"Enough to fill this vial," Ollivander held up a small tube-like vial about six inches in length and half an inch in circumference. Harry took it from the wand maker, and held it aloft to his eyes.
"I assume you have something I can cut myself with?" His question was answered when Ollivander produced a gleaming white dagger that shone in the light. Taking it from the wand maker, Harry sliced open the vein in his wrist and held the wound to the vial's opening as blood gushed out. When it was full, Ollivander healed the wound before Harry's magic could do the job, and took the vial from him.
"It will take me about an hour to perform the ritual that will bind the wand's materials to your blood," Ollivander told him. "You may wait right here, or come back later today."
"I think I'll wait here," Harry informed the wand maker, and with that he walked over to the spindly chair, sat down, and pulled out a book on potions from within his robes.
In turn, Ollivander flicked his wand at the door, changing the sign from open to close, and walked back through the door at the end of the room.
It was only half an hour later that Harry was forced to stop reading when the power coming from behind the closed door forced his attention off his book. Like a jolt of electricity racing across his skin, Harry could feel the magic in the air like an electric current. The atmosphere became filled with the heady scent of ozone, as if the magics within the shop were actually beginning to burn the stale air due to its potency.
Whatever ritual Ollivander was doing, it must be very powerful, Harry concluded.
The power surge lasted for a total of fifteen minutes before diminishing, and in another five it dwindled down to nothing. Harry stowed his book away and rose from his seat just as an exhausted yet elated Ollivander walked into the room.
"It is finished," the old wand make said, once more presenting Harry with the wand sitting in the box. It did not look that different from the last time he had seen, save for one exception.
Moving from the tip of the spire, down into the handle where they abruptly stopped, were ancient looking symbols that he recognized as Norse and Anglo-Saxon runes. He saw Sowilo, the same rune that was carved onto his forehead and was associated with the god Baldur. There was also Uruz, corresponding to the god Thor and a symbol of mental and physical strength. Harry could see many others that he recognized from his studies of ancient Norse history; Naudiz, the rune of necessity. Tiwaz, the warriors rune. Ehwaz, the rune of momentum. Ihwaz, the rune of defense. Jera, the rune of success and continuity, and Dagaz, the rune of transformation. They moved along the spire, tiny black symbols of ancient runic language that continued in a string of combinations.
Harry had no idea what these runes meant from a magical stand point. He had only ever studied them from a historical standpoint, but he knew that these symbols of old had been written in his blood and soaked so thoroughly into the wand that they had become a part of the very grain of the wood.
"Go on." Ollivander gestured with the box, his voice a breathy whisper. "Take it."
Harry reached out, his fingers found purchase in the notched grooves of the wands handle, and he grasped it tightly.
A gasp escape his lips as a powerful current of energy surged through him. The runic symbols running along the wand's spire glowed a bright silvery green. Harry's eyes closed, and his body shuddered as his magic began to sing in harmony with the wood and twin cores.
He could feel them. He could feel the twin cores harmonizing themselves with him and the wood that made up his wand. He could feel the elder wood synchronizing itself with the cores and himself, becoming one with him in ways he had never in his wildest dreams imagined possible. It felt like a part of his soul was being restored to him, like a piece of him that had been missing for so long he never knew it was gone had suddenly come back. It was impossible for him to tell where he ended and the wand began.
If he had to sum up how he felt in a single word, it would be complete.
Harry opened his eyes and Ollivander actually took a step back in shock. His eyes were burning with emerald green fire, and the outer edges of the iris were lined with silver. The colorful irises bathed the room in light. His pupils were gone—no. Not gone. They had been replaced. The once black dots were now a bright silvery green that was only visible if one looked very hard.
The glow in Harry's eyes soon died down, and the power seemed to... not quite diminish, but more like it simply decided not to manifest itself for any longer. It disappeared within Harry and the wand, thrumming beneath the surface as it waited eagerly to be released again.
"That wand you have there is very powerful, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said softly. "It is the most powerful wand I have made to date, and now it will only ever work with you. No one else will ever be able to use it. Your wand is also unique."
"Unique how?" asked Harry, looking from his wand to Ollivander.
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