Proditio

Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own the rights to Harry Potter. That undoubtable honor goes to the mother of that wonderful creation, JK Rowling. She is a goddess of the literary arts and should be acknowledged. So, please, for the love of all that is holy, please do not sue me! After all, plagiarism is one of the most sincere forms of flattery. *bows and runs off stage*

Warnings: This is a very OOC fic, especially with Harry and Dumbledore, and is pro-Dark Lord. This fic contains slash! If you don\'t like male/male relationships, here\'s a hint: DON\'T READ IT! The flames will keep me nice and toasty warm, because, after all, I live in Alaska. We need all the heat we can get.

Thanks be to my beta Emmy!

Entering the room, Harry\'s eyes widened in surprise at what was contained within. Whatever he had expected when he hadked ked the information from Voldemort\'s mind about the existance of custom wands, it wasn\'t this.

He stood within a forest grove, a quiet wind, smelling heavily of cinnamon, gently blowing past. The floor was a thick emerald green moss that Harry had no doubt would feel like heaven against his feet. Trees of all descriptions stood tall and proud within, blocking the sky from view, as the leaves glowed with an inner light, illuminating the room with an ethereal glow.<
For a moment he almost felt alive again, revitalized by the room\'s aura.

That was until Mr. Ollivander spoke up once more, reminding Harry why he was here, making the Gryffindor\'s eyes revert to their former flat state once more.

\"Mr. Potter if you will follow me, we will start the creation of your wand.\" The old man said, walking slowly to a small marble dais that was set up in the middle of the clearing.

The dais was made from a single slab of white marble, shot through with strands of silver and gold, and upon it was a large green velvet pillow, that Mr. Ollivander gestured for him to sit on. Doing so, Harry gazed cynically around the clearing, projecting an aura of freezing cold that made Ollivander shiver.

\"Now, Mr. Potter, I want you to concentrate on the trees around you, even the bushes, as they have wand woodwellwell, and I will retreve the wood needed as you concentrate. It is vital that from the moment we start this til the moment in which we leave this room, that you do not speak or the spell of this room will be broken and the wand will fail. And believe me, Mr. Potter, when I say that it will fail, you will not want that. You will never be able to enter this room ever again. Such is the magic of this clearing.\"

Nodding silently, Harry closed his eyes and immediately felt something tug from inside until he was lanced with bright white light, and he found himself drifting through the room, just like the ghost he believed himself to be. Shocked, but remembering the need for since, his ghost like self drifted through the forest, ignoring everything as he felt himself tugged forward by an unseen force. He ghosted through trees and bushes going faster and faster as the trees became a blur about him, making him feel slightly ill, until suddenly, it all stopped.

He found himself before a holly tgazigazing it with a vague amount of interest. He glided forward with caution and reached out a hand, touching the bark of the tree, expecting his hand to go through the tree, but instead, his hand landed on the bark, and he felt a rush of warm flood up his arm. He felt the tree\'s strength, colored with warrior magic and spiritual strength. It felt much like his older wand, like the tree was the mother of his student wand.

Smirking slightly, he lifted his hand for a moment and found himself suddenly pulled away in another blur of rushing trees as he was pulled even deeper into the forest. This time the trip ended slightly sooner, and he was now looking at a Blackthorn tree, it\'s twisted branches coated in thorns, carefully he ran a finger up a branch, feeling the great power held withing the wood. Harry almost gave a short chuckle, thinking of the power this wood would bring his wand if in it\'s raw form it was already this powerful.

Pulling away once more, he felt himself go back into the blurred run, knowing within his heart that this was his last trip. The pull took him deeper and deeper yet, the glow all but disappearing as he was pulled into darkness to the final tree of his wand. Above him, the sky opened to show a waning moon and billions of glittering stars, as the air around him once so warm and comforting, became chilled and forbidding, the air no long smelling of cinnamon, but of charcoal and pine. The extreme cynical edge came back to Harry\'s mind once more as he drifted deeper and deeper into the trees everyonce in awhile slowing as if his invisible guide could not decide what tree would be the last.

But finally it happened. He stopped.

He stood before an imposing Yew tree, it\'s dark branches radiating power and age. Harry could feel the power of death embraced by this tree, but also the power of rebirth and the wisdom that came with great age. This tree could easily have been the oldest tree in the grove. But it also felt familiar to the young Gryffindor, even though he could not place the feeling.

Touching his hand to the tree, he suddenly knew. This tree had yielded the wood for Voldemort\'s own wand.

He stood in awe before the imposing tree, only reluctantly releasing the wood before he felt himself be snapped back into his own body, opening his eyes owlishly, expecting to be back in the grove, but finding himself in a great library lit only by a massive fireplace. The flickering light of the fireplace glowed in Ollivander\'s eyes as the old man, stared at Harry with a strange look in his eyes. Saying nothing, Mr. Ollivander just wandered into the library, beaconing Harry to follow.

After about five minutes the old man finally spoke, making a gesture to remind Harry to be silent.

\"Now, Mr. Potter, this library is not filled with books, but boxes of wand cores and custom wand lacings. I need you to follow your instincts and find the ingredients for your wand core. I wil be waiting back at the fireplace.\"

Mr. Ollivander then ran off, like he couldn\'t get far enough away fast enough. Harry almost snorted, resorting to a cold sneer, before wandering deeper into the library, passing shelves with little or no interest. He saw pheonix feathers and dragon heartstrings aplenty, but he also saw veela hairs and werewolf fangs. In fact there was a little of every type of magical creature contained within these shelves.

It wasn\'t until he found himself deep in the dark musty chambers of the library when he found something of more than a pas int interest on a shelf looking musty and forgotten. The label on the side was barely readable, but squinting, he could just make the words out.

Tenebrus? Wasn\'t that the name of Hagrid\'s favorite thestral? And harvested on the day of the death of my parents.

Harnly nly hesitated a moment before grabbing the box aushiushing forward, frowning. He walked forward at a harsh pace until he came to an abrupt halt before a cabinet that hung between two bookshelves. The cabinet opened to reveal several bottles, filled with substances like unicorn blood and pheonix tears. He raised a hand to grasp a tiny bottle lying forgotten on a lower shelf, when suddenly pain flared up in his scar making him fall to his knees in agony.

His breath coming out in harsh gasps, he, for one moment thought that Voldemort was once again playing with him, but as he stood up, brushed himself off, and grabbed the bottle to read its label, he knew it had nothing to do with outside influnces

Biting back a chuckle at the irony, Harry felt as if he was finished and headed back to Ollivander who was waiting at the dais, which was now made out of black marble. Setting down the bottle and the box of thestral hair, he gestured towards them.

Ollivander just softly snorted and picked a shadowed rod out of a box laying on the dais and whispered something under his breath as he reached in the box and pulled out several coarse black hair and laid them on the wand where they were absorbedand the wand glowed warmly for a moment before Ollivander uncapped the bottle of Veritaserum and carefully poured the entire bottle over the wand, the wood soaking up every bit.

Finally he shoved the wand toward Harry and watched carefully as a light grew from Harry\'s hand and travelled slowly up the shaft until it suddenly stopped, about three quarters of te way up the wand. Grasping the wand firmly, with Harry still holding the base, Ollivander then took out his own wand and whispering again, cut the non glowing wood from the base.

And then with a curt nod, Ollivander led him out of the librar, through the steel door and back into the natural light of ttoretorefront.

\"Well, Mr. Potter, wand wood from your first wand\'s tree, holly; the tree that bore the wood for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named\'s wand, yew; the wood from a rather stubborn and old blackthorn; core of a tamed thestral mane; and a lacing of veritaserum, made by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, himself. Cut at sixteen inches, making for a rather long wand, sealed to be unsnapable. Quite the intreguing wand, Mr. Potter. Extremely powerful. Very intreguing. That will be 30 galleons.\"

Remaining silent, Harry just handed over the golden coins and without a backward glace, walked out of the store, peering intently at his new wand.

It was a thing of beauty, a shaft of yew with an inlay of holly spiraling up from a base of blackthorn, carved to look like a vine of ivy curving around the yew. The wood was glossy from the veritaserum, making the wood shine warmly in his hand. A powerful wand that only he could use.

Sneering slightly at a passerby, he wandered back to the shops, and when no one was looking, he made his way down into Knockturn Alley.