Harry's feet hurt.
After he had gotten back from Vanderkaum's shop he had danced the night away with Shari, running through song after song, displaying every bit of his skill and enjoying it the entire time. After the last song of the night, exhausted and perspiring, he had said his good nights to the band and to Shari. He had been pleasantly surprised when she, out of the prying eyes of her mother and father, pulled Harry into a darkened corner and proceeded to give him the best snogg of his life, with promises of more if he continued to dance with her. Harry had been light headed and had staggered up the stairs with the stupidest grin plastered on his face.
Walking into his room he stripped, took a quick shower, and prepared for sleep. Pulling out his new wand he cast powerful wards that he couldn't have done before Vanderkaum crafted the beauty in his hand.
It had taken a very long time, nearly the rest of the day, for the wand crafter to finish his wand. Vanderkaum had insisted that Harry remained for the entire process, claiming it created a bond between wizard and wand. It was a very memorable experience and Harry would not forget it easily.
"Come boy, we'll start by measuring your innate power to see what kind of materials would suite you best," Vanderkaum said as he motioned for Harry to follow him down another stair case Harry had not seen walking into the room.
As they walked down the long staircase, Harry started to smell aromas that were familiar to the outer room, but were slightly different, slightly more volatile and pungent. As they entered the room at the bottom of the stairs he retracted his previous statement about the upper room. This room was what he had pictured a wand maker's work shop would look like.
It was a high vaulted ceiling, vent holes across the top to allow for volatile vapors to escape and keep the crafter unharmed, work benches and tools lined the walls, but looked untouched for years, even though not a speck of dust remained on the surfaces. The walls were lined with different magical materials, a vial of basilisk venom here, a jar of powdered unicorn horn there, a box of veela feathers, and many times many other rare and dangerous materials sitting innocuously in jars that had the faint bluish glow of preservation charms. Along the far wall, there was an even greater selection of wooden blanks used to craft the shaft of the wands. The woods were multi colored with different grains running through them, each carrying a distinct look. In a small area, were stacks and bins of different colored metals. Some in small containers as pellets or natural grains, or in stacks of smelted bars.
"This my boy, is a real wand crafter's work shop," Vanderkaum said, gesturing widely with his hands, "and this," he said reaching into his robes and pulling out a glowing sphere of what looked like mercury, "is called an Apollo's Eye. Are you familiar with it?"
He nodded, more to himself than to the wand crafter. The Apollo's Eye was a magical object crafted from the silver extracted from the eyes of a fury. The amount of silver residue that can be drawn from the dangerous creatures is very small, so an Apollo's Eye as big as the one Vanderkaum was holding would have taken hundreds of dead furies to complete. The eye acted as a magnification to what normal furies could do. They could see into the hearts of people and tell things about their victims to give the furies a sense of what they would do next. It was how the dangerous creatures tracked individuals and how they knew the best way to kill them. An Apollo's Eye did a similar task, just not as strongly. It told the bearer about character, potential, and affinities, which would be crucial in the development of a wand.
"Hold out your hand and concentrate inwards boy as I place the Eye onto your palm," the old wand crafter told him.
Harry closed his eyes and held out his hand. Once the silver ball touched his hands his mind shot inwards. Images of his life flew through his mind, his childhood, his life at the Dursleys, his trials at school, the joy he felt when he was with his friends, and the pain at their abandonment as sensations and memories flooded into him. He was rocked with the sheer power of the rush that he nearly collapsed once it stopped. When he opened his eyes, he found himself being supported by Vanderkaum, who for some reason was smiling viciously, and being led to a chair. He was soaked with sweat and breathing hard.
"That, boy, was a very interesting experience," he said.
"I've got to agree with that," he mumbled under his breath, "But definitely not something I would like to go through again."
The old man barked a laugh and slapped him on his shoulder, "You won't have to do it again boy, I've got all the information I need. Sit here, while I collect the potential cores."
Harry watched as the old man walked over to the ingredient shelves and began to pull jars and boxes from the shelves without hesitation. After pulling seven bottles and five boxes from the shelves, he returned to Harry wearing a large anticipatory grin.
"I must say boy, I'm very excited to be building your wand for you. I've missed the feeling over these many years, and to finally craft a wand for a good man feels revitalizing. I feel as though I'm sixty again," he said with a slight bounce in his step.
Placing the bottles and boxes on the table in front of Harry, the man explained, "Now I want you to run your hands over each of these possible cores. They will react to you by pulling at your magic. You should be able to feel the pull. Point out which ones you feel the pull to."
Harry started with the boxes, running his fingers over them and felt the draw on two of the boxes, "these two," Harry indicated. The old man set the boxes aside and returned the others to the shelves.
Running his hands along the bottles, he selected three and indicated them. Each was small, but contained three different liquids that were very unique. One was silvery like quicksilver, another was clear, but seemed to move about by itself within the bottle, and the last was black, almost misty as it swirled inside the bottle.
The wand crafter rubbed his chin in thought as he saw the three liquid components the boy chose, they were dichotomous opposites and extremely dangerous if handled improperly he thought to himself. This was going to be fun.
After returning the bottles to the shelves, he sat opposite from Harry and arranged the items in a row before him.
"Ok boy, now I want you to tell me what it feels like when you touch each of the bottles and boxes. Explain the sensation to me," he said, waiting in anticipation.
Harry felt the first box, a red colored wooden box, "This feels hot, yet not hot. It gives me hope, I think, hope for the future and new life, yet it also holds sadness and regret."
Vanderkaum nodded, "This here boy," he said pulling off the cover, "is crystallized phoenix fire. Farmed from the phoenix lands and taken from their first leavings."
The, essentially, phoenix crap was actually very beautiful. They were long oblong shaped clear orange red crystals that seemed to burn with an inner light.
"Now the next," the old man pushed.
"The other box feels like fearlessness, bravery, courage. It makes me feel strong, like I can do anything in the world," Harry said, confidently now that he knew where this was going.
Uncovering the box, Harry saw fragments of what looked like white bone. Vanderkaum explained, "This my boy is part of the antlers of the legendary White Stag. The white stag was the herald of the brave, the great beast that led the greatest and most ancient warriors of the past to their final resting place.
"Next," he said.
Running his hands over the black vial, "This next one makes me feel terrible. It makes me feel cold and angry. There's a drive to kill and to hurt from this one."
"Dementor's essence," the crafter said, "Taken from the dementors as the soul of one of the kissed is being consumed. At the moment of consumption, the dementor loses part of its soul and this," he said gesturing to the black inky liquid, "is ejected from their bodies."
"Next," he pointed to the clear vial.
"Cold rage," Harry said, "it feels like cold rage. The fire of betrayal. And lust, there is definitely lust in there."
"Basilisk venom," the wandmaker explained, "purified and concentrated through a long process. It is the essence of aggression and the primal soul."
"Last," he said, pointing to the silvery liquid.
"It feels," Harry hesitated, trying to find the words, "Right. It feels like justice and goodness. Like life and balance."
The old man nodded at the young wizard. This boy would be a very strong wizard some day, and, if he read the affinities right, would be a power house of justice in the future.
"The blood of one of the ancient Aquilla. The messengers of Zeus himself. It was said that Aquilla was an eagle, but that was untrue. He was one of the elder phoenixes from the worlds beyond who came to the ancient god to learn. Aquilla was ever the companion, until the demise of the god by his sons. Then he left the world, but not before bequeathing his earthly body to an ancient witch, who preserved the body with spells. Later, Aquilla's earthly form was separated and used to create some of the most magical items in history. The talons and beak were used in the forging of the ancient Sword of the Waves, known in many cultures as it traveled in the hands of Poseidon's daughter. We know her as the Lady of the Lake and the Sword of the Waves as Excalibur. In Japan it was known as Kusanagi-no-tsurugi and was returned when the boy emperor fell to the seas during the battle of Don-no-ura.
"The blood came to my master's family during the Dark Elf wars in 1350. And he passed it on to me, after which, I hid it so it could never be used by evil men," he looked at Harry with the weighing look he had before,
"Tell me boy, what do you think all these different affinities mean?"
Harry had no idea and he shrugged.
"They are each a different part of your personality boy. The choosing is something of a branch of prophecy called augery. It reflects what is deep within you and what you may or may not become. Your bases are the dry materials, the crystallized phoenix fire, and the horn of the white stag. It means at a base level, you are brave and valorous, almost stupidly courageous, and that you cherish life and yern for the love that you never received. The liquid parts represent what you have become and what your potentials may be. The dementor's essence is the coldness and the hatred that you have. The basilisk venom, the unrestrained primal urges that you feel, whether that is for sex or for battle, you feel them. And yet, those are tempered by the blood of the Aquilla. The quiet honor, the hope, the goodness, and the proclivity for righteousness. These are the three paths set before you boy. On the one, you can wallow in hate and vengance, rotting away till you are nothing but a shell of your former self. On the other, you can take your hate and channel it into your own pleasure and desires. You could rule with the fist and the wand, making all your carnal dreams true. But, you can choose the righteous path. You can choose the path to honor, contentment, and righteousness. You can choose the difficult path and become the premier of the good and bane of the wicked. It is your choice," he finished, a proud look entering his eye.
"Now come boy, I will teach you the secrets of my craft," he said, "someone should learn it before I pass and for some reason boy, I trust you."
"Before you pass?" Harry asked, genuinely concerned.
"This my boy, is the last wand I will ever make," he explained, "After this, I will make sure that I can no longer be tempted by the lure of revenge." That was all he would say to Harry as they walked over to the wood section.
"We will use holly as an insulating material," he said, picking up a wooden blank, "since you are attuned to this material, and we will use, this as a shell."
Harry looked at the sheet of metal the old man was holding up to him, it was like nothing he had ever seen. It was silvery, yet did not hold the light like silver did, it seemed to not reflect off it, but to absorb it and push the light around it instead of off it. It looked like a liquid mirror, yet reflected no image back to him. It was ethereal and beautiful. Like nothing he had ever seen.
"What is it?" he asked the older man.
"Mithril," he said, with a grin, "Taken from the deepest of the dwarven mines, it was said that in the time before the middle time when high elves roamed the earth and the dwarven nations spanned the land, gods waged war upon each other using the earth as a battle ground. Their war shifted the tides and created mountains. Finally when the war was over, the blood from their battle seeped deep into the cracks of the earth and solidified into Mithril, the blood of the gods."
Incredible, Harry thought to himself.
"You will assist me in the creation of your wand. Tell me boy," he said, pulling a small cauldron over the fire, "are you any good at potions?"
"Descent," he replied, "got an O on the OWLs."
"Good enough. You know how to brew Dragon's blood elixir?" he asked, pulling out potions ingredients that Harry recognized.
"Yes, it was my OWLs potion," he admitted.
"Good, I want you to brew it. Once it is completed I will show you how to make complete the binding of your magical items into the core of your wand. I will be over here, creating the wand itself." With that said, the old man walked over to the bench and began to take out tools, chisels and bores, sand paper and many other tools were spread over the table as the man started to work.
Harry turned back to the cauldron and ignited the flame underneath, turning the heat down to increase the temperature slowly. Dragon's blood elixir did two major things, besides the other ten, the last of which was to clean ovens, one it was used in fortifying potions when combining them for human consumption such as healing elixirs with blood replenishing potions, and two, it was used in conjunction with binding spells such as stupefy in order to seal up a magical signature or energy core. It was useful in law enforcement and in prisons. Harry would know, he had been fed the disgusting stuff for a month while in Azkaban.
He started by adding a base of one part water, one part by weight of purified white salt, and one sprig of mint. Stirring counter clockwise he let that settle for five minutes, then added a dash of powdered rhino horn to the mix, which added as a stabilizer for the next ingredient. He picked up the coagulated dragon blood. The results would shift with the kind of dragon used and Harry hoped it would not be a strongly magical dragon like a Fireball, because the reaction while pouring the blood into the mixture would be very violent. As he added the citrate to the vial of blood and waved his hand over the vial, watching the hemolized blood to reverse and become liquid once again, he slowly poured the contents into the cauldron and was relieved to see only a small reaction emanate from the cauldron. The then began to stir the mixture clockwise for seven minutes, turning up the heat. As he finished, he prepared the final ingredient, an inch squared piece of elemental ice, that would cool the mixture and allow for other additions to be made to the mix without it bursting into flames, a reason why dragon's blood was such a mystery before Dumbledore discovered its uses.
Finally complete, he turned off the cauldron and let it rest. The potion would not coagulate due to the citrate added and would remain sterile due to the impervious charm he placed over it. Walking over to the other man, Harry watched the wand crafter work.
Vanderkaum had already created the bore into which the core would be poured, then he had chiseled the wood down into the shape he required and carved his runes with an expert hand and a small shape knife. The wood was smooth and warm. He had definitely not lost his touch. All that was left was to add the shell and the core, then he could cap it and create the handle.
"Are you finished with the elixir boy?" he asked Harry.
Harry nodded his assent, and walked back to the caldron with the old man, who nodded thoughtfully at the potion, "Just 'descent' eh?" he asked the younger man with a small grin.
He colored a bit and asked, "So how do we add the core ingredients?"
The old man opened the boxes and explained, "You first add the dry ingredients to the room temperature mix of dragon's blood elixir. They will slowly dissolve, but you must touch nothing. Any agitation would disturb the magic as it filtered into the potion. Once it is dissolved, add powdered unicorn horn to the mix. This will bind the dry ingredients to the potion so that it will not precipitate at a later time. Next, you take the wet ingredients and arrange them by volatility. The first is the Aquilla blood, pour everything in boy, next the venom, three drops only, and lastly, four drops of the dementor essence. Good. Now heat the cauldron using the hottest flame you can make."
Harry waved his hand at the cauldron bottom and a white flame appeared, turning the cauldron first to a dark red, then to a bright orange. The potion bubbled up, spewing noxious fumes that quickly dispersed up into the ceiling.
"Wandless, eh?" the old man said with an impressed grin, "Good, now release the fire and let it cool form there." Vanderkaum said.
Harry released his magic and let the cauldron slowly cool.
"Now as we are waiting, we need to prepare the shell of the wand. Come," he said, gesturing for Harry to follow.
They walked over to the table where the sheet of mithril had been heating in a pan over the fire. It was now in a liquid form and rolled around the pan.
"Use that tool over there and bring the holly wand," Vanderkaum ordered.
The tool in question looked akin to a screw driver and was used to hold the wand in place while liquid metal was being poured onto it.
"Now, I want you to slowly roll the wand as I coat it in the metal. It need not be even as we can finish it after, but try to make it as even as possible, the more contact the metal has with the wand, the more magic can be channeled through it."
As he turned the wand, he saw the quicksilver move over the wand in waves. It was beautiful as the liquid silver rolled onto the wood and flowed into the crevices. He nearly made the mistake of stopping to admire the movement of the liquid metal. When it was complete it seemed to shimmer and it solidified immediately.
"Now," Vanderkaum said, "bring it here to the grinding wheel so we can smooth it out."
After nearly half an hour at the large stone wheel, Harry had a smooth gleaming wand. It was surprisingly light, but was still unfinished.
"The ingredients should now be ready boy."
As they approached the cauldron, Harry was shocked to see the liquid in the cauldron had reduced to a mere spoon full, the tiny amount of viscous liquid pooled in the center of the cauldron.
"What-" he started to ask when Vanderkaum interrupted.
"That is the beauty of my work boy," he said smugly, "the entirety of all the magical ingredients pushed into a thimbleful of core material. Most idiots just shove the core, whether it is a Veela hair or a fury feather, into the wand and close it off. With a liquid and condensed core, there is much more focusing power and much more strength to the wand's integrity. Now scoop up the liquid and pour it into the receiving end of the wand, be sure not to spill a drop."
Harry did so, and was surprised to find that the liquid was exactly the right amount needed to fill the wand core to the brim.
"Excellent," Vanderkaum said, "cap it with this," he said, handing Harry a handle made of darkened holly. It was shaped to fit he grooves of the hand, yet fit seamlessly into the wand. "Now we must activate the wand. Hold it aloft in your wand hand, point it in front of you and say the spell veritas."
Nodding, Harry did as he was told, holding the wand comfortably I his hand and reciting the words of the spell, "Veritas!" Light shot from the wand and nearly knocked Harry over with its intensity. He could feel the different magics combining and hear the calls of the different creatures, the warming song of the phoenix, the bellow of the great stag, the screech of the dementor, the hissing roar of the Basilisk, and the piercing call of the great eagle of Zeus. As each majestic call was heard, a rune alighted onto the wand's surface, burning dark red and searing into the mithril. After the five runes were etched under the wand's surface the space around Harry concussed with power, the air around him nearly shattering as the magics settled in the wand. Then Harry could feel warmth flowing into him from the wand. Warmth so much greater than that of his phoenix feather wand, it bombarded him with sensations and finally settled back into the wand.
Opening his eyes, he was greeted by a smiling Vanderkaum, "How'd you like it boy? Better than sex in my opinion. Congratulations on making your first wand."
Harry blinked and looked down at the wand. The dark wood of the handle was smooth and almost metallic. It connected to the eerie mirror like finish of the mithril and the faint outlines of runes could be seen just below the surface like an image trapped in clear ice. It was stunningly beautiful.
"Go ahead boy try it out," Vanderkaum urged.
Harry tried a simple spell, wingardium leviosa, he muttered and pointed at the cauldron, which summarily flew straight up into the air and impacted the ceiling with such force that it lodged into the stone. His jaw dropped.
"You'll find that you do not need to put in too much power to cast spells now and you must be very careful because you are not used to the amount of power transfer there is with this highly attuned wand," Harry nodded dumbly. This was incredible.
"Thank you Vanderkaum," he said, "how much do I owe you?"
"Nothing my boy, this was my way of atoning for my sins. Just remember what I told you, it is your choice which path you follow."
Harry was still thinking about what he said as he laid down to bed that night, "It's my choice, huh?" he said to himself, "Not much of a choice at the moment, but we'll see