"The Elder Wand does not make you unbeatable," Harry said.

"Legend says--" Ron began.

"I know what legend says, but look at the history of the wand."

Harry felt said wand in the pocket of his jeans. It felt like any other wand. There was nothing special about it.

"The previous owner was defeated, losing the wand in the process," Ron said in a defeated tone, leaning back against the couch in the common room.

Harry watched his two best friends. They sat closer than he'd ever remembered seeing them and yet, they were sitting as far apart as he could ever remember, even during their fighting. He couldn't explain it, but something was different. Standing up, he decided to leave them to the weirdness.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked. "You need us to come with you?"

"No, I need to be by myself.

He fingered the wand of elder, examining its every curve. This wasn't just any old wand. It was a wand of legend, a wand of history. He held a wand so many powerful men before him sought and owned. He could not believe it was in his hands.

Of course, a few months ago he had never heard of the wand and he didn't care for souvenir type things the wand might fall into for being owned by such famous people as Gellert Grindlewald and Albus Dumbledore, but as he held it, he felt its power sink into him.

"This could all be mine," Harry said out loud.

He looked around the empty corridor before realizing the words came from his mouth.

"I don't want the power."

He looked over the wooden stick in his hand. Ron's words repeated in his head.

The previous owner was defeated, losing the wand in the process.

Slowly, the wand released from Harry's grip, clanked to the floor, and rolled away. He watched it stop at the edge of the staircase.

"You're not unbeatable. You're not the most powerful thing in the world!"

As if the wand heard him it teetered closer to the edge.

"Look at you. You've always been beaten."

Slowly the wand seesawed back and forth.

"How else can you explain your passing down throughout history? It's not due to lineage or upon someone's death by natural causes."

The wand stopped teetering.

"I don't need you. I don't need whatever power you claim to possess. I beat Voldemort, one of the most famous dark wizards in history." He sighed. "I didn't do it because of a wand. I didn't do it because of you. Look at how obsessed he was with you. Look where it got him. He's dead because of you. You think I want that? You think that makes you special?"

Harry stepped closer to the wand.

"You're just a stick. You're just wood. You can do magic, but so can any other wand. There's nothing special about you. Just legend."

Harry picked up the wand and pocketed the stick in his blue jeans.

"I don't need the legend. Today, you go back where you belong."