CH5 - A Tricky Customer

The day passed quickly after that. McGonagall guided Edmund around the Alley with ease, clearly having gone through the routine hundreds of times prior.

Edmund thought their first stop would be Gringotts Wizarding Bank, but it turned out that McGonagall had already withdrawn the necessary funds from the Hogwarts Scholarship Fund.

'I appreciate her efficiency, but damn woman, I wanted to see some Goblins,' he huffed, trying to catch up with the Professor.

Every time Edmund would wander off slightly or try to look at something not pertaining to his schooling, McGonagall would not waste a second to reprimand him.

"But there's so much to do and look at! I've never had a chance to do anything fun all my life," Edmund whined, hoping to play the orphan sympathy card.

'Edmund uses emotional attack, Puppy Eyes of Persuasion!' he thought amusedly.

McGonagall arched an eyebrow and looked at him as if asking what he thought of her intelligence.

"Yes, and that explains why you were trying to convince me to buy you a third-year textbook on arithmancy, does it?" she said mockingly.

'McGonagall blocks the attack using her special skill, Eyes that Pierce Through Bullshit,' he sighed dejectedly, resigning himself to McGonagall not keeping her eyes off him.

After an embarrassing visit to Madam Malkin's where McGonagall stood to the side as the seamstress tutted at his below-average chest circumference, Edmund was red-faced.

McGonagall finally spoke up after what felt like hours of her enjoying his embarrassment.

"Now Mr. Cole, all that's left for you to do is to get a wand. Wand pairing can not only be deeply personal but also an incredibly long process," she explained. "That being said, I will wait for you in the Leaky Cauldron, an inn located through the door just behind where we first apparated in. You will need to use your wand to tap open the archway. I assume you remember the pattern?" she looked at him to confirm.

Upon his nod, she continued.

"Come back straight away once you have your wand. Do not wander off, or I will know!" she warned sternly.

Edmund put his hands up to declare his innocence and understanding, before opening the door to Ollivander's shop.

He looked around, seeing stacks upon stacks of wand boxes, some teetering so dangerously close to falling that he could only assume they were held upright by magic. There was little place to stand in the crowded shop, and the two chairs next to the entrance were also covered with boxes, preventing him from sitting.

'Dusty,' Edmund thought as he wrinkled his nose to prevent a sneeze. 'How lazy does a man have to be to let dust accumulate in a world with cleaning charms.'

"Ah-ah-ah-achoo!" his nose finally gave in.

"Bless you," a clearly old but strong voice rang out from behind.

Edmund jumped, before turning to glare at a clearly amused Ollivander.

"You know, someone with a wand might accidentally curse you one day if you do that," Edmund snarled angrily.

Ollivander smiled.

"Ahh, but that's why I chose to risk having a little fun with you. For you do not yet have a wand bonded to you, do you, Mister?" he asked impishly.

"Edmund Cole," he replied, slowly calming down.

"Let's see if we can fix that for you then Mr. Cole, follow me," Ollivander tottered to the lone uncovered desk.

What followed for Edmund, was torture.

Wand after wand rejected him harshly. Wand boxes fell and exploded, and antiques around the shop were shattered. All the while, Ollivander continued to mumble.

"Yes, the core must be..."

"Hmm, that wood doesn't quite match, perhaps...."

"How long of a wand can he take..."

"Yes, the length is right, but the rigidity is wrong..."

Edmund looked at Ollivander incredulously. 'How this man is not in jail for sexual advances on a minor is beyond me,' he thought, mindlessly flicking wand after wand that Ollivander handed to him.

Until suddenly, warmth. A deep fire in his veins and his heart erupted, temporarily washing away the cold of the void that Edmund couldn't quite escape from.

Sparks flew from his new wand, and he felt like he was glowing, levitating.

Unfortunately, good things don't last, and the feeling eventually faded. However, a new everpresent sense of contentment remained, bringing comfort to his frigid soul. Edmund stared at his new wand with awe.

It was truly a thing of beauty, of average length with fairly light wood. There were few wood knots that could be seen, aside from at the base, which bulged out slightly making it easier to grip.

'Hmm, I guess I can't blame Ollivander,' Edmund thought as he listened to his own thoughts. 'Wands are weirdly phallic.'

Ollivander's voice broke him from his thoughts.

"Do you know why you had such an unusually long bonding process, Mr. Cole?" Ollivander asked as his eyes seemed to pierce into Edmund's soul.

"I'm afraid you're the expert on wandlore," Edmund quipped, trying to understand what the wandmaker was implying.

Ollivander stared at him for a few moments before he began to talk again.

"Your wand is powered from its core by the tail feather of a phoenix, wrapped with acacia wood, is of length 11.5 inches, and is very slightly yielding," he explained.

"Each and every aspect of a wand is important, Mr. Cole. The wand chooses the wizard, for each wand is just as different as each wizard," he lectured gravely.

"The phoenix core is the rarest of the ones I use in my wands. These cores can demonstrate the greatest range of magic, and their allegiance is hard won, just like a phoenix. However, once you prove yourself to it, the wand can even act on its own accord to protect you," he said holding up his index finger.

"Secondly, the wood, acacia. Acacia is difficult to match with and extremely picky in its own right. Wands made from this wood refuse to be used by anyone but their owner and even their owner cannot often fully unlock their power unless they are supremely gifted," his middle finger joined his index finger in the air.

"The length of the wand hints at the size of its owner's personality. Those with shorter wands tend to be more narrow-minded and stuck in their own heads, while those with longer wands tend to be more outgoing and energetic. Your wand length is perfectly average," he stated, raising his ring finger.

"Finally the flexibility of a wand describes the willingness to change of the wand-owner pair. Slightly yielding means that you are strongly rooted in your convictions and beliefs, but not to the point of absolute stubbornness," he finished, his pinky finger up alongside the other three.

"Together," he spoke as he curled all four fingers up in the air down into a fist, "it speaks a lot to your personality. You value loyalty in the people around you to the extreme, perhaps to your own detriment. Your ambitions regarding magic are monstrously high, and they are matched by your magical talent. Your values are important to you and cannot be shaken."

"And?" Edmund asked abrasively. Ollivander hadn't explicitly said anything bad, but the tone of his voice irked him.

"And nothing," Ollivander said far too peacefully for Edmund's liking.

"It is wizards with characteristics such as yours that the world is changed by. Wizards like you by which the world can either become brighter or darker for all those who reside within it. Wizards like you are a rarity that is paid close attention to" Ollivander concluded, before falling into silence.

Edmund chose not to say much, still in his own head after everything he had heard. He gruffly bought the wand, alongside a holster and a maintenance kit with the few sickles he had managed to save, before stalking out the door.

"I expect great things from you Mr. Cole," Ollivander's voice barely reached his ears as he walked to the Leaky Cauldron.

*-*-*-*

- (Scene Break) -

*-*-*-*

Upon returning to the orphanage, Edmund remembered something that McGonagall said that struck him as odd. Tentatively, he tried to will open his connection with Voldemort.

'Hello! Hell—,' he tried to think as loudly as he could.

'Why are you shouting?' Voldemort's voice cut in before he could finish.

'I wasn't sure how the connection worked. Anyways, I got my letter today, and McGonagall took me to Diagon Alley for my supplies. While we were there, she said something to me that worried me,' he quickly moved past his embarrassment shamelessly.

'And what was that?' Voldemort queried with a hint of curiosity.

'How did you work around my name not being in the Book of Admittance from birth, considering I just popped into existence yesterday?' Edmund asked worriedly.

'A good question. As I mentioned before, magic is all about intent. In the cases when magical children are given up for adoption as soon as they are born without being named, what do you think the Quill of Acceptance writes down?' Voldemort replied.

'Ohhh,' Edmund let out a relieved sigh. 'I assume something like "nameless child" followed by their date of birth?' he questioned.

'Something like that,' Voldemort confirmed.

'So we were just extremely lucky that there happened to be some nameless magical orphan born 11 years ago that died or moved to another country?' Edmund laughed.

'We do not rely on luck unless necessary,' Voldemort coldly interrupted his laughter. 'There was indeed a nameless magical orphan born in 1982, and he did indeed pass away. Or it would be more accurate to say that I ensured he passed away two days ago,' he said casually as if he had not just admitted to murder.

Ice filled Edmund's veins as he realized the implications of Voldemort's statement. He tried to make himself sound unaffected. Tom Riddle Jr. would not react strongly to murder as a means to achieve a goal, and therefore, neither could Edmund.

'So the body I'm wearing now and the orphanage I'm living in?...' Edmund asked, though he already knew the answer.

'That's correct. You've taken over the life of the 'nameless magical orphan' as you referred to him in its entirety. The best cover for hiding something is to make it seem like it was there all along,' Voldemort broke down clinically. 'If that is all, I expect a report from you after your first week at Hogwarts. Now that you know the lengths I have gone to conceal you, try to maintain your new identity.'

Edmund felt the connection close off, and allowed several moments to pass before he began to suck in deep breaths to alleviate his mounting fear.

'Voldemort is a monster. I cannot forget that. I cannot forget who I am dealing with. One slip and I'm dead,' he told himself again and again, slowly slipping into a restless sleep.