THE HIGH PRICE

by peverell.magic

The ash began to bury his legs, enveloping him in its soft, warm embrace. Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face in them, allowing the world to drift into the distance.

9. CHAPTER 9: REDISCOVERING ANTIQUITY

CHAPTER 9: REDISCOVERING ANTIQUITY

The fragments of Harry's once-loyal wand, crafted from holly and phoenix feather, were strewn haphazardly across Salazar's ornate desk. Harry ran his fingers gently over the splintered wood, feeling its cold, polished surface beneath his touch.

'They shattered your wand,' Salazar hissed with a touch of venom. 'You must retaliate, take from them what they have stolen from you.' Slytherin's wand unleashed a dazzling cascade of silver sparks, and his serpent figurine reared up, baring its venomous fangs. 'A wand is an extension of your very being, Harry. It's as if they've carved a piece of your own flesh from you.'

Harry's resolve remained unshaken. 'I'll never return to them.'

Salazar exhaled slowly. 'Perhaps that's the wise choice. Revenge is like the Ouroboros, an endless cycle of self-destruction.'

'I can't trust them anymore. Our friendship has been irreparably shattered.'

'A bond for a bond,' Salazar mused. 'Their friendship in exchange for the wand they've broken. It seems a fair trade.'

'You once told me that I would need my friends.'

'Individuals who are individually weak often unite in packs to bring down stronger adversaries,' Salazar explained. 'You were once weak, striving for power. But you've evolved beyond that. While there are still many wizards and witches who surpass your strength, within the walls of Hogwarts, there are few who pose a genuine threat to you, Harry. Even if you choose to stand alone.'

'I don't want to stand alone,' Harry confessed, his gaze fixed on a forgotten corner of the ceiling, covered in dust. 'I spent far too long alone before coming to Hogwarts. I don't wish to return to that solitude.'

Salazar's emerald eyes softened, their depths darkening. 'Nor did I. I found equals who understood me, with whom I built this school. I wouldn't be addressing my descendant now if it weren't for the companionship I had. You will find your own.'

Harry whispered, 'But I still need a wand.'

'Indeed, you do,' Salazar concurred, offering Harry a small, reassuring smile. 'Consider it not as a replacement for your old wand and its bond, but as the forging of a new connection for the wizard you are destined to become.'

Harry looked pensive. 'You changed wands, too.'

Salazar nodded somberly. 'Twice, in fact. Once due to my own foolishness and once out of necessity, much like your situation.' He regarded the pitiable remnants of Harry's wand. 'I, for one, chose to burn my wand and start anew. But perhaps you should gather these shattered pieces and present them to the most skilled wand-maker you can find. Inquire about the possibility of preserving an echo of your old companion.'

Harry whispered the name, 'Ollivander.'

Salazar recognized it. 'Ollivander, you say? The name has endured for generations. My final wand was crafted by a member of that very family.'

Harry contemplated the upcoming visit to Diagon Alley. 'I'll have to make the trip.'

'Go now,' Salazar urged. 'The tournament's commencement must be drawing near.'

Harry chuckled lightly. 'The wand-weighing ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow.'

'Then, without delay, go now,' Salazar reiterated. 'You have the ability to apparate. Nothing holds you back. And take with you a vial of the basilisk venom. A wand-maker is, in essence, an alchemist. If this Ollivander is worth his reputation, he'll surely appreciate the rare gift of such a substance.' Harry walked around his trunk, retrieved one of the vials from the desk, and nodded in agreement.

'Take the fragments with you, Harry,' Salazar murmured. 'It's worth the inquiry, even if it leads to naught. But do not return without a wand. Time is not on your side.'

Harry carefully collected each splinter, cradling them in his palm. After a deep breath, he felt the world whirl around him, and in an instant, he found himself standing at Ollivander's doorstep.

He patted himself down, quickly ensuring that nothing was amiss. 'Everything's intact,' he thought with relief.

Harry stepped into the renowned wand shop, and almost as soon as he entered, Ollivander emerged from behind a precarious stack of wand boxes.

'Mr. Potter,' Ollivander greeted with genuine surprise. 'Of all the individuals I expected to visit my establishment next, you were certainly not among them.'

'Mr. Ollivander,' Harry responded as he gingerly shifted out of the man's path.

'I distinctly remember selling you your wand, Mr. Potter. Even if my memory were to fade on the countless moments my wands found their destined companions, your wand would be the last of my creations to slip from my recollection. A holly wand, eleven inches, with a certain suppleness.'

Harry's expression grew solemn. He poured the shattered wand fragments onto Ollivander's desk, and as he did, bright crimson droplets appeared across his palm.

Ollivander's pale eyes misted as he examined the remnants. 'It is a grievous sight, Mr. Potter, to witness the destruction and demise of something one has crafted. Nevertheless, it clarifies the purpose of your visit.' He extended a long, bony finger towards the vial protruding from Harry's pocket. 'Is that basilisk venom, Mr. Potter?'

Harry handed him the vial. 'Indeed, it is.'

Ollivander leaned in and said, 'I shall not inquire about the origins of this substance, Mr. Potter. I've heard whispers of the events of your second year. Nor shall I question how you find yourself here when you should be far away. What I will ask is this: Are you absolutely certain?'

Harry blinked at Ollivander's unexpected question. 'Sure? Did I miss something?'

Ollivander explained, 'When a wizard or witch brings me a magical substance for crafting a wand, which some of the most dedicated traditionalists do, I always inquire if they are certain. It is not a simple task for those not well-versed in wand lore to make the most informed decision. We shall perform a check, just to be sure.'

Ollivander hurried to the back of the shop and returned with what appeared to be a pair of intricate silver scales. 'If you wouldn't mind, a drop of blood, Mr. Potter. I give you my word as a wand maker that I won't employ it for any other purpose.'

Harry extended his hand, and Ollivander pricked his finger with a small, delicate instrument. A single drop of blood fell into one of the minuscule silver bowls. Then, he carefully unscrewed the vial containing the basilisk venom and poured a single drop into the other bowl. 'Basilisk venom is a challenging substance to use as a wand core, Mr. Potter. It devours all that is living, including the sturdiest wand woods. Nevertheless, there are methods to counteract its corrosive properties. Alchemy plays a crucial role in wand-making.'

Harry watched with fascination as Ollivander meticulously hovered over the scales, tapping his long, slender, pale wand against them at intervals while muttering softly under his breath.

'Ollivander continued, 'Blood is an immensely potent magical medium, as every wizard is aware. With the right tools and knowledge, it is easy to assess the strength of your magical alignment with the substance.'

Ollivander pocketed his wand and then disclosed the result, 'The brighter the blue, the better the match.'

Harry gestured toward the scattered fragments on the desk, a slim, golden strand protruding from one of them, resembling a string of flames. 'I was hoping I wouldn't have to acquire an entirely new wand. I painstakingly gathered every splinter.'

Ollivander pondered for a moment before replying. 'A fragment from your old wand, still infused with your magic, may indeed hold great significance. It may assist in preserving the bond you shared with your former wand. Let me consult my resources to see what can be done.'

The scales emitted a brilliant, vivid blue light, which brought a sigh of relief from both Harry and Ollivander.

'Well, that's lucky,' Harry commented.

'Mr. Potter,' Ollivander's pale eyes focused on a point between Harry's ears. 'If I didn't know any better, I might think you were competing for the title of Britain's premier wand-maker.'

Harry arched an eyebrow. 'I must have missed something.'

Ollivander's smile revealed crooked, white teeth. 'Don't be too modest, Mr. Potter. We both understand that basilisk venom completely dissolves organic materials. You can't just walk into my shop with such a substance, carrying the fragments of your previous wand, and request a new wand that isn't entirely new without me realizing your ingenious solution.' He deftly gathered the pieces of Harry's former wand into his cupped palm. 'Perhaps this isn't so much the destruction of your bonded wand as it is its rebirth. How fitting for a phoenix feather wand core.'

With a firm hand on Harry's shoulder, Ollivander guided him toward the rear of the store. Harry couldn't help but notice that the workspace beneath the towering shelves of wand boxes seemed far larger than it appeared from the front.

'Certainly, I'll carry out your idea, quite brilliant it is,' Ollivander commented. 'I've heard that Gregorovitch once attempted something similar. His endeavor ended in failure, but I believe this method will succeed. When it comes to wands, Mr. Potter, feelings are paramount.'

Harry observed as Ollivander meticulously extracted every piece of the phoenix feather with the help of a magnifying lens. Using a pair of silver tweezers, he gingerly placed them into the vial of basilisk venom, where tiny streams of silver bubbles rose until the feather strands had completely vanished.

'Your finger, Mr. Potter,' Ollivander instructed as he placed the same silver scales on the desk beside the vial of basilisk venom. With a swift, silver needle, he pricked the ball of Harry's forefinger.

Harry grimaced at the momentary sting and allowed a small bead of crimson to fall onto the scales. Ollivander followed by adding a droplet of the venom, which now contained Harry's old wand core, onto the scales. He stared at them intently, as though the meaning of life were reflected in their gleaming surface.

A sudden, bright blue flash pierced Harry's vision.

'Perfect,' Ollivander whispered. 'Your magic appears to have an especially harmonious connection with a fluid core, Mr. Potter. It flows within you. Could this be the result of certain misunderstood rituals, perhaps?'

Harry met Ollivander's pale gaze, his thoughts drifting to the circle of dark ink on white parchment he'd seen in his mind's eye.

'Do not worry, Mr. Potter,' Ollivander reassured. 'The Ministry often disapproves of things that do not align with its agenda or propaganda. I am confident that if they had no use for wands themselves, they would label many of my techniques as dark. You shall receive no judgment from me. My only query is this: What wood shall your wand be made from?'

Ollivander wiped the silver scales clean with a black cloth and set them aside. A piece of parchment, adorned with slender wood shavings, descended onto the desk before them.

'I'm not certain,' Harry admitted. 'Holly again, perhaps?'

'Ollivander pondered for a moment and then murmured, 'Perhaps. A third time, if you please, Mr. Potter. No need for blood this time. You will feel the warmth from the wood that best suits you.'

Harry carefully studied the parchment. The names of various woods were listed: Holly, Oak, Ash, Hawthorn, and many others. It was a dizzying array of choices.

Ollivander took charge, seizing Harry's hand, and guided his forefinger to touch a sliver of holly. Ollivander's touch was like that of old, soft, papery books found in Salazar's library. The piece of wood felt no warmer than Harry's own skin.

'Any feelings, Mr. Potter?' Ollivander inquired.

Harry shook his head. 'I'm not sure.'

'If you're uncertain, then holly is not the right choice,' Ollivander reasoned. His silver eyes roamed down the parchment, and he led Harry's finger to the darkest shard of wood. 'Perhaps this one.'

A surge of heat coursed through Harry's fingertip, causing him to instinctively pull back.

Ollivander's smile widened. 'Ebony, Mr. Potter. Not so different from holly, in a way. Both woods symbolize protection, but while holly is associated with sacrifice, ebony is linked to power.'

The familiar tape measures, which Harry remembered from his previous visit, swept around the bookshelves to encompass him in their grasp. They clicked and whirred as they swirled around him, meticulously measuring every inch of his body.

'Eleven and a third,' Ollivander announced. 'With a wand of this potential, it's best to be as precise and thorough as possible.'

Harry offered a genuine smile. 'Thank you, Mr. Ollivander.'

Ollivander's white, crooked teeth gleamed in response. 'This, Mr. Potter, is the part you cannot witness, despite the ingenuity of your idea. Every wand-maker must keep some secrets.' He swiftly grabbed the vial from the desk and disappeared into the labyrinth of shelves, muttering beneath his breath.

A small thrill coursed through Harry. I've just witnessed something that hardly anyone else who visits here has seen.

Leaning on the desk, he began reading the labels on the numerous stacked wand boxes. A bright, otherworldly light flickered from the far side of the shop's backroom.

Salazar's going to be thrilled that my new wand isn't phoenix feather, Harry thought with a chuckle. I wonder if the old, stubborn portrait had the same debate with Tom Riddle.

'I took my time,' Ollivander appeared from behind a stack of wand boxes with all the subtlety of a particularly stealthy ghost. 'I can never rush the creation of a wand, especially not one like this.'

Harry clenched his jaw until the ice in his veins melted away, and his heartbeat returned to normal.

'Ollivander presented Harry with a thin, long box, much like the one he had been given over three years ago.

Inside lay a long, dark piece of wood. As Harry touched the wand, warmth flowed from his palm to his shoulder.

'Go on, my boy,' Ollivander whispered. 'Give it a wave.'

Harry complied, twirling the wand in a small circle.

Another wave of warmth enveloped Harry from head to toe, and intricate frost patterns unfurled across the floor beneath him.

He couldn't help but grin. 'It's perfect.'

'The rebirth of a wand, Mr. Potter,' Ollivander murmured. 'A truly beautiful thing. It's something I never thought I would witness. I daresay I won't craft another wand quite like this one ever again.'

'I can't express my gratitude enough, Mr. Ollivander,' Harry said sincerely.

Ollivander shook his head. 'My wands cost seven galleons, Mr. Potter, no more and no less. I would give you this one for free if ebony were not so rare. The venom you provided for its creation is likely worth enough gold to purchase every wand in this shop.'

That's a lot of wands... and gold. Harry glanced around at the towering stacks of wand boxes as he reached into his robes for the correct number of coins.

Ollivander tucked the galleons away. 'I have not tainted this wand by affixing the Ministry's crude trace enchantment to it. Do you comprehend what I'm saying, Mr. Potter?'

'I do. Thank you.' Harry's smile turned thin and cool. 'No more restrictions. The Dursleys are going to be quite upset when they find out I can cast as much magic as I like now.'

'Thank me by promptly returning to where you are supposed to be and trying out some of your best spells before I see my handiwork displayed at the wand-weighing ceremony tomorrow,' Ollivander chuckled, a soft, dry sound. 'After all, who else would conduct such a ceremony?'

'I can't think of anyone better,' Harry replied with a grin, ready to put his new wand to the test.

'You are too kind,' Ollivander replied, leading Harry back to the front of the shop and ushering him outside. 'Take care, Mr. Potter. It's a considerable distance to apparate, even for an emergency such as this.'

Once back in Salazar's presence, Harry realized the loss of his thumb's nail. 'Well, it's better to lose this part than anything more important.'

'Nails grow back,' Salazar reassured him. 'It's a fair trade for a wand.'

Harry massaged the skin covering the top of his thumb. 'Yes, I have a wand. It's ebony, eleven and a third inches long. My old phoenix feather core dissolved in basilisk venom at its center.'

Salazar raised an eyebrow. 'So, the wand-maker managed to use the venom to create a new core for your wand? That's most intriguing.'

'He tested to see if my magic was compatible with the venom, and then with the venom containing my old core. It worked,' Harry explained, smiling. 'He seemed to think this was my plan all along. I suppose I was fortunate to leave with it.'

'Carry me outside and demonstrate a spell,' Salazar suggested. 'I want to see it. Familiarize yourself with your new wand as soon as possible.'

Harry concealed his smile as he carried the painting across the bridge. Once outside, he held the frame steady.

'Reducto,' he incanted, swiftly and accurately, aiming the spell at a nearby stone.

Harry's magic surged forward, eager and lively, flowing like a gentle stream, yet precise and fine, like the ink from a fountain pen. A burst of red light transformed one of the nearby serpent statues into a fine powder.

Salazar sighed. 'Stop breaking parts of my Chamber of Secrets.'

'I'll fix it,' Harry promised, waving his wand at the dust. The serpent statue reassembled itself. 'You do sound like an old housewife, though.'

Salazar crossed his arms. 'I am Salazar Slytherin, one of the greatest mages to have ever walked the earth. I do not sound like an old housewife.'

'If you say so,' Harry replied, grinning.

Salazar tutted. 'How did the wand feel?'

'It's not necessarily stronger, but it feels right, like I've been painting with my finger all this time and have finally picked up the finest brush.'

'More refined, then?'

'Ollivander mentioned something about my magic flowing well and responding to a liquid core,' Harry explained. 'He said that if my heart was in my magic, this wand would always perform excellently.'

'I've never seen a wand with a liquid core before. They're said to be quite difficult to create without making the wand too fragile. It's a pity I can't take a closer look at yours,' Salazar lamented. 'Try the disillusionment charm; it will be a better test of your control.'

Harry swirled his wand around himself and squinted at his arms. 'I see no difference. I'm still camouflaged.'

'I do,' Salazar acknowledged. 'When you move your arms, your charm adjusts smoothly even with fast motions. A bit of practice, and you'll be nearly undetectable.'

Harry carefully slipped his new wand into his sleeve. Little surges of warmth washed through him, traveling up his arm.

'Don't put it away just yet,' Salazar protested. 'Do something thrilling with it! Push the limits of your abilities! Try that basilisk conjuration you showed me the first time you brought me out here.'

Harry grinned and allowed his wand to slide back into his hand. Warmth pulsed through his fingers like a gentle summer breeze rustling through leaves. He visualized the serpent emerging from the pool's waters and swept his wand upwards.

Every drop of liquid soared into the air, and the conjured basilisk twisted over the bridge, coiling and poised to strike, its size matching that of the lifeless basilisk on the ground.

A deep, throbbing ache tugged at Harry's limbs. He gritted his teeth and resisted it, keeping the conjuration aloft. The ache dug deeper, gnawing at the very core of his being, and he slashed his wand forward.

The conjured basilisk collided with the chamber wall like a breaking wave.

'Was that thrilling enough?' Harry winced as exhaustion settled into his bones. 'It still took a lot out of me.'

'Very,' Salazar said, his eyes sparkling. 'Your control with that wand is exceptional. You're no longer wasting so much of your strength. When you come of age, Harry, you will be a formidable wizard.'

'I have to make it to seventeen for that,' Harry muttered.

Salazar cackled. 'The Triwizard Tournament won't know what hit it. I hope there's a dueling event. You're a much more promising heir than Tom ever was. He was refined and highly focused but lacked your innate power. He must have undertaken numerous rituals after he left here to become as feared as Lord Voldemort.'

'I suspect you're exaggerating.'

'I may be exaggerating, but I'm not lying. Tom was incredibly talented and very powerful, but so are you. You will be the true Heir of Slytherin, my heir, and I have every confidence that you will surpass him.'

'I'll certainly have to try,' Harry quipped. 'He's not exactly going to leave me alone.'

Salazar buffed his nails on his robes. 'So, where to now? Back to your common room?'

Harry stiffened. 'I said I'd never go back, and I meant it.'

'But there must be other members of your house who were not involved,' Salazar pointed out.

'I'll wait for them to come around,' Harry replied. 'However, I won't be returning to Gryffindor Tower anytime soon.'

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

'The Room of Requirement, of course.'

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

Harry chuckled. 'You're going back on the wall, and then I'm going to grab some food. I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday, and most of that ended up on the floor in here while I was attempting to apparate.'

'Fine,' Salazar muttered. 'But I want to see you again before the first task. There are a few things I should start teaching you—my fields of expertise.'

'Blood magic and parselmagic?' Harry raised an eyebrow. 'I can't use those in the tournament without raising too many questions. I'd rather not follow in Tom Riddle's footsteps if I can avoid it.'

'But it's not evil,' Salazar sighed. 'You still have some misconceptions to shed, it seems. To put your mind at ease, the most significant piece of blood magic I ever created is the Parseltongue language you can speak. There's no such thing as parselmagic. I'll explain it properly when I start teaching you. It will all make sense then.'

Harry hung the portrait back up on the wall above the study's entrance. 'Let's start with the more practical aspects for the tournament.'

Salazar shot him a wicked grin. 'If you excel at learning the arts the Heir of Slytherin should master, I'll show you how to remove the anti-levitation charm from this painting.'

Harry smiled. 'Well, how could I possibly decline such boundless generosity?' He left the chamber to the sound of Salazar's echoing laughter.

The Great Hall was enveloped in a serene, quiet atmosphere. Gray autumn clouds floated across a pale blue sky. Harry took a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table and served himself some cold chicken.

'That's really good,' he murmured, moaning quietly as he devoured a breast and half a leg.

'I heard your wand got broken, Potter.' Malfoy swaggered up to the table, his pale face twisted into an ugly sneer.

Crabbe and Goyle grunted, cracking their knuckles as they loomed menacingly behind Malfoy.

Harry flashed his best smirk. 'I see you took my advice, Malfoy. You should never leave home without your trusty lackeys.'

'I haven't forgotten that insult, Potter. Now you've got no wand and no friends...'

A pair of freckled hands came down on Harry's shoulders. 'I wouldn't say that.'

'He has just as many friends as you do now, little Draco. Run along.'

'After all the mud you've dragged your name through, you still can't rid yourself of the blood-traitors. Pathetic,' Malfoy sneered before swaggering off, Crabbe and Goyle following in silence.

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

'So, Harrikins,' the twins chimed in as they seated themselves on either side of him, gently nudging him along the bench. 'We heard you had a little 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 had finished with him, George. She hit him with so many hexes he had to go to the hospital wing.'

'He's still there, Fred.'

'It was the first time I've ever seen Snape award points to Gryffindor, George.'

The twins refocused their attention on Harry. 'Anyway, we just wanted to let you know that we're working on Angelina and Alicia. It's a slow process. Angelina's still quite upset with you, and Alicia tends to follow her lead, but Katie is helping a lot.'

'She wants something from me,' Harry's thoughts emerged as a calm, collected voice in his mind. 'We're friendly, but not that close.'

'We still have to keep our distance,' George, or perhaps Fred, swiped a piece of chicken and grinned. 'But not as much as before. Either way, 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. Thank you, though.'

The twins huddled together. 'Where did you get a wand, Harrikins?'

'From a wand-maker, of course.'

'Harrikins is getting smart, George.'

'We'd better watch out, Fred.'

Harry spotted the tall, dark-haired figure of Angelina approaching from the far end of the hall. 'Angelina's coming, so you'd better watch out.'

Fred flashed a smile and gave two thumbs up. 'Thanks for the warning.'

'Decent of you,' George added. 'This mess with Angelina won't last too much longer if we can help it. Gryffindor house will have your back like it's supposed to.'

Fred leaned forward. 'Sorry for the wait, Harrikins, but all's well that ends well.'

Step into the world of PEVERELL_MAGIC on P.a.t.r.e.o.n! Experience where tales unfold, magic ignites, and the future takes shape.

For exclusive support and early access to upcoming chapters, join us at PEVERELL_MAGIC on P.a.t.r.e.o.n.

Note: Get the scoop a day before anyone else! Updates release on P.a.t.r.e.o.n before they hit FanFiction. Join us for free to read ahead!