Chapter 24 - The Wandmaker“I want to do it properly,” were the first words of which Harry was fully conscious of speaking. “Not by magic. Have you got a spade?” And shortly afterward he had set to work, alone, digging the grave in the place that Bill had shown him at the end of the garden, between bushes. He dug with a kind of fury, relishing the manual work, glorying in the non-magic of it, for every drop of his sweat and every blister felt like a gift to the elf who had saved their lives. Q1 - Why did Harry want to do this without magic?“No,” Harry said, and Bill looked startled. “I need both of them here. I need to talk to them. It’s important.” He heard the authority in his own voice, the conviction, the sense of purpose that had come to him as he dug Dobby’s grave. All of their faces were turned toward him, looking puzzled. Dobby would never be able to tell them who had sent him to the cellar, but Harry knew what he had seen. A piercing blue eye had looked out of the mirror fragment, and then help had come. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.Q2 - What’s the deal with the mirror?You gave Ron the Deluminator. You understood him. . . . You gave him a way back. . . . And you understood Wormtail too. . . . You knew there was a bit of regret there, somewhere. . . . And if you knew them . . . What did you know about me, Dumbledore? Am I meant to know, but not to seek? Did you know how hard I’d find that? Is that why you made it this difficult? So I’d have time to work that out?Q3 - Do you think he’s right about Dumbledore here?Q4 - They’re going to break into Gringotts? Are they going to succeed?“I took this wand from Draco Malfoy by force,” said Harry. “Can I use it safely?” “I think so. Subtle laws govern wand ownership, but the conquered wand will usually bend its will to its new master.” Q5 - Is Harry truly the master of Draco’s wand?Yes, if you won it, it is more likely to do your bidding, and do it well, than another wand.” “And this holds true for all wands, does it?” asked Harry. “I think so,” replied Ollivander, his protuberant eyes upon Harry’s face. “You ask deep questions, Mr. Potter. Wandlore is a complex and mysterious branch of magic.” “So, it isn’t necessary to kill the previous owner to take true possession of a wand?” asked Harry. Ollivander swallowed. “Necessary? No, I should not say that it is necessary to kill.” Q6 - Do you think this is true? That wands can pass without killing?“You told him about the twin cores? You said he just had to borrow another wizard’s wand?” Ollivander looked horrified, transfixed, by the amount that Harry knew. He nodded slowly. “But it didn’t work,” Harry went on. “Mine still beat the borrowed wand. Do you know why that is?” Ollivander shook his head as slowly as he had just nodded. “I had . . . never heard of such a thing. Your wand performed something unique that night. The connection of the twin cores is incredibly rare, yet why your wand should have snapped the borrowed wand, I do not know. . . .” Q7 - Why do you think Harry’s wand acted like this?“Gregorovitch had the Elder Wand a long time ago,” he said. “I saw You-Know-Who trying to find him. When he tracked him down, he found that Gregorovitch didn’t have it anymore: It was stolen from him by Grindelwald. How Grindelwald found out that Gregorovitch had it, I don’t know — but if Gregorovitch was stupid enough to spread the rumor, it can’t have been that difficult.” Voldemort was at the gates of Hogwarts; Harry could see him standing there, and see too the lamp bobbing in the pre-dawn, coming closer and closer. “And Grindelwald used the Elder Wand to become powerful. And at the height of his power, when Dumbledore knew he was the only one who could stop him, he dueled Grindelwald and beat him, and he took the Elder Wand.” “Dumbledore had the Elder Wand?” said Ron. “But then — where is it now?” Q8 - What do you think about this?And here it was, beside the lake, reflected in the dark waters. The white marble tomb, an unnecessary blot on the familiar landscape. He felt again that rush of controlled euphoria, that heady sense of purpose in destruction. He raised the old yew wand: How fitting that this would be its last great act. The tomb split open from head to foot. The shrouded figure was as long and thin as it had been in life. He raised the wand again. The wrappings fell open. The face was translucent, pale, sunken, yet almost perfectly preserved. They had left his spectacles on the crooked nose: He felt amused derision. Dumbledore’s hands were folded upon his chest, and there it lay, clutched beneath them, buried with him. Had the old fool imagined that marble or death would protect the wand? Had he thought that the Dark Lord would be scared to violate his tomb? The spiderlike hand swooped and pulled the wand from Dumbledore’s grasp, and as ...
