Mystery of the Broken Wand Chapter - 4 (Patreon)

Crabbe and Goyle sat in a small, dimly lit office, their minds racing as they tried to piece together the complex puzzle before them. The case had taken so many twists and turns, and now they were stuck on one crucial question: how could they prove whether Victoria and James were wizards?"

If they’re pretending to be Muggles," Vincent began, tapping his fingers on the edge of his desk, "we won’t find their wands just lying around their house. And that broken wand we found—it could have belonged to anyone."

Gregory nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Exactly. Even if one of them is a wizard, they'd be smart enough to hide their tracks. Searching their homes won’t get us anywhere. No wands, no magical artifacts—nothing."

They both fell into a thoughtful silence, each trying to think of a way forward. After a few moments, Vincent spoke up again.

"What about Ollivander?" he suggested, his eyes lighting up with the idea. "He’s helped us before, and he’s the best when it comes to wands. If anyone can give us insight into whether Victoria or James could be wizards, it’s him."

Gregory nodded, seeing the merit in the idea. "Yeah, he’s seen every type of wand there is. He might be able to tell us more about that broken wand too, or even help us figure out if there’s a connection between them and the magical world."

The two Aurors agreed that their next step would be to visit Ollivander. They hoped his expertise would give them the answers they needed and perhaps even steer them toward the next lead in the case. With a renewed sense of purpose, they prepared to visit the legendary wandmaker, eager to see what insights he could provide.

Crabbe and Goyle made their way down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, their footsteps echoing in the relative quiet. It was a rare, serene moment in the bustling heart of the wizarding world, where the usual throngs of witches and wizards had thinned out, leaving the ancient street nearly deserted. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the old brick buildings.

As they approached Ollivanders, the venerable wand shop that had stood at the corner of Diagon Alley for centuries, they exchanged a brief glance. The shop was known for being eerily quiet, and today was no exception. The windows, filled with boxes upon boxes of wands, gave off a sense of timelessness, as if nothing had changed in this place for decades, maybe even centuries. The shop’s sign, worn with age, creaked gently in the breeze.

Crabbe reached out and pushed open the heavy wooden door, the bell above it jingling softly as they stepped inside. The shop was just as they remembered—dimly lit, with shelves crammed full of narrow, dusty boxes, each containing a unique wand. The air was thick with the smell of aged wood and old parchment. There were no customers, as expected. After all, Ollivander’s busiest season was always before the start of term at Hogwarts, when young witches and wizards needed new wands. Now, during the middle of the year, the shop was often empty.

“Hello, Mr. Ollivander?” Crabbe called out, his voice cutting through the quiet.

From the back of the shop, a thin, elderly man appeared, his silver hair glowing in the dim light. His pale, watery eyes twinkled as he recognized the two Aurors. “Ah, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle,” Ollivander greeted them warmly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Good to see you again, Mr. Ollivander,” Goyle said with a nod as they moved further into the shop. “We need your expertise on something.”

Ollivander gestured to a pair of worn leather chairs near the counter. “Please, sit down. Tell me what troubles you.”

Crabbe and Goyle settled into the chairs, feeling the familiar creak of the old leather beneath them. Goyle took the lead, as he often did when it came to detailed explanations. “We’re working on a case,” he began. “Blaise Zabini’s murder. The thing is, we’ve hit a bit of a wall. We’re trying to figure out if these two people—Victoria Williams and James Cook—are wizards or just Muggles.”

Ollivander’s eyebrows rose slightly at the mention of Blaise Zabini. “Ah, Zabini… a tragic end, no doubt. But Muggles, you say? Or perhaps not?”

“That’s the thing,” Crabbe chimed in. “We’re not sure. We’ve been thinking about how we can figure it out, but searching their homes would be pointless. If they’re wizards, they’d never leave their wands lying around, and if they’re pretending to be Muggles, they’re definitely not going to make it easy for us to find anything. We were hoping you might have some ideas.”

Ollivander leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in thought. “Yes, indeed. It can be quite difficult to discern a wizard from a Muggle when they are deliberately hiding their identity. There are, of course, ways to investigate such matters.”

The old wandmaker’s eyes gleamed with the kind of knowledge that came from decades of experience. “Muggle-borns, for instance, often disappear from the Muggle world when they turn eleven and begin their magical education. If you have the time and resources, you could dig into their backgrounds—look for signs of such a disappearance. If they transferred schools at the age of eleven, or if there’s a gap in their records, that could be a clue.”

Crabbe frowned slightly. “But that’s a time-consuming process. We’re already pressed for time, and we need something more concrete.”

Ollivander nodded slowly. “Indeed, such an investigation would be laborious. But I have something else in mind.” He rose from his chair with a surprising amount of grace for his age and moved to the back of the shop. Crabbe and Goyle watched as he disappeared behind a row of shelves, rummaging through what sounded like stacks of old boxes.

Moments later, Ollivander returned, carrying a small, intricately carved wooden box. He placed it gently on the counter in front of the two Aurors and opened it with a soft click. Inside, nestled in velvet, lay a wand that looked ancient yet strangely imposing.

“This,” Ollivander said with a note of reverence, “is the most unusual wand I’ve ever crafted. It’s made of Ironwood, with a core of Graphon horn. And it has a… peculiar temperament, to say the least.”

Goyle leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. “What does it do? It’s just a wand, isn’t it?”

Ollivander gave a knowing smile. “Ah, but this wand is different. It’s highly volatile. It reacts violently whenever touched by a wizard or witch. No one has been able to use it, and no spell has ever been cast with it.”

Before Ollivander could finish his warning, Goyle, eager to inspect the wand, reached out and grabbed it. The moment his fingers made contact with the wood, a powerful blast of energy erupted from the wand, throwing him backward into a stack of boxes. The force was so strong that half the contents of the shelves nearby came crashing down with him.

Crabbe jumped up, his wand drawn, ready to defend against an unseen attacker, but quickly realized it was just the wand’s doing. Goyle groaned as he pushed himself up, rubbing his sore back.

Ollivander chuckled softly. “As I said, it’s quite volatile.”

Goyle grunted in pain. “What the hell was that?”

“That,” Ollivander explained, “is the wand’s nature. It refuses to be wielded. However, it provides us with a unique opportunity. If you can get Victoria Williams or James Cook to hold this wand and it does nothing, you’ll know they are Muggles. But if it reacts… well, you’ll have your answer.”

Crabbe eyed the wand warily, still amazed by the sheer power it had displayed. “And if it reacts… violently, like with Gregory?”

Ollivander smiled mysteriously. “Then you’ll know you’ve found a witch or wizard. But be cautious. The wand’s reaction could be unpredictable, even dangerous.”

Goyle, still nursing his bruises, muttered, “If I’d had this wand when I was a kid, I would’ve paid anything to know for sure that I was magical. Even if it meant getting knocked on my arse.”

Ollivander nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed, many would. But be warned, young man—such a test, especially at a young age, could be dangerous. The wand’s reaction might have harmed your magical core, potentially rendering you a true Squib. I wouldn’t recommend it lightly.”

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a glance. They had their tool, albeit a dangerous one. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. And in this line of work, something was better than nothing.

“Thank you, Mr. Ollivander,” Crabbe said earnestly. “We appreciate your help.”

“Always a pleasure to assist the Auror Office,” Ollivander replied with a gentle smile. “And do be careful with that wand.”

With the volatile wand carefully stowed away in a specially enchanted case, Crabbe and Goyle left the shop, their minds already working on the next steps of their plan. They would need to be subtle—carefully orchestrating situations where both Victoria and James might handle the wand without arousing suspicion. The next phase of their investigation was about to begin, and they could feel the tension rising. The pieces were slowly falling into place, but there were still so many unknowns.

As they walked back down Diagon Alley, Goyle winced with each step, still feeling the aftermath of the wand’s blast. “We better make sure they hold that thing gently,” he muttered.

Crabbe and Goyle walked through the winding streets of Diagon Alley, their conversation shifting from their recent encounter with Mr. Ollivander to the bigger puzzle they were trying to solve. The wand hidden carefully in Crabbe's coat pocket felt heavier with every step, not just in weight but in the significance of what it could reveal. This case was turning out to be much more complicated than they had anticipated.

As they moved toward a quieter part of the alley, away from the hustle and bustle of the main shops, Goyle spoke up, his brow furrowed in thought. "You know, Vincent, what if we're wrong about all of this? What if Victoria and James are just ordinary Muggles, caught up in something they don't understand?"

Vincent grunted, shaking his head. "Maybe. But we can’t ignore the facts. Blaise Zabini was a known Death Eater, and suddenly he ends up dead, involved with a Muggle stage artist and her supposedly Muggle ex-boyfriend? It doesn't add up."

Gregory nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But that doesn’t mean they’re wizards either. They could just be unlucky. Or maybe they got too close to something they shouldn’t have."

Vincent stopped in his tracks, turning to face his partner. "And that’s exactly why we need to be careful. If they’re involved in something dangerous, even if they’re Muggles, we can’t let them slip through our fingers. But if they’re wizards, hiding out and pretending to be Muggles… well, that’s a whole different story."

The two of them found a small bench near an old apothecary shop and sat down, letting the crowds pass by as they continued their discussion.

"So, how do we do this?" Gregory asked after a moment of silence. "We can’t just walk up to them and hand them the wand. We need to create a situation where they handle it without realizing what we’re up to."

Vincent scratched his chin, deep in thought. "We could stage something. Maybe set up a scenario where they have to pick up the wand. But it needs to feel natural, like it’s part of the environment."

Gregory leaned back on the bench, considering their options. "What if we make the wand look like an ordinary object? Like a pen or a stick? Something they wouldn’t think twice about picking up?"

Vincent nodded. "That’s a good idea. We could disguise it as something mundane. The trick is making sure they handle it without being suspicious."

Gregory’s mind began to race with ideas. "Or maybe we could arrange a situation where one of us accidentally drops the wand near them. If they’re curious, they might pick it up without even thinking. If they’re Muggles, nothing happens, and they move on. But if they’re wizards… well, we’ll know pretty quickly."

Vincent smirked at the thought. "And we’ll be ready to react if things get out of hand. But we need to be smart about it. We can’t afford to spook them, especially if they’re trying to hide their magical abilities."

Gregory tapped his fingers on the bench, his eyes narrowing as he considered another possibility. "What if we observe them for a bit longer? See if they do anything that gives them away. Maybe there’s a way to provoke a reaction without them even touching the wand."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Well," Gregory continued, "we could try using subtle magic around them. See if they notice. If they’re wizards, they might pick up on it, even if they’re trying to act like Muggles."

Vincent considered this, a slow grin spreading across his face. "That could work. Small things. Maybe a quick Disillusionment Charm or a bit of transfiguration. If they’re real Muggles, they won’t notice. But if they’re wizards, they’ll sense the magic."

Gregory nodded, his excitement growing. "Exactly. We don’t even have to confront them directly. Just set up scenarios where they might slip up. If they’re wizards, they won’t be able to hide it forever."

Vincent leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. "Alright. So we have a plan. First, we observe them. Keep an eye out for anything that seems off. Then, we subtly test them. If they don’t react, we move on to the wand. But we do it carefully, without making them suspicious."

Gregory grinned. "Sounds like a plan. But we should be prepared for anything. If they’re really wizards, and they’re hiding it, they could be dangerous."

Vincent nodded, the seriousness of the situation settling over him. "Agreed. We need to be on our guard. But if we play this right, we’ll get to the bottom of it."

For a few moments, the two sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. They had worked together long enough to trust each other's instincts, but this case was different. It was tangled with layers of mystery, and every step they took seemed to lead them further into uncertainty."

One more thing," Gregory said after a while, breaking the silence. "What if Victoria and James are just pawns in something bigger? What if there’s someone else pulling the strings?"

Vincent glanced at him, the thought clearly weighing on his mind. "It’s possible. But until we know more, we have to focus on what’s in front of us. If they’re involved, we’ll find out. And if there’s someone else behind the scenes… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Gregory nodded, satisfied with the plan. "Alright. So what’s our next move?"

Vincent stood up from the bench, straightening his coat. "We start by watching them. We need to find out more about their daily routines, their habits. Once we’ve got a better understanding of who they are, we can set up our tests."Gregory followed suit, adjusting his collar as he stood beside his partner. "Agreed. We’ll keep a low profile, make sure they don’t know we’re onto them. And when the time is right, we’ll make our move."

With a final nod, the two Aurors left the quiet corner of Diagon Alley and headed back into the throng of people. Their mission was clear, and the pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together. But they knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges, and every step they took had to be calculated and precise.

As they walked side by side, their minds raced with possibilities. Theories, conspiracies, and potential outcomes swirled around in their heads. It was what they did best—thinking through every angle, considering every possibility, and preparing for whatever came their way.

And so, with their plan in place and their determination unwavering, Crabbe and Goyle set off to unravel the mystery that lay before them. They were ready for whatever the investigation would throw at them, knowing that each discovery would bring them closer to the truth.