Harry nodded.
The description did sound a lot like him.
“The next core is even more interesting,” Tobin continued thoughtfully, “and it will be very costly to obtain.”
“Even more interesting?” Croaker asked.
“Yes—the heartstring of a Ukrainian Ironbelly.”
“But they’re extinct,” Croaker said with a frown.
“There are still some parts circulating on the black market,” Tobin replied dismissively.
Harry guessed, “A dragon?”
“The most dangerous breed to have ever existed,” Croaker confirmed.
“They were hunted to extinction at the end of the last century precisely because of how lethal they were.”
“Also known as the Silent Inferno,” Tobin added.
“Enormous when visible, yet masters of stealth. A single adult could reduce an entire village to ash in seconds. They were ruthlessly aggressive when provoked, yet deceptively calm until they struck.” He gave Harry a calculating look.
Harry’s eyebrows rose at the vivid description.
“I know a contact who can provide what we need,” Tobin said.
“It will cost around ten thousand galleons.”
“I have the money,” Harry replied without hesitation.
Tobin nodded.
“Very well. I’ll fetch the materials and return shortly.”
Harry left the room briefly to retrieve the gold and handed over a heavy bag.
Tobin accepted it with a pleased smile.
“Your wand will be one of the most expensive and challenging I have ever created, Mr. Potter. I’m looking forward to the challenge.” With that, he departed.
“While we wait,” Croaker suggested, “we should have our medical team give you a thorough check-up. We need you in peak condition.”
Harry sighed but agreed.
Two hours later, a thoroughly irritated Harry returned to the room after being poked and prodded from head to toe.
He was relieved to find Mr. Tobin putting the finishing touches on his new wands.
“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Tobin greeted him jovially. Get faster updates on g.com.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment.”
Harry waited patiently.
When Tobin was ready, he gestured for Harry to approach, his expression one of eager anticipation.
Two identical wands lay on the table—sleek, shiny black with elegant purple streaks running vertically down the shafts.
“It’s illegal to own two wands,” Harry pointed out, recalling the laws he had read.
“Are you planning to report me to the Aurors?” Tobin asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You should always have a spare. Just in case.”
Harry shrugged and picked up one of the wands.
The moment his fingers closed around it, a powerful wave of warmth spread through his body.
It felt perfectly right.
“I fused the two woods together using amethyst,” Tobin explained proudly.
“It blends seamlessly with the Purpleheart and is far less noticeable than other stones would have been.”
Harry had to admit—the wands were beautiful.
The deep purple accents somehow suited him perfectly.
“Go on,” Tobin urged.
“Give it a try.”
Harry took a deep breath, focusing on the thought of seeing his parents alive again.
A surge of anticipation filled him.
“Expecto Patronum.”
A brilliant silver stag erupted from the wand—Prongs, clearer and stronger than Harry had ever conjured him.
The patronus trotted around the room before fading.
“Very impressive indeed, Mr. Potter,” Tobin said, visibly awed.
“I take it we were successful?”
Harry smiled and nodded, letting the stag dissolve. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
“How much do I owe you?”
“Only ten more galleons.”
Harry handed him fifty instead.
“You’ve been here all day. Consider the rest compensation for lost business.”
“That is very kind of you,” Tobin said gratefully.
“Ah—you’ll need holsters.” He retrieved two sleek black ones from a trunk.
“Hebridean Black hide. Mr. Croaker can explain how they work.”
“Thank you,” Harry said sincerely, shaking the man’s hand.
“For everything.”
“It has been a pleasure, Mr. Potter. Take good care of them—they are rather spectacular creations.” Tobin nodded to Croaker, shrank his trunks, and left.
“Now, Mr. Potter,” Croaker said, “I believe Filmore is waiting for you in the time room.”
They entered to find Filmore and three figures in dark grey cloaks already there.
“It’s about time, Potter,” Filmore growled.
“These are the people—along with myself—who will be training you.” He grinned malevolently.
“Their names don’t matter. They are the best we have. You’ll need to be better than damn good to keep up. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Harry replied sharply.
Filmore nodded approvingly.
“Let’s see what you’re really made of.”
For the next several hours, Harry was put through a rigorous evaluation.
He cast spell after spell and curse after curse—many of which he had only recently learned from his books.
It took some adjustment, but Filmore insisted on non-verbal casting, stinging him with a hex whenever he slipped up.
The motivation worked wonders.
Harry was relieved to finally have a wand that obeyed him properly.
Spells flew from it more readily, and their power was noticeably stronger than before.
His blasting and cutting curses in particular obliterated the training dummies, leaving the observers visibly impressed as they took notes.
Finally, after he demonstrated his patronus for them all, Filmore called a stop.