Voldemort grunted in great agitaion as the barn owl flew through the window, carrying his newly fixed wand. He could still hear the resounding crack as the cowerdly muggle’s bloody bullet passed just over his closed fist. He could also distictly remember, with immense satisfaction, the dull groans as he mashed the “muddy-mud-blood’s” nose into the gravel. Man, had he been angry then. Now the anger was replaced simply with anoyance. The after that emparessing incedent he had had Ollivander kidnapped in order to force him to fix the shattered wand. Having been told by the strange craftsman that he’d need almost a week to restore it, Voldemort had had him tortured dayly until the task was done. And finaly it was, the dark lord reflected, pulling the slender wooden object from the bird’s talens.

Valdemort had also been looking forward to horcruxeizing that book of Ravenclaw’s he had chanced upon and now seemed an ideal time to do that. before the owl could leave again the dark lord had raised his new wand over his head and sweeping it down at the poor bird’s beak. “AVADA KEDAVRA!” Squack. Dropping the rubber chicken at his feet, Voldemort looked up hatefully at the fleeing feather-ball, “I’m going to cook Ollivander!”

Suddenly, another figure emerged. “I found your wand Harry.” “Sirius?” Harry cried in surprise “I thought you were dead!” “Well not exactly” He replied, looking remarkably handsome as always. “I think I will go marry the gloriously beautiful author of this story now.” He concluded most satisfactorally. Harry smiled.

The End