The light shined through the beautiful canopy above the forest floor. The forest was alive with the sound of birds singing their merry songs. Mr. Olivander loved to listen to them as he worked. It was amazing that so much evil could be going on in the world, but the birds would still sing. They would sing no matter how much killing, fighting, dying or war was going on in the world, because the world needed their song. It was the same with him. Everything was going into chaos, but he continued to make wands, because the world still needed them.
Mr. Olivander continued to walk through the forest, keeping his eyes peeled. Then he saw it, a sign. Carved into the trunk of a nearby tree were some carved lines-- a unicorn marking its territory. He would find what he was looking for soon enough.
“Holly, come over here! Look at this!” He said to his eleven year old granddaughter. Mr. Olivander was training Holly to become a wand maker, to carry on the family business when he died. It had broken his heart when his son went into politics and decided not to become a wand maker, ending a family tradition that started many generations back with his ancestors. But luckily, Holly had shown interest, and he had decided to train her during her summer and winter breaks, as well as give her things to read while she was at school. Holly would be starting Hogwarts in a month, despite the recent death of Albus Dumbledore, and he intended to give her some basic lessons before then.
“What is it, Grandpa?” asked the young girl.
“Unicorn markings. It is how they mark their territory. It means we are close to some hairs!”
“What will they look like?” asked Holly, running her fingers through her own light blond hair.
“Shiny and thin,” replied Mr. Olivander, pushing on through the woods.
“Not the hairs, the unicorns!”
“Oh, well, they generally get scared of any humans, even if we don’t mean any harm, and run away. You probably won’t see one.”
“Then how are we going to get the hairs?” asked Holly inquisitively.
“Simple, like this!” said Mr. Olivander, kneeling down and pointing to a low down branch. Attached to it was a single hair, blowing lightly in the breeze.
“How did that end up there?” asked Holly, whispering for some reason.
“Well, when the unicorns walk around the forest, the branches catch their tails, and all the loose hairs get pulled out. It is painless for the unicorn; like this,” he said, reaching for the young girl’s head and pulling out a single hair. Holly giggled.
“That didn’t hurt one bit!” she said.
“Exactly. This way, the unicorn keeps its peace, and we get some hairs.” He placed the unicorn hair in a pouch he wore around his waist, and threw his granddaughter’s hair on the ground.
“So, can I go looking for some now?” asked Holly.
“Yes, but stay in this area. Dumbledore wrought me before his… passing… saying that the centaurs in this area have become unfriendly. They usually don’t mind me, but we will see how their views have changed now.”
“You knew Albus Dumbledore?” the young girl asked.
“You didn’t know that? Well, I sold him his wand, actually. He gave me a few of his phoenix’s feathers every once in a while, and we used to keep in touch. To date, I have only used two of his phoenix’s feathers in wands, but I keep a few handy with the rest of my cores in this pouch, just incase. But we will learn about core selection some other time. For now, just see how many hairs you can get. I need about five more.”
“Okay,” said Holly, as she excitedly began to explore the forest floor.
They searched together for the next twenty minutes. Mr. Olivander found three, and Holly one.
“Grandfather, why is this hair gold instead of silver like the rest?” asked Holly, standing up and plucking a hair from a nearby bush.
“Baby unicorns are gold. There must be a family in this area.”
“Can you use baby unicorn hairs in wands?”
“Of course. The wand that picked you a few months ago has one, as a matter of fact. But they are more special. I’ll take that,” he said, unclipping his pouch from his waist and opening it. Excitedly, Holly rushed forward and looked inside.
Mr. Olivander never went anywhere without his pouch. Inside it was a bunch of different wand making materials, as well as some tools.
“What’s that?” asked Holly, pointing to some feathers.
“Those are phoenix feathers. They are very special, especially these.”
“Why are they special?” Holly asked.
“Can you keep a secret?” asked her grandfather.
“Of course!” said Holly.
“These phoenix feathers are the last remains of Albus Dumbledore’s phoenix, and my only connection to some… special people. Before his death, Albus sent me these. Now that he has passed away, his phoenix has not been seen. But phoenix feathers contain many advanced magical powers, and the feathers of a bird as powerful as this one can perform wonders. What’s more, these feathers are my last link to something else. But I cannot tell you any more then that.”
“Why not?” asked Holly.
“Because it could put you in danger. Now, let’s continue with the lesson.”
“Okay, so what is that?” asked Holly, pointing to a jar with some red strings in it.
“Oh, those are dragon heart strings-- another useful wand core.”
“Okay. Well, do we have enough hairs?”
“Yes, we do. Well, I was going to tell you about different woods that we could use also, but I am a little worn out. Let’s head back to Hogsmeade and take a rest. You look like you could use a butterbeer!”
“Yay!” cried Holly, who thought butterbeer was the second best thing in the world.
Mr. Olivander looked up in the sky, looking at the place of the sun, then at his watch.
“We should head this way,” he said, pointing west. Together, the two family members headed to the edge of the forest. It was a thirty minute trek back to the edge of the woods, most of which was taken in silence. Once they exited the forest, Mr. Olivander looked around.
“Which way do we go, Grandpa?” asked Holly.
“To the right, Holly,” said Mr. Olivander, turning and leading the way. “Hogsmeade is about a mile ea-“
“Ahh,” screamed Holly from behind. Mr. Olivander whipped out his wand and turned around. Behind him, holding Holly with her wand pointed at the young girl’s head, was Bellatrix Lestrange.
“Hello, Olivander,” she said.
“When I sold you that wand, it was not for you to use as a weapon,” the old man replied.
“I will use it how I wish. Now put down the wand, and turn around.”
“Just don’t hurt Holly. I will do anything you want.”
“That’s just what I wanted to hear,” Bellatrix answered. “Petrificus Totalus.”
Mr. Olivander felt his entire body go rigid, but there was nothing he could do. He thought he was completely helpless as he felt the cool hand of Bellatrix touch his back. Then came the pull at his frozen navel, as the woman Apparated him, herself and Holly to a new place.