Login  
 
 
Go Back   Chamber of Secrets > Forum Archives > Post DH References > The Quibbler > Quibbler Breaking News > News archives > The Quest for the Hallows

The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries



 
 
Thread Tools
  #1  
Old March 16th, 2010, 10:05 am
Professor Dumbledore
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

The history of the Elder Wand is cloaked in obscurity. Was it actually created by Death itself? Or did Anticoh Peverell, a powerful wizard, fashion it himself? I do not know.

Hopefully the stories and comics below will shed some light on its intriguing history.

Enjoy reading them and I trust everyone have fun and will vote for their favourites

Voting instructions

Pick your 10 favourite entries. (Yes you may vote for yourself in this round)

We will have two voting rounds, a split between best story and best comic will be made in round two (this due to the low number of comics).

Voting round One ends March 21st 11pm GMT

Please do not talk about your entry or which one you voted for anywhere except the moderated. feedback thread

Vote here



Questions go here



Last edited by Professor Dumbledore; March 16th, 2010 at 11:26 pm.
Sponsored Links
  #2  
Old March 16th, 2010, 10:14 am
Harry Potter
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 1

Being in sound mind, despite what everyone says about me, I, Anticoh Peverell, need to write my tale that has lead to my soon demise.


My tale begins long ago. My brothers and I encountered Death. Foolishly we made bargains with him. I sought power. And I got it. The Elder Wand. A wand that would defeat every enemy I could ever face. I think that I didn’t realize what I was asking. I just knew I had a dream of being the most powerful wizard in the world.


The changes the wand made weren’t obvious at first. I began to become powerful. Yet with each victory over an enemy, part of who I was, my essence, was siphoned away into the wand. As time went by, I grew harder and more calloused. I had stopped caring about my actions and the people around me. I just wanted more and more power.


It’s funny really. How what I sought soon came to dominate me and eat me alive. The Wand became my Master. I was no longer in control. I started going insane. And my victories were more bloody and violent than ever before. Yet I fed on that hunger. It consumed me. The few friends I had left at this point deserted me. I didn’t care. My family turned against me. My wife and children were slaughtered by my own hand. All for the quest of power.


The part of me that was still me realized I needed to separate myself from the Wand. Yet I couldn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I tried. Boy did I try. I kept trying to cheat my fate and let someone else, some other person become slave to the Wand. At each moment that I thought that I had done it, that this would be the time I would get free, the Wand caused me to win a brutal victory. I was a slave to my own greed, to my own desires, to my own lust for power. The Wand ruled me. Years went by. Each more brutal than the last. Until at last, I think I have finally managed to figure out a way to become myself once again.


It’s not a pretty plan. Not at all. And I know I will die. But I will be free. Free from the hold that the Wand has on me. Ironic isn’t it? All those years ago when my brothers and I tried to cheat Death by creating that bridge to cross the river that Death will ultimately win. Because I can’t go on. I’m tired of this hold.


My plan is simple really. I will allow some passing wizard to kill me. I’ll beg him to do so. If I provoke him, perhaps with a curse, and refuse to defend myself in the ensuing battle. I will die. I will be free. I will no longer be a slave to the Wand. Perhaps the next owner of it will find a way to break the power obsession of the Wand.



Last edited by Professor Dumbledore; March 16th, 2010 at 3:31 pm.
  #3  
Old March 16th, 2010, 10:25 am
Professor Dumbledore
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 2

The burning sun stood high at the clear blue sky as the pebbles cracked under his soles. Whirling a rather odd twitch between his fingers, Antioch could not be any happier. The path with his two younger brothers had been split not any more than a week ago, after they were one too many for Death itself. Antioch’s valuable reward was in his hand. A wand that could overcome anyone and anything.
Silhouettes of houses, a village, somewhere in a distance, rose up. The first sign of life in days. Antioch smiled at the sight. His eyes moved from the distant village to the wand in his hand. He found it time to test his powerful, new addition. Antioch his fingers caressed unknowingly over the wood of the wand. It was a feeling he could not place, a feeling he could not even understand. He just knew it felt like power. Pure power and strength.

Antioch reached the village when the sun was already going down. It seemed like the average, small town, a place where nothing special ever happened. The long houses seemed peaceful as Antioch walked by, until he saw a more rough-looking, broad tavern. Despite the fact that the sun went down not more than an hourglass ago, bright lights already shined out of the small, wooden windows clearly. Antioch put the wand in the pocket of his robe, but did not lose grip of it for a second. Before he could even think about entering the inn, a yellow flame soughed by, just a couple of inches from his right ear. As fast as he could, Antioch turned around, with drawn wand, pointing at the wizard who casted the spell. His deep eyes looked from under his bushy eyebrows to a man who seemed awfully familiar.

“Is that a Peverell brother, my eyes spot?” the man asked. From the moment Antioch heard that rough accent he recognized the voice that once was the enemy of his father, and therefore an enemy of him.
“Neicus.” was Antioch simple answer. He saw how inhabitants where gathering around in a circle of noises around them. The wand was tickling underneath the palm of his hand. Almost burning, almost asking for firing some kind of spell. It was like it screamed to be used. Antioch could not resist the wordless pressure of his wand.
The duel was short.
Neicus breathed his last, strong breath out, lying on the cold ground, when the rest of the people around them held their breath. Antioch looked at his wand – it was not until now that he understood what the exact power of that wand was. It was a wand like no other. It was the exact wand he deserved: dominant, full of power and extraordinary, just like his master. Antioch smirked at the thought.

It was not long before he and his powerful companion ended up in the very same inn Antioch first spotted. All night he drank, celebrated his victory over Death and Neicus and bragged about he could not ever be defeated. He and his wand were the center of attention.
But when exhaustion stroke the man, he went to bed. He was tired from the long journey and tired of celebrating Death’s and Neicus’ defeats. With his powerful wand still in his hand, he fell asleep in one of the rooms the clamorous inn rented.
A silhouette came through the window. Fast movements. A wizard with only a shadow and no name took the oldest Peverell brother by surprise and killed the owner of a wand he so suddenly desired.
And so the most powerful wand in the history of wizards went on to his second master of the many to come. The start of a chain of death, hunger for power and shedding of blood had begun – and all that for a little twitch, broken of an ancient elder tree, standing by a lonely river.



Last edited by Harry Potter; March 16th, 2010 at 1:05 pm.
  #4  
Old March 16th, 2010, 10:30 am
Harry Potter
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 3

It was midnight, but the full moon made hiding impossible. He had been running for hours and needed a rest but there wasn't time for that now. Panting from dehydration he forced himself to go farther into the woods until he found a shelf of rock to hide under. He couldn’t run forever he knew, but putting enough space between himself and the town was essential. He wasn’t the only one who heard the boasting at the tavern. He wasn’t the only one who wanted that wand.

It was cowardly to murder Antioch in his sleep, but the Peverell brother shouldn’t have boasted so loudly and widely. Who wouldn’t want the Wand of Destiny? And who wouldn’t blame him for going after it. A wand made from death himself, and powerful too. That’s what he needed if he were going to survive. For there were many wizards in the tavern that night, and his eyes weren’t the only one with a glint of desire in them.

He had it all planned, he waited until deep into the night for Antioch to be well asleep, but as he was fleeing the room he saw the others in the shadows. He knew it would end in fight, but for now flight was best. He knew of the wands powers, but had not had the chance to try them himself. He didn’t want it all to end before he was able to use the wand for its intended purpose.

It wasn’t easy to sleep that night – although well hidden he spent the night on guard knowing that death was hunting him. His goal was clear though, lie low, go into hiding for a few days and when the time was right he could pounce. Getting there was going to be the challenge. He knew they were on his tail, but he couldn’t risk being found. He had to save the power for the right moment.

He needed to be convincing, to command change. His family couldn’t be hungry forever, the others in his village starving like they were. He needed a reversal of power, to force equality. Persecution of magical folk couldn’t go on. He had a lot of minds to change and he needed to do it quickly - if he was suspected he’d have to kill openly and suspicion would mount, not only for him, but for those around him.

As dawn approached he knew it was time to move on. He ate the leftover nuts he put in his pocket before he went to Antioch’s room and was glad for the rain that had started - his thirst was unbearable. He must keep moving, must think of a place to apparate that wouldn’t bring followers, someplace that wouldn’t reveal the location of his village or his home.

Spinning on the spot he thought of someplace that might be safe – Hogsmeade, plenty of magical folk, might be able to hide out in the Hogs Head. But soon as he appeared, he saw them. They anticipated this move, knew he’d go there, wanted the wand more than he thought.

Lashing out, he struck at them, 3 of in all. Dead in a flash. The wand was powerful, quite powerful. He could feel the power running through his arm. Maybe he wouldn’t flee after all, maybe he was ready for the fight. The wand gave him courage. He was ready to face the real enemy. Ready to reinstate the balance of power. Ready to persuade, or kill if needed. Things couldn’t stay as they were, and he was ready for the fight.

[Based on the unnamed wizard who took the wand from Antioch Peverell during The Tale of the Three Brothers]



Last edited by Harry Potter; March 16th, 2010 at 1:05 pm.
  #5  
Old March 16th, 2010, 11:34 am
Professor Dumbledore
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 4


Septemus Flint had never been a brave man. Septemus had chosen to be Sherriff of Wincherberry simply because there had been an opening. Septemus was not a big man…being just about 6 feet tall and skinny didn’t help you when the pubs let out so Septemus had to rely on his cunning when the chips where down.

Septemus had been the Sherriff for going on six years now. Not much happened in the small farming village of Wincherberry and Septemus liked it that way. The days that passed without him having to leave his little office at the end of Main Street were his favorite by far.

What did bother him however was work. When a call for service came, Septemus would slog over to the complaint, set things in order as fast as possible, and then quickly make his way back to the office. No one ever accused Septemus of doing a bad job, but no one would ever say he went the extra mile either.

July the 23rd started out just like any other day for Septemus. He was in his office on Main Street just past mid-day when the trouble started. The rumors were already flying about an Antioch Peverell. People were whispering of a death and Peverell was to blame.

On the outskirts of town Septemus met a girl; white as a ghost and a look of worry on her face. Septemus grabbed her by the arm and asked “What’s wrong child?”

“That man…he killed that man” she gasped breaking his grasp and hurrying into town. Septemus watched her run, slowly turning back to the road out of town. Septemus knew he would have to go that way…and Septemus began to walk toward the killer.

Septemus did not have to travel far. Around the bend in the road was a man still standing over another grinning; the dead man’s wand still in his hand. Septemus approached drawing his wand slowly as not to threaten.

The man looked up as Septemus approached and gave a hearty laugh. “Come to challenge me as well?”

“No, no. I am Sherriff Flint of Wincherberry and I have come to investigate this death.”

“It was a fair duel, I can assure you that. I even let him get off one curse before I took him. That girl was here, she can attest.”

“You must be Antioch Peverell.”

“I see my name preceeds my presence. Excellent.”

“Yes, well I will have to investigate this being a fair duel.”

“Yes, yes…do what you must Sherriff. I think perhaps I will be at the pub.”

Septemus gaped at the man as he passed. Peverell seemed proud, even thrilled that he had just killed a man. Surely someone like him would need to be watched…Murder was so much paperwork.

When Septemus got back into town, the rumors were flying. Death’s Wand they were calling it…A wand snatched from the hand of Death. Could it be true? “I need to watch this man” he thought as he slid into a dark corner booth at the pub in direct view of Peverell. Peverell was practically standing on the bar laughing and singing laden with drink. “…from Death’s own hand I was given it! I shall take on any man!”

On and on into the night Peverell drank but the story stayed oddly the same. Peverell talked of a bridge, Death’s appearance, and the wand being made for him by Death.

As the bar closed, Septemus followed Peverell to the inn. As Peverell locked his room door, Septemus had a decision to make.

Septemus would rarely have to work again if he ruled with Peverell’s Death Stick…it didn’t take him long to work out the details. Even at night, July was warm and all of the inn’s windows were open. As luck or fate would have it, a large tree limb ran right outside of Peverell’s window with the bed just inside.

Septemus summoned what little courage he had, climbed up to the window, and peered inside. The fool had passed out, spread-eagle on his bed with the wand lying in his outstreached hand. Septemus carefully reached inside and took the wand from Peverell. Septemus marvelled at the wand; fairly plain but he could feel the power it possessed. Septemus slowly took out a small dagger from his boot and quickly cut the throat of Peverell. Peverell began to sputter and gasp, groaping for his wand, but it was too late. Septemus had already jumped from the tree and was gone.

Night quickly passed into morning and before long Septemus was summoned to attend Peverell’s death.

“A terrible tragedy…and no witnesses…It seems that Death finally caught up with Mr. Peverell” Septemus said smirking as he strolled out into the morning sunlight.



Last edited by Harry Potter; March 16th, 2010 at 1:04 pm.
  #6  
Old March 16th, 2010, 11:37 am
Harry Potter
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 5

The Esteemed Diaries of Egbert the Egregious



The following text is an extract from the diary of Egbert the Egregious, a particularly aggressive Warlock who is believed to have been master of the elder wand. His diary is considered by many as proof that the history of the Elder Wand can be traced back through the centuries, in this case the wand appeared out of the dark vault of history in the thirteenth century, bearing the name of ‘The Elhorn Wand’.


9th November 1236
Dear Diary,

I found my moste unpleasant neighbour Emeric poking around in the vegetable patch today he claimed to be looking for a lost Gobstone amongst the lettuces but I later found the cat with a disturbingly enlarged head, a spectacle for which I hold Emeric entirely to blame. I will get him back soon though for I shallt leak my revenge at the Shuntbumps game this Thorsday where he shall feel the extent of my fury!

Yours,
Egbert the Egregious!


11th November 1236
Dear Diary,

Oh lamented day! For my winning streak at Shuntbumbs hath been broken by that imbecilic worm, Emeric the so-called Evil. As I went to administer my most cunning of moves he produced an extraordinary wand, of such evile power that it threw me straight off of my broomstick and I sprawled in the dirt much to the amusement of the assembled company. Moste aggrieved, I left immediately taking my wrath out on a passing jay, and now I cannot get the smell of singed feathers off my clothes. What a grievous day!

Yours grumpily,
Eggy


15th November 1236
Dear Diary,

From observing Emeric all day I noted that his power appears to come only from the astonishing wand he possesses, it is able to perform hitherto unseen spectacles of fascinating magic. It appears to be made of Elhorn, I should very much like to have a closer look at it.

Yours,
Egbert


16th November 1236
Dear Diary,

That filthy philistine Emeric let a Niffler through my window this Tues-day morn, by the time I arose I found it wreaking havoc in the cutlery drawer. Mothers silver tea-spoons will never be the same again. I made up my mind and declared a duel against him this very night. Maybe tonight I shallt lay my hands on the Elhorn Wand?

Yours,
Egbert
PS. Contacted Mother Ludlam about a cure for my bunions so spent the afternoon sitting in a bucket of toads - As yet, no results.


17th November 1236
Dear Diary,

Such a duel will go down in history! Flame and fire and flood were called up to rage against each other in a battle of two great powers, for ‘tis true the Elhorn Wand was a worthy opponent but I outwitted the slow moving Emeric with my shrewd intellect. ‘Tis said the flames of our combat were seen as far as Shackleford and the very earth shook as we clashed in contest. As the battle reached its very climax I hit Emeric with a moste powerful Babbling Curse square on the chest, sending him reeling to the side at which point I hastily transfigured him into a flobberworm- and so the great battle was ended with myself as the victor. I will allow no-one to forget the true supremacy I now possess with the power of the Elhorn Wand at my command therefore I intend to showcase the wands ability at every opportunity. I truly am invincible!

Yours,
Egbert the Ever-So Egregious


The diaries stop abruptly two days later and the fate of Egbert and the wand is still unknown. Many, however, have speculated that Egbert’s tendency to display his powerful wand mixed with his insistence on sleeping in an unlocked room may have contributed to the sudden and untimely end to his diaries.



Last edited by Harry Potter; March 16th, 2010 at 1:04 pm.
  #7  
Old March 16th, 2010, 11:48 am
Professor Dumbledore
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 6

Those Who Live By the Elder Wand….

The stranger moved through the crowded pub and took a seat at the table nearest the back across from a large wizard who seemed quite at home where he was. He glared and grinned alternately at those he saw, slapped the barmaid’s behind whenever she ventured too near, and cursed loudly when refills weren’t brought to him quickly enough. He didn’t seem a friendly fellow, but it was the only open place to sit, as everyone else seemed to be trying to avoid the large man, even those he smiled at and called to in friendlier tones.

“Who’re you?” the large man demanded of his new companion.

“Arik,” the stranger answered. “And you?”

“Egbert,” the larger man grunted, then he interrogated the stranger, learning he was simply a roaming knight wizard, set out to see the world. They exchanged stories of the places the younger man had seen and what he’d thought of them and where he wanted to go. Egbert seemed to take a liking to the lad and decided to offer to let the boy tag along with him for a time. Arik agreed, as it seemed the older man would show him adventures to spare.

Their talk was interrupted at length by a rough voice that quieted all others in the pub. “Egbert, the Egregious! You killed my brother with your Death Stick. I’m here to avenge him and take the Death Stick for my own.”

Egbert smiled at the challenge and slowly stood as the other patrons scramble to get out of the way. The stranger was already in the back corner and had nowhere to go, so he sat still, his wand in his hand, ready to shield himself if necessary.

“Eager to join your brother, eh? Well, step forward and meet the Wand of Destiny.”

The duel was brief, as the newcomer was clearly out-classed and stood no chance. A final Avada Kadavra ended the fight and the young man’s life. Egbert stepped forward and carelessly kicked the body. “Stupid fool! Did you really think you could defeat me and this wand? You are nothing compared to Emeric , the Evil, and I was able to kill him when he was master of the wand. Now that I am master, you are nothing.” He spat upon the body, then looked around at the cowering folk still in the bar. “Anyone else care to try me?” he challenged belligerently.

He only heard the first word and never saw the green flash from the wand of the stranger behind him before he dropped lifelessly on top of the boy he’d just murdered. The stranger stepped up and plucked the wand from the dead man’s lifeless hand. “The boy wasn’t the only stupid fool here. The wand is no help when you turn your back on a man and ignore him.” With those words, the stranger turned on his heel and disapparated, leaving a pub full of astonished people behind.

“Who was he?”

“Aleric, I think he said his name was,” replied one man.

“No, no. It was Baric, I think,” another disagreed.

“Urlik, it was,” another insisted.

“Emeric, I say.”

“No, that was who Egbert killed to get the wand,” the first dismissed.

“Derik, I heard him say,” still another shouted.

The bartender shook his head. “Whoever he was, he won’t be alive long with that wand in his hand. ‘Wand of Elder, never prosper,’ ” he intoned sadly.

“Wand of Elder, never prosper,” the rest repeated, agreeing.



Last edited by Harry Potter; March 16th, 2010 at 1:04 pm.
  #8  
Old March 16th, 2010, 12:06 pm
Harry Potter
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 7


She entered into the dim-lighted room. A man sitting in the darkest corner was talking with the innkeeper.
- « Sorry for your father, Heveward ».
- « Thanks », answered the so-called Heveward. « Such a loss » he said with a smirk, looking lovingly at his wand.
As she sat down, they both gave her a curious look. She was feeling a bit uncomfortable, but she knew her brothers were near, busy at cleaning their broomsticks. She tried to ignore them and not to look up when Heveward got up and headed toward her table.
He was quite a good-looking man, though he was cross-eyed. She had heard about his family, they had got immensely and suddenly rich, quite an intriguing fact actually. People were still gossiping about it, even at Hogwarts.
He heavily sat on the opposite chair, his glass in one hand, his wand in the other one.
- « He is the ruddest man I have ever met. » she thought, not realizing he was talking to her.
He seemed to notice that she was not listening to him. He brandished his wand.
- « Look at this, young lady. This is the Elder Wand, the famous dead stick ! »
She hardly hid her interest. Among the tales she has been told during her childhood, the tale of the 3 brothers was her favourite. And although she had doubts about the reality of the Hallows, she was curious to hear what he visibly wanted to say.
- « But how can you be so sure about that ? », she asked.
- « My father wasn’t a liar, and he made wonderful things in his cellar with this wand, things he never managed to do before ! You should have seen his face when he realized I had taken it ! Ah ah ah !" He boomed with laugher, happy to finally catch her attention.
- « Heveward, you shouldn’t talk like that… » said the innkeeper who had joined them.
- « Nonesense, Petrus », said heveward, who seemed to misunderstand Petrus’ comment, « you are a squib, and this lovely lady would not be interested in such a masculine thing. Wouldn’t you ? »
- « Of course not, Sir » she said with a disarming smile.
- « See ! I don’t fear anybody ! I am the most powerful wizard in the country ! My father was stupid enough to let this wand unprotected from me. Ah ah ah ! But I won’t repeat his errors. The one who will take it from me does not exist ! No one can resist me ! Ah ah ah !"
She was looking at him in disbelief. This man was so full of himself, he really deserved a lesson he would not forget soon. She had an idea. After all, she wasn’t Rowena Ravenclaw’s favourite student for nothing…
- « You told me about things your father did. I’m sure he could not do anything without your help. I have heard a lot about your brightness. »
- « I can’t refuse anything to you », he said, thrusting out his chest with pride. « Petrus, give me another butterbeer ! » He threw at the inkeeper a galleon from a bag full of wizard money.
Heveward talked a lot.
Heveward drank a lot. The lady was bored. He had said nothing really intersting, and as drunk as he was, he was still clucthing his wand.
- « …and he was able to change coal into diamond ! » he finally said before falling asleep.
She opened her eyes widely. So this was the secret of his sudden fortune. And the wand was really THE Elder wand. She was sure that he wasn’t telling a lie, he was almost asleep. Sleepy word is often true. And only the Elder wand could do something as amazing as changing coal into diamond.
She grabbed her wand and whispered an incantation. Heveward’s body relaxed, and so did his hand. She took his wand as it rolled on the table. Now she had to do what this pretentious man truly deserved.
She flicked her new wand while she murmured the spell. The wand shot blue and green sparks which surrounded the sleepy Heveward until he couldn’t be seen. Then a big flash of light, and nothing.
She looked down at the chair with a satisfied smile. She really was good at transfiguration (as a transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts, she had to), and with the Elder wand’s help, the result was perfect.
She gave a last look at the sleeping peacock on the chair and left the room.



Last edited by Harry Potter; March 16th, 2010 at 1:04 pm.
  #9  
Old March 16th, 2010, 12:21 pm
Professor Dumbledore
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 8


A West Country Tale

The rain seemed relentless. It should be spring, March in England’s West Country, but winter still held us in its grip. Light was fading fast and the car’s windscreen wipers beat out their monotonous rhythm. Our search for a bed-and-breakfast pub was becoming more urgent. At last piercing the gloom, bright lights, a welcoming pretty hillside Inn – The Deverill Pony – and our search was over.

“Why do I know that name?”
“Sorry?”
“Deverill.”
“No idea, but we certainly haven’t been here before.”

The warmth of the cosy main room in the pub hit us as, dripping, we were greeted by the landlord and his wife, fussing and welcoming, taking wet clothes and ushering us towards the fire. A pleasant bedroom, a promise of breakfast and a hearty evening meal with friendly and amusing company. Our luck was in.

But the name …
Why did I know the name Deverill?
“Probably comes from a local landowner, or one of the books you’ve always got your nose in, Potter or some such,” my husband commented.

Of course … Barnabas Deverill; one owner of the Elder Wand.

My curiosity aroused, I questioned the landlord as to how the pub got its name. “I’m fairly new here,” he said, “you’d better talk to William,” nodding to an old man sitting in a quiet corner, “he knows all the old stories.”

William needed no prompting. A pint at his elbow, he launched into a series of rambling stories of the village and its history. Guided by my questions about the pub he smiled and said: “Well this story has been handed down from generation to generation. The pub is only a couple of hundred years old. Before then, a small farmhouse stood here, owned by Robert Trencrom. He was a sheep farmer – about the only thing that thrives up here, sheep. And the moorland ponies,” he added as an afterthought.

This is William’s story.

* * *

Robert Trencrom was alerted one evening by his sheepdog’s persistent barking. A dreadful night – wild, stormy – not a night to travel – but on his doorstep he found a wet, bedraggled half-frozen man, his horse stamping restlessly in the puddles.

Robert welcomed the stranger, brought him in to sit by the fire, took off his wet cloak and went back outside to take care of the horse, whilst his wife busied herself making him a hot meal.

A small child, a girl, sat quietly in the corner, staring at the traveller, her face smudged with tears, a small wooden animal clutched in her hands. The silent man smiled at the girl and held out his hand. She showed him her treasure, a little wooden pony, carved by her father, broken beyond repair, the head severed from the body. Fresh tears splashed onto her lap.

In the flickering light of the fire, the stranger produced a small, pale stick from his shirt, touched the wooden carving, and muttered a few quiet words.

Her parents rejoined them, the stranger was given a simple meal, shown to a room and made as comfortable as possible; the child, sitting quietly by the fire, way past her bedtime, smiled, her tears forgotten.

In the morning Robert helped saddle the traveller’s horse. “I don’t even know your name,” he said. “My name is Barnabas Deverill,” the stranger replied, “thank you for your kindness.”

* * *

William sighed, his story almost finished.

“Of course, no-one believed the little girl’s story of how the stranger mended her broken toy. But later,” he smiled, “later they had to believe. Later when they found the bag of coins. More gold than they had ever seen, more riches than they could comprehend.

“They used them well, though, Robert and his wife, and their daughter and eventually her sons, planning and extending the old farmhouse, building this Inn. A fitting use of money given to them by a stranger who they welcomed in to their home on a dark night.”

William’s story was over, and I was satisfied. Happy that the Elder Wand had been used, sometimes, for good, in its long and violent history. There must be many more stories hidden in the past.

Happy, too that Robert had remembered the name Deverill, and forgotten the traveller’s first name.

Barnabas’s Pony just doesn’t have the same ring to it.



Last edited by Harry Potter; March 16th, 2010 at 1:04 pm.
  #10  
Old March 16th, 2010, 12:23 pm
Harry Potter
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 9


Sudden Ending,
The Death of Barnabas Deverill

The Grey haired man walked slowly through the door of the Wizards Tavern. He paused to survey the room, then took a table against the wall across from the bar. He took off his traveling cloak and sat down.
Old Rupert Thomas the Tavern owner tried again to get the attention of young Betty his Barmaid ,She was as usual talking to a couple of the local time wasters John Brown and Eric Davies , finally Betty saw him and went back to work. She approached the Strangers table and spoke to him "Evening Sir what can I get for you tonight?" He glanced at her soft curves and full bosom longingly then thought better of it and replied "I'll have two mugs of your house ale and a half dozen pickled eggs ".

John sat and watched Betty talking to the newcomer, he noticed him checking out Betty's curvy body and nudged his pal Eric and said in a loud voice "You see Eric even the stranger likes Betty's curves!" Eric answered him "I didn't say she didn't look good, I said she was getting fat."John turned to the stranger and said "I'm John Brown sir, and I'd like you to tell my friend here that he's wrong!" "My name is Barnabas Deverill and I'm not interested in your quarrel “the stranger replied.
"I'm sorry sir no offence meant "said John "None taken, John" Barnabas answered.

Meanwhile Betty approached the bar "Hey Rupert pore me two mugs of ale and set up a plate with half a dozen pickled eggs," She said bumping into a swarthy man at the bar. She knew him, he had shown up two days before and was not a big tipper. He had told her that his name was Loxias but little more. "Sorry Sir" she mumbled he just grunted and stared over at Barnabas.
Eric grabbed John's arm and spoke quietly to him, “John for the love of god don't talk with him! I've heard of him and he's a Dark Wizard!" John stared at Eric "are you sure?" he asked.”Yes I'm sure, its said that he has the legendary 'Death Stick' wand”, Eric answered. "Wow, I’d sure like to see it!" John said enviously "He's a killer you stay away from him or you're Dead!” Eric warned.

Betty approached Barnabas's table "Here you go sir can I get you anything else?" Betty inquired. "Yes you can get these two a mug each" Barnabas replied pointing at John and Eric. Betty smiled and went off to fill the order. "Why thank you sir" John said "Yes, Thank you” Eric added.

Barnabas took a long pull from his mug then picked up some salt to dust his pickled eggs, he bit into the first then washed it down with a swig of ale. AHHH that's good he thought then got down to eating the rest. Betty brought John and Eric their fresh mugs .Then she looked at Barnabas quizzically wondering if she should ask him if he needed a refill, as if he had read her mind he tapped his mug and nodded for more."Can I get you another mug Sir?" Betty asked .Barnabas nodded and held up two fingers indicating he wanted two more. After filling his order things got busy in the tavern as the locals were coming in for their nightly drinks.

Loxais moved to the rear of the tavern next to the rear exit to the tavern's privy. There he settled down to wait for his chance.

Having finished his eggs and forth mug of Ale, Barnabas asked John where the privy was. Getting the directions he proceeded to go outside to take care of things.

Loxais sat quietly as Barnabas staggered past him. Finally my chance he thought, he waited the count of ten, then drawing his wand he slipped out the door. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark. He knew the lay of the yard having scouted it earlier Loxais moved to his chosen ambush spot and waited.

Finishing up Barnabas thought that this privy was the smelliest he had ever been in, he then stepped out to return to the tavern. Barnabas caught a movement to his right turning towards it he had no chance to defend himself as a green light lit the night and he fell dead.

"I've Done It!" Loxais gloated "Its Mine, All Mine, The Death Stick is Mine!” He picked up Barnabas's wand and sprinted away from the Tavern. Loxais ran two hundred paces north to a small wood, stopping and looking around for pursuit, seeing none Loxais tested his new wand by splitting a boulder in two, it smashed into gravel. Smiling Loxais turned on the spot and vanished into the night.



Last edited by Harry Potter; March 16th, 2010 at 1:04 pm.
  #11  
Old March 16th, 2010, 12:28 pm
Professor Dumbledore
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 10

When he attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, not one Professor would have expected Barnabus Deverill to turn to the Dark Arts. I had known, though. Deverill had been reading in the corner of the library that I usually frequented when my fate changed forever.

“Wand of elder, never prosper,” I had stated when I saw what Deverill was reading about. The book that Deverill was intently fixed on was titled ‘The Power and History of the Elthorn Wand’.

“Not this wand,” he replied, “I would very much like to have it.”

I had thought nothing more of this conversation until later that day when I had come across the book Deverill was reading, at the table where it was read in the morning. A short skim through the chapters, glancing at the malevolence within it, made me understand why Deverill was interested in it. Furthermore, the author of this book confirmed my theory. ‘Hereward Godelot’. I was sure that a Godelot had written ‘Magick Most Evile’, which had been banned from the library only two years prior.

*

When news had broken that the fearsome warlock, Barnabus Deverill, had murdered his Muggle-born neighbour, I was only slightly interested. But when multiple reports were flooding the paper and rumours began that he had obtained an unbeatable wand, I understood the full meaning of that short conversation we had had, years prior.

The next day, I sent an owl to various bookstores, to obtain a copy of ‘The Power and History of the Elthorn Wand’. I knew that the only way that Deverill could be defeated would be written in this book. Once I had finished reading, I was still intent on defeating Deverill, but I was also intent of securing the Elthorn Wand as my own. The Elthorn Wand, the book had explained, was a unique wand with extraordinary power. I had always been weak – my mum had always told me so - and I was weak enough to fulfil my wishes by murder.

*

Barnabus Deverill was not hard to find. The daily reports of his vicious murders left a clear trail. I had been following Deverill on the night that our fates again entwined. It was easy. I had crept behind him just as he raised his wand at a helpless Muggle family.

“Avada Kedavra.”

Deverill’s eyes widened even further than those of the Muggles. He dropped dead to the ground, and I took the wand. The Muggles crouched, speechless, in front of me.

I was never sure what made me do it. Was I intending to uphold the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy? No, was the answer I concluded years later – I would have Oliviated them instead. Perhaps it was the power I felt within my palm. With more flashes of green light, all three Muggles fell to the ground aside Deverill. The wand was rechristened The Deathsitck.

*

It was not long until I had acquired the power and fear that Deverill once held. And due to this, there were only a few people that I associated with then. My mother, of course, was one, and I had also made a few so-called friends who also shared my new beliefs concerning the wizarding world. In a gust of carelessness I decided to tell them the secret of my success, of how my Deathstick would rid the world of those not worthy of it.

One night, I had decided to murder the Muggle-born that had terrorised me so much at Beauxbatons. It was easy. I had crept behind him as be made his way down a narrow alleyway.

“Avada Kedavra”

But the words hadn’t left my mouth. A flash of green light. I fell to the ground and knew no more.

*

If my spirit had stayed upon earth, I would have heard, next morning, the confession my mother made. I hadn’t noticed it during the last years of my life, but she had slowly detested me. Yet somehow (she must had been eavesdropping) she had known of the Deathstick, and she told the locals how she had stopped the terror I had created by stealing the wand from me.

She wasn’t the only one that took responsibility for my death, though. Arbus and Loxias, the acquaintances I had recently made, were both also talking of how they had killed me. No one that has heard of the tales, still to this day, know what really happened.

I’m happy I wasn’t still bound to the earth when Loxias discreetly murdered Arbus. The wand was no longer known as the Deathstick. Loxias gave its original name: the Elder Wand.



Last edited by Hes; March 16th, 2010 at 2:27 pm.
  #12  
Old March 16th, 2010, 1:03 pm
Harry Potter
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 11


ODE: THE FIRE OF ROME

Once upon a time
two wizards lived in Rome,
Arcus and Livius by name
(at least people called them so).

They were the closest friends,
almost like two real brothers;
you never saw one of them
without seeing also the other.

They were rich and powerful,
and a pair of rascals, too.
Their pranks and binges were famous
all the city and the Empire through.

However, for their luck,
they lived in Nero’s time.
Who cares for a pair of ravers
when the Emperor is mad?

Always looking for the perfect joke,
one day their tricks ran out
and they sank into depression,
their lives turned upside-down.

It was not the lack of ideas
(they were always plenty of them).
But their powers had a limit
and they had reached the edge.

They lay desperate for weeks,
lost in the deepest bore,
till one night a servant told them
there was someone at the hall.

It was a beautiful woman,
dressed in the strangest way
(they were used to wear just tunics,
never heard of Elizabethan dress)

“Who are you and what do you want?”
asked Arcus quite amazed.
“You’re foreigner, I presume;
I’ve never seen so weird a taste”

“I come from far, indeed”
said the lady in perfect Latin;
“since the country I call my own
doesn’t yet even exist”

“How’s that possible?” said Livius,
thinking he had drunk too much.
“Never care”, the lady beamed,
“I don’t expect you to understand.

“In the land you call Britannia,
many years past your time,
Death will make, to catch a wizard,
a wand that’ll have no match.

“That wand is said to be
the most powerful on earth.
To obtain it, any wizard
would sell his soul to Hell.

“A few years ago,
its possessor, to avoid a thief,
hid the wand so cleverly
that he could not recover it.

“He sent it to a man,
an old ancestor of his.
After long search I’ve found
his name was Loxias the Greek”.

“Loxias the Greek?” they asked.
“Nero’s favourite magician?
We thought he was a trickster
that just amused the Caesar”.

“He has the wand” said the woman,
“and that’s why I am here tonight;
you can help me to retrieve it
and you can use it for a while”

“Explain farther, lady,
for we don’t understand yet.
Why asking help form others
instead of doing it yourself?”

“I can’t do it myself, wizard:
for you I don’t even yet exist.
I’m contacting you this moment
by means of spiritualism.

“But you two and Greek Loxias
live in the same moment;
you can get the wand yourselves,
enjoy it and hand it over.

“All I ask you is to remember
when you feel your lives decline
to hide the wand in Britannia
so I can find it in my time.

“Arcus, friend, do you hear it?
Our problems came to an end!
With that wand we can surpass
the best prankers ever heard.

Arcus agreed with Livius
and so they sealed the pact.
They would hide the wand in a place
called Aquae Silus or Bath.

The lady vanished swiftly
and they began to think
how they would take the wand
From Loxias, the bald Greek.

They invited him to a party
for they knew he much liked wine;
getting him drunk was quite easy,
a mere matter of little time.

Loxias resisted three bottles
but the fourth was just too much.
He fell down the table
Snoring a military march.

The friends opened his pouch;
The Elder wand was there.
“Victory!” they cried in joy;
“The prankers are back again!”

A messenger then came:
Loxias’s presence was required.
“We’ll go for him” they said euphoric;
“Caesar will cry with delight”

They were introduced in Palace
much to everyone’s surprise.
Nero didn’t care the change,
he had an idea in his mind.

“I want fireworks”, he said,
“to accompany my songs.
Tonight my art must shine
brighter than the purest gold”.

Trying not to laugh
(Nero sang really bad)
the wizards bowed courteously
and prepared to use the wand.

Then there was some kind of thunder
And Loxias appeared at the door.
“Throw him to the lions!” cried Nero,
“He’s interrupted my song!”

“Caesar, they are thieves!” cried Loxias;
“They have stolen my wand.
You know I’m the best magician,
I’ll make your fireworks at once.

Arcus and Livius protested
and then a fight started:
the three struggling for the wand
and conjuring fire enchantments.

Each was stronger than the one before
and soon the city was in flames.
Loxias fled from Nero’s anger,
Arcus and Livius escaped.

“Wow”, they said to each other
gazing at the sea of fire.
“With a wand like this, my friend,
we’re really going to have fun”


  #13  
Old March 16th, 2010, 1:06 pm
Professor Dumbledore
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 12


Arcus and Livius were brothers and Questers. They had been pursuing the Hallows for 13 years. They had tracked ownership of one particular Hallow, the Deathstick, to a man named Barnabas Deverill. Now all they had to do was find him. They already had a fool proof plan to gain possession of the wand. But they hit a snag.
“He’s dead.” The landlord of the village tavern told them when they asked about Deverill. “He was found stone cold in his house 3 days ago.”
“His wand was missing,” was the surprised response of Deverill’s widow when they asked. The brothers thanked her and went on their way.
“Now what?” Arcus asked his bother. Livius had no idea.
That night they camped by a stream. Livius lay down to sleep, and he began to dream. There was a voice, calling his name. “Livius. Livius. Livius. Livius.” When he awoke, he yelled at his brother for disturbing his rest by calling out his name. Arcus denied the accusations.
They discussed what to do about the wand. Arcus suggested that they pick a direction and walk in it. The wand couldn’t have gotten far. So they picked a direction by tossing a die, and set off, each knowing in his heart that they were likely going in the wrong direction.
That night, Livius’ dreams were again plagued by the voice. “Livius. Livius. Livius” it moaned. “To the east, Livius. To the east.” When Livius woke up that morning, he asked Arcus what he had meant by ‘To the east’. Again Arcus said that he had nothing to do with the voice. But he suggested that they should go to the east anyway. Any direction was as good as any. Livius agreed, and they changed direction and went to the east.
Again that night, he dreamed. “To the north and east, Livius. Come to me.”
For four days the brothers followed the voice in Livius’ dreams. It only gave directions now, having caught the brothers’ attention. And on the fifth night it spoke again. “Livius, you must save me! He means to bury me!” And Livius asked, for the first time in his nights of dreaming, “Who are you?” “I am the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick, the Elder Wand! Save me, claim me, Livius, and I shall serve you!” When Livius awoke that morning, he knew that they would find the wand that day, and he knew what he had to do.
They set off quietly in the direction that the wand had indicated. They stopped outside a small clearing. Arcus hid in the bushes, and Livius continued. There was a man in the clearing, digging a hole. It was five feet deep already.
“Hello good sir,” Livius called out. “What is your name?”
“Loxias,” the man told him, without ceasing his digging.
“Loxias,” Livius repeated. “I hear you possess the Elder Wand, Loxias.” Loxias stopped his digging, and stared at Livius in shock.
“Who told you that?” he gasped.
“Never you mind,” Livius told him, “that’s not important. What is important is that I want the wand.”
Loxias clambered out of his hole.
“No!” he yelled. “The wand is too dangerous! It must be buried, so that its evil will be contained for eternity!”
“Why don’t you let me deal with it instead?” Livius asked, and he gave Arcus a signal. An arrow flew through the air and struck Loxias between the eyes, killing him instantly. Arcus emerged from the bushes, holding a strung bow in his hand. He went to the body and searched it. He found the wand and held it up, gazing at it with adoring eyes.
“The Elder Wand, Livius! We own the Deathstick! We will be invincible!”
“No, Arcus. I will be invincible,” Livius told his brother as he stabbed him through the heart.
“Thank you for leading me to you,” he whispered to the wand as he removed it from his brother’s limp hands. “You won’t regret it.” And he left the clearing, not looking back.


  #14  
Old March 16th, 2010, 1:12 pm
Harry Potter
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 13


Wand of Destiny?


Gregorovitch took a deep breath and raised the stick of wood in both hands. His mind drifted to the day he’d taken ownership of this wand…

…After finishing his apprenticeship, Gregorovitch had spent years journeying, learning from esteemed wandmakers. Yet, it was quite by chance he made this discovery. About to finish travelling, he’d Apparated to a quiet village for a few days. He’d spotted the tavern-keeper for a wizard immediately, and made himself known by asking for a Firewhisky. The tavern-keeper, Jan, seemed interested to encounter a travelling wizard and they struck up a conversation, trading stories. Gregorovitch avoided mentioning his trade – more than once, it had led to people seeking free advice, when all he wanted was a quiet drink.

Jan was telling him of an eccentric local wizard, an unpredictable man. He strongly advised locals not to cross him – warning Muggles he had guns, and wizards that he had a wand of great power -unstoppable, in fact. Gregorovitch’s surprise must have shown on his face, for Jan chuckled. “That’s the reaction he usually gets.” Naturally, local youths –Muggle and wizard alike, took this as a challenge and baited him –always to their regret. Gregorovitch’s mind was racing – a wand of great power? Unstoppable? Surely not the - ? Could some curmudgeon in a mountainside village really have the holy grail of wandmaking? It must be a tall tale. He pulled his mind back to the conversation, asking, “He hexes them? Even the Muggles? What about the Ministry?” Jan snorted. “The Ministry? He says he knows ways of preventing those fools from detecting anything.” Gregorovitch nodded, “And what do you think? Do you believe him?”

Jan smiled. “Some say he’s only trying to look important – people said he’d amount to nothing after he quit Durmstrang a year early. He went off, got involved in brawls and kept bad company – even Loxias, they say.” Gregorovitch gasped – according to many wandmakers, the notorious Loxias was the last to publicly claim ownership of the Elder Wand. “Or maybe they’re wrong, maybe he really did lay hands on the unbeatable wand.” Gregorovitch forced a laugh. Later, as he tried to sleep, he wondered about the Elder Wand and he was plagued by the idea that some thought was at the back of his mind, waiting for him to think it.

The following day, a distracted Gregorovitch visited the hidden apothecary. He paid for his goods and made small talk with the witch at the counter. “I noticed you’ve met Jan”, she said. Gregorovitch confirmed that he had. She laughed, “So you’ve heard his tales then?”

Gregorovitch forced himself to smile. “I’ve heard a few stories.” She shook her head fondly. “At least after those dreadful intruders, he’s stopped saying he has an unbeatable wand. Nonsense, of course, but you can imagine how it would appeal to criminals. Some say he does it because he misses his wild younger days.” Gregorovitch nodded, but his mind was racing – Jan had the unbeatable wand? He’d seen adventure? Now, the thought that had been eluding him leapt forward – Jan had mentioned the unbeatable wand, not an unbeatable wand. Just semantics, or…something else?

Gregorovitch spent another sleepless night, this time pacing around his rented room. What couldn’t he achieve with the Elder Wand? Learn the deepest secrets of wandmaking, become the greatest wandmaker alive, if he had this wand, the legendary Wand of Destiny? Could he take it? Of course, it couldn’t be entirely unbeatable - it had changed hands too many times for that – but wands didn’t act on their own. Maybe one had to catch the owner of the wand unawares? Could he steal the wand? He wasn’t a thief –he wasn’t -but this wand…he could leave Jan with a replacement, couldn’t he? How to take it, though?

By morning, Gregorovitch had reached a decision. He slipped into the tavern quietly, as soon as the overnight alarm spells were removed.

Not ten minutes later, he re-emerged, the wand hidden in his cloak. Jan lay Stunned on the floor inside, a look of utter surprise frozen on his face. Gregorovitch felt a stab of guilt, and a rush of excitement. He didn’t allow himself to look back as he Apparated away…

…Now, after three weeks, he couldn’t keep putting this off – either it was or was not the Elder Wand. He had only now worked up the nerve to examine it thoroughly. If it wasn’t – no, he wouldn’t allow himself to think that. A glance had long since told him that it was, indeed, made of elder – unusual, even extremely rare, but that didn’t confirm that this was the renowned Elder Wand. Gregorovitch closed his eyes to let his training and his other senses take over, to examine the magic of this wand…


  #15  
Old March 16th, 2010, 1:16 pm
Professor Dumbledore
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 14


O happy advantages night! Mark how happy the moon doth shine. Those of magick birth must soon rejoice with tidings which the morrow shall bring. I write with keenness of the fall of a wizard moste cruel and evil, a wizard who has filled all magick kind with fear this last one-and twenty years. A moste evil wizard, mine own wretched father.

I willest record here a most faithful account of the ordeal which hath past not two hours hence. Presently mine father layest dead or dying sealed within his own cellar. And who hath been his judge, his vanquisher and his jailer? None but thine faithful narrator, the youngest most misjudged of six sons.

I feel gratification that it hath been I, whom first witnessed the beast mine father hath become. Whilst I was but seven years I began to witness change in mine formerly placid and studious father. He hath so abruptly become unsound and quick to temper, believing he hath come upon the deepest mysteries of magick. A man possessed he delved deeper and deeper into darkest realms of magick and with none who wouldest halt him in this foul undertaking, he became a wild and moste violent wizard.

I alone was able to source the reasoning of his rapid change, for it was I, whom hath abruptly inherited his old wand. He hath roughly shaken me alert one night and trust into mine hand, his own wand of oak and dragon heartstring. I layest inert with terror under the gaze of a man so altered. Mine father stared at me with wild eyes and cackled “Mine youngest and slightest son, takest thee this wand, as it is suited to a master of its limited talents”. O yes it was his new wand, made of a fine elder, which hath altered my father so. I do not knowest where mine father hath acquired such a wand, but I do knowest that he went to great pains to retrieve it.

Throughout the years of mine youth, mine father became a shameful sight. He hath become a moste feared villain in the eyes of the just and chaste. He took to recording his wicked findings and was shortly thereafter requested to publish and make obtainable his vile documents. Mine father was celebrated by wicked followers, yet mine family lived in fear. He was moste cruel to mine self. As the youngest of five brothers I was the simplest prey for his new found conceit and terrible temper.

He needed to be halted from further spreading of his immorality and corruption of those easily influenced. Who better than mine self, his moste tormented and righteous foe? The burden hath been trust upon me due to the inattention of slothful brothers and now with my triumph, I alone shall be hailed a hero! My great achievement wilt surpass even mine father’s lesser celebrity among his indecent followers. Yes history willest prove me to be righteous. I hath liberated my lineage from the blemish which was mine fathers life.
O! How all my predecessors will rejoice and hail the name of Hereward Godelot!

Yet I ownest the wand of fine elder. I hath liberated it from mine fathers frail hand, and hath claimed it as mine own whilest he lay dwindling on the cellar floor. With disgust I closeth the heavy door of dark oak on his corpus. How proper that the first act of mine new wand is to seal its abuser and condemn him to a moste deserved death.

Mine father is but the first, whom must give payment for evil conduct. There art others, many witches and wizards who hath helped and guided him on his depraved path. They too wilt knowest justice!

What of those who hath stood by and allowest such malevolence to reign? Why shouldst they be unpunished? Shouldst mine own mother be spared for not standing against such an evil? Shouldst mine brothers? Mine own Lady Wife? I thinkest not!
They shouldst joined with me, heeded mine counsel and witnessed the great ability that was mine. But like mine father, they hath dismissed me and mocked me.
Mark me never wilt they do so again, because with this wand, mine destiny, I hath the power to vanquish all.

Hereward Godelot, August 18, 1396


Gellert,
I applaud your findings, this does indeed confirm Hereward took his fathers wand.
Our next step is to find out what happened to him.
Albus


  #16  
Old March 16th, 2010, 1:21 pm
Harry Potter
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 15


The sun was slowly rising, turning the sky pale pink and illuminating the dusty room through the grime covered windows. Gellert Grindelwald coughed as he opened an old wardrobe, unsettling a layer of dust, and hastily threw an armful of robes into the battered trunk that stood open at the foot of his bed. The sunlight reflected off a small silver object that had been discarded at the bottom of the wardrobe. Gellert stooped down to see what it was.

A photo frame lay on the dirty floor of the wardrobe. It showed two boys, both in their late teens, laughing with their arms around each other. The man on the left had elbow-length auburn hair and a tiny wispy beard. Gellert pushed his golden curls out of his eyes as he looked down at this mans piercing blue eyes. Suddenly, he violently threw the frame back onto the floor and, with a loud crack, the glass smashed.

Gellert stood for a minute, looking as if he had forgotten what he had been doing, but a loud knock on the door pulled him from his reverie and he moved to answer it.

A man in his early twenties with cropped brown hair and grey eyes was standing on the other side of the door. He began to walk into the room, but, surprised, he stopped.

“Going somewhere?” He asked, staring round at the half empty room and his eyes landed on the overflowing trunk.

“None of your business,” Gellert answered, rushing round the room looking for any possessions that he might have forgotten. “Why are you here, Otto?”

“I just wanted to talk to you, you haven’t been the same since- what’s that?” Otto had spotted a thin strip of wood lying on a table by the window.

“A wand, stupid,” muttered Gellert, as he picked it up and put it in his pocket. Turning round, he saw that Otto had turned pale and drawn his wand. “Put your wand away, the door’s still open. Or do you want be discovered by the muggle neighbours?”

Otto kicked the door behind him to a close and kept his wand raised. His eyes were focused on the pocket in which Gellert had dropped his wand.

“You stole it, didn’t you? That’s where you’re going – you’re getting out of town as quick as you can, aren’t you? Why’d you have to go and steal a wand? You’ve got a perfectly good one of your own! You’re going to bring the Ministry down on us one of these days, just because you can’t stick to the law! You’re not in school any more - the punishment’s going to be a lot worse than being expelled! But no, you don’t even - ”

Otto was interrupted by Gellert’s booming laughter.

“This isn’t just any wand. It’s the most powerful wand there is – that’s why I had to go and steal it,” Gellert mocked. “Why do you think I’m getting out of here, Otto? I know you can’t handle taking risks – I’m saving your neck!” He pulled the wand out of his pocket and pointed it at Otto. “Now get out of my way.”

Otto did not move. Gellert had not thought that it was possible for Otto to go any paler, but he had. As they stared at each other, a look of realisation dawned on Otto’s face.

“I w-won’t let you do it. I know y-y-you, you’re going t-to try to take over, a-a-aren’t you?” Otto stammered, and a jet of light shot from his wand towards Gellert. Gellert ducked and the spell missed, hitting the stone wall behind him and blasting a part of it off. Gellert roared and, without hesitating, shot a jet of green light towards Otto.

The curse hit Otto in the chest and he fell backwards, shock clearly etched in every line on his face. Gellert stood up, brushed dust off his robes and stared into the face of his oldest friend, now lying dead on the floor. He deserved it, Gellert thought viciously, the interfering little toerag.

Gellert turned his back on Otto and pointed the elder wand at his trunk. The contents rearranged themselves so that the overflowing robes fit in comfortably and the lid closed with a snap. He reached for the handle and dragged it to the door.
With one last look at Otto, lying dead on the floor, and the smashed photo frame, with the photograph of the two laughing boys, Gellert reached for the doorknob and exited into the cold January morning.

For the Greater Good, he thought savagely.


  #17  
Old March 16th, 2010, 1:25 pm
Professor Dumbledore
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 16


The Start

The young handsome man quickened his pace as he walked towards a lone structure in the desolate landscape. He grinned slightly as he pulled out a wand from his robes and stared it. He waved it muttering something inaudible. His smile widened as he felt a sudden surge of power and his robes whipped around in almost an anticipation of something.
The previously desolate looking structure suddenly seemed sturdier and a golden door appeared on one side of it. As the man stepped through it he waved his wand one more time and a golden dome surrounded him vibrating slightly as he passed through the protection he had placed at the entrance himself. The inside of the structure did not reflect the outside though. It was a large cavernous room whose sides were cast into darkness and invisible to the naked eye. The sole occupant was standing over a large cauldron in the centre the fire underneath which was giving him a gnarled mean look. The rooms only lighting appeared to the fire and a soft glow on the cauldrons right.
The man looked at the entrance as the first wizard shut it. “Ah Gellert. I take it you were successful.”
Gellert smiled as he twirled the wand evidently showing it of. “They are going to remember and fear the name Gellert Grindelwald.”
“Then you are now ready?”
The question didn’t seem to need an answer yet Gellert laughed before replying, “You know it’s the wand that I was waiting for. They will never know that the moment I took over world was when I got the Elder Wand.” He laughed once more.
“Is Hitler ready?”
“He will be once I visit him tonight. Is the potion ready Eric?” Grindelwald asked
“Almost I needed you to add the final spell on the flesh of an elf. I had told you we would need the Deathstick to do that.” Eric replied.
“Of course.” He prodded the flesh Eric held out with his wand. The flesh suddenly glowed a brilliant blue before settling to a distinct purple colour. “And you are sure you can be able to recreate the other two Hallows?”
“I told you I just needed one of the Hallows to recreate the others. The Deathstick was of course the most logical choice since it is traceable.”
“Your potion is just a secondary gain from my original plan of using it to take over the world. For the Greater Good of course.” But as he said those words they were echoed in his mind but by another voice. He looked at his new wand once more before remembering the long discussions he had had with a young bright man back in Britain. They had both thought of acquiring the Hallows. If only the silly boy and girl had not interrupted them. They would have both taken over by now. Gellert had taken all that time to look for the wand because he had feared Albus Dumbledore. But now that he had the Elder Wand, the Deathstick or whatever they called it nowadays he could face the British Wizard and beat him.
He shook his head to get himself out of the reverie as his attention turned back to the wizened old man he called Eric before him. He saw an expression on the face he had thought made of stone before. It was gleeful. He immediately went to his cauldron as Gellert decided to leave. He just managed to step outside when an almighty explosion shook the ground before the structure collapsed on itself.


  #18  
Old March 16th, 2010, 1:28 pm
Harry Potter
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 17


The Wand


It was with infinite sadness and a depth of emotion few could comprehend that he approached his best friend, one of the people he most loved, lying on the ground, a tiny trickle of blood seeping from his nose and lips, broken, bloodied and tossed aside like dirt.
His knees gave way under him, and like a cloak, he crumpled to the earth soundlessly, tears falling with effortless grace from his blue eyes as he looked at what he had achieved this day.

He whispered the words he needed to use, but he was sure it had not been loud enough. His heart was breaking in two and his soul was screaming. He could not ask again. But he did not have to.

As the wind pressed lightly across the world, Gellert opened his mouth and rasped a few words, answering the barely spoken question that Albus had choked out.

Why, Gellert?

For the greater good.

When he stood up, in his hand was the wand he had hunted for so long. The wand he had searched for, learned for, worked for, lived for; and for the want of it, he had lost everything.

His sister was dead. No matter who had cast the spell, he would always blame the wand. His brother detested him. No matter the clash of personalities, he would always blame the wand. His beloved had become corrupted by violence and hate. No matter the evils that had penetrated Gellert to his core, Albus would always blame the wand.

The wand, and its bearer.

He alone was to blame for what had come to pass.

He turned to face the crowd of onlookers who had seen sparks fly; they alone would bear witness to what had occurred here, and he had no wish to change that. He did not comprehend that it would become a day of legend.

The applause began fervently, eventually rising to an outburst of delight and roaring, thrilled yells of exultation.

They think we have won.

Tears streamed down his face.

They do not understand.

In 1945, in a field in middle Europe, as the end of battles raged nearby, Albus Dumbledore defeated his best friend and took what he had always wanted deep down to his core.

For the greater good?

Disgusted with himself, the applause, the cheers and whoops, the magical fireworks and happy shouting, and the bloodlust that coursed through the people in the crowd, he looked skywards and raised that fateful wand. He pointed it with majesty at the blue skies- and the world exploded with light and darkness all at once. Lightning rained down onto the field of spectators, and rain pummelled immediately from the heavens. Fog came down quickly, and the skies blackened at midday.

Albus took a deep breath and contemplated the wand. The field was silent now, the crowd silent in light of the strange change in conditions. They would always say that Grindelwald had reached out and touched the world from where he lay.

I know better.

He felt the Elder Wand, throbbing with power, and anger, and hate in his hand. It felt callused and dirty and ugly, a cruel presentation of guilt and fear unto the world.

He turned once more and looked at the crumpled heap of Gellert Grindelwald, lying on the parched earth. He knew he could not be heard with the storm he had created, so he roared freely, anger pulsing through him, tears of rage leaking from his eyes, his soul burning with incandescent fury.

“On my soul I swear this,” he roared, “When the day comes for me to meet my maker, I will accept that. I do not wish to conquer death; I will face it for us both, with honour and courage. I will never take power as you did; I will serve others to seek atonement for what we have done- as you did not!”

He calmed enough to face a huge truth.

“I cannot kill you. I love you too much for that," he said hoarsely. "It seems that you have indeed conquered death, but what we have lost for that is too much,” he said with a grimace.

“I swear it, this will never happen again.”

And in his head, he added a long spoken phrase he had come to know as a weary mantra- meaningless, he once thought. But no more; now it would rule him.
He would make sure of it.

Wand of Elder, never prosper.

He would make sure of it.

He turned once more and waved the wand. The skies cleared, the sun shone, the light breeze came again.

Wand of Elder, never prosper.

He would make sure of it.


  #19  
Old March 16th, 2010, 1:32 pm
Professor Dumbledore
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 18

Albus Dumbledore sat in an upstairs chamber of the Hogs Head pub, staring pensively at the fireplace before him. From the common room below, he could hear muffled laughter and singing. Albus, however, did not stir from his moody reverie, even when Aberforth came into the room. The younger Dumbledore placed two glasses on the small table next to Albus’ chair, then poured a generous amount of firewhiskey into each glass.

“Take it,” Aberforth grunted when Albus didn‘t reach for the offered glass. “You look like you could use it.” When Albus still didn’t respond, Aberforth placed the glass on the table. He took the seat across the table, gave his brother a wry look, and raised his firewhiskey. “To Albus Dumbledore,” Aberforth intoned dryly. “World savior and conqueror of dark wizards.”

Albus flinched as if struck. “Please don’t.” he said quietly. “I came here to get away from all that.”

Aberforth snorted. “Well, don’t worry. I have no intention of fawning over you.”

“I appreciate that.”

The brothers sat silently for several minutes, Aberforth sipping his drink while Albus rolled a wand in his fingers. Finally, Aberforth spoke again. “That’s his wand, isn’t it.” It was a statement, not a question.

Albus hesitated before answering. “This is the wand that he was using, but it’s much older than him. I’ve been studying it for some time, and I finally recognize it. It’s the Elder Wand.”

“The Elder Wand?” Abeforth exclaimed. “You don’t mean that old fairy tale, do you? Great Merlin, Albus, I thought you gave that idiocy up when Ari--” he broke off suddenly, and both brothers looked away from each other in awkward silence.

After several minutes, Albus spoke again. “I did give up the idea of Questing for the Deathly Hallows, Aberforth, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Clearly Gellert didn’t give up that quest, though, and somehow he managed to find this.”

Aberforth contemplated the wand for some time before speaking again. “The Elder Wand…that would be something. You really think this is it?” Seeing Albus’ nod, Aberforth sat back with a low whistle. “Well, if that is the Elder Wand, then that makes what you did today even more impressive. You beat the unbeatable wand.”

“No,” Albus shook his head slowly. “I didn’t duel the wand. I dueled the wizard.”

Aberforth glanced sideways at his brother. “Wand or wizard, it’s still quite a feat.” He paused, then looked directly at Albus’ face. “I know what it cost you to face him, Albus.”

Without replying, Albus closed his eyes and bowed his head. His shoulders began to shake violently with silent sobs. Dropping the wand from his grip, he buried his face in his hands. Aberforth watched his brother with sympathy in his eyes. He sighed, stood up slowly and walked to Albus’ side. Reaching down, he patted Albus’ shaking shoulder.

“Have some of that drink,” Aberforth said roughly. He left the room, muttering, “After all these years…”

Several minutes passed before Albus raised a teary face from his hands. He sighed deeply and bent to retrieve the fallen wand from the floor. Pointing it at the fireplace, he whispered, “Careo imago.”

Within the fireplace, swirling flames burst from the glowing embers. The heated air shimmered, then seemed to coalesce to form the image of a young girl’s form and face. In the fiery glow, the image of Ariana Dumbledore seemed to emerge into the chamber.

Unbeknownst to Aberforth, Albus had conjured this image every day since Ariana died. He inevitably felt remorse when he looked at his sister, but the guilt and pain were increased markedly on this night. A small analytical part of Albus’ brain puzzled over the stronger effect the image had this night until he realized that the image conjured by the elder wand was far more multidimensional and real than any image he had produced before. Ariana appeared before him more substantially than any time since her death.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed to his phantom sister, “so very sorry.” Ariana’s image seemed to smile lovingly at him, but the expression only increased his misery. Then, inspiration struck him. “Yes! This wand is powerful. I’ll use it to go back in time, to undo what happened to you. Yes, I can see how I could-” He broke off his musing as Ariana frowned at him, shaking her head. Albus stared at her for a moment, then seemed to deflate. “No, you’re right. It shouldn’t be done, even if I could.” Ariana nodded, smiling again. “But I swear to you, Ariana, that this wand will not kill again so long as I hold it.” Ariana’s smile deepened, and Albus knew that he would hold to that vow in her honor for as long as he lived.


  #20  
Old March 16th, 2010, 1:38 pm
Harry Potter
Guest
 
Posts: n/a
Re: The 1st Task: The Elder Wand - Entries

Entry 19


The School Song

The stars shone down from the enchanted ceiling as those in the Great Hall enjoyed their copious portions. Gryffindor had got another Weasley, Slytherin a new Malfoy.

At the High Table, in the center, Albus Dumbledore listened politely to his Deputy Headmistress complain about the Fat Lady's drunken episodes during last end-of-term. Soon, he was stealing a sidelong glance at his protégé, who was then breaking eye contact with... the Potter boy?

Privately, Albus had thought Harry might go directly into his parents' House, yet the Sorting Hat had lingered over its decision. He chuckled softly, recalling Severus' audible sigh when the hat finally shouted out "GRYFFINDOR!" At least he needn't also be the boy's Head of House. But what of the hat's hesitancy? Was it somehow related to the scar?

A few minutes later, supper was over, and there was only one thing left. Dispatch with the announcements and lead the school in song.

***

The rumble in the Hall died down from his more ominous warnings as Albus instructed the students to sing whatever melody suited them best. Then, drawing out his Wand, he gave it a tiny flick, and out came the ribboned words:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts..."

Albus looked out over the room with an expression of benevolent amusement, as the cacophony of melodies transformed, for his ears only, into majestic harmony. Then, with another flick of the Wand, the song metamorphosed into a polyphonic chorale. Yes, there were certain advantages to mastering the Elder Wand.

The Elder Wand! If only Gellert could see it - really see his "Deathstick" - conduct a room of schoolchildren in song! The incongruous image alone was sufficient for Albus to continue the practice, no matter how disapproving the fixed stares of Minerva and Severus. Using the Wand for such mundane, even eccentric, pursuits helped diminish its power, especially over him, and render the dormant cancer benign.

And it had been a cancer, the consuming desire for power and Hallows, that had gripped him during Gellert's summer in Godric's Hollow. His friend's rise, his pursuit of the Wand, his murderous reign - all of it had started there, with Albus at his side.

Voices from across the Hall sang out "Dead flies and bits of fluff" as Albus glanced again at his protégé, remembering that he had once blown the young man's phoenix wand out of his hand with the Wand he took from Gellert. Rough-hewn and brusque though Severus yet was, something new and powerful was beginning to form out of the old Death Eater's ashen despair. Albus' eyes teared with gratitude over his vow never to kill with the Elder Wand, unless it was the only way to save innocent lives. Severus, he knew, would protect the boy at whatever cost. He was certain of that. And it would help to mend his soul.

But what about his own soul? Could that ever heal after Gellert and Aberforth and... Ariana? Would he ever redeem his own shame?

Tears rolled down his cheeks in earnest as the Weasley twins sang, funereally, that learning would drive their brains to rot. Mastering himself, Albus waved the Wand vigorously, conducting their now-anthemic final strains. Then applauding just as vigorously, he wiped the tears from his eyes as he proclaimed:

"Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here."


 
Go Back  Chamber of Secrets > Forum Archives > Post DH References > The Quibbler > Quibbler Breaking News > News archives > The Quest for the Hallows

Bookmarks


Currently Active Users Viewing This Thread: 1 (0 members and 1 guests)
 
Thread Tools

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off


All times are GMT +1. The time now is 9:55 am.


Powered by: vBulletin, Copyright ©2000 - 2014, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.
Original content is Copyright © MMII - MMVIII, CoSForums.com. All Rights Reserved.
Other content (posts, images, etc) is Copyright © its respective owners.