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The Weak Fall First by elizabella
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The Weak Fall First

elizabella

A new evil

The furious tinkle of violently broken glass echoed through the empty rooms, muffled slightly by the considerable amount of dust that had built up through years of neglect.

She was angry. Very angry.

No, more than that. She was livid.

She stalked out of her study and strode into the main hall of the neglected mansion. Kicking the door closed behind her, staff in hand, she shouted at the nervous men in front of her "Bring me the wand-maker now!"

Two of the terrified men scurried to get the prisoner, while the others got out of her way. Fast.

One wasn't fast enough.

"Rictusempra!" she screamed, pointing her wand at him. The jet of silver light hit him square in the back and sent him smashing through the window.

She paused, listening to his screams as he continued to fall down the side of the rocky cliff, finally ceasing as he hit the ground sixty feet below.

Presently, the two men came back into the hall, dragging the wand-maker between them. They dumped him on a chair in the middle of the room and quickly exited.

Slowly, she approached him, her measured footsteps echoing on the tiled floor. She mastered her temper, took control of her anger.

She looked down at the broken man in front of her and smiled sweetly at him. "Now, Mr Ollivander, I'm sure you remember me, don't you? Eleven years isn't that long is it now?"

He nodded warily at her and managed to whisper "Twelve and a quarter inches…ebony…dragon heartstring…yes, I remember."

She clapped her hands together. "Oooh very good wand-maker! I'm almost impressed! Now, what would really impress me is if you told me how to use this." she waved the staff in front of his nose. "I know you know how, after all, your great-great-great-grandmother made it, didn't she Mr. Ollivander? So I presume you know how to work it hmm?"

He glanced at the staff in her hand before looking back up into her clear blue eyes. "I…I don't know…what it is…" he croaked.

"do not lie to me wand-maker!" she hissed, her face now only inches from his own. "This, as you are well aware, is the Staff of Amaror! Now, Amaror would have told her son how to use it wouldn't she? Who would have then told his son…and so on until we get to you Mr. Ollivander. Now, how does it work?"

He glanced at the staff again and chuckled hoarsely. "…so beautiful…rosewood, her favourite…" then he frowned, seeming to remember where he was "I'd never….no…not ever!…I wont say…I wont…"

She lost her patience and started to walk away.

Then she snapped.

Spinning round to face him, she brought the staff up through the air and it connected with the side of his face with a dull thud. He was knocked off the chair and lay sprawled on the ground.

"now, Mr. Ollivander, I'm not a very patient lady" at this he snorted and earned a kick in the ribs for his troubles. "I don't care how much that hurt" she continued softly "because it is insignificant compared to what I am going to do to you next. I may not be able to command the power of Amaror, I can't understand how to get the damn staff to work, yet, but I can still hit you with the bloody thing though, can't I?" she brought down into his stomach. "you will speak to me wand-maker, or you'll suffer! I'm very skilled at the art of torture you know." she added conversationally. He continued to say nothing so she squatted down next to him and whispered softly in his ear.

"Tell me, Mr. Ollivander, how are you going to continue making your precious wands if you don't have any fingers?"

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