Chapter 43: CH 43
The pieces of his loyal, holly and phoenix feather wand were scattered across Salazar's desk. Harry could not even bring himself to touch them again. The warmth he had always felt from his wand had gone with the magic. The splinters of wood were cold, dead.
He turned away from them to the painting.
'They broke your wand,' the portrait hissed in furious parseltongue. 'Strike back, take from them what they took from you.' Slytherin's wand was fountaining streams of silver sparks and the snake had reared threateningly on his shoulders, poised to lash out. Harry was quite touched by the fury his ancestor was emanating on his behalf.
'I'm not going back,' he told Salazar coldly. 'I'll never go back.'
'Perhaps that is wise,' the painting admitted when he had calmed enough to speak in English, though his wand was still emitting sparks. 'I have always had a temper and a tendency to try and see others suffer what pain they had inflicted on me, but revenge is the Ouroboros, never-ending and self-devouring.'
'My association with them is ended, my tolerance and trust spent; that's all the vengeance I'll take.'
'A bond for a bond.' The founder's portrait looked like he had completely regained his calm, but the white-knuckled grip on his wand, betrayed the truth. 'The friendship they held, for the wand they broke. Two bonds severed between each pair of you.'
'You told me I would need my friends.'
'Individually weak creatures hunt in packs to bring down stronger prey,' Salazar replied. 'You were weak, striving to become powerful. This is no longer true and you continue to grow. There are still many wizards and witches stronger than you, but few here at Hogwarts can threaten you, Harry, even if you stand alone.'
'I do not wish to stand alone,' Harry told him. 'Neither did I,' Salazar admitted. 'I found equals who understood me, I would not be addressing my descendant if I had not. You will be no different.'
'I need a wand,' Harry admitted quietly.
'You do,' Salazar responded gently. 'Understand that you are not replacing your old wand and its bond, but forging a new additional one.'
'You changed wands,' Harry realised. The empathy was too genuine for anything else to be true.
'Twice. Once though my own foolishness and once from a loss such as your own.' He eyed the sad remnants of Harry's wand. 'I burned my mine to start anew, but perhaps you should take the fragments to whomever the best wand-maker is and ask about the subject. You might be able to keep an echo of your old partner with you.'
'Ollivander,' Harry murmured.
'What?' 'The name of the best wand-maker I know is Ollivander.'
'I know the name,' Salazar told him. 'The family has been crafting wands for longer than this school has stood. My final wand came from the hands of a member of that family.'
'I'll have to go to Diagon Alley.'
'Go now,' Salazar instructed. 'The tournament must be soon approaching.' 'The wand-weighing ceremony is tomorrow.' Harry laughed weakly.
'All the more reason to leave now,' the portrait reminded him. 'You can apparate, remember. Go, take a vial of the basilisk venom with you. A wand-maker is an alchemist and he will appreciate the gift of such a rare substance. What you are about to ask will be better kept to as few mouths as possible.'
Harry, stepped around his trunk and plucked one of the vials from the desk and closed his eyes in preparation to apparate to Diagon Alley. It was a very long for his first serious apparition and his stomach was clenched tightly at the thought.
'Take the fragments, Harry,' Salazar encouraged him softly. 'It might be worth asking. Do not come back without a wand, you have no time to wait.' Harry bent over the desk and very carefully picked up each individual splinter, placing them into the cupped palm of his other hand. He shared a look of sorrow with his ancestor then, in a disorienting whirl of the world, he was standing in front of Ollivander's.
Very carefully he checked himself over.
Nothing was missing.
Clenching his fist tightly around the pieces of his old partner he stepped into the shop.
'Mr Potter,' the silver-eyed man whispered softly, 'of all the people to next set foot in my shop I was not expecting you.' He swept out from behind his desk.
'Mr Ollivander,' Harry replied politely, still a little unnerved by the man. 'I remember selling you your wand. Even if I forgot the passing on of every single one of my creations yours would be the last to fade from my mind. Holly, a supple wand I daresay, and eleven inches.'
'Not anymore,' Harry said quietly, opening his left hand and pouring the splinters onto the tops of the nearest table. Some of them had stabbed into his hand under his tight grip and little spots of bright blood welled up across his palm.
Ollivander suddenly looked very sad. 'It is a terrible thing, Mr Potter, to witness the destruction and end of something you have created, but it explains why you have come.' His sharp eyes caught sight of the vial in Harry's pocket. 'Is that basilisk venom?'
Harry presented him with the vial and he appraised it reverently. 'I am not going to ask how you came by this, I have heard rumours of the events of your second year, and I'm not going to ask how you came to be here when you should be far away. I will ask if you are sure?'
'Sure?' Harry queried, suddenly very much lost.
'When a wizard or witch brings me a magical substance to create a wand from, as some of the most dedicated to tradition do, I always ask if they are sure. It is not easy for one not educated in wand lore to make the best decision. We shall check, just in case.'
Ollivander bustled into the back of the store and came back with a very small set of what appeared to be scales. 'A little blood if you please, Mr Potter.' Warily, Harry extended his hand. Ollivander pricked his finger and squeezed hard until a single drop fell into one of the tiny silver bowls. Setting it down he unscrewed the vial and vary carefully poured a single drop of the venom onto the other side.
'The basilisk's poison will not be an easy thing to use as a wand core, Mr Potter.' Ollivander stared piercingly at the drop on the scales. 'The venom consumes all that is alive, even the strongest wand woods, but there are ways to counter its burn. Alchemy is an essential subject for a wand-maker.'
Harry watched with some trepidation as the silver-haired wand crafter hovered over the small set of scales, tapping his long, thin, pale wand against them as he murmured beneath his breath.
.
.
.
🍀Visit my site at tiendup for more advanced content...🍀
🍀Read the complete novel in PDF, available at my Store!🍀
https://sunflowersfic.tiendup.com/
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone