The needle pricked Harry's finger, drawing a single drop of blood. It swirled within a silver vial held by an elderly goblin, a faint luminescence shimmering within. As Harry watched, the luminescence danced and transformed, painting a complex tapestry of colours in the air.
Griphook and his companions studied the spectacle intently, their expressions unreadable. Harry, too, felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation. What secrets would his blood reveal? What hidden depths of magic did he possess?
Finally, the colours settled, coalescing into a single vibrant blue, the hue of a clear summer sky. Griphook turned to Harry, a hint of surprise in his eyes.
"An uncommon result, indeed, Mr. Potter," he rumbled. "Your blood speaks of immense magical potential, A natural leader, blessed with exceptional intuition and the ability to inspire others. It seems you have 2 lordships, One being Potter and the other being Slytherin, likely due to the defeat of Lord Voldemort who was the last of his line"
Harry's heart swelled with hope. This was the proof he needed, the final straw stopping him from magic had broken; the floodgates were now open. He'd dreamt of practicing magic since first witnessing Tom's memories, and now he knew he would do it better than ever.
"But there's more," Griphook continued, without noticing anything. "Within the blue, I sense a faint echo, a crimson undercurrent... a dormant power yearning to be awakened."
The goblin's words sent a shiver down Harry's spine. Crimson, Tom had spoken of how his magic was part of Harry. Could this dormant power be connected?
"What is this crimson undercurrent?" Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Griphook's gaze remained fixed on the fading luminescence. "That, Mr. Potter, is a mystery even your blood cannot fully reveal. It is a path you must forge yourself, should you choose to walk it. But I expect to see great things from you Harry Potter"
The weight of the revelation settled heavily on Harry's shoulders. A hidden power, a forbidden path – the implications were vast and unsettling.
Suddenly, Tom's voice echoed in his mind, clear and reassuring. "Embrace the unknown, Harry. This crimson power, my magic is the key to unlocking your true potential, your destiny."
Tom's words ignited a spark within Harry. He wouldn't shy away from this unknown power. He would unravel its secrets, learn to control it, and use it.
-x-
"So Mr. Potter, here is the balance sheet listing all your assets and liabilities, and your money bag linked to your account," said Griphook handing Harry the paper.
"Thanks, Griphook, I'll be back if I need anything," said Harry before leaving the bank.
As Harry stepped out of Gringotts, the weight of Griphook's revelations still heavy on his mind, he felt a familiar presence stirring within him. Tom's voice echoed in his thoughts, a steady whisper guiding him towards his next destination.
"Sklandior's Finest Wands," Tom's voice resonated in Harry's mind, urging him towards Knockturn Alley. "There, you will find the key to unlocking your true potential, Harry. Trust me."
As Harry saw the entrance of Knockturn Alley, he hesitated for a moment, unsure of what awaited him in that dark and mysterious alley. But the pull of magic was too strong to resist. With a determined nod, he set off towards Knockturn Alley, his steps purposeful and resolute.
Navigating the winding streets of the alley, Harry's senses were assaulted by the sights and sounds of the dark wizarding marketplace. Yet, guided by Tom's voice, he pressed on, his heart pounding with anticipation.
Finally, he reached the unassuming storefront of Sklandior's Finest Wands. The air around him seemed to crackle with magic as he pushed open the creaking door and stepped inside.
The interior of the shop was dimly lit, with shelves lined with an array of wands of various shapes and sizes. A small, shadowy figure emerged from the shadows, its eyes gleaming with a mysterious light.
As Harry's eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could make out the silhouette of an old man behind the counter. His long, gnarled fingers traced patterns in the air as if conducting an unseen symphony of magic.
"Welcome, young seeker," the old man rasped, his voice like gravel grinding against stone. "I sense great potential within you, a power waiting to be unleashed."
Harry felt a chill run down his spine as the old man's words echoed the sentiments of Griphook. Could this be another piece of the puzzle? Was Sklandior's Finest Wands the key to unlocking the mysteries of his magical heritage?
"I am looking for a wand," said Harry
The man nodded, with a wave of his hand, the old man beckoned Harry closer, his eyes alight with ancient wisdom. "Take this," he said, placing a sleek, ebony wand into Harry's outstretched palm. "It is a wand of great power, crafted with care and precision."
Harry felt a surge of energy course through him as he gripped the wand, its smooth surface pulsating with magic. But it felt wrong, it was unnaturally hot. "No, too hot" commented Harry
"Not quite the right fit, I see," he muttered as if speaking to himself. "Let us try another."
Harry nodded eagerly, his determination unwavering. He reached for the second wand, only to have it burst into flames upon contact. The old man chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement.
"Perhaps not," he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. "Let us try once more."
With a sense of trepidation, Harry reached for the third wand, his fingers trembling slightly. But as soon as he touched it, the wand emitted a loud screech, sending Harry stumbling backward in surprise.
The old man's laughter filled the air, echoing off the walls of the shop. "It seems we have yet to find the right match," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "But fear not, young seeker, for the perfect wand is out there waiting for you."
As Harry's attempts with various wands had failed, a sense of frustration began to gnaw at him. However, the old man behind the counter seemed unperturbed, his eyes twinkling with a knowing gleam as if he anticipated this outcome.
"Patience, young seeker," the old man rasped reassuringly. "The right wand will reveal itself to you in due time."
With a determined nod, Harry steadied himself, refusing to let his disappointment overshadow his resolve. He trusted in the wisdom of the old man and the magic that permeated Sklandior's Finest Wands.
Suddenly, the old man's gaze shifted, his eyes narrowing as if he had just uncovered a hidden secret. With a swift motion, he reached behind the counter and produced a wand unlike any Harry had seen before.
"This," the old man declared, his voice tinged with reverence, "is an Elderwood and Holly wand, bound by the heartstring of a Basilisk, with purple amethyst as the binding material. A wand of great power and potential. My father made this and it has been sitting here for over 60 years"
Harry's breath caught in his throat as he beheld the wand, its surface shimmering with an otherworldly purple glow. He could feel the magic pulsating within it, calling out to him with a promise of greatness.
Tentatively, Harry reached out to grasp the wand, his fingers trembling with anticipation. As soon as his hand closed around it, he felt a surge of energy course through him, as if he had finally found the missing piece of a puzzle.
The old man nodded approvingly, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "A perfect fit," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "This wand recognizes your potential, young seeker. With it, you will unlock powers beyond your wildest imagination."
With the Elderwood and Holly wand in hand, Harry felt a sense of completeness wash over him. He knew that this wand was not just a tool for casting spells, but a symbol of his journey and the potential that lay within him. As he stepped out of Sklandior's Finest Wands, Harry felt a renewed sense of purpose coursing through his veins, knowing that he was one step closer to fulfilling his destiny. And in the depths of his mind, he could feel Tom's presence, a silent but proud observer, guiding him on his path to greatness.