He fell hard to the floor, his orientation spinning as the light from the torches that were mounted on the walls drenched his view. His body was aching and screaming from the torture. He couldn't remember how many times he had been struck. He couldn't remember how many times he had been hit with the Cruciatus Curse.

Would he make it through the night? He didn't know.

"Where is it?" the wizard hissed at him, hovering over the man's body like a lion over prey.

Ollivander refused to answer. He remained on the cold, hard, stone floor.

"Tell me where the Elder Wand is!"

A swift kick to his rib cage forced out a cry, and to his dismay he was being dragged up swiftly by his white hair. A cold hand eventually made it to the old man's face to pull his gaze from the floor.

He grimaced as he was forced to make eye contact with the one wizard he had hoped to never see again after selling the boy a wand at his shop.

Upon further inspection, Voldemort knew that Ollivander would not yield. He was as stubborn as he was gifted in wand lore.

"Tell me where it is, or I'll have to go looking for someone else who'll be more cooperative."

"There is no one else who knows."

Voldemort's mouth twisted into a bone chilling smile. Ollivander could see the yellowing decay in Voldemort's grin as the dark wizard chuckled to himself. His eyes were piercing and the slits in his face where his nose should have been was flaring with excitement.

"Oh really?" He dropped Ollivander to the ground. "We'll see about that." His tone was dark and tempted. He sounded much too eager to accept Ollivander's challenge.

Holding his head where he had landed, Ollivander could hear the footsteps of the group that had entered start to file out. Peter Pettigrew, the gatekeeper of the dungeon, was the last to leave. He could hear the snickers from Pettigrew as the dungeon door clanged shut.

He remained there on the cold, hard ground not knowing what future lay ahead for him and the wizarding world.

There was only so much he could do to protect the Elder Wand.

And there was only so much he could do to protect her.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Diagon Alley was a shadow of its former self. Shops were hollowed out, windows were broken, and signs hung for dear life from their hinges as they rocked back and forth in the wind. The alley was so desolate and dark, not even the folk from Knockturn Alley would hang about it. Students who used to populate it with their laughter and joy were nowhere to be found.

Nowhere except for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

It was the only shop that remained open at such a dark time in the wizarding world. Fred and George Weasley had done a fantastic job of letting their love for pranks and laughter spark life in those who came in for a visit. They had all sorts of merchandise, from love potions to Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, from tiny little Pygmy Puffs to towers of Skiving Snack Boxes that were ready to help any student get out of school classes when they needed it.

The shop was a breath of fresh air for everyone who was suffering through the challenges they were now facing.

"Step right up! Fancy a look at these new products!" George called out as he stood on the second floor with the many customers that flooded the shop.

"There's something for everyone! We have samples of all sorts!" Fred shouted as he walked around the first floor, handing out random assorted bags to people as they pushed past him.

A few elves were on the floor acting as cashiers and maintaining the stock on the floor as the crowd flowed into the shop. The twins had heard it from Hermione Granger, their brother's friend, at one point when she found out who they had employed. They emphasized that the elves could come and go as they pleased and didn't have to wait on their every whim.

Although sometimes it would have been nice…

Fred stood near the front door of the shop admiring the patrons that surrounded him when he felt something hit the back of his leg. He turned and looked to the floor, seeing the shop's mail bundled up with a piece of string after being dropped off by an owl. He reached down and collected the pile, quickly undoing the string and flipping through the envelopes.

"Junk, junk, junk, junk," he muttered as he skimmed the senders of each message. He had nearly shoved the lot into a pocket inside of his coat when he came across a letter that seemed out of place.

George had walked down to him by now, his gaze following his brother's as Fred stared at the envelope.

"Something interesting come for you, mate?" he asked.

"No, it's not for either of us actually."

"Who's it for?"

"Ollivander's."

Fred looked at his brother in confusion, the same emotion mirrored on George's face. Looking around the shop, he motioned towards Ollivander's further down the alley. "I'll just leave this in his shop."

"Why? What good'll it do? I don't think he's going to come back any time soon."

Fred shrugged. "What are we gonna do with it otherwise?"

George shook his head at his brother as he returned his focus to the customers that surrounded them, a smile returning to his face as he struck up conversation.

Fred pushed his way out of the shop, greeted by the eerie silence that fell over the alley. The only thing he could hear aside from the loud noises that came from their shop was the rustling of dead leaves and old papers on the ground, tumbling and rolling through the empty alley.

He pulled his coat a little tighter around him as he made his way to Ollivander's shop.

It was a pity to see one of the places he had the fondest memories in shambles. If it was possible, the dark wood that made up the outside of the shop looked darker. It was as if the shop had died once its owner had left. He could still see wand boxes that had made their way to the street. Most of the wands had been taken once people realized that no one was there to protect the inventory.

He could still remember the day he and George got their wands. It had been a near nightmare for Ollivander to get it right. With every wand they waved more and more things were destroyed or displaced. His mother had gone red with embarrassment to see how much of the shop had been ruined.

But Ollivander had been determined. He never gave up on finding their perfect wands — or maybe the wands had given in and decided to settle on being matched with the twins. He and George still had debates about it.

He walked over to the building and paused for a moment. The glass on the ground crunched under his weight as he sighed deeply. It was a shock the day that he and George had found out that Ollivander had been kidnapped. Their own shop hadn't quite opened, and Ollivander had been so kind as to give them pointers about the alley and the best ways to keep things interesting for their customers. They had come to work on things and people in the alley were in a panic. The frames of Ollivanders' shop windows were still singed from the explosion by the time they got there. Feathers had been caught adrift in the wind and blew throughout the alley.

Shaking the memory from his mind, he walked closer, the letter still in his hand. As Fred stepped into the doorway, he found himself looking upon an unusual sight.

Someone was standing in front of the desk.

Fred's eyes roamed around elsewhere in the shop to see if the person had any companions, but it appeared that they were there on their own.

He watched as the person's head rotated around. Judging by the small frame and short stature of the person before him, he assumed that this was a girl. She wore a dark cloak that covered her from head to toe. The hood was brought over her head so that he couldn't get a good glimpse at any of her features.

After a few moments of silence, he stated, "It's a shame, isn't it?"

He could see the figure nod, still looking around the room. She was unphased by his presence. He wondered why she was here; what amount of sentiment did this girl have for this shop that made her want to stop by?

Fred watched as the girl walked towards a shelf that was sitting against the wall opposite from him, her back still to the doorway.

"Ollivander's been gone for at least eight or nine months now," he informed. He wasn't really sure if this girl wanted an update, but he hated the dead air between them. "Death eaters made a bloody mess when they took him."

She reached a hand out to the shelf and ran her fingers along it. She could feel the dust collecting the further along she pulled them.

Fred was unsure of what to do, seeing that his conversation with this person was getting him nowhere. "Well, I'm only here to drop off this letter. Not sure who it's for or why anyone would send it here…"

"Who is it for?" the girl asked.

Fred's head shot up at the sound of his previously silent partner's voice. It was smooth and sweet, almost as if someone put a sound to the way rich chocolate tastes. He had heard it before, but he couldn't recall where.

Clearing his throat, he continued, "Uhm — for a Charlotte?" He squinted down at the handwriting that had been muddled out with the occasional raindrops and dirt from the owl's travels. "Yeah, Charlotte Hewitt."

The girl straightened up, turning her head so that Fred could see only the tip of her nose from beneath the hood. "The letter is for me."

He paused, unsure of the situation unfolding. What were the odds that he would find someone in Ollivander's after it had been closed all this time, let alone the person who this random letter he and his brother had received was addressed to?

Fred took a few steps towards the girl, he himself standing in front of the desk. "I don't believe you."

The girl walked to him quickly as debris crunched under her feet. She went to snatch the letter from Fred's hand, but he was already holding it above his head. The girl tried to reach up as much as she could, nearly climbing Fred as if he was a tree. He towered over her.

He caught glimpses of his mystery companion as she fought him off. Streaks of the girl's auburn hair were slipping out past the hood the more she reached for the letter. Her small, pink lips were in a determined line across her face. Hazel eyes pierced into Fred's brown ones every so often.

"You're not Charlotte Hewitt," he let out slowly, raising an eyebrow at the girl before him.

"Yes, I am," the girl confirmed through gritted teeth. She had settled back on the ground and pulled the hood around her tightly once more. "Now give me that letter or I'll hex you."

Fred laughed at the thought. "I don't think you'll do that. You're much too short. But seriously, you're not Charlotte," he chuckled, still keeping the letter out of reach of the small girl. "You're Victoria."

At the mention of the name, the girl froze.

Fred could see her eyes widening. Was it out of fear? Surprise?

"I knew it! You're Tori Olliv—"

Immediately, Fred felt his body being slammed against the wall that was on the same side as the door. Tori's small hand clamped itself over his mouth as he watched her eyes dart past either side of him, looking outside towards the alley to see if anyone had been there to overhear his near-reveal of her true identity. He could feel the sharp sensation of a wand being pressed to his rib cage.

After making sure they weren't being listened to, she harshly whispered, "If you care even an inkling about my life, you'll give me that letter and forget the name you were about to utter."

Fred, with one hand raised in defeat, slowly handed the letter to Tori with the other.

She quickly grabbed it away from him and took a few steps back. She shoved the envelope into her robes and disapparated, leaving Fred in shock and wonder as to what had just occurred.

Long time no see :)

I'm hoping this story will be updated frequently, but school is a thing. I have a few chapters ready to go so I'll try to update as consistently as I can!

Thank you for stopping by!

With Love,
sparrowlina