Harry Potter:blood legacy

"— Everything seems fine," the goblin informed them almost nonchalantly. "The cashier will be with you shortly to take you to the vault," he added, returning the key to Bathsheda.

"— Thank you," Bathsheda nodded.

"— May your enemies perish by your blade," the goblin nodded at them both. Bathsheda was about to respond when Harry spoke up.

"— May your enemies have their nipples ripped off and shoved down each other's throats." (Translator's note: Uh…what? I have nothing to do with this; this is exactly what the author intended, and I was just as shocked by this unexpected twist.)

The goblin blinked before nodding approvingly.

"— Indeed," he smirked.

"— Well…we'll just be going now," Bathsheda murmured awkwardly.

"— Hmm," Harry coughed lightly, stopping her from putting away the key as he held out his hand.

The professor blinked before realizing what he wanted. "— Oh…right," she said, figuring it was fair enough—after all, it was his key. "— Sorry. But do me a favor: don't lose it and never give it to anyone else. In the worst case, you'll get robbed, and in the best case, it'll cost you seven Galleons to replace it."

"— It's ten Galleons now," the goblin cashier corrected from behind the counter without looking up from his paperwork.

"— Ten Galleons now," Bathsheda amended. "— Got it?"

"— Got it," Harry nodded firmly, and with a small smile at his response, Bathsheda handed him the key.

After some time, they retrieved the money and exited Gringotts, making their way down Diagon Alley to shop for Harry's school supplies.

"— You should pick out a wand," Bathsheda suggested, pointing to a shop called Ollivanders. "— I'll go ahead and pick up potion ingredients and make sure you have the best equipment," she added, deciding this would at least give Snape fewer reasons to complain.

"— Alright," Harry nodded before stepping into the shop, which looked rather unimpressive.

"— I sense someone," Jet hissed quietly.

"— Good afternoon," a voice greeted as an elderly man entered the room. "— I've been wondering when I'd see you, Mr. Potter. It seems like just yesterday your mother was here buying her first wand—ten and a quarter inches, willow, with a unicorn hair core. Your father, on the other hand, favored an eleven-inch mahogany wand with a dragon heartstring core. Perfect for Transfiguration," Ollivander explained as he scanned the shelves. Finally, he retrieved a box and handed it to Harry. "— Just give it a wave," he instructed.

Harry frowned but did as he was told, waving the wand, which resulted in a vase shattering.

"— Oh, crap," he muttered under his breath.

"— Not quite the right one," Ollivander noted dryly, taking the wand back and repairing the vase with a flick of his own wand. "— Don't worry, Mr. Potter. I'll find the one meant for you," he promised.

An hour later, Ollivander was still searching for the perfect wand for the Boy Who Lived and was notably disappointed when the holly and phoenix feather wand didn't suit him.

"— Hmm," the wandmaker murmured thoughtfully after yet another failed attempt. He disappeared into the back room and returned a few minutes later with another box containing a sleek black wand. "— Try this one."

Harry gave it a wave, and it felt as though a surge of energy exploded within him. The experience was incredible and indescribable—the closest comparison Harry could think of was a one-armed person suddenly gaining a second arm. Bright lights and a powerful gust of wind emanated from the wand, swirling around the shop before dissipating.

"— Wow," Harry grinned nervously, chuckling softly.

"— An impressive wand," Ollivander remarked. "— Fourteen inches, yew, and not one but two cores."

"— Two?"

"— Yes, indeed. Two cores are rare, but it does happen. This wand is peculiar—it was crafted long before my grandfather even started working here. One of its cores is horned serpent horn, exceptionally powerful and attuned to Parseltongue. It's also said to warn its owner of danger by emitting a low melody. The second core is a thunderbird tail feather—potent and challenging to master, highly prized by Transfigurists. It, too, can sense danger and is known to cast curses independently.

"— You're holding an extraordinarily powerful wand, Mr. Potter. Use it wisely."

"— Um…thank you," Harry said, paying Ollivander for the wand, though he was inwardly ecstatic. He could sense that Jet was equally thrilled. Harry nodded goodbye and stepped out of the shop. "— I can't wait to use it."

Jet hissed something approvingly, and Harry licked his lips in anticipation.

"— Harry," he turned to see Bathsheda approaching, holding a cage with a snowy owl inside. "— I have a little gift for you."

"— You…" Harry froze, hardly believing his ears. "— You bought her for me?" he asked quietly, as though struggling to understand why she would do such a thing.

"— Of course, for you," she assured him, fighting the urge to frown. When she returned to Hogwarts, she would definitely speak with Dumbledore about the boy's relatives. Too many little things were starting to paint a troubling picture she didn't like. "— Since Jet is your familiar, you're still allowed to bring a pet to Hogwarts. Or do you not like owls? If not, I can get you a cat or—"

"— No—no, it's fine," Harry quickly interrupted. "— But are you sure it's okay to buy her for me?"

"— Of course. Your birthday is coming up soon, so consider it an early gift," the professor smiled as Harry took the cage, looking at the owl with reverence. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught some hissing that, for some reason, sounded jealous.

Harry and Bathsheda were currently seated at a corner table in Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, enjoying some ice cream. Bathsheda had opted for chocolate, while Harry had initially planned to get vanilla but changed his mind at the last minute to try chocolate as well.

"— Thanks for the ice cream and the owl," Harry smiled, glancing at the snowy bird, who was unfortunately still in her cage. However, he hoped to let her out as soon as they returned home.

"— You're welcome, Harry. The ice cream is just a little treat for both of us."

"— Well, thanks anyway. How much do I owe you for them?"

"— Owe me?" Bathsheda frowned. "— Harry, these are gifts. You don't owe me anything for them."

"— Oh, are you sure?" Harry frowned in return. "— I really don't want to be in anyone's debt, so if you want any kind of payment, I'd like to settle it as soon as possible."

"— No, you don't owe me anything for either of them," she assured him, puzzled by why Harry seemed so concerned about simple gifts.

"— Oh…if you're sure," he replied in an odd tone.

"— I am. Now, have you decided what you'll name your owl?"

"— I'll come up with a name later. I want to think about it first—it should be a good name that she'll like too," Harry said as the snowy owl nodded, as if saying, "You're a smart human."

"— Harry," Bathsheda hesitated for a moment, biting her lip. "— Do you mind if I ask you a question? You don't have to answer, but I'm curious."

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