Chapter 44: CH 44
Blood is a very potent magical medium, as all wizards know. It is easy to check whether your magic is strongly aligned to the substance.' Ollivander tucked his wand away. 'The brighter the blue, the better the match.'
'I was hoping,' Harry smiled a little sadly, 'that I might not have to have a completely new wand.' He gestured at the pieces strewn across the table, 'I gathered every splinter.' The scales glowed and emitted a very vibrant, bright, blue light.
That's lucky.
'Mr Potter,' Ollivander looked speechless for a brief instant, 'if I did not know better I would assume you to be competition for my role as Britain's premier wand-maker.'
Harry raised an eyebrow, now utterly lost altogether.
'Don't be modest, my boy,' the wand-maker smiled. 'We both know basilisk venom dissolves organic substances completely. You cannot wander into my shop with such a substance, carrying the pieces of your former wand no less, to request a new wand that is not entirely new and expect me not to realise your solution.' He very carefully scraped the pieces of Harry's former wand off the table into his hand. 'Perhaps this is not so much the destruction of your partnered wand as it is its rebirth. How very appropriate for a phoenix feather wand core.'
Ollivander placed one hand firmly on Harry's shoulder and ushered him into he back of the store, past towering shelves of wand boxes to a small crafting area.
'I shall, of course, carry out your idea, ingenious that it is. I have heard Gregorovitch once attempted something similar. His effort failed, but I feel this will work, and when it comes to wands, my boy, feelings are everything.'
Harry watched, still rather mystified, as Ollivander extracted every piece of his wand's broken core under the assistance of a large magnifying lens and added them, shard by shard into the vial of venom. They dissolved one after the other into the vial in tiny streams of silver bubbles.
'Your finger, Mr Potter,' Ollivander requested again, holding the same set of silver scales. Another prick and the silver was marred once again by crimson. He dripped a drop of the venom that now contained Harry's old wand core onto the scales and peered at them with all the energy of a man possessed.
It flared an even brighter blue than before and Harry twitched in discomfort at the sudden light.
'Perfect,' the silver-haired wand-maker whispered. 'Your magic seems to respond especially well to a fluid core, my boy, it flows within you. The effects of certain misunderstood rituals, perhaps?' Harry eyed him cooly, clearing his mind in case the wand-maker was capable of utilising legilimency.
'Don't fear, Mr Potter, the Ministry disapproves of many things it feels might not suit its purposes or propaganda. I have no such interests. The only question I have for you is what wood should your wand be?'
He carefully cleaned the silver scales and placed them to one side, then reached around Harry to grasp a piece of parchment covered in thin slivers of wood.
'Holly, again, perhaps,' Ollivander mused. 'A third time, Mr Potter,' he asked looking at Harry's hand. 'No need for blood now. You will feel warmth from the wood that best suits you.'
He took Harry's hand in his own and pressed his forefinger against a sliver of wood Harry assumed was Holly. Ollivander's skin was cool, soft and papery. It reminded Harry oddly of the very worn pages of some of Salazar's books.
'Anything?'
Harry couldn't feel the same warmth he remembered from his old wand, though there was some.
'If you are unsure, then it cannot be holly.' The silver eyes of the wand-maker trailed down the piece of parchment. 'Perhaps this one,' he whispered, pressing Harry's finger against a wood much darker than all the others.
Harry flinched away at the sudden rush of heat and Ollivander smiled triumphantly. 'Ebony, Mr Potter, not such a far cry from holly, you know. They are both woods that symbolise protection, but where holly represents protection by sacrifice, ebony denotes protection by power.'
The tape measures Harry remembered from before swept around the bookcase to envelop him within their grasp. They measured almost every length of his body, including, somewhat perplexingly, the extent of his nose.
'Eleven and a third,' Ollivander decided. 'Best to be as precise and thorough as possible with a wand of such potential,' he added, explaining the enthusiasm of the measuring.
Harry gave him a grateful smile, which the man returned whole-heartedly.
'This part, my boy, you cannot witness, despite the ingenuity of your idea. All wand-makers must have some secrets.' He snatched up the vial and vanished off among the shelves, muttering excitedly.
I have just witnessed something almost no other person to come here has seen, Harry realised with a small thrill.
Harry was waiting for some time, several hours at least, and he began to fear that something might have gone wrong with the venom.
'I took my time,' Ollivander whispered, appearing from behind a stack of wand boxes with all the warning of a particularly stealthy ghost. 'I could never rush a wand, let alone one like this.'
He presented Harry with a thin, long box just as he had over three years ago. Harry opened it, pulling the long, dark length of wood from the box with as much trepidation as anticipation. There was a rush of warmth that ran from his palm to his shoulder.
'Go on, my boy,' Ollivander whispered, 'give it a wave.'
Harry twirled it in small circle in the space between the two of them.
There was no visible reaction, but a wave warmth ran over him from head to toe and he shivered with pleasure, bursting into a reverent smile at the skill of the wand-maker.
'The rebirth of a wand, Mr Potter,' Ollivander said softly. 'A beautiful thing and something I never thought I would witness. I daresay I won't make a wand quite like it again.'
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