"Do you want to ask him?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrows.
                              
"No. He's your best mate. You two haven't exactly handled this maturely. He's even more pissed because I keep siding with you."
                              
Harry's breath got caught in his throat. "Is that what this is about?"
                              
"Not just. But you saw what that Horcrux did to him? Jealousy is the worst part of him and he still hasn't come to terms with it."
                              
"I guess. But Malfoy..."
                              
"Ridiculed and tormented him every year at school. But go. We don't have time for this. I'll talk to Katie and Madam Rosmerta and check in with the others. Neville said he'd send letters to our sympathetic supporters in the Wizengamot."
                              
"Thank you and good luck, Hermione," Harry said and bolted up the stairs to Sirius's old bedroom that was now his. 
                              
In his trunk was Draco Malfoy's hawthorn wand. He found it exactly where he had left it three months ago. As his own wand had been repaired, he had not used it since he defeated Lord Voldemort. He gave a curt nod to the wand as it only dimly responded to his touch. He wondered if the wand resented being locked in trunk for months. But he stashed it in the holder with his wand and Apparated to Diagon Alley. 
                              
The old wandmaker had slowly been rebuilding his shop and his life after being imprisoned for nigh a year at Malfoy Manor. Harry had not seen him since he left him at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur Weasley mending him back to health. Harry approached the door and saw he was not open, yet. It was only 8. He knocked on the door anyway, as most storekeepers, Mr. Ollivander included, had an apartment above.
                              
"I'm coming!" an old voice wheezed. "A little eager, aren't you? Couldn't have waited until 9? I haven't even got cha-" Mr. Ollivander stopped when he opened the door to Harry Potter. The Chosen One. "Merlin... Mr. Potter, come in, don't stand on ceremony."
                              
"Thank you, sir. I hope you have been doing well, then?" he said, formally, despite the wandmaker's request. Harry saw that the shelves are half-filled. His long-time held stock pilfered. Mr. Ollivander watched him.
                              
"Yes... working takes my mind off those unsettling times. What brings you to my door? I doubt you need another wand."
                              
"No, Mr. Ollivander, mine is back to working order."
                              
"May I see it?" Mr. Ollivander said, eagerly.
                              
Harry handed him his phoenix-core wand. Mr. Ollivander examined it with keen eyes and pronounced it whole and completely sound as the day of the Weighing of the Wands. 
                              
"Amazing, Mr. Potter. I don't suppose you have the Elder Wand?"
                              
"No, sorry."
                              
"Pity, but you should know, I sense that some of its power has been transferred to your wand... when you repaired it. I have never, in all my years, seen such a magnitude of impossibilities in wandlore and it all surrounds you, Potter."
                              
Harry looked at his wand, curiously. He hadn't really had cause to test it during the past summer. He had been mainly stripping his house of the old evil remnants of the Black family. He had managed to get Sirius's mother down of the entrance hall wall, but couldn't bring himself to throw her away. She's currently affixed to the attic wall.
                              
"So... why are you here?"
                              
"Well... sir... I know it is a rough subject, but I have come to talk to you about Draco Malfoy," Harry said, trying to gauge Mr. Ollivander's reaction. He hid his emotions well.
                              
"The young, and only, Malfoy," Ollivander stated.
                              
"Yes. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban. I'm trying to... appeal for his release. I... know I don't have any right to ask this of you, but I wanted to ask you for your help."