dursley [h. g.]

••dursley•• || the wandmaker

Kendra woke up in the cellar once again, a splitting headache and all over soreness consequence for her bought of frustration against Bellatrix. Still, she had no regrets. She groaned, perhaps too loudly, as there was a shuffle from deeper within the cellar.

"Hello?" Kendra asked, and then cursed her instinct for alerting whoever else was in the cellar with her to exactly where she was. Perhaps she was living up to the stereotype of blondes in horror movies.

From the shadows appeared Mister Garrick Ollivander and Kendra immediately relaxed. He certainly looked worse for wear, though still healthy enough to walk around and offer a smile to Kendra, one that she returned eagerly.

"Miss Dursley," he greeted her. "I must say, it was a bit of a surprise to me when you were brought down here. Though it is, of course, always good to see you."

"And you, Mister Ollivander," Kendra replied, both relieved and glad to see the strange man who had been one of the first to welcome her to the magical world. "Do you know how long I've been down here?"

"A few hours, I believe," he replied. "It is difficult to tell, the sunlight occasionally falls on the stairs but the days have been getting shorter. Is it winter already?"

"Sometime in fall," Kendra said. "I don't think there's been snow yet, but I might be wrong. I haven't been outside in a long time. I've been locked in this house as well, though mostly in a room upstairs. Now I see it's probably because you were down here and they didn't want us conspiring."

He laughed. "I do not think I am young enough to conspire anymore, my dear, though the thought is pleasant all the same. I think unless there is some heroic rescue, I will be stuck here until I die. But you are young still, so don't let my cynical words get you down." His silver eyes glinted mysteriously in the faint light from the stairway. Kendra smiled at him fondly.

"I'm afraid I can't leave until I get what I came here for," Kendra told him, aware that whatever she said could be overheard or seen later if Voldemort read his mind. And it was no secret to Lord Voldemort that she was here for a purpose--she had turned herself into Bellatrix, it wasn't as though she had been dragged kicking and screaming.

"You mean to say you are not here by force?" Ollivander asked curiously.

"It is a little of both," Kendra sighed. "I would, quite frankly, rather be anywhere but here, but I have a purpose here--though I am sure that part does not surprise you at all."

He smiled widely at her, pleased that she had remembered what he had told her at eleven years old when she had gotten her wand. "Greatness awaits you, Kendra Dursley, though it may come in the most unexpected ways. It seems as though what I told you when you were eleven is still true."

Kendra smiled at him, remembering the first time he had said the same words to her. Eleven years old, blonde hair in two plaits, eyes full of wonder in the shop that Harry had already destroyed. As she had picked up the wand and felt a connection, Ollivander had smiled at her, as though the wand told her everything about her future that he needed to know, and said, 'Greatness awaits you, Kendra Dursley, though it may come in the most unexpected ways.'

"I suppose so," she replied, a wave of nostalgia sweeping over her.

"That wand has served you well, no?" Ollivander asked. "Twelve inches, aspen wood, and unicorn hair, if I'm not mistaken."

"Correct," Kendra said, missing her wand desperately at that moment. She was sure Bellatrix was keeping it to burn with her body, hang in the torture dungeon she had in her elaborate mansion, or, most likely, had already snapped it. "It's been a fantastic wand, and I miss it dearly. I have been... trying to find ways without it."