Chapter 9
As soon as the potion fell down his throat Harry could feel himself changing. He could feel magic saturating his body, but it did not feel like his always had, yet it did not feel foreign either. It was almost comforting, and then the pain began.
His muscles were torn from his bones and melted before reforming anew; his bones were crushed to dust and then regrown only to become powder once more; his eyes were gouged out of their sockets and then pushed back in; his organs bubbled to form newer, better ones and his skin stretched like cold elastic as his skeleton grew. It was agony and Vernon's best efforts were nothing in comparison. And yet he fought the urge to scream as he desperately sought the blackness of his mind to dull the pain. He would not show weakness, not anymore. He wanted to wipe that look from the goblin's face that was near gleeful at the prospect of causing him pain. He would be strong, stronger than any there had been before.
It felt like an age before the pain began to fade and he expected to go back to feeling similar to how he had before, but he didn't. Where before he could feel his magic coursing through his body in vessels, pushing against his skin, there was now no distinction. His body and his magic were one, as if every one of his cells was imbued with it. His magic felt different now too; it felt darker, as if ready to consume whatever he commanded it to. It was more controlled now too, before he had tamed it but it was still not fully under his control and would spike occasionally, but now he knew that he was its master – a house cat compared to a tiger in a cage. That is not to say he felt any less powerful, in fact it was the opposite. He felt like he had gotten a boost, yet he instinctively knew his magic would continue to grow and that the heights it would reach were only limited by his actions.
Opening his eyes and unclenching his fists, he looked back at the two goblins who were currently staring at him in undisguised astonishment. Glancing downwards he saw the crescent moons from his nails that now trickled blood down his palms and concentrated on healing them as he had done in his cupboard, smiling slightly as his magic responded to his command and the cuts disappeared before his eyes. Noticing his glasses on the floor where they had fell, he reached down before he realised he could see perfectly without them. He smiled at that, he had never liked wearing them.
Both goblins were shocked by the boy's pain tolerance. He had barely made more than a whimper the whole time while grown men would shriek in agony. This was a wizard they could potentially come to respect, and Ragnok vowed to keep an eye on the young Nightshade. It would be interesting if nothing else.
"The blood adoption does not completely remove the Potter blood, but you are now no more closely related than can be explained by both being old Pureblood families, equivalent to about third cousins. There are several more things to do though, first among which is a new name. Harry Potter is dead now and all magics will show that, so you now get to choose a new name."
Standing still in contemplation, he wracked his mind for a name that he felt would suit what he aimed to become. He liked his name, it was what everyone he had ever cared about had called him, but it was also the name they had chosen for him. He wanted nothing from them. He wanted to keep his name, but he hated it at the same time. A few seconds later a small smile appeared on his face as he decided.
"Ares." The Greek god of war felt like a fitting name to him, and it was near enough that he could allow people to call him Harry if ever he allowed someone close enough to him to do so. Only those that mattered to him would be allowed that right, and right then there was no one that fit the description and he wasn't sure there would be for a long time. He had thought about a middle name but had decided against it. If he had his way all it would take only an utterance of the name Ares for anyone to know they were talking about him, a middle name just wasn't necessary.
Both goblins smiled nastily at the somewhat dramatic name the boy had chosen, and Slashjaw handed him a dark red quill. When he spoke his voice had lost the forced pleasantness from before, instead it was cool and sharp yet holding a hint of recognition.
"This quill will write in your blood. Write your chosen name on the parchment and then it will be official."
When he did so the parchment absorbed the blood and glowed a dark grey before it flashed and the parchment that had before been blank except for his bloody scrawl now showed a family tree with his name written in intricate cursive.
"You are now officially Ares Nightshade," Ragnok said as Slashjaw withdrew a small wooden box from within his suit jacket, "And now the ring. You are the only living member of House Nightshade so you are the Lord, irrespective of age, but we are not required to inform your ministry of a new Lord at all, so you will have time to learn the duties and responsibilities. You will only have to reveal yourself if you want to sit on the Wizengamot or for marriage. If the ring deems you worthy and accepts you, you will have access to all Nightshade properties and vaults."
The ring was obsidian with designs and runes painstakingly carved all the way around the band that seemed to suck the light from the room with a dark grey, near black, gemstone in the centre that glittered in the light. Etched into the stone was a skeletal horse and a crow surrounding a coat of arms, all of which had been filled with a bright liquid that shone an ethereal silver.
Sliding the ring onto the ring finger of his left hand, Harry felt magic from the ring evaluating him, assessing whether he was worthy of the title of Lord. A few seconds later the ring resized to fit comfortably on his finger and he could barely feel it was even there, it was completely weightless.
"Slashjaw, take Lord Nightshade to his vaults and give him an overview of his accounts."
"Yes sir."
The goblin turned and walked out of the office with Ares following closely behind, leaving a thoughtful goblin behind. 'What a fascinating wizard' he mused. He would keep an eye on him.
Ares climbed into a rickety looking cart behind Slashjaw before it sped off, twisting and turning sharply. Deeper and deeper below London they dove, passing dragons and waterfalls that didn't get him wet, until they reached what seemed to be the bottom of the bank. Built into the wall was a vast arched door with the same crest as his ring, though this also had an inscription: "Does dim golau heb dywyllwch"
"Press your hand to the door and you will be allowed entrance." Slashjaw spoke from behind him.
As he did so he felt a prick in the palm of his hand before the sound of stone scraping against stone filled his ears and the vault opened, the air stale after so many centuries. Ares stood and stared in awe at the contents of the vault; there were rows upon rows of bookshelves containing thousands of books, piles of trunks, old clothing and mountains of gold.
"That is only part of the vault, Lord Nightshade."
"How much more is there? And call me Ares, you are my account manager we don't need to be so formal." He replied without even turning around; if he had he would have seen the Slashjaw's surprised look at being asked to speak more equally. Ares wanted to gain favour with the goblins, but he still had no idea of the magnitude of such a simple thing.
"There are several other vaults connected to this main one containing more tomes, currency and jewellery as well as weapons and armour, but the gold you see is about 30% of the total gold, my Lo… Ares. You have a total of 143,747,458 galleons in total, roughly £561,862,000 at the current exchange rate. The interest rate House Nightshade receives is significantly higher than what most get as they were one of the first families to entrust their gold to Gringotts, and 700 years of interest for an already wealthy family adds up. You are the second richest wizard in Britain if not Europe, however," here a nasty grin twisted onto the goblin's face "if you were to call in the debts you are owed many ancient families would become destitute."
Finally stepping into the vault, Ares noticed an ornate mirror standing against a wall and when he caught sight of himself he nearly stumbled. He had grown by at least three inches and had lost the skinny, near skeletal look he had before, instead he even looked big for his age. He had retained his pale skin but it no longer made him look unhealthy and his messy hair had lost its untameable look and instead sat flat atop his head, the colour now appearing a very dark blue instead of the ebony black of Harry Potter. His cheekbones had risen and his face had sharpened to give him an aristocratic look, but by far the most startling change was his eyes. They were now a deep purple flecked with specks of the bright emerald he had inherited from his birth mother.
Startled, his eyes suddenly flashed back to their previous colour for a split second before they changed back. He could remember when Nymphadora made herself look like him to mess with people at a party and a similar thing had happened when Andromeda caught them in the act. Was he a metamorphmagus? He wasn't before, but then he wasn't Harry Potter anymore. Wanting to test his theory, Ares concentrated on making his hair longer and after a few seconds it gradually lengthened until it was at his shoulders. He then concentrated on making it how he wanted it to look, and his hair shortened and seemed to be pulled into his head until he had it short on the back and sides of his head and slightly longer on top. He didn't want to look like James Potter or Sirius in any way.
There wasn't much for him to do in the vault, so he opted to find out about any properties he now owned. Just as he was leaving he heard a muffled voice from behind a sheet and pulled it off to come face to face with an who must have been an ancestor of his. The man in the portrait had the same high cheekbones and the same dark blue hair, though his eyes were a light brown.
"Ah, another heir. Who are your parents, young man?"
"I have no parents, I blood adopted into the family. I'm not the heir either, I'm the Lord."
"Lord at your age? What has happened to the family, what year is it?"
"It's 1995, and there hasn't been a Nightshade in 700 years."
The portrait gaped in disbelief at that, and Ares was reminded he didn't actually know it was.
"Who are you? When were you alive?"
"My name is William Dayton Nightshade, I died in 1134. 700 years? It feels like a decade at most since I last saw a member of my kin. Whatever tragedy befell us?" The portraits tone had become saddened once he found out the fate his family had suffered, before he looked back at the young boy in front of him.
"Before you became a Nightshade, who were you? What has caused you to leave your own kin to become my own?"
"That is a topic for another day." Ares quickly avoided the question; he had no desire to tell a portrait his life story in the middle of his vault. A wave of his hand shrunk the portrait to a more manageable size, not noticing William's thoughtful look, before he picked up the portrait and exited the vault to find out about his properties. It had been mentioned that the ring would give him access to all Nightshade vaults and properties, but after so much time they may not even be liveable.
Climbing into the cart before it rocketed back towards the surface, Ares began thinking about what he should do next. He wanted a wand but didn't know where the best place to get one was, but he doubted it was in Britain. Deciding to wait and ask William for advice, he could think of nothing else pressing. He needed clothes, obviously the rags he had wouldn't do, but that could wait. He wanted to see his new home first.
"Slashjaw, what properties do I own?"
"The Nightshade family ancestral estate is located in Wales, Ares, and there are also several properties across the world. You have houses in France, Russia, Egypt and Thailand as well as several smaller properties that I assume were intended to be used as safe houses in the event of an attack. The House of Nightshade travelled across the world learning new magics and they bought various properties on their travels. You do not own any properties in the Americas however, they had not yet been discovered when the family died out."
"Is there any way to tell if they are liveable?"
Just as Slashjaw opened his mouth to speak, William answered for him from the wall that Ares had laid his portrait against.
"You blood adopted, so the last Lord left his blood?" At both Ares' and Slashjaw's nod he continued, "Well then he knew that the family was about to fade away and would have locked down all properties in preparation for the future, except a single small home where he would live until his death. The wards involved would prevent any creatures or people finding them and would also prevent decay. There will be a lot of dust and possibly some renovations needed after so many years, but that is no problem for house elves once you get some - after so long all the house elves we had will have died."
While the Potters had house elves, he wasn't allowed to call for them. He had never actually seen a house elf; he just knew they had them. The house elves did most of the cleaning and cooking as well as taking care of the grounds, but the Potter parents felt that being able to call them whenever he wanted would make him lazy.
"How do we get some house elves then?" Ares asked. At William's helpless shrug, Slashjaw answered.
"The Ministry has a small department that gives house elves new homes. They are all young without any previous families though they are trained, freed elves are not accepted."
"That may not be the best course of action, if word got out the Nightshade family was back with a single young Lord there would be many seeking to take our house for themselves."
"Well in that case," replied Slashjaw with a dark smirk, "you will have to use the underground black market. The average British wizard believes Knockturn Alley holds the darkest and most illegal products and professions, but that is far from true. It is based out of various cities in Eastern Europe, not that any Law Enforcement agencies know that. Gringotts sometimes uses it for the more… unethical services that are occasionally required. Gringotts can obtain several house elves for House Nightshade within the day and send them to wherever you are staying, for a fee of course."
Tucking the information away in his mind for a time it became useful, Ares simply nodded in agreement.
"I advise going to the ancestral manor," the portrait continued, "there are several other portraits as well as a library, training room and potions laboratory so we can begin your instruction in the magical arts, assuming you have not undergone any lessons at your previous family." Williams questioning look was met with a shake of Ares' head, and the portrait wondered how he was so well versed in wandless magic if he had never been taught magic before.
"How do we get there?"
"The family ring is a portkey. Simply state your destination with the intention of portkeying there and you will do so." Slashjaw answered
Glancing down at the portrait of his ancestor, Ares raised an eyebrow in a silent question.
"I can think of nothing else."
Thanking Slashjaw, Ares took a deep breath and disappeared with a sharp pull at his navel, leaving behind yet another thoughtful goblin.
~Scene Change~
Ares appeared surrounded by a vast impenetrable forest with a flat rock in front of him, but without a manor in sight. Before he could even ask William spoke up.
"Press the ring to the indentation in the stone to deactivate the lockdown, young Lord."
Annoyed with himself for not immediately realising the estate must be hidden, Ares approached the stone. As he got closer he noticed the indentation, though it looked more like a natural chip or deformation of the rock, and pressed the ring to the centre. After a second the ring glowed and the air around him shimmered before it seemed to crack into pieces to reveal the Nightshade ancestral estate.
Directly in front of him was a large wrought iron gate with the Nightshade crest proudly displayed in the centre, the eyes of both animals glowing slightly, as well as two stone gargoyles on either side. Almost automatically Ares extended his palm towards it, causing the previously solid metal to turn to smoke before solidifying again once he walked through, feeling powerful magic wash across his skin as he did so. The grounds were extensive but the grass was unkempt and overgrown, and the various water features had long since gone dry. As he passed they seemed to watch him, and William informed him that all statues at the estate were defensive as well as decorative and would become animated if the manor were ever to be attacked.
The main house was a three storey grey stone building with large arched windows that he could barely see through due to the years of dust that had built up, and ivy that twisted around the ledges of the balconies on the top floor. The arched oak door was large enough for men to walk through at least five abreast with ease, and again he pressed his ring to a depression in the wood causing it to swing open with a creak.
Inside, the entrance hall was brightly lit by finely sculpted torches that hung from the walls and a large metal chandelier that seemed to float in mid-air. The layout was similar to that of Potter Manor: the large staircase split in two and then ascended to the east and west wings of the second floor, though the floor of the large entrance hall was the same grey stone as the outside of the house. There were several portraits lining either staircase, but they were slouched asleep in their frames. Before Ares could even start exploring there was a cough from the portrait that he had been absentmindedly levitating behind him since he arrived – even in his shrunken form William was not easy to carry for a young boy.
"Before anything else we will be going to the Lords Study. From there we will connect you to the wards so you are aware of any attacks and also unfreeze the portraits in the manor who will assist in your magical education. I myself was skilled in potion brewing and herbology, but not as proficient in wand based subjects. Other portraits will have had different strengths to pass on to you, however magic will have advanced in the past 700 years so you will have to study quite extensively yourself. Once the house elves have arrived and cleaned you can visit the other rooms when he know that each room is safe."
Excited at the prospect of soon learning more magic, Ares was led through various corridors to the Lords Study. Again having to press his ring to the door to gain entrance, Ares looked around the room. It was handsomely furnished in rich colours and dark woods with tapestries and pictures hung on the walls, though none were magical portraits. At the side of the room was a small bookshelf containing several ancient looking tomes within arm's reach of the large desk that dominated the room, a high backed leather chair behind it.
"To access the controls, press your palm against the wooden panel directly next to the bookshelf and say the family motto. You would have seen it written on our vault door in Welsh, our native language: Does dim golau heb dywyllwch - there is no light without darkness. It matters not which language you use to say it."
As he did so Ares felt a sharp prick in his palm before the panel slid back to show the controls, correctly assuming it was blood magic. The controls were a matrix of different runes and William spent the next twenty minutes walking him through how to connect to the wards and how to wake the portraits up. The full extent of what the panel controlled would be left until the lessons in being the Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Nightshade.
Once he had connected Ares could feel the wards as if they were simply an extension of his own magic, a dome of near solid protective magic, and he could feel all the defensive structures ready to defend the manor at any attack.
A series of pops made announced the arrival of the house elves, making Ares jump slightly to face them. Having never actually seen a house elf before he almost stared before he stopped himself. They were all short, slightly shorter than a goblin, with large bulbous eyes and light green skin. However, they all looked quite different; some had brown eyes while some had blue and some green, some had large ears that would flap when they moved while others were nowhere near as large. Clearly they were all young, even having never seen one before that was obvious, and seemed extremely excited to have a family to serve.
Knowing Ares had never spoken to a house elf before, William took charge.
"Ares, you will have to bond them to the family first. Simply say 'I do hereby bind you to the House of Nightshade' and then touch the forehead of each house elf." Once he had done so, the portrait looked back towards the elves.
"Clean the house and tend the grounds so that they befit an Ancient and Noble house. Check all rooms for potential dangers and deal with them if you can." He commanded.
"Start with the Master Bedroom." Ares added just before they popped away, the events of the day finally catching up to him. He felt more tired than he had in years, including when he himself had been a house elf for them.
That thought led him to thinking about Mary, Malcolm and the others. He wanted to go and see them, he knew they would worry about him after a few days if not sooner, but Slashjaw had said that all magics would show Harry Potter to be dead. That would mean the Potters and Dumbledore would have visited and may still be there, and he would not risk getting found out for any reason. He could wait a while and then go back, but really what was the benefit? Yes the people he cared about would know he was alive, but if that got out his new life would be over before it even began. He would ask William when he told him about his life up to now, something he wasn't looking forward to and would put off as long as possible.
Exhausted, Ares walked up the stairs to the second floor of the east wing and then up again to the third floor, barely paying attention to where he was going. Now he had been connected to the wards he knew exactly where everything was and he was going on autopilot in his exhaustion. When he finally entered the Master Bedroom he didn't bother looking around or even taking off the rags he had worn for the past few years, he just flopped onto the bed and feel into a deep sleep, dreaming of Olivia being here with him.
~Scene Change~
When Ares woke up in the next day, after almost seventeen hours asleep, he finally had a chance to look around his new room. It must have been as large as an entire floor of the Dursley house! The bed he had fallen into the night before was king size and incredibly soft, the covers had been white but now had a few smears of dirt from his clothes. He would get better clothes now he could instead of the frayed cast offs he had been wearing for years.
Across the room there was a crackling fire place nestled in between two wide arched windows that now glittered in the sunrise, with two silver sofas, a low coffee table and a small loveseat surrounding it. The carpets were a soft cream and the light grey walls were completely bare except for the house crest painted above his bed. That was a bit depressing even for his tastes; he would have to get one of the house elves to change it to something else, a dark green or blue maybe, and he could enlarge the picture he had been given and hang it on the wall.
Getting up, he walked to one of the two doors other than the one he come in through. When he poked his head in he saw it was a large walk in closet that was nearly full with robes in different colours and styles, all made of the finest material. He wondered how he had new clothes if he hadn't been out yet before he remembered the house elves - they must have taken his measurements and got some while he was asleep. He would have to get some muggle clothes at some point though; they were much more comfortable and easier to move around in.
The other door led to a lavish bathroom with a bath big enough to swim in as well as a large shower. Washing away the dirt that he had accumulated during the last couple days at the before he left, Ares quickly dressed and went out to find William's portrait. He thought he had left him in the Lord's study, but maybe one of the house elves had moved him. The house elves! He would have to get used to being able to call them now.
Dismissing the elf that he had called, Ares began walking towards the training room that was in the basement of the manor along with the potions lab. Apparently William had asked the elves to move him and a few of the other portraits down there so they could start on magic straight away. He would explore the rest of the manor later, magic sounded far better.
When he pushed open the heavy wooden door to the training room, Ares was met with the sight of a large empty stone room, larger than it should have been considering the potions lab was next door, with multiple humanoid looking dummies against the back wall. William along with four other portraits were hung side by side on one of the walls with a single chair in front of them.
As he sat down all the unknown portraits watched him assessingly while they murmured greetings, a small flash of surprise appearing despite the fact that William had surely told them he was quite young.
"Ares, before we can begin your magical education we must first know what you can do already. Once we decide you are proficient enough at wandless magic we will see about getting you a wand, though we will begin the non-wanded subjects such as potions and runes tomorrow," William began, "In the frame next to me is Henry Alphard Nightshade, a master in transfiguration and charms. Next to him is Edmund Arthur Nightshade, a master of runes and arithmancy. Then Rowan Morgan Nightshade, my brother, a master of offensive and defensive magics. And finally, Edgar Alfred Nightshade, a master of wards. None of us are unskilled in any area of magic but as I said before, there will be new magics after so many years and you will be expected to learn those on your own."
At Ares' nod, he continued.
"We will all tutor you in the ways, customs and traditions of House Nightshade as well as your duties as its Lord. The ring which you now wear on your finger is unique and precious and we will make sure you live up to it. Our figures are the crow and the thestral, typically seen as symbols of death and darkness, yet the silver liquid is freely given blood from an injured unicorn our ancestor stumbled upon and healed, the most pure and good of all creatures. The Nightshade family is neither light nor dark; instead we straddle the two, a complete grey. There is no magic we do not learn because magic is not good or evil, it simply is. Light and dark depend entirely on the intentions of the witch or wizard performing the spell – what can kill can be used to heal, what is used to create can be used to destroy. Do you understand?"
The boy looked thoughtful but nodded and the portraits gave him a few moments to think about it before Rowan took over.
"Now, William says you are capable of some wandless magic already. Before we ask you to demonstrate what you can do, I will explain what makes you capable of it when so many others are not. All magical beings are born with magical pathways; these are what enable them to channel their magic from their core to influence the world around them. Be it the dragon channelling their magic into their fire or the phoenix into their tears, they all use magical pathways. Much like the brain these pathways are not fully developed at birth, far from it in fact. However, there are rare wizards such as you and I who are born with magical pathways nearly as well developed as those in the average adult wizard.
"These pathways continue to strengthen at the same rate as they would in a normal wizard, so by the time their pathways are fully developed ours are far stronger than theirs would ever become. It allows us to push more magic into each spell we use if required because our pathways can take the strain normal wizards cannot. Such wizards are also born with significantly more magical pathways than the average wizard, so much so that they cover almost every inch of our bodies, allowing us to use our body as our focus. This ability is prominent in our family and almost every Nightshade has had it."
Here the portrait stopped and looked at the young Lord to make sure he was listening and understood, knowing how the young have a tendency to not pay attention. Appeased by the boy's attention, he continued.
"This trait also makes Nightshades far less likely to show accidental magic. Accidental magic is caused by strong emotion, which causes our magic to surge and resp…"
"I know, I can feel it when I'm angry." Ares interrupted.
"You can feel your own magic? For how long have you been able to feel it?" questioned all the portraits at once.
"I've been able to for about two years. Now I can feel it almost all the time if I concentrate slightly, except before I could feel it pushing against a barrier, only now it doesn't push."
All the portraits gaped at the boy who just looked up at them, as if what he had just told them was normal. Even for a Nightshade it took years to even feel their magic, never mind to feel it almost constantly with such ease! For a normal wizard it was near impossible to feel their magic at all unless they somehow meditated while casting their most powerful spells.
"You're a metamorphmagus?" whispered Henry. There hadn't been a metamorphmagus in the Nightshade family since long before even the Romans arrived in Britain.
He just nodded. The new Lord Nightshade had already astounded all of his 'tutors', and they hadn't even got onto doing any actual magic yet.
"Yes, well, I think we'll skip the rest of the explanation," William interjected, "What wandless magic are you capable of?"
Ares cycled through what he could do starting with light then fire, water, cutting and mending. Realising he needed an object for the rest of his spells, he kicked off his shoe and shrank it down to the size of an eraser, then he enlarged it back to its original size before he levitated it into the air and banished it to the far side of the room. Quickly he summoned it back and slipped it back onto his foot, making his laces tie themselves after a moment of concentration. He hadn't been able to do that for long, but it saved him time and it was something funny Olivia had come up with. He clamped down on the pain that run through him at the reminder.
When he turned back to the wall from which the portraits hung, they were all staring at him. Could he not do very much compared to what they expected?
"I can lock and unlock doors and heal myself a bit as well." He said, his tone slightly defensive.
The occupants of the portraits continued to stare while one spluttered slightly in disbelief. The Nightshade family almost always produced highly talented and powerful wizards and witches but even then this was unheard of. Even Nightshade children could not perform magic wandlessly with such ease before several years after they got their wands.
"How in Merlin's name are you capable of so much at your age? How old are you exactly?"
Ares had to restrain himself from looking away in embarrassment at that. Of course they wouldn't know how old he was, he hadn't told any of them.
"I'm 8, but 9 in November." He said, cringing slightly at how childish he sounded.
"Such skill at your age is unheard of, even amongst the most skilled of Nightshade children. You blood adopted into the family, yes? Who were you before?"
Ares sighed at that. He knew he would have to tell them at some point, but he had no desire to tell his life story. It was better to get it out of the way, he supposed, but he would not mention Olivia. The wound was far too fresh for that.
So he told them. All 5 portraits were shocked and appalled by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, as well as the actions of the Potters. The Potters had always been a respectable and powerful family during the lives of the portraits occupants, and they could not believe anyone would throw away a child seemingly over fame. They were, however, all immensely curious as to how Voldemort was defeated but from what Ares said no one knew.
They were incensed by his treatment at the hands of the Dursleys, but they would not get away with it. He would pay them a visit someday. However, his treatment did put his awareness and skill with his magic into a somewhat clearer perspective. The magical core was like a muscle; the more it is used the stronger and more efficient it gets, and it takes less time for the core to recharge. Ares' core was being used constantly and consistently for years – healing his injuries and doing its best to limit the damage caused by the starvation, dehydration and exhaustion. It made sense he would be more aware of it because it was flowing around every inch of his body every minute of every day. Left with hours or even days in isolation of course he will practise his magic almost religiously. But even then he was more skilled and more aware than would be expected.
Ares had become more and more withdrawn as he spoke, obviously reliving it would be awful. Just hearing about it was bad enough.
"Henry, what do you know about concealment charms? How easy are they to get past?" Ares asked, seemingly out of the blue, "It's just the goblins found one on me with some other spells as well."
"There are many types of different concealment charms, hundreds if not thousands of them. There are some incredibly obscure charms such as the Fidelius that are near impossible to break without the secret keeper, though I would say such charms are more accurately classified as wards. The Fidelius is one of the more well-known of such spells. As the spell was cast on you directly, generally concealment charms like that are delicate and easily countered. Often a simple finite will break it. I'm sure there are some spells that are not easily broken, but I don't know of them."
He had been holding out hope that it was the concealment charm on him that had stopped anyone coming for him, but after Henry's answer that could no longer be the case. They just hadn't wanted him. Deciding to change the topic to escape the pitying looks he was receiving, he asked a question he had wanted to ask ever since he had entered the room.
"When can I get a wand?"
"With your skill in wandless magic I would say right away, though you will have to ask the Goblins where the best place to obtain a custom wand is. Have a house elf deliver a message to them. Premade wands are never a perfect match, Ares, and a custom wand will serve you far better. Most wizarding children get their wands at 11 because that is the age the founders decided children were emotionally mature enough to learn magic, there is no definite reason to it. I got my wand on my 10th birthday."
Rushing away in a rare show of excitement to write a message to the goblins, Ares decided to explore the manor a little once he had sent a house elf to deliver it. It ended up being pretty boring; the library was devoid of any books as they had all been moved to the vaults during the lockdown, the potions lab had cauldrons and stirrers but no ingredients and the only bedroom he was bothered with was his own and he had already seen it. He didn't even have a broom he could fly.
Just then the house elf popped back in with a reply from the Goblins as well as a bag. Unfolding the letter and reading the tidy scrawl, a smile bloomed on his face.
72 Lomonosovsky Alleya, Moscow.
We have provided a portkey there, use your ring to portkey back.
The bag is connected directly to your account, payments by a Lord would normally be made with the ring but as you are planning on keeping the resurgence of House Nightshade secret that is not possible.
Slashjaw
Grinning, he returned to the training room and showed the occupants of the portraits the note.
"Very well, you can go tomorrow. I would prefer if you had someone accompanying you or were at least able to apparate, but that is not an option." Edgar said with a slight sigh.
Noticing the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, Ares returned to his room and crawled into bed, already anxious to get his wand.
~Scene Change~
Ares was up and getting dressed as soon as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes the next morning. He was getting his wand! And it was going to be custom made as well when most people got premade ones, so his was going to be better. Once he got his wand he could start doing more powerful and more difficult magic; he had already asked the elves to move some of the books from the vault to the library. Not all of them, most were far too complex for him now and there wasn't enough space here for them all anyway. He would have to expand the library at some point, especially as he was going to buy all the books that had been missed over the past centuries.
He ate breakfast quickly and even then ate far more than he had eaten in years, he supposed now the blood adoption had fixed his malnutrition and made him bigger he would need more food. It hadn't gotten rid of his scars though, a fact that Ares hated.
He could remove them with his metamorphmagus ability but they were still there on his base form. Every metamorphmagus had a base form, the form that their magic instinctively knew was them, and they could revert to it far easier than morphing into something different. They were more comfortable in their natural form, found it easier to move and balance, and he liked his form. He liked the way it looked, liked his hair and his eyes, but he hated that he back was still littered with scars that still pulled when he stretched.
After a quick goodbye to William the other portraits down in the training room he began walking to the edge of the wards so he could use his portkey. The previously wild grounds were now refined with the dew of the shortly cut grass sparking in the early morning sun and the soft gurgle of water coming from the fountains that were dotted around. There were even bright flowers and expertly pruned hedges lining the bottom of the house and the gravel walkway that led to the gate. The house elves had certainly been busy. Once he felt the powerful protections of the manor wash over his skin as he exited the wards he activated the portkey and disappeared in a swirl of colour.
When he reappeared he nearly slipped on the icy ground, his arms flying out to stabilise himself against a nearby wall. After several seconds of stillness as he regained his balance he looked up and saw a grubby looking shop with dirt obscuring the windows, peeling paint and nothing to even suggest that they made wands. His first thought was that the goblins had made a mistake, but immediately discarded that thought. The goblins hardly ever made a mistake, and certainly not with an account as large as his.
So he squared his shoulders and pushed every emotion and thought into the blackness of his mind before making his way across the narrow cobbled street and pushing open the door, immediately winkling his nose at the smell of smoke. The interior matched the outside with a grimy wooden floor and tall shelves that cast long shadows across the gloomy room that were filled with various books and artefacts that gave off an aura of darkness, though his attention was on the man at the back of the room.
He was tall and solidly built, though his face carried wrinkles of age. His hair was long and fell wildly around his neck where it seemed to blend into an untrimmed beard. Narrowed ice blue eyes stared at Ares in distrust, the chalice and polishing rag he held in his hands completely still. His grey shirt looked to have once been white and was rolled up, exposing a nasty looking scar that zigzagged from his wrist and extended past his elbow before disappearing inside his sleeve.
The man spoke threateningly in Russian, though he stopped once he saw Ares didn't understand a thing he was saying.
"Who're you, what business does have a child have here?" the man's accented voice snarled.
"I need a wand."
"Hah, you've got the wrong place boy. I don't sell wands."
"The goblins gave me the portkey here, I doubt they had the 'wrong place'" Ares had to take care to keep his irritation at being lied to out of his voice. It would do no good to annoy the fully grown wizard who he needed something from.
Cursing the goblins under his breath, the man turned to glare at the boy.
"Look kid, I don't make wands anymore so get out before I throw you out."
Figuring this was not a man who could be bought with gold, it would probably be seen as an insult, Ares decided he would have to sweeten the deal somehow. With a flick of his fingers the rag the man was holding sped through the air before coming to stop in front of Ares where it floated motionlessly for a few seconds before it flew back towards the Russian.
At that display, he reconsidered his position. A boy no older than 8 or 9 able to do that wandlessly without a sound? The look on his face said that he was barely trying and the complete lack of any movement while the rag floated in mid-air spoke of great control. He could be incredibly interesting to craft for, it would be one of his most powerful creations without a doubt. He loved crafting wands, had done since the first wand he made – maybe it was time to do it once more, regardless of the destruction one of his creations had once caused.
"Fine. Follow me."
With a flick of his wand the door locked and various protection charms sprung up across the storefront – leaving people with the artefacts he had in his shop unattended was a recipe for disaster.
Following the man into the back of the store as his eyes wandered across the array of tomes and objects, Ares mentally patted himself on the back for convincing the older wizard. He hadn't shown his full capabilities, that would be too risky and too easy to trace back to a family with the trait for which the House of Nightshade was well known.
The room they came to was large and well kept, a vast difference to the main store, with cabinets filled with vials of different coloured liquids and countless body parts from magical creatures. Laid across a work top were rows upon rows of different woods and there was another cabinet with many glittering jewels. Pushed against the far wall was a work bench with tools to shape, bend and engrave strewn haphazardly across it.
"My name is Anatoly; you do not need to know anything else except for that I am a master wandcrafter, not a wandmaker. I craft a wand to be a perfect match to a person's magic, wandmakers create wands in bulk and match them as best they can - a weak and wasteful method," he said, his voice filled with irritation at the common wandmaker, "Move your hand across each of the wood samples and tell me which you get the strongest reaction from. The reaction does not have to be any particular feeling, it just must be strong."
Ares did so, and the first few reactions were weak, even non-existent, before his hand passed over a wood a deep black in colour which gave him a sharp warmth that prickled at his palm.
"Blackthorn, a wood suited to fighters and those with difficult pasts."
Nodding slightly at the accuracy of that statement, Ares continued until he came to one of the final samples that was near white in colour, and instead of the warmth he had got from the Blackthorn he felt an intense cold spread across his palm, yet it did not feel freezing and it did not numb his skin. When he pointed to it the old wandcrafter stared for a few seconds.
"Yew, a powerful wood reputed to give the power over life and death." He whispered before waving his hand towards the cabinet and telling him to repeat the process.
He ended up with shimmering red feather and a long black hair, which caused the old wandcrafter to stare at him in disbelief again.
"Phoenix feather; a symbol of life and rebirth and the hair of a thestral; a symbol of death. What you have are seen as one of lightest creatures and one of the darkest. Most would see them as complete opposites – Light and dark, life and death – but they are not. If anything they are two sides of the same coin, and I am intrigued as to how they will go together in a wand." Pointing to the cabinet in the corner that contained countless jewels and gemstones, he continued, "Gemstones are used only in the most powerful and most complex wands that will have many different components. Yours will have four – The Blackthorn, the Yew, the phoenix feather and the thestral hair. Each component has little magic of its own, instead it influences and shapes your magic when you channel it through the wand, much like looking through a coloured lens. The stone will help contain the magic and fuse each aspect into a focused burst - a spell."
After a few moments of searching Ares felt a strong sense of calm from a small green stone that glinted in the low light, its colour eerily similar to that of his eyes from before. Anatoly said it was a Peridot, a gem that was said to provide power and influence before kicking him out and telling him not to touch anything while he crafted the wand.
It took nearly four hours for Anatoly to finish, during which Ares only just succeeded in stopping himself from picking up some of the objects and books on display. When he finally came out he looked exhausted, his already wrinkled face seeming to sag even more, but his eyes held a spark that had not been present when he arrived.
"Your wand is without a doubt among the most difficult and most powerful wands I have ever made," he said as he beckoned Ares back into the workshop, "It is my finest work and I thank you for coming here so I could make it."
When he laid eyes on it, Ares immediately decided that he would pay whatever sum the old wandcrafter wanted. Simply put, it was a masterpiece. The Blackthorn and the Yew swirled and twisted against each other in a battle of light and dark that neither had won, while the peridot was pressed into the butt of the wand. When he picked it up there was a blinding light as the gemstone glowed, and Ares felt his magic surging around his body and down his arm as the beautiful song of the phoenix and the haunting cry of the thestral filled the air. To anyone else one of those would have hurt as if a physical blow, but to Ares they both felt right. The wand was about thirteen inches and completely rigid – he thought it was perfect.
Unable to keep the smile off his face, he turned to Anatoly.
"How much do I owe you?"
"For such an incredible wand, 500 galleons." He would be quite happy with 400, but he had made his first wand in over a decade for this kid. The cores were quite hard to get as well, so it was a fair price.
Pulling out the required galleons and dumping them on the work table, Ares left with a nod and a polite thank you before portkeying back to the Nightshade Estate. He had seen wand holsters in the family vault so there was no point getting a new one, he would just send a house elf to get one.
Quickly walking through the gate and up the walkway, he was eager to show the portraits his wand. He had already told them most of what had happened to him, but he had decided he was going to try and drop a few of the emotional barriers as well. They were his family and would be the only real even semi human contact he would have until he and they decided he was ready to defend himself. Even then, making friends had never been one of his strengths and after everything he wasn't sure he even wanted any.
As soon as he entered he told a house elf to get the best wand holster they had before he descended the narrow stone steps into the basement and pushed open the training room door. The portraits had been in an animated discussion but stopped as soon as he entered to look at him, so he was likely the topic of their conversation.
He withdrew the wand from his pocket and sat in the chair in front of them before wandlessly levitating it so they could see it, slowly spinning it as he did so. When he told them of the components that made up his wand they too were astounded by the seemingly contradictory cores and the powerful woods.
Losing his patience he summoned the wand back to his hand before looking at the portraits expectantly.
"When can we start?"