January 28th, 1891 — Ollivander's, Hogsmeade

In hindsight, he would realize the erumpent horn had been a truly terrible idea.

It was hardly the first time he'd experimented with new ingredients in his workshop; he tried new things all the time. He still hadn't entirely given up on the idea that he might strike upon some fantastic new wand core idea that would truly distinguish his work from his brother's; the wands he made now were fine, but they were hardly illustrious and he thought he could do better. He'd cycled through half a dozen novel core ideas, some of which produced decent wands but most of which were rather lackluster. When one of the dealers he used for phoenix feathers asked if he wanted to see any of his less traditional wares, of course Gideon had said yes. And when one of those wares had been a horn salvaged from a deceased erumpent, he couldn't pass that up. Erumpents weren't exactly frolicking in Padmore Park. He might never have the opportunity to do something like this again.

He'd bought it last week, and spent days drawing up vague plans for what sort of wand he might transform it into. If he sliced it thinly enough, he thought he could get maybe ten wands out of it — at least half of which would be unsuccessful, he imagined. So he had to go about this in a very targeted fashion, if he had any hopes of walking away with something brilliant.

It would have been an even more brilliant idea to have the horn cleaned out properly before he'd started slicing into it — the inside was still coated with the erumpent's signature exploding fluid. Which, predictably, exploded the moment it was struck, taking half of his workshop with it.

  

Breccan had intended to head into work that morning, uninterrupted by his younger siblings or parents. Hogsmeade was not his home, but he had grown familiar enough with the area to know what was normal, and what was not.

He'd heard quite a few explosions in his life, thanks to his only years at Hogwarts being the first three and the talents of most first years being put mostly into blowing things up. He had not heard one this loud, though, and so rushed to figure out what was going on, expecting some young pre-Hogwarts child with less control over their magic standing, embarrassed, beside a broken broomstick.

What he did not expect was half of Ollivander's workshop collapsed. He stood, mouth agape, before realizing that if there was an explosion, it had to have a cause. And the person with the most knowledge was probably the owner of the shop...Ollivander.

"Mr. Ollivander?" Breccan called out. He was certain a crowd would be gathering soon, perhaps concerned for their own safety. At that moment, Breccan's desire was that he knew just a little more about wands so he could figure out what was going on.

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   Gideon Ollivander

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A wandmaker's workshop was full of all manner of magical artifacts, tools, and devices, which made the explosion more damaging than it might have been. Gideon himself had been knocked against the back wall by the force of the initial blast, something crunching painfully within his chest. Before he could get his bearings a second, smaller explosion occurred, this one starting a small fire in the area of his cauldron and rocking the remaining wall. Above his head a shelf collapsed. He looked up instinctively, and two or three potion bottles broke into his face before he'd had a chance to look away. He pressed his eyes shut, sucking in a breath and holding a hand up to his brow to shield them, though the damage was already done.

"MacRae?" he called, hearing a familiar voice. "Get that fire out, quickly!" He'd lost his workshop to fire once already and had no intention of doing it again, but he had no idea where his wand had ended up in the chaos. Between that and the potions swelling his eyes shut, he was all but useless.

  

Breccan nodded, "Yes, sir!" he said hurrying into action. Thankfully, even though he'd left Hogwarts early he had been able to pick up on a few new spells, peering into books at the library or from people he'd met. He considered using the water-making spell, but was uncertain if it was safe to pour water on the blaze and so instead decided to use a combination of the extinguishing spell and his cloak to put out any fire that he could see.

When it was out, Breccan breathed out in a sigh of relief, trying to survey the damage. He headed over to where he'd heard Ollivander's voice, hoping the older man was okay. "It's done,Mr. Ollivander, do you need any help?"

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Thanks, Elaine!

Gideon coughed as a burst of smoke floated by his face and tried to bat it away. There was glass in his face, and liquid on his cheeks. He tried to brush it away with his hand, then with his sleeve. When he felt it was safe to do so, he opened his eyes... and saw nothing.

"Macrae?" he called again, suddenly disoriented. He knew where he was. This was his workshop. He knew it like the back of his hand. He knew exactly where he was, but somehow he still felt lost.

  

Breccan stepped closer into the workshop, and spotted his employer. He seemed thankfully alive, and from what Breccan could tell among the exploded bits of the workshop, not likely to die in the next five minutes, which would be helpful when he could ask how exactly this had happened and if it affected his work.

"I'm here, Mr. Ollivander," Breccan said, and then, more urgently, "We should get out. No idea how stable everything is and all."

He tried to keep the large amount of worry out of his voice, but he was still concerned that something else would be exploding any minute, and he didn't want to be around here when it did.

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Thanks, Elaine!

" — Yes, you're right," Gideon agreed, though the idea that his workshop might collapse sent an additional wave of panic through him. He got to his feet unsteadily and took a step forward into the dark. There was something wet on his shoulder, but he wasn't sure what. Maybe a potion, maybe blood, maybe both. His left leg didn't really enjoy having weight put on it, either, but he didn't have time to dally around limping. Macrae was right — he had to get out. Except —

"Where's my wand?" he asked suddenly, reflexively looking around him although he couldn't see a thing. His wand was his constant companion since childhood, almost an extension of his arm. He couldn't leave without it.

  

Breccan winced as his boss seemed to be unsteady on his feet. Maybe he'd inhaled some vapors due to the explosion, or had managed something else related to the workshop. Brec wasn't too talented when it came to this sort of thing, though it did fascinate him when he stopped in.

"Em...I don't know," Breccan said, "Where d'ya think it might be?" He searched for it carefully, thinking of alternative methods. A Summoning spell might work, but then again, calling out 'accio wand' in a wand shop did not seem like a great idea. The image of hundreds of flying wands converging on him was a bit terrifying. "Perhaps we should leave it, sir? We could always come back to it."

The sooner he was out of the potentially dangerous workshop, the better. Besides, it wasn't like Ollivander would be lacking in wands, even after his workshop had suffered this explosion.

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   Gideon Ollivander

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"No," Gideon insisted, shaking his head. His workshop was in pieces, and putting it back together would take weeks, or maybe months, depending on how many of his ingredients had been compromised. His leg was unsteady, his whole ribcage felt sore, and he couldn't see as far as his nose. He wasn't losing his wand today, too.

"I had it on the table when I started cutting into the horn," he said, remembering. He put his hand out as if he were still standing there, feeling where it would have been. "Maybe six inches to the left. It couldn't have gone far."

  

Breccan sighed deeply, though he was loyal to Ollivander and would look for the wand if he insisted. Breccan moved carefully over to where the other man was standing, glancing around for the wand, hoping desperately that it was there. As he looked he realized that Ollivander had given him a clue as to why the place had exploded.

"Horn?" he asked, hoping his boss would clarify and help him figure out what level of worried he should be right now. He had taken a year of Care of Magical Creatures after all, so it seemed a little bit up his alley.

Breccan fumbled around the area, trying to be both cautious and quick, which was an extremely difficult task. Eventually, his hand closed around a wand--hopefully Ollivander's, though he wasn't quite as good as identifying wands as he should've been. He tried to place it in the other man's hand, "This it?"

Unspoken, he was really hoping that whatever horn Ollivander had been working with was not planning to explode again.

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Thanks, Elaine!

"Erumpent horn," Gideon supplied, gesturing vaguely towards the desk he'd been sitting at when it had exploded. He didn't elaborate beyond that, because there really wasn't much else to say, except that it had clearly been a mistake to try and cut into it. That much, however, was fairly obvious now.

The moment the wand touched his fingers again he knew it was his own, and a wave of relief washed through him. "Yes, this is it," he confirmed, touching it with both hands to see whether it had been damaged. It appeared to be solid, with no nicks or breaks. Very good news, given the state of the rest of the workshop. If he'd lost his workshop and his wand, he really wouldn't have known what to do with himself.

"I — I think I ought to see a healer," he admitted, as he tried to take another cautious step and felt his insides shuffle painfully.

  

Breccan had heard of erumpents before and knew, vaguely at least, of the explosive properties of their horns. He shook his head, glancing in the direction briefly. Hopefully there were no lingering traces of the horn just waiting to explode them into smaller pieces.

"Glad it's all in one piece then," he said. He wasn't especially bonded with his own wand, owing mostly to the fact that it was relatively new as he'd only gotten it once he was an adult. Still, he appreciated that a wandmaker might have a finer idea of a wand.

He laughed a little. It did seem rather obvious that his employer should be heading off to the Hospital soon after being caught up in an explosion, so he agreed, "Well I should think so."

Breccan offered his arm for Ollivander to lean on. Hopefully they could walk to the hospital, or one of the bystanders could help him carry the other man if it was needed, because Breccan was rubbish when it came to tasks like conjuring stretchers.

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   Gideon Ollivander

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