FIC: Ollivander's Holiday
Title: Ollivander's Holiday
Pairings: none
Notes: written for fill_in_hbp ~900 words
Summary: fill_in_hbp prompt 38 - The disappearance of Mr. Ollivander
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling
Thanks to bluemonkeyz8 for the speedy beta and to alexandripearl for setting up the challenge.
Ollivander's Holiday
Ollivander hadn't seen anything unusual across the Alley at Fortescue's, a fact for which he was profoundly grateful. Gory details held no appeal for him; he had a more abstract mind. He had lived through the first rise to power of He Who Must Not Be Named, and he'd seen more than his share of great and terrible things. This time he was almost two decades older and wiser, with a position of respect in the wizarding community. Death Eaters had likely killed Fortescue merely to spread panic - his father had been a half-blood, after all - but he, creator of the greatest wands in Europe, would be wanted alive.
It was time to disappear.
He packed his essential wand supplies, took a last look around his workroom, and shrunk his case. Slipping it into a pocket, he moved towards the front of the shop to lock up for the final time.
Suddenly, he heard popping noises and found himself surrounded by hooded figures in dark robes.
"Wait, no, you don’t understand -" he started, but he was cut off by a whispered silencing charm. 'How ironic,' he thought. Here he was, taken prisoner and about to be forced into the service of He Who Must Not Be Named. He cursed his terrible timing - would he be able to reason with them?
One of his abductors forced something that appeared to be a pink rubber snake into his hand. "Right. Everyone holding the portkey?" she asked.
The voice surprised Ollivander - it didn't belong to Bellatrix and he didn't know of any other active female Death Eaters. He supposed that she must be a new recruit, and wondered, uneasily, how organized the Death Eater structure had become in recent months. The snake-portkey activated and he found himself in a small, brightly-lit room that looked more like an office than the dungeon he'd been expecting. Waiting in the room was Head Auror Dawlish. Around him, his kidnappers lowered their hoods. Nymphadora Tonks? Obediah Savage? Not Death Eaters at all - he'd been taken by Aurors! Ollivander’s mind raced.
"Oy, Proudfoot! Let go my skipping rope," said Tonks.
Dawlish frowned at her, and began what appeared to be a set speech. "Welcome to the Protective Custody Unit. We’re sorry for any discomfort or alarm we may have caused in bringing you here, but we are acting to preserve your security. It has been determined that you are a likely target for He Who Must Not Be Named, and the Ministry wishes to aid and protect you. To this end, we will be providing you with protective custody here at the Ministry." Dawlish paused as if expecting a response, then rolled his eyes. "Tonks, did you put a silencing charm on him? Really! Finite Incantatem. Sir, please accept my apologies for the manner in which this operation was conducted."
Ollivander nodded, shaken and not yet trusting himself to speak. 'The Ministry was working to protect those at risk from Death Eaters,' he thought. 'That’s good to know.'
"Thank you, Dawlish," he finally answered. "While I can’t condone their methods, I am happy to see the Ministry so proactive in ensuring my safety." The Aurors relaxed, relieved by his response.
"Savage," said Dawlish, "please see Mr Ollivander to his new quarters. I trust they will be satisfactory." Ollivander nodded again, and followed the young man from the room. As they left, Dawlish began to give Tonks a dressing-down. Ollivander smiled inwardly; he’d heard that the girl was an embarrassment to her family.
Savage led him to the lifts without speaking. They boarded with one other passenger, an old witch muttering to herself about cheeky house elves. When she got off at level 4, Ollivander knew that this might be his best chance. He had long ago lost faith in the Ministry, and had no intention of remaining in their custody, protective or otherwise. He pointed his wand at Savage and whispered, "Confundus." Louder, he added, "Savage, weren’t you getting off at this floor?"
Savage looked at him vaguely and stepped off the lift.
Ollivander encountered no one else on his way to the Atrium - most of the ministry staff had gone home for the evening. He had to exit through security, however, which proved to be quite a challenge. The witch on night duty at the front desk couldn’t understand why he had no badge and why his name didn’t appear on Eric’s guest list, and she wouldn’t permit him to leave. "I’m sorry, sir," she said, "I cannot allow you to leave until your paperwork is in order." She was a stickler: neither Obliviate nor Confundus swayed her from her purpose. "I’m sorry, sir," she repeated, "but there seems to be an irregularity. I cannot allow you to leave until your paperwork is in order."
Ollivander began to worry that Savage might gather his few wits about him. "Imperius," he said, finally, "Be quiet and walk me out."
Even the most rigid procedure was no match against an Unforgivable, and the witch did as he asked. As soon as they were outside, Ollivander stepped behind her, cast Obliviate, and disapparated.
At last, he was safe.
He apparated in front of a large house in the middle of London. A witch answered his knock.
"Hello, Bella," he said, "I’ve come to rejoin our master."
Pairings: none
Notes: written for fill_in_hbp ~900 words
Summary: fill_in_hbp prompt 38 - The disappearance of Mr. Ollivander
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling
Thanks to bluemonkeyz8 for the speedy beta and to alexandripearl for setting up the challenge.
Ollivander's Holiday
Ollivander hadn't seen anything unusual across the Alley at Fortescue's, a fact for which he was profoundly grateful. Gory details held no appeal for him; he had a more abstract mind. He had lived through the first rise to power of He Who Must Not Be Named, and he'd seen more than his share of great and terrible things. This time he was almost two decades older and wiser, with a position of respect in the wizarding community. Death Eaters had likely killed Fortescue merely to spread panic - his father had been a half-blood, after all - but he, creator of the greatest wands in Europe, would be wanted alive.
It was time to disappear.
He packed his essential wand supplies, took a last look around his workroom, and shrunk his case. Slipping it into a pocket, he moved towards the front of the shop to lock up for the final time.
Suddenly, he heard popping noises and found himself surrounded by hooded figures in dark robes.
"Wait, no, you don’t understand -" he started, but he was cut off by a whispered silencing charm. 'How ironic,' he thought. Here he was, taken prisoner and about to be forced into the service of He Who Must Not Be Named. He cursed his terrible timing - would he be able to reason with them?
One of his abductors forced something that appeared to be a pink rubber snake into his hand. "Right. Everyone holding the portkey?" she asked.
The voice surprised Ollivander - it didn't belong to Bellatrix and he didn't know of any other active female Death Eaters. He supposed that she must be a new recruit, and wondered, uneasily, how organized the Death Eater structure had become in recent months. The snake-portkey activated and he found himself in a small, brightly-lit room that looked more like an office than the dungeon he'd been expecting. Waiting in the room was Head Auror Dawlish. Around him, his kidnappers lowered their hoods. Nymphadora Tonks? Obediah Savage? Not Death Eaters at all - he'd been taken by Aurors! Ollivander’s mind raced.
"Oy, Proudfoot! Let go my skipping rope," said Tonks.
Dawlish frowned at her, and began what appeared to be a set speech. "Welcome to the Protective Custody Unit. We’re sorry for any discomfort or alarm we may have caused in bringing you here, but we are acting to preserve your security. It has been determined that you are a likely target for He Who Must Not Be Named, and the Ministry wishes to aid and protect you. To this end, we will be providing you with protective custody here at the Ministry." Dawlish paused as if expecting a response, then rolled his eyes. "Tonks, did you put a silencing charm on him? Really! Finite Incantatem. Sir, please accept my apologies for the manner in which this operation was conducted."
Ollivander nodded, shaken and not yet trusting himself to speak. 'The Ministry was working to protect those at risk from Death Eaters,' he thought. 'That’s good to know.'
"Thank you, Dawlish," he finally answered. "While I can’t condone their methods, I am happy to see the Ministry so proactive in ensuring my safety." The Aurors relaxed, relieved by his response.
"Savage," said Dawlish, "please see Mr Ollivander to his new quarters. I trust they will be satisfactory." Ollivander nodded again, and followed the young man from the room. As they left, Dawlish began to give Tonks a dressing-down. Ollivander smiled inwardly; he’d heard that the girl was an embarrassment to her family.
Savage led him to the lifts without speaking. They boarded with one other passenger, an old witch muttering to herself about cheeky house elves. When she got off at level 4, Ollivander knew that this might be his best chance. He had long ago lost faith in the Ministry, and had no intention of remaining in their custody, protective or otherwise. He pointed his wand at Savage and whispered, "Confundus." Louder, he added, "Savage, weren’t you getting off at this floor?"
Savage looked at him vaguely and stepped off the lift.
Ollivander encountered no one else on his way to the Atrium - most of the ministry staff had gone home for the evening. He had to exit through security, however, which proved to be quite a challenge. The witch on night duty at the front desk couldn’t understand why he had no badge and why his name didn’t appear on Eric’s guest list, and she wouldn’t permit him to leave. "I’m sorry, sir," she said, "I cannot allow you to leave until your paperwork is in order." She was a stickler: neither Obliviate nor Confundus swayed her from her purpose. "I’m sorry, sir," she repeated, "but there seems to be an irregularity. I cannot allow you to leave until your paperwork is in order."
Ollivander began to worry that Savage might gather his few wits about him. "Imperius," he said, finally, "Be quiet and walk me out."
Even the most rigid procedure was no match against an Unforgivable, and the witch did as he asked. As soon as they were outside, Ollivander stepped behind her, cast Obliviate, and disapparated.
At last, he was safe.
He apparated in front of a large house in the middle of London. A witch answered his knock.
"Hello, Bella," he said, "I’ve come to rejoin our master."