The day following Harry's birthday dawned bright and full of promise. After completing his usual morning workout routine, Harry prepared for a significant day ahead. Today, he was finally set to claim the Potter Heir ring and select his personal wand, a milestone in any young wizard's life. Unfortunately, the previous day's birthday celebrations had extended into the night, leaving these important tasks for today.
In the early hours, Harry, accompanied by his godfather, Sirius Black, set off to Diagon Alley. They traveled via the Floo Network from Black Castle to the Leaky Cauldron. From there, they proceeded to Diagon Alley through the back entrance, a path Harry had trodden many years ago.
Emerging into Diagon Alley, Harry was struck by how familiar everything seemed. The cobblestone streets, the bustling shops—it was all as he remembered. Though some storefronts and proprietors had changed, the essence of the Alley remained unchanged.
Ignoring the throngs of people, they directed their steps towards Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Harry had opted for a disguise, still cautious about attracting undue attention, despite the assurances of Sirius and Arcturus. There was no harm in staying a little low-key before he was completely sure the Potters could do nothing about him.
Upon reaching Gringotts, they bypassed the usual teller lines, heading straight for the vault managers' section. They requested a goblin clerk to escort them to Barchoke's office, a request that was promptly granted.
Navigating the maze-like corridors of Gringotts, they arrived at Barchoke's office. The clerk briefly entered to announce their arrival and, receiving confirmation, signaled Harry to enter. Sirius, however, had to wait outside; the meeting with Barchoke was a matter Harry had to attend to on his own.
Walking into Barchoke's office, Harry couldn't shake off a hint of nervousness. This moment was crucial; he was here to undergo the test for the Potter Heir ring. Despite his usual confidence, the weight of what was at stake made him anxious. Failure wasn't just a personal setback; it would mean letting down those who had supported him against Dumbledore and his parents' manipulations.
Sirius, sensing Harry's unease, offered a reassuring nudge. "Don't worry, pup. You've got this. The Potter Heir ring will be honored to have you as its next bearer. Just go in there with your head held high," he encouraged with a supportive smile.
Bolstered by Sirius's words, Harry entered the office, his determination renewed.
Inside, Barchoke's office remained unchanged, a testament to the goblin's preference for consistency. Barchoke himself, seated behind his desk, looked as imposing as ever, though his greeting carried a warmth Harry hadn't anticipated.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, welcome. You've certainly grown since our last encounter, and I must say, you seem to be flourishing," Barchoke observed, his expression softening into what could pass for a goblin's smile.
"Thank you, Mr. Barchoke. It seems time has only added to your wisdom and stature," Harry replied, matching Barchoke's cordiality.
Barchoke's slight smile widened a fraction more at the compliment. "Flattery will get you everywhere, young Mr. Potter. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today?" he inquired, his tone shifting back to a more formal cadence.
Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself for the moment he had been preparing for. "I'm here to claim my right as the Potter Heir. Today, I wish to undergo the test for the Potter Heir ring," he stated clearly, his voice carrying the resolve and readiness he felt inside.
Barchoke nodded, his expression turning serious. "Very well, Mr. Potter. If you're ready, we shall proceed with the ceremony. The Potter Heir ring awaits its rightful claimant, and today, we shall see if that claimant is indeed you."
Barchoke, with a practiced hand, carefully presented Harry with a ring box that held two distinctive rings. These were no ordinary pieces of jewelry; they were symbols of legacy and lineage, previously belonging to Harry's grandfather and his father, James Potter. Harry watched with a mixture of reverence and anticipation as Barchoke passed him the smaller of the two, a gold ring adorned with ruby gemstones and the emblematic Potter Family Crest at its center.
Taking the ring gently between his fingers, Harry examined it closely. The craftsmanship was exquisite, reflecting the noble heritage of the Potter family. With a sense of ceremony, he slid the ring onto his finger, feeling an immediate warm surge as the ring magically adjusted to fit him perfectly. It was as if a wave of magic enveloped him, acknowledging his rightful place within the Potter lineage, before the sensation gently dissipated, leaving behind a comforting warmth.
Barchoke's voice broke the brief silence that had fallen over the room. "The ring has acknowledged you as its rightful heir. The Potter family now officially has its heir," he declared, his tone carrying a mix of formality and subtle warmth.
The realization brought a rush of excitement to Harry, not just for the acknowledgment of his status as Heir Potter, but more so for the triumph over Dumbledore's carefully laid plans. The thought that he had managed to outmaneuver one of the wizarding world's most influential figures filled Harry with a deep sense of satisfaction. It was a small victory, but one that hinted at the many challenges and triumphs that lay ahead.
"This is just the beginning," Harry thought to himself, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "There's much more to come."
Following his successful claim of the Potter Heir ring, Harry expressed his desire to visit his vaults.
Barchoke, maintaining his formal demeanor, informed Harry, "The Potter family vaults remain under lock for now, Heir Potter. You must be acknowledged by the Lord's ring to access them. However, your personal vault is available to you."
Understanding the procedure, Harry nodded, signaling his wish to proceed to his personal vault. At Barchoke's gesture, a goblin clerk swiftly entered the room. With efficiency, Barchoke directed the clerk to escort Harry to his vault, navigating the labyrinthine corridors deep beneath Gringotts.
Upon exiting Barchoke's office, Harry found Sirius waiting for him. A broad grin spread across Sirius's face at the sight of the Heir ring on Harry's finger, his pride unmistakable.
"Didn't I tell you you'd succeed?" Sirius exclaimed, though inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the significance of this moment for Harry.
Together, they followed the goblin clerk, embarking on the dizzying journey to Harry's vault via the bank's infamous underground cart. The ride, as exhilarating as ever, ended at Harry's vault.
The goblin clerk, with a key provided by Harry, unlocked the vault, revealing its contents. Inside, Harry was greeted by a wealth of gold coins, a testament to the ministry's bounty bestowed upon his grandmother, and various other treasures and artifacts neatly arranged to one side.
Overwhelmed by the sight, Harry resolved to return for a thorough examination of these items, eager to uncover the stories they held.
Satisfied with the visit, Harry indicated to the goblin that they were ready to return to the bank's main hall.
Leaving Gringotts behind, Harry and Sirius made their way to Ollivander's, anticipation building within Harry. The prospect of selecting his wand, a true companion for his magical journey, filled him with a sense of eager anticipation.
Harry and Sirius walked towards Ollivander's Wand Shop, a quaint little store situated in a quieter section of Diagon Alley. Even though there are several wand makers in Britain, the Ollivander family holds a reputation for being the finest. It's common knowledge that most witches and wizards visit Ollivanders for their first wand.
One of the reasons Ollivanders is so popular is because they offer the first wand to every wizard at a subsidized price, thanks to some help from the Ministry of Magic. Getting a wand from here is relatively cheap, costing only seven Galleons. Considering a wand is a wizard's lifelong companion if cared for properly, this is quite a bargain.
As they arrived at the wand shop, Harry was taken aback by its appearance. Contrary to the illustrious reputation of the Ollivander family, the shop looked quite old and run-down. Its narrow facade was marked by peeling gold paint, and a sign reading "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." hung above the door. Harry had expected something more grandiose, speculating that perhaps the Ministry's subsidies weren't as generous as he thought.
Entering the shop is considered a special moment for every young witch or wizard, so Harry stepped inside by himself, adhering to tradition. He was extra cautious upon entering, knowing Mr. Ollivander's knack for making a dramatic appearance often startled his customers.
As Harry gently closed the door behind him, his eyes quickly adjusted to the dimly lit interior of Ollivander's wand shop. The space was much smaller than he had anticipated, almost feeling cramped. To one side, there was a solitary chair that looked as though it had seen better days. The walls were lined with countless narrow boxes, stacked from floor to ceiling, giving the shop a claustrophobic feel. Everywhere he looked, there was a fine layer of dust, suggesting that the place wasn't cleaned as often as it should be. The shop's interior matched its exterior in terms of shabbiness, reinforcing Harry's initial impression.
"Maybe Mr. Ollivander should consider hiring some help to keep the shop in order," Harry mused to himself, scanning the room.
Suddenly, he heard a noise behind him. Turning around, he found Mr. Ollivander standing there, seemingly materializing out of thin air. Harry was relieved that the wandmaker hadn't attempted any startling entrance. Had he done so, Harry's reflexes might have led to an awkward situation, possibly involving a defensive kick aimed at the elderly, slender man.
"Ah, welcome to my modest establishment, Mr. Potter," Ollivander greeted him with a keen gaze. "I had a feeling you'd be coming in soon. You have your mother's eyes. It feels like just yesterday she was here, choosing her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches, willow, nice and supple, with a core of ashwinder egg. Excellent for charm work, and well-suited to those talented in potion-making."
He paused, scrutinizing Harry further. "But you, you're not quite like her, nor are you like your father. I suspect you'll prove to be a challenging customer, Mr. Potter. Yes, I can sense it already."
With that, Mr. Ollivander moved towards the back of the shop, disappearing momentarily behind the counter before reappearing. "Now, let us begin the process. Which arm do you use for casting, Mr. Potter?" he inquired, already reaching for a box that caught his eye.
"Actually, I can use both hands pretty well," Harry mentioned, trying to provide as much information as possible to assist in the selection process. "I've spent quite a bit of time making sure my left hand is as good as my right."
"Interesting," Ollivander noted, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. "Let's start with your right hand, then. Stretch it out for me, please." He then proceeded to take several measurements, moving around Harry in a manner that seemed almost ritualistic. Harry watched, puzzled by the significance of each measurement, wondering how they could possibly influence the choice of a wand.
"Mr. Potter, every wand I craft contains the core of a powerful magical being. It's what gives them their strength," Ollivander explained as he worked. "And remember, no two wands are alike, much like the magical creatures they come from."
With that groundwork laid, Ollivander began the process of handing Harry various wands to test. The results, however, were far from ideal. Each wand Harry touched seemed to react negatively, sending spells flying in random directions, causing minor havoc in the already cluttered shop. Harry did his best to contain the magical outbursts, minimizing the chaos as much as possible.
This experience was quite different from Harry's previous encounters with wands belonging to the Black family. Those wands either functioned correctly or remained inert in his hand. Harry surmised that the difference might lie in the fact that the Black family wands had previous owners, while the ones in Ollivander's shop were awaiting their first bond with a wizard.
After several more unsuccessful attempts, Harry half-expected Ollivander to bring out a wand with a phoenix feather core, the sibling to Voldemort's. Yet, he wondered if Dumbledore had yet to supply Ollivander with the necessary core, considering it might be reserved for Charles. Harry couldn't shake off the suspicion that Dumbledore would somehow ensure Charles ended up with a wand sharing its core with Voldemort's, crafting yet another layer of his meticulously planned narrative.
As Harry stood amidst the chaos of spellfire and splintered wand boxes, he couldn't help but let his thoughts wander.
After trying out numerous wands without success, Ollivander paused and looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Have you already been practicing some advanced magic, Mr. Potter?" he inquired, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
Harry nodded, confirming Ollivander's suspicion. "Yes, I have been," he admitted.
"That explains the difficulty we're having," Ollivander mused. "The wands we've tried so far are designed with beginners in mind. The wand's cores are not as robust, meant to grow in tandem with their owner's magical development. Given your advanced practice, you'll need a wand that's inherently stronger. Crafting a custom wand to suit your needs is the solution, though I must inform you, such a wand falls outside the scope of the Ministry's subsidization program. It will be more costly."
Harry's spirits lifted at the prospect of having a wand perfectly tailored to his needs. The idea of paying extra for a wand that would be a perfect match for him seemed entirely reasonable and worth the investment.
Ollivander then led Harry to a more private section of the shop, where they went through an extensive selection process for the wand's materials. Ultimately, they settled on Blackthorn wood paired with a thunderbird tail feather for the core.
"An unusual combination," Ollivander observed with a hint of admiration. "Blackthorn is known for its strength, resilience, and its affinity with those who are fiercely loyal and protective. Thunderbird tail feathers produce wands of great power, though they can be challenging to master. Together, they will create a wand that not only possesses significant power but also has the ability to act of its own accord in protecting its owner. This will undoubtedly be one of the most complex and potent wands I've ever crafted."
The cost of such a unique wand would be 200 galleons, a steep price compared to the standard seven galleons, but Harry didn't hesitate. He paid a deposit of 100 galleons on the spot, convinced of the wand's value to his magical journey.
As Harry left the deposit, he couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation for his new wand. Despite the week-long wait, he knew it would be worth it. The combination of Blackthorn wood and thunderbird tail feather promised a wand of extraordinary power and loyalty, a true extension of his magical intent and personality.
"See you in a week," Harry said as he exited the shop.
Leaving Ollivander behind, Harry stepped outside to find Sirius leaning against the wall, looking a mix of impatient and relieved to see him finally emerge.
"What happened in there? Took you ages. And where's your wand?" Sirius asked, his curiosity evident in his tone.
Harry explained, "None of the standard wands chose me. Ollivander thinks it's because I've already been working with advanced magic. He's crafting a custom wand for me, which is why it took so long. I have to wait a week to get it, though."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping onto his face. "Is there ever a dull moment with you, Harry? A custom wand, eh? That's quite fortunate. The wait will be worth it if it's a perfect match for you. So, what's the plan now?"
"I think we should head back," Harry suggested, eager to leave the bustling Diagon Alley. "I can have Mira fetch the rest of my school supplies later. There's no rush. Besides, I'm more interested in discussing how we're going to deal with any attempts by the Potters to claim custody over me."
Sirius nodded in agreement, pushing away from the wall. "Back home it is, then. We'll have plenty of time to cover that topic in detail. Don't worry, Harry; we've got everything under control."
As they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron to use the Floo Network, Harry felt a blend of anticipation and curiosity about the plans Sirius mentioned. The idea of having a wand made just for him filled him with excitement, but the underlying concern about his legal status and the Potters' potential moves lingered in his mind.
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GOT IT