'Ollivanders sure does look old.'
That was the first thought that popped into my head as I stood outside the shop for the first time.
The building wasn't anything special, blending in with the others around it—wood, stone, and not much in the way of decoration. The only thing that set it apart was a small sign swinging over the door:
- Ollivanders -
- Makers of fine wands since 382 BC -
Stepping inside, I was immediately met with towering shelves stacked with boxes - hundreds of them, maybe thousands - leaving only narrow gaps to walk through. They even covered parts of the windows, casting the shop into a dim, dusty light.
I approached the counter and spotted a small bell.
*Dinggg.*
A moment later, a short man burst up from behind the desk, beaming.
"Oh hiya! Didn't see you come in. Name's Ollivander." He stuck out a hand without missing a beat.
I shook it, wondering where he got all that energy from, especially in a place this dusty.
"Caius," I replied.
"What can I get ya?" he asked, eyes bright.
"I'm here for a wand. Been using a legacy one, figured it's time I got my own."
"Ah, a wise choice," Ollivander nodded. "Nothing beats the bond with your own wand."
He stepped around the counter, eyeing me up and down like he was sizing me for a suit. "Arms out, lad."
I held out my arms, and a tape measure leapt from his hand, measuring everything - height, fingers, even the length of my nose for some reason.
'Why does he need to know how long my nose is?' I thought
He muttered to himself, then whistled a tune and disappeared into the maze of boxes. I could still hear him rustling around back there.
A few minutes later, he returned with a stack of boxes and set them on the desk. "Let's see if any of these beauties are the one."
He opened the first box, pulling out a smooth, pale wand with a slight taper near the end.
"Maple with unicorn hair core," Ollivander said cheerfully. "Good for healing and transfiguration. Give it a wave, will ya?"
I gave it a wave - and was immediately hit with a wave of nausea. The wand flew from my hand and clattered to the floor.
"Oh dear. Well, they can't all be winners," Ollivander chuckled, setting it back in its box. He stacked a few others off to the side.
"I have a feeling we're gonna be here a while," he said with a playful grin.
- 30 Minutes Later -
"I think I've got it." Ollivander didn't seem the least bit bothered by the chaos we'd caused. Wands and boxes littered the shop floor.
He disappeared into the back once again, returning with a dark box - no frills, just a silver latch. He opened it, revealing a wand unlike any of the others.
It was black, the handle slightly thicker with delicate silver engravings. The wood spiraled subtly from the handle before straightening near the tip.
"Ebony and Runespoor fang," Ollivander said, his tone turning curious. "Suited for the darker side of magic, mental spells, and complex spellwork. Quite a unique combination."
Even before touching it, I knew this one was different. It wasn't just another wand - it felt like it was waiting for me.
The moment I picked it up, I knew it was the right one. I gave it a wave, and a stream of light spiraled from the tip, dancing around the shop before fading.
"Perfect," Ollivander said with a broad grin. "It's always a joy to see a wand choose its wizard."
"It's something, alright." I couldn't hide the awe in my voice. The wand felt like an extension of me, my magic thrumming to life through it.
"Thirteen and a half inches, quite rigid. You know, they say a lot about a wizard can be seen from their wand," Ollivander said, tone shifting slightly.
"I suppose…" I replied, unsure where he was going with that.
"Just something to keep in mind," he said with a mysterious smile, brushing off the tension.
Strange man.
"I'll take a holster too. What's the total?"
"9 galleons - 7 for the wand, 2 for the holster."
I paid and strapped the leather holster to my forearm. Always good to be prepared.
Finally - my own wand. The feeling was indescribable, like three Christmases rolled into one. And this was only the beginning.
"Thanks for the wand. I'll be on my way now."
"Thank you for the exciting project!" Ollivander called, already diving back under his desk to tinker with who-knows-what.
Well, that was an experience...
Time to head back.
I made my way toward the Leaky Cauldron, but hadn't gone far when someone suddenly bumped into me. A girl with brown, slightly bushy hair stumbled back, nearly falling over. She had her nose buried in an open book.
"You okay?" I asked, picking up the book that had landed near my foot.
"Yes! I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention at all! You're not hurt, are you? I really should be more careful and—"
"Hey, it's fine. No harm done." I handed her the book. "Here you go, Miss...?"
"Hermione! I'm Hermione. Thank you." She made eye contact, then quickly looked away, blushing.
She looked a year or two younger than me, pretty in that girl-next-door kind of way. Her brown eyes were deep, curious. And her figure - slim waist, wide hips - definitely caught the eye. Something about the mix of cute and... something else... made my brain stall.
I managed to stop staring - but she'd noticed. Her blush deepened, and I was fairly certain her eyes wandered over me the same way. I gave her a small smile. She turned an impressive shade of red.
"Lovely to meet you, Hermione. I'm Caius."
"Lovely to meet you too," she said with a shy smile. "Are you a Hogwarts student? I don't think I've seen you there before."
"I've been homeschooled, but I'm starting there this year."
"Oh, that's great! What's it like learning magic at home? I'm a muggleborn, so it all seems so strange, but fun."
She's a muggleborn, huh. Hopefully she hasn't had too rough of a time.
"It has its ups and downs. You can go at your own pace, and you get to learn family magic. But it can get lonely."
"Oh... Well, it's a good thing you're coming to Hogwarts! You can meet more people. What do you mean by family magic, though? Haven't heard of that before." She said with a curious tone.
Makes sense, I guess. But it's a bit strange she doesn't know that.
"It just means magic specific to a wizarding family, y'know like specialties passed down through blood."
"Wait, there's stuff like that?! Seriously?" she mumbled to herself
"I'm surprised Hogwarts didn't have a class about that. I thought they'd go over wizarding custom in history of magic?"
"No, they haven't... just goblin wars..." She said quietly with a thoughtful tone, seemingly shrinking.
She looked like she was about to curl into a ball and faint.
"Well it's not too late," I said. "I can recommend a few books that cover everything you need."
I scribbled down some titles on wizarding culture and handed them over. She let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Caius. I'll read them before school starts. Honestly, it's lucky I ran into you - who knows when I'd have found out this stuff myself."
"I suppose it's a good thing we ran into each other then." I said with a friendly tone
"Mhm," she smiled. "So... which house do you think you'll be in? Your robes certainly seem like slytherin..." She said, casting her eyes over my body
"Yea most likely slytherin. It's in the family - everyone's been there. Doubt I'll be the exception."
"Oh..." She looked a bit disappointed. "You know i'm in Gryffindor and... well gryffindor and slytherin don't really get along."
"No reason to let something childish like that get in the way. Besides, it only started back when our parent's were our age. Before that it wasn't nearly as bad."
"I guess you're right. It's kind of stupid that the Slytherin's won't talk to Gryffindors." She said resolutely "Besides, it's not like the Gryffindors talk to me anyway," she muttered more to herself.
'How did she end up in Gryffindor?' I couldn't help thinking to myself
"Well It's good to know that I'll already have a friend at Hogwarts." I said.
"Oh! yeah, friend" Hermione said with an almost shocked tone.
"I do need to get going though. It was lovely to meet you, Hermione. I'll see you at Hogwarts, alright?"
I still had a good amount of things to get done. And best just leave on a strong note. I hadn't expected a Gryffindor to act like that. The thought lingered as I stepped through the worn wooden door of the Leaky Cauldron and into the familiar gloom.
A flick of floo powder and a burst of green flame later, I was home.
I landed in the drawing room with as much grace as could be mustered when tumbling out of a fireplace, and, shaking soot from my cloak, made my way toward my room.
I tossed the cloak onto the bed and threw myself after it, hoping for a moment's rest.
*POP*
'So much for that.'
"Sable brings word from Master and Missus," the elf said, bowing low, his voice solemn. "They wish to see you in the portrait room."
"Alright, I'll be right there."
*POP*
I sighed, pushing myself off the bed. My footsteps echoed softly through the corridor as I approached the portrait room, where Salazar and Isolde waited in their frames.
Their gazes found me the instant I crossed the threshold - sharp, probing, expectant.
"Well, you're not dead," Salazar remarked dryly.
"Shut it, old man," Isolde retorted, rolling her eyes. She leaned forward, her tone softening. "How did it go, dear? Did the goblins cooperate? And your wand? Did you—?"
"Let him breathe, woman!" Salazar barked, though a glimmer of amusement danced in his eyes.
I couldn't help but roll mine. You'd think that after centuries together, they'd have learned to get along.
"All went smoothly," I said, brushing soot from my sleeves. "The heirship's confirmed, vault access granted, and all the paperwork is in order."
"Good," Salazar nodded. "We didn't expect complications, but you can never be too sure."
"Now it's just Hogwarts and the Wizengamot to deal with," Isolde added, thoughtful. "We've nearly a week to prepare."
"Did you retrieve the book I mentioned?" Salazar asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
"It was in the vault, as you said. It's in my room now."
"Excellent. Bring it and me to the ritual chamber tonight. We'll put it to use."
"Yes, Grandfather. We're doing a ritual from it, then?"
"We are. I'll explain more later."
"Read the instructions carefully, Caius," Isolde warned, her eyes narrowing with a hint of mischief. "I'd hate for you to blow yourself up. Though... leaving Salazar in the ritual chamber afterward might grant us some peace around here."
I grinned. "I'll consider it."
"Hmph," Salazar muttered, unamused.
"I also got my wand - ebony and Runespoor fang." I drew it with a flick of my wrist, unable to hide my pride. The dark wood gleamed, spiral-carved and inlaid with silver, elegant yet menacing. Fitting.
"It's beautiful, and it suits you," Isolde said warmly.
"Good. That will aid your progress," Salazar said.
"When should I write to Hogwarts?" I asked, twirling the wand absently. "I'd rather not be stuck here another year."
"In a few days," Salazar replied. "Let the news circulate. That way, Dumbledore won't dismiss your letter outright." He paused. "Why don't you start reading about the ritual now? Page 133."
"Alright. We can begin in a few hours."
Back in my room, I retrieved the book and flipped to the designated page.
- The Ascendant's Pact. -
"This ritual bestows upon the caster unparalleled mastery over nonverbal magic, enhancing the ability to cast powerful enchantments silently, with only a gesture or thought."
Useful. I'd dabbled in wordless magic, but only with simple spells. The only wizard I knew of with that level of mastery was Grindelwald, and even he couldn't bypass wand movements entirely.
Now, what do I need?
Chalice - check.
Thunderbird feather - probably.
A cup of the caster's blood - precise…
The tongue of the caster - ...what?
What am I even supposed to do with it?
"The caster shall inscribe runes using the thunderbird feather and their blood. The feather and remaining blood are to be crushed and placed in the chalice at the ritual's center. The caster must sever their own tongue and add it to the mixture, channeling their magic into the circle. Upon completion, the caster drinks the contents. If successful, the tongue will regrow within the hour. Failure to channel properly will result in permanent loss."
"Fuck me."
But… I want that nonverbal casting.
sigh
"Guess I just need to do it right."
The next three hours were spent poring over every detail, memorizing each step. I would only get one chance.
Once I was confident, I went to the potion ingredients room, gathering the items.
Now for the blood.
"Sable."
*POP*
"Young master?"
"Bring me a cup, syringe, and scale."
*POP*
A moment later, Sable returned with the requested items.
"Stay with me. Make sure I don't bleed myself out."
"Yes, young master. Sable will watch."
I pierced the vein inside my elbow, inserting the syringe. I pulled so hard on the plunger it popped off, and blood began to flow freely into the cup.
Minutes passed, the cup nearing full. My vision swam, the lightheadedness creeping in.
Good enough. I pulled the needle free.
"Bloody hell, why does taking it out hurt more?"
"Episkey." The healing charm sealed the wound with a warm tingle.
Alright. Everything's ready. Well… except the tongue. That can wait.
"You can go, Sable." I told the house elf
"Yes, young master." He bowed and vanished.
*POP*
I carried the supplies to the ritual chamber - a cold, windowless space of black stone beneath the manor, lit only by flickering torchlight.
Next, I retrieved Grandfather's portrait.
"Grandfather, everything's ready." I said still lightheaded from bloodloss
"Good. Take me to the chamber, and we can begin. You've reviewed the ritual properly?" Salazar said
"Yes, I have. I can do this." I said with certainty
"Be cautious," Isolde added softly. "I won't stop you, but... if you're uncertain, wait."
"I'm ready. I'll be careful." I told her
"Then good luck, Caius." She said resignedly
I levitated Salazar's portrait and descended into the chamber.
"We begin now," Salazar instructed. "Draw the ritual circle first - it will stabilize the runes."
Twenty painstaking minutes later, the circle and symbols were complete, each line precise. My hand ached from the strain.
"Good. They'll hold." He said after observing them
"Now... for the rest." I sighed
Using a mortar and pestle, I ground the feather and mixed it with the remaining blood. The mixture went into a golden chalice, etched with silver, placed at the circle's heart.
"Everything's ready?" I confirmed. I had done my best to follow the instruction to the letter.
"Yes. Give everything you have. Leave no room for error." Salazar said
"I will."
My pulse thundered as I steeled myself. The thought of severing my own tongue twisted my stomach.
"Don't think. Just act," Salazar said, firm.
Right. Now or never.
I grasped my tongue, pulling it forward, wand in hand.
"Diffindo." I mumbled, with clear enough meaning
The pain was instant and searing - raw, blinding agony. Blood surged into my mouth, warm and metallic, choking. My fingers clutched the severed organ - wet, slick, horrid.
I placed it into the chalice with shaking hands, trying not to falter.
I collapsed to the floor, breath ragged, hands trembling. I placed my palms on the ground, positioning myself within the circle.
I closed my eyes...
As I sat cross-legged before the chalice, hands trembling slightly, I took a deep breath through my nose - mouth now utterly useless. The pain was still searing, but I forced myself to push it aside. Now wasn't the time to falter.
I pressed my palms flat against the cold stone floor, fingers tracing the runes I had drawn just moments before. The circle pulsed faintly with latent energy, waiting - hungering - for the magic to come alive.
I reached inward, gathering my magic like drawing breath into my lungs. It came reluctantly at first, sluggish, as though my body were still in shock. But with a surge of will, I commanded it, shaped it, and directed it into the runes beneath my hands.
A faint hum filled the chamber. The lines glowed, first a dim red, then shifting to gold, before settling into a vibrant silver - the same hue that gleamed on the chalice.
The ritual circle was active.
Now came the most critical part. I had to channel everything - every ounce of magical strength I had - into sustaining the ritual. There would be no second chances.
I gritted my teeth, straining, my entire body shaking with the effort. The runes flared brighter, almost blinding. My head pounded, vision dimming at the edges, but I held firm. I would not fail.
Then came the final step.
With the ritual's energy now fully coursing through the circle, I reached for the chalice. My hands were slick with blood, my grip unsteady, but I brought it to my lips, or what remained of them, and drank.
The taste was vile, metallic, earthy, and thick. But I forced it down. Each swallow was agony, my throat raw and burning, but I did not stop until the chalice was empty.
A surge of magic exploded within me like a fire igniting in my chest. My body arched involuntarily, the force of it overwhelming. I collapsed onto the floor, gasping, the pain of the ritual mingling with something else - something deeper.
Power.
It coursed through my veins, raw and unrestrained. My mind felt alight, every nerve hyperaware. I could feel it, the magic bending to my will, no words, no movements, just thought and intent.
As the magic stabilized, I lay still, chest heaving. Then, slowly, I became aware of a sensation in my mouth - tingling, stinging, then sharp pain.
I reached up, touching my lips.
My tongue… it was growing back.
I could hardly believe it, but the ritual had worked.
I sat up, still dizzy, and looked to Grandfather's portrait, which had watched the entire ordeal with a stoic expression.
He gave me a small nod. "Well done, Caius. You succeeded."
I couldn't speak yet - my tongue still forming - but I nodded back, a weary smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
I had done it. I had paid the price, and gained the power.
And this was only the beginning.
-- -- --
- Ministry of Magic – Records Department, Sub-Level 9 -
Deep in the bowels of the Ministry, lit only by flickering torchlight and humming enchanted lanterns, a solitary wizard sighed as he pushed yet another stack of parchment into the filing chute. The air was thick with dust, the scent of old ink and stale coffee lingering like a permanent curse.
Jacob adjusted his spectacles and muttered under his breath, "This truly is hell."
The Records Department, or as its workers called it, The Pit - where bureaucratic dreams went to die. Jacob's job was mind-numbing, skim the incoming documents, stamp them, and send them to the right department. He had stamped 'Notice of Importation: Flobberworm Slime' forms thirty times that morning alone.
With a weary groan, he grabbed the next sheet from the incoming tray, barely glancing at the header as he reached for his seal.
And froze.
Notice of Ascension and Confirmation of the Lord to House Slytherin
"…What?"
His brow furrowed. He read it again, slower this time.
The parchment was thick, embossed with Gringotts' unmistakable silver sigil, and carried layers of verification charms. Jacob's wand passed over it - no forgeries, no hexes, no illusions. The document was legitimate.
He sat still for a heartbeat, then another, before hastily stamping it with trembling fingers and sending it off through the chute.
Seconds later, he was out of his seat, practically sprinting toward the next cubicle.
"Hey, Samantha!" he hissed, sliding into her workspace with barely contained excitement.
She glanced up, unimpressed. "If this is about the Flobberworm paperwork again, I swear-"
"No, no! Guess what just came through?" Jacob grinned, practically vibrating. "Gringotts sent an official notice, the Lord to House Slytherin has ascended."
Samantha blinked. "You're joking."
"Not even a little."
The color drained from her face. "That's… no. That can't be right."
Jacob simply nodded, enjoying the moment.
By noon, the Records Department was buzzing louder than a hive of Cornish Pixies. By two, the entire Ministry knew. Gossip spread faster than Fiendfyre, from the lowest file clerk to the upper floors of the Wizengamot chambers.
And it wasn't long before Rita Skeeter had gotten wind of it.
Her eyes gleamed as she clutched the note handed to her by a breathless intern.
"Oh, this is delicious," she purred, reaching for her Quick-Quotes Quill. "Let's see how the Ministry plans to spin this one…"