those monstrous, crustaceous beasts I saw at the Triwizard Tournament?" Mr Ollivander asked, his knife and fork frozen in mid-air. "Merlin's beard, why would one try?"

She shrugged and left the table to reach for a book on magical beasts while she elaborated her idea. "They are an interbreed of Manticores and fire crabs, and they have a sting. I thought a research would be a challenge."

"Wand research is a quiet, if not secret, branch of wizardry, Mrs Snape. Wandmakers detected the properties of lightning-wood centuries ago, I assume, and yet there isn't a single publication on them in any wizard magazine. Knowledge is handed down through the generations."

"Ollivander, maker of fine wands since three-hundred-eighty-two BC," Ginny cited the golden letters over his door. They had been one of the first texts she had mastered at the age of five.

"382. Indeed." With sad eyes, the old man noted, "I'll be the last of the Ollivanders."

They continued their meal in silence.

When their master called Severus, he took Mr Ollivander along. Luckily they had been almost finished with dinner.

The plans on new attacks on Muggle-borns and attempts to breach into Azkaban took hours.

Returning, Severus found his young charge jumping up from the sofa to greet him, dropping the cooking book. On the table, however, he found not only scripts on Transfiguration but also notes on wandmaking.

Essay grading or essay writing, wand training and household duties ruled their Wednesday until Ginny could not sit a minute longer. She made her way to Maud Taylor.

Severus had given her some advice how to behave, but at times she felt she failed utterly. "You are a strange person, you know that?" Maud asked when Ginny could not switch on the light to the cellar or retrieve the milk from the fridge, opening various cupboards instead.

"I know. You see, we live very secluded lives. This is almost the first time I've meet... someone like you," Ginny said hesitantly. "Can you just take me as I am? Please?"

Now Maud suspected they might be anthroposophists. "They have no telly, and often no cars, although I always believed they do have electricity."

"Yes," Ginny took the vague chance, "you're getting closer. Consider us something like them then, all right?" It seemed to satisfy Maud to have found a category for Ginny, and Ginny simply hoped it would not bring her into conflicts later. Whatever these antroso-thingys were, for the moment, she was glad they existed.

When Maud proposed a bike tour for the weekend, Ginny pretended to have other weekend plans already. "I'm not so sure if we even have a bike."

"Check that out before Monday next, will you? I'm eager to get out for a good tour, now that the weather is more agreeable. Hey, we could meet Monday around five. I have Volleyball training at half six. Want to watch?"

Ginny wasn't sure which pastime this was, but it seemed to be a sport, didn't it? "Can I write this down? I will have to ask."

"Who do you have to ask? Who are these two men anyway, the elder fierce-looking one and the elegant blond? If they are your relatives, then you would not even follow normal genetic patterns." Maud laughed.

"No, no, they aren't relations. I'm currently cut off from my family. If it's a comfort to you: my father and brothers have reddish hair just like mine. Mum calls her colour auburn, but..."

The distraction didn't quite work. "So who are these two then? Your boyfriend and his godfather?"

Luckily Ginny spotted an alarm clock. "Oi, that late? I have to hurry now. See you Monday next; around five if I can make it. Thanks for the tea!"

My gratitude goes to my betas, Savine Snape and Coshie, who showed great patience as they straightened my language and the plot.

I've also ordered a Butterbeer and cauldron cakes to Coshie and Sempra for their wonderful last-minutes support.

A.N.

1.

Newt Scamander's book is a little short on the Manticore, but then it isn't the only book on beasts. I checked the web for more. Among others it declared Persia and India as the home of Manticores.

2.

I have no intention whatsoever to compare JKR's wizards with anthroposophy—or any other philosophy for that matter.

My only idea here is that, as a typical Muggle, Maud feels more at ease when she finds a group to link Ginny to. A similar occasion will occur later with a different Muggle and a different philosophy. No offence!

It so happens that I know anthroposophists, some rather strict, others less so—all very nice people. I know more about anthroposophy than Maud. Also I know that the group is rather strong in Britain. As an educated girl, Maud would know of the name and have heard at least a few thoughts. Some fit here. That's why I chose them.

There will not be any thread of thought linked to it, and the topic will not re-appear. I purposefully do not compare any details with the wizard world as this would be inappropriate to my taste.