Hogsmeade
Three months into her apprenticeship, Rose’s life had settled into a tentative rhythm. She woke up early, allowed Kreacher to feed her breakfast and used the Floo to get to Diagon Alley. A brisk walk later, she was in the back of Ollivander’s shop, doing whatever the old man had suggested that day. The first two months of her apprenticeship, she’d done nothing but carve wood and memorize wood affinities.
According to Ollivander, the most forgotten aspect of wand making was the treatment of the wood before it was anything magical. She got endless splinters in her fingers and callouses on her hands, but by the end of her first two months, she could split wood down the middle with precision, carve beautiful, flowing patterns with nothing but a sharpened paring knife and sand her wand wood so finely that it was softer than silk.
It was only at the start of her third month that Ollivander taught her his proprietary spells. In his case, it was the wandless magic that he used to meld the core and the wood together so they would function as one. She had done it before using raw force to meld them – forcing them to work in harmony. With the spells at hand, it was more of a gentle coaxing instead of a brutal beating, and the magic of the wand sang twice as loudly. She was still getting the hang of it.
At lunchtime, she would gather her packed lunch – courtesy of Kreacher, again – and make her way to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, where she would eat and chat with George for the better part of the hour before they both had to get back to work. The afternoon was spent doing inventory, assisting with orders and collection of materials. Three times a week, Ollivander would send her around the country to collect wood samples or requisition hair, heartstrings and feathers from magical creature reserves.
He'd let her out at six in the evening after checking her day’s work, and she’d go home to strip off her sweaty clothes and either relax after a long day or get ready for dinner plans with friends or family. Half the time, she showed up at Andromeda’s house to see Teddy. Sometimes she went out for drinks with friends or to watch a movie on her own.
It was a good, stable routine. It was novel for Rose, who hadn't had any sort of stability in her life since Voldemort killed her parents.
That said, she missed Kieran horribly.
She’d found a pair of mirrors like Sirius had given her in fifth year squirrelled away in Orion Black’s old study and given one to Kieran, imploring him to call her whenever he was free. They had barely had a week together when he’d gotten back from the Netherlands before he was setting off for South America again on an extended dig. He would be gone for four months. They were barely two months in, and Rose was of a mind to abandon her life again and join him.
However, as Andromeda reminded her, a healthy relationship was about partnership without codependence. Healthy couples didn’t live in each other’s pockets. Four months was a long time, especially for when they were definitely still in the honeymoon phase. There was only so much mirror sex Rose could have before she wanted him there for real.
The days dragged on.
One day, when she got in after her lunch break, Ollivander stopped her in her tracks and said, “I need you to go to Hogwarts today.”
“Hogwarts? What for?” she asked, confused.
“An elderly mare from the unicorn hair has passed. The herd allows us to collect the hair before they conduct their burial rites. Hagrid is waiting for you there.”
“Alright,” said Rose, intrigued by the thought of unicorn burial rites. “I’ll go immediately.”
“Bring the materials back here before six, if you please,” said Ollivander distractedly. Rose backed out of the door and made her way to the Apparition point, where she Apparated to Hogsmeade with a crack.
Hogwarts was the same as she remembered it – her first and best home. After the final battle, she’d joined the hundreds of volunteers from all around the country to rebuild the castle. It was back in all its glory now, resplendent against the grey sky. She felt the hum of reinforced wards as she approached the gate, and sent off her Patronus to let Hagrid know she’d arrived. Her stag cantered off to deliver the message. It was only a short wait before Hagrid was opening the gate for her and leading her into the Forbidden Forest.
“You’ll not want to get too close without permission,” warned Hagrid as they approached a small shady clearing. “They get mighty aggressive if you approach too fast.”
The dead unicorn lay on her side in the center of the clearing, luminescent eyes open and unseeing. Rose approached carefully, taking care to come off as unthreatening. The largest unicorn in the herd eyed her distrustfully for a long moment. Rose could barely breathe. Then, he snorted and let out a throaty noise, throwing his head back. The other unicorn backed away, leaving a clear path for Rose. She made her way up the path quickly, making sure to keep her empty hands visible. The silver athame in her hands had been ritually purified, and she knelt by the tail of the unicorn and carefully started shearing the tail hairs, one-by-one. It took a good twenty minutes to get all of it, and the moment she tucked the bundle away in her satchel, the head unicorn nickered at her loudly in warning. Immediately, she put the knife away and backed away until she was back at Hagrid’s side.
“Well done, Rose,” said Hagrid proudly. “Glad to see I taught you well.” Rose tactfully did not mention that Professor Grubbly-Plank had been the one to teach her about unicorns, and smiled fondly at Hagrid instead.
“How’ve you been, Hagrid? How’s everything at the school?”
“Things around here have changed a lot since Dumbledore was Headmaster,” said Hagrid, hefting his shotgun higher on his shoulder.
“How so?”
“McGonagall said I couldn’t teach Care anymore, since I don’t have any qualifications,” said Hagrid gruffly. “I’ve been studying up for my Care OWL and NEWT so I can teach properly.”
“That’s fantastic, Hagrid! I’m so happy for you,” said Rose brightly. “Did you get a new wand, or are you still using the umbrella?”
“I got a new one,” said Hagrid, taking it from his pocket to show it off. It was the longest wand Rose had ever seen – which made sense, given how tall Hagrid was – and was made of sturdy, rough-hewn oak. Rose could feel the dragon heartstring pulsing in it and was satisfied – it suited Hagrid well.
“It’s beautiful.”
“You know, we were all real worried when you dropped off the map, Rose, but it seems the travel has done you some good.”
“It really did,” she said. “I needed to go away for a bit.”
“And you’re a wandmaker now!” he cried. “Rare skill, that. Are you enjoying your apprenticeship?”
“I love it, Hagrid,” she said honestly. “It feels so right. Much better than being an Auror ever felt.”
“Good,” he said gruffly. “Reckon you’ve done enough fightin’ for a lifetime.”
“I agree.” When they got back to Hagrid’s hut, he invited her inside for tea. “Thank you, Hagrid, but I’ve got to get back. Master Ollivander is expecting me.”
“Some other time,” he said, pulling her into a rib-cracking hug.
“I promise,” she mumbled into his tangled beard before he let her go. Rose took the scenic route back to the gate, stopping by Dumbledore’s tomb for a brief moment before setting back. Just before she turned to walk towards the gate, something caught her eye.
A thestral peeked out from behind a tomb, its eerie white eyes fixed on her. Rose waited, and the thestral came out and pressed it’s cold, scaly nose against her outstretched hand. Ever since she’d died and come back, the thestrals had liked her. Perhaps they sensed that she – like them – was touched by death. The thestral snuffled against her palm and let her pet him gently. It was an oddly peaceful moment. The thestral backed away and turned to flick his tail in her direction.
“What’s this about, hm?” He flicked his tail again, snorting loudly. “You want me to take a hair?” He nodded in affirmative. Stepping closer, Rose ran a gentle hand through his tail, combing through the few snags she ran into. When she was done, she was left with seven silky black hairs in her palm. With a soft nicker, the thestral turned his back on her and trotted away into the forest.
The hairs thrummed with a different type of magic than she was used to feeling. Where most wand core ingredients warmed when she flared her magic, the thestral hair felt cold. It was a comforting feeling – almost like home.