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Harry stepped into Ollivander's Wand Shop with McGonagall right on his heels. They'd gotten special, and more importantly super secret, permission to skip classes today and travel to London, specifically Diagon Alley, so Harry could acquire a wand for his left hand. McGonagall had gotten special permission to apparate them there. Mr. Ollivander was looking scarily giddy at the prospect of selling Harry another wand upon their entrance into the shop. Dumbledore had spoken to the wandmaker beforehand, so Ollivander knew why they were in his shop. In fact, the shop was currently sporting a 'closed' sign, so Harry, McGonagall, and Ollivander could conduct their business without interruption by other would-be customers.

"Have you any idea how rare an ambidextrous wizard is, Mister Potter?"

"Er... I'm getting an idea."

"Well, I have something rather special for you. I have a feeling it might be exactly what you need."

"Oh?"

Mr. Ollivander reached under the counter and grabbed a box. His hands shook slightly. Harry wondered what could possibly be lurking within to make him so nervous. Ollivander lifted the lid. Harry peered at it. The wand inside didn't look as if it were made of wood at all. It had a very polished look. Like colored glass or something. It was a deep red. The grip of it was done in a weaving of black dragon's hide. It looked to be about the same length as his holly and phoenix feather wand.

Harry reached for the wand to test it. He was reaching with his right hand though. Ollivander made a noise. Harry looked up at him. The man nodded at Harry's left hand.

"Oh. Right."

Harry reached out with his left hand. It leapt up into said hand before he could even touch it.

"I knew it." Ollivander whispered.

Harry held the wand in his left hand and peered at it. He turned it this way and that, noticing how it caught the light.

"What sort of wand is that?" McGonagall asked quietly, as if normal volume of voice would disturb the moment.

"Mister Potter has held this wand before... though not in wand form. It remembers you well, boy."

"I don't-"

"That wand was fashioned for me by a man named Nicolas Flamel."

"The stone." Harry whispered, and his hand shook a bit. "But I thought..."

"The stone itself WAS destroyed, but recall that Nicolas Flamel is a rather brilliant alchemist, boy. The stone as you knew the stone no longer exists here. It was melted down and reformed. Its properties are altered. It can not be used as it was before. It has other values now. Ones I'm sure you'll delight in discovering. Flamel bid me tell you that he suspected it would find you again, and as before it could have sustained He-who-must-not-be-named, now it holds the power to destroy him."

"How?"

"That I do not know."

"Does-"

"And neither does Flamel. He only knows the end not the means. The means are for your discovery."

"Great." Harry replied. "Another indication that I'm supposed to destroy Voldemort, but no ideas on exactly how. Thanks."

http://www.tthfanfic.org/Story-277-48/