First dementors attack him on Private Drive, then the Ministry expels him from Hogwarts and snaps his wand. Now, a few days after the hearing, Harry stands in Grimmauld Place in front of a stern looking Fleur Delacour, accepting a dark brown wand from her hands.
It is difficult to describe, as his fingers enclose around the handle, the wand emits a high pitched tone, reminiscent of a hawk hunting. Warmth runs up his arm, both comforting but with the promise of scorching heat.
Hermione’s eyes widen as she gasps, “Harry! Do you realize what this means?” Looking into the proudly gleaming eyes of Fleur Delacour, admiring her sharp features, her mouth widening into a fierce, feral smile. Never has Harry seen such beauty as this young woman, whose hair sang in harmony with his magic from within the new, slightly curved blackthorn wand. Exhiliration racing through his veins, Harry breathes out,
“I do. Now I finally do.”
And so it began.