Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.

12th Chapter is up!

50 000 words and I haven't reached the first task :/ Soon, I promise it will come soon.

Chapter 12

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.

'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.'

'I can not give you enough to compensate for this, Mr Ollivander,' Harry said, finding his tongue at last.

'My wands cost seven galleons, my boy, no more, no less. I would give you this for free were ebony not so dear. The venom you supplied would have bought you every wand in this shop.'

Harry fished in his robes for the correct number of coins.

'I have not sullied this wand by adding the Ministry's trace to it; you understand what I am saying, Mr Potter.'

'I do,' Harry nodded. 'Thank you.' There would be no restrictions on his magic use this summer. The Dursley's would be horrified when they realised that.

'Thank me by hurrying back to where you are supposed to be and trying a few of your spells before I see my work again tomorrow at the wand-weighing ceremony.' He smiled at Harry's surprise. 'Who else would conduct such a ceremony?'

'I certainly can't think of anyone better,' Harry agreed warmly.

'You are too kind, my boy.'

Ollivander led him back to the front of the shop and ushered him out gently.

'Take care, Mr Potter,' he warned. 'It is a long way for anyone to apparate, even for an emergency such as this.'

The world spun back past him until Harry was standing in front of Salazar again. He looked over himself carefully and cursed violently in parseltongue. The nail of his left thumb was missing.

'Nails grow back,' Salazar reassured him. 'It's a good trade for a wand.' There was a long silence as Harry regarded the skin covering the top of this thumb. 'You do have a wand, yes?' The painting shifted eagerly as Harry slipped the box out from under his robes.

'What is it?'

'Ebony, eleven and a third inches, with my old phoenix feather dissolved in basilisk venom at its core,' Harry explained.

'He dissolved your old wand core in the venom and it worked?' Salazar queried.

'He tested to see whether my magic was compatible with the venom and then with the venom with my old core. It was,' he finished simply.

He smiled remembering how the man had thought the wand had been his idea. 'He thought this was what I wanted from the beginning. I was very lucky to come away with it.'

'Carry me outside and show me a spell,' Salazar instructed. 'I want to see.' He sounded quite eager and childish, like a boy about to get a present. 'It's a good idea to familiarise yourself with your wand as quickly as possible,' he added, more grandly and maturely than was necessary in an attempt to cover his excitement. Harry hid his smile.

'Reducto,' he murmured, whipping his wand in a sharp, small, sideways vee.

The blasting curse reduced one of the nearby serpent effigies into fine powder. Salazar sighed.

'Stop breaking parts of my Chamber of Secrets,' he groused as Harry waved his wand at the dust. The serpent statue reformed from it rather gracefully. 'How does it feel?'

'It's no stronger,' Harry began, 'but it feels right. I feel like I've been painting with my finger all this time only to finally pick up the finest brush.'

'More refined, then?'

'Ollivander said something about my magic flowing and reacting well to a liquid core,' Harry offered.

'I've never seen a liquid core wand,' the portrait mused. 'They're supposed to be very hard to create without making the wand fragile. Try the disillusionment charm.'

Harry twirled his wand over himself and watched the effects carefully. 'I see no difference,' he remarked disappointedly, looking back up at the painted founder. 'I'm still camouflaged.'

'I do,' Salazar disagreed good-naturedly. 'When you move your charm keeps pace, even with fast movements like when you straightened up. 'You were barely more than a ripple in the air, where as earlier you were obviously out of place. Once you've practiced with this you'll be virtually undetectable.'

Harry slipped his new wand into his sleeve for the first time, marvelling in the warm feel of it against his forearm.

'Don't put it away yet,' the painting objected. 'Do something exciting with it, test it, try that basilisk conjuration you showed me the first time you carried me out here.'

Harry didn't need much convincing to get the wand back out and in his palm. He luxuriated in the heat that seemed to flow up and down his arm, vibrating to and from the wand.

Picturing the serpent rising resplendent from the waters of the pool Harry swept his wand up.

Every drop of liquid rose into the air. The conjured serpent king must have been the equal of his ancestor's tainted guardian. It swirled in the air over the bridge, coiling over and over itself, maw poised to strike at a moment's notice.

The drain of keeping the enchantment active was still enormous, but Harry lasted a full minute longer than before he slashed his wand forwards, sending the water-formed basilisk smashing against the chamber wall with a resounding crash.

'Was that exciting enough?' he asked the portrait as the water began to calm itself.

'Very,' Salazar said calmly, but his eyes were sparkling too much for Harry to buy into his dignified pose. 'Your control with that wand is superlative, no longer do you waste so much of your strength. You're going to be a very powerful wizard when you reach your majority, Harry.'

'I have to survive until seventeen,' Harry warned, thinking of his previous adventures.

'The Triwizard Tournament won't know what hit it,' Salazar cackled. 'I hope there's a duelling event. You're a much more promising heir than Tom Riddle ever was. He was refined and oh so focused, but lacked your natural power. He must have undertaken many rituals to become so feared as Lord Voldemort.'

'I suspect you are exaggerating,' Harry told him.

'I am,' Salazar admitted, 'but I'm not lying. Tom Riddle was incredibly talented and very powerful, but so are you. You'll be the real Heir of Slytherin, my heir, and I have every faith that you will outdo him.'

'I'll certainly have to try,' Harry said dryly.

It's not like he's going to leave me alone voluntarily.

'Where now, back to your common room?' Salazar asked with feigned innocence.

Harry stiffened at the implication. 'I said I'd never go back,' Harry reminded him slightly cooly. 'I meant it.'

'There must be other members of your house who were not involved?'

'I will wait for them as I initially intended to,' Harry declared, 'but I won't be returning to Gryffindor Tower until next year at the earliest, if I ever do.'

'Where will you sleep?' the portrait inquired. 'I enjoy your company, Harry, but it's cold down here, even in the study.'

'The Room of Requirement, of course.'

'Oh, choose their room, why don't you,' Salazar grumbled. 'Some Heir of Slytherin you are.'

'You're going back on the wall,' Harry told him, amused. 'Then I'm going to go get some food. I haven't eaten since yesterday lunch and most of that ended up on the floor in here while I was trying to apparate.'

'Fine,' he groused, 'but I want to see you again before the first task. I have a few things I should start teaching you. My fields of specialty.'

'Blood magic and parselmagic?' Harry raised an eyebrow.

'It's not evil,' Salazar sighed. 'You still have some preconceptions to lose, I see. If it reassures you the greatest piece of blood magic I ever created is the parseltongue language you can speak, and there's not really such a thing as parselmagic. I'll explain properly when I actually start teaching you.'

Harry put him back up on the wall over the entrance and the portrait grinned wickedly. 'If you do well enough at learning the arts the Heir of Slytherin is supposed to be paramount at I'll show you how to take off the anti-levitation charm on this painting.'

'I'm in,' Harry agreed sarcastically. 'How could I refuse such generosity?'

He left the chamber to the sound of Salazar Slytherin's echoing laughter.

The Great Hall was blessedly quiet. Harry took a seat at the very end of the Gryffindor table and helped himself to some cold chicken and tried not to moan in satisfaction after not eating for so long.

It wasn't long before he was disturbed.

'I heard your wand got snapped, Potter,' Malfoy sneered, swaggering up to the table. Harry noticed he hadn't forgotten to bring Crabbe and Goyle this time.

'I see you took my advice, Malfoy,' he smirked, 'you should never leave home without your trusty lackeys.'

'I haven't forgotten that insult, Potter, and now you have no wand and no friends.'

'I wouldn't say that,' a hand came down on his shoulder. He recognised the freckled knuckles of one of the Weasley twins.

'He has just many friends as you do now, ickle Draco, so run along.' There was a little warning in the tone of the older Weasley that implied Malfoy might find the consequences incredibly humiliating if he did not.

'After all the trash you've dragged your name through you still can't get rid of the blood-traitors, it's pathetic.' Malfoy left, a silent Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

I don't think I've heard them ever actually speak.

'So, Harrikins,' the twins took seats on the bench either side of him, pushing him further along it. Harry had never thought he would be glad to hear that nickname.

'We heard you had a run in with some of our fellow Gryffindors.'

'We're sorry about that, Ginny is too-

'-but not as sorry as Ron was after our little sister finished with him. She hit him with so many hexes he had to go to the hospital wing. He's still there.'

'It was the first time I've ever seen Snape give points to Gryffindor.'

'Anyway, we just dropped by to say that we're working on Angelina and Alicia, it's slow, but Katie's helping too now.'

'We still have to keep our distance,' they said ruefully, 'but not as much, so don't worry about slime like Malfoy.'

'He's probably more worried about having to compete in the tournament without a wand, Fred.'

'I have a wand,' Harry cut in, before they got sidetracked. 'Thank you, though.'

'Where did you get a wand from, Harrikins?' They asked together, wearing identically surprised faces.

'From a wand-maker, of course.'

'Harrikins is getting smart, George.'

'We'd better watch out, Fred.'

'Angelina is coming,' Harry warned, spotting his former quidditch captain over on the far side of the hall.

'Thanks for the head's up,' Fred smiled.

'Decent of you,' George added. 'This mess with Angelina won't last too much longer if we can help it.'

They walked away quickly to duck in alongside Gryffindor's female chaser trio. Fred winked at Harry from Angelina's side when he caught him watching the group.

The Weasley twins weren't so bad, he supposed. Out of all of the Gryffindor's they had the most to lose by supporting him against their girlfriends and they had done it anyway. The two of them had been clever about it to try and keep things civil, but that was the sort of cunning Harry could only respect.

Ginny was bearable too, if only because she had somehow managed to earn points off Snape for hexing another student, but there weren't many others. He wondered vaguely what Neville was doing, Harry hadn't seen hide nor hair of him since they had spoken in the dormitory.

I'm not going to go searching for him, he decided.

They had turned their backs on him first, even if Neville had shown great reluctance in doing it, so they could come to him. He wouldn't be holding too much of a grudge against most, an apology would be enough for those who hadn't actively turned against him.

He had other problems to deal with first. Winning the Triwizard Tournament was top of that list; it came just above finding whomever had put his name in the damn thing in the first place.

AN: Please read and review. Thanks to everyone who has. Your praise inspires me to write more chapters through Harry's eyes instead of Fleur's. ;)