The Hidden Snake of the Lions (Harry Potter SI): Chapter 7

Today is a momentous day!

A day where my journey will officially begin and I will finally be able to get stronger again instead of being stuck without any of my usual tools.

Because my acceptance letter from Hogwarts has finally arrived!

However, that does lead me to a certain issue.

“H-Harry, I get that you will need money for your purchases at that place. But we really don’t have any money for that place. All the money that was given to us with you was in our currency.”

Yeah. Right now, I am facing money problems.

Just my luck.

If I remember correctly, the amount of money I spent when I was admitted as a fifth year was somewhere in the range of a few hundred Gallions, which was equivalent to 2000 or 3000 pounds.

That’s a hell of a lot of money, that’s for sure.

Fortunately, the Dursleys are rich and can afford it.

I stared coldly at Petunia and spoke out words that would probably cause this family to bleed for a bit in terms of money. An acceptable price to pay for the hell that my life was at their hands for the first eight years I spent with them.

“You only need to give me a few thousand pounds and drive me to this ‘Leaky Cauldron’ mentioned in the letter. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“A few thousand!?”

For a split second, Petunia forgot her fear of me and was aghast at the amount.

How typical of her.

“Yes. A few thousand. Aside from that, I will also need extra money to cover any expenses incurred during my stay at Hogwarts.”

They went pale as they tried to calculate how much they would have to take out from their savings.

Again, an acceptable punishment for everything I endured growing up.

I know for a fact that Mum and Dad left me a sizable inheritance from their end. I was awake when they were discussing those things when I was a baby.

However, given what I know of Human and Goblin greed, I would not put it past the Wizards to make these inheritances disappear into thin air due to ‘various expenditures at the Ministry’ and ‘Legal fees’.

Especially those Goblins. Ever since I recovered my memories of the Goblin Rebellion led by Ranrok and what he did, my trust in Goblins is at an all-time low.

I don’t mean to say that there are no good ones among them, my memories of Lodgok say otherwise, but such people are incredibly rare to find and are outliers instead of the norm.

“…Fine. When are we leaving?”

I smiled at Vernon’s glum words.

“Right now.”

I need a wand as soon as possible. I cannot have my control be as busted as it is right now, especially my ancient magic since its volatility can be a danger to others and myself.

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…..Diagon Alley has changed significantly from what I remember in my memories.

While it was still crowded and was the center of all things magical, it was not this crowded, and neither were there so many stores!

Not to mention the sheer intensity of magic in this place is dizzying.

It took me a lot of effort to navigate this place in my small body, weaving through the sea of bodies and heading straight for Gringotts.

Before I can make any purchase, I will need Wizard currency.

Once I arrived at Gringotts, I spotted the Goblins lining the halls and running about, reminding me of memories that slowly started to come back.

Back when I was a fifth-year student, Professor Figg and I had accidentally arrived here through one of the Keeper’s secret entrances.

Compared to back then, Gringotts has not changed much. The only change I can see is that instead of a handful of Goblins manning the reception, there are now several dozen lining the halls, indicating how busy they have become compared to back then.

Turning Muggle money into Galleons was a relatively simple, if tiresome, effort since the Goblin I was dealing with was not so inclined to deal with muggle money, saying that it was worthless and no sane goblin would ever take it if not for Hogwarts and its rules.

Personally, I didn’t even listen to half of his rambling. I couldn’t care less what he thinks and what he does, the only thing I care about is my money.

While I was at it, I also tried to see if I could access my inheritance left behind by my parents, and to my delight, the inheritance was still there, stored safely within their vaults.

Unfortunately, the key to the vault is supposedly in the hands of that old coot Albus Dumbledore, and I will need to get that key before I can access that money.

On the flip side, Dumbledore cannot touch the vault either without me present, so that is something.

While he looked like a fairly good bloke, my expectations for the Headmasters of Hogwarts is once again at an all-time low, thanks to the performance of one Phineas Nigellus Black that I remember from my time as a student.

This is how I currently found myself in front of Ollivander's.

Nostalgia consumed me as I watched the dusty old shop from the outside.

The store looked completely different from the one I am familiar with in Hogsmeade, and I am sure that Gerbold Ollivander is no longer around, given that he was already an old man when I was a fifth-year.

Taking a deep breath, I walked into the store.

And just like back then, I am overwhelmed by the sheer potency of the magic in this place.

My senses felt overwhelmed as magics of all kinds sang to me, calling for me to try them, to see if we were destined.

“Well, that is something you don’t see every day.”

I jumped at the voice and saw an old man slide out of the back on his ladder.

His resemblance to Gerbold from my memories was so striking that he could not be anyone but his son or grandson.

I suppressed my emotional turmoil and smiled.

“Hello! Mr. Ollivander. I am here-“

“I know. I have been waiting a long time for you, Mr. Potter. Garrick Ollivander, at your service.”

My words died on my tongue as nostalgia consumed me once again.

Like father, like son, I guess.

Gerbold always used to say that he would name any male heirs he would have as Garrick, I guess he finally succeeded in his dream.

I did not speak anymore, for there was never a need for words with the children of the Ollivanders.

“Here! Try this. 11 inches, Unicorn hair. Flexible. Cherry wood.”

I already knew what kind of wand would suit me, thanks to my memories, but I humored the old man regardless.

As my hand hovered over the wand, I felt my magic interact with the Wand’s own magic.

For a few seconds, it felt like our magics would meld, but then, I felt my magic reject the wand violently.

Ollivander must have felt the same since he immediately took the wand away.

“This won’t do at all!. Perhaps-“

And so, the process repeated. One after another, he brought out wands that my magic would always end up rejecting.

Finally, he brought out a wand with great trepidation.

“Phoenix feather core, 11 inches. Holly-wood frame.”

The moment I saw the wand, something in my memory stirred as the scar on my face felt like it was on fire.

This wand, There is something in it that is connected to that bastard Voldemort.

My magic reacted to my rage as the wand directly exploded in my hands, sending wood shards across the shop.

“…My apologies, Mr. Ollivander. I’ll pay for it.”

“…..No worries. It is my job to match you with a perfect wand. But, I must say, I have never seen anyone with as violent magic as yours.”

I had no retort to his words, and I simply nodded.

How the hell am I supposed to explain to him that I am someone from his father’s or grandfather’s generation and was reincarnated into this body?

“Mr. Ollivander, if it is not too presumptuous, can I make a suggestion for my wand?”

“Of course! Go ahead. I am already out of ideas, and any new insight would be appreciated.”

I brightened up at his words.

“Do you have a wand with a Dragon heartstring core, 13 inches long, and made from Elder wood?”

The surprise on his face is understandable.

Elder wood is notoriously hard to control and only ever stays effective if its wielder remains peerless in his or her specialty. Combining such a picky wood with even more picky Dragon Heartstring produces a Wand that only one in a million has a chance to own.

Thankfully, I know for a fact that such a wand would choose me because that was my wand in my old life.

“…I do, but given how you are asking for such things, you must already know how hard it is to control such a wand, yes?”

I simply nodded my head at his words, prompting the old man to head to the back and bring out a dusty box.

“This wand has sat in my shop since my Father’s time. It was manufactured sometime between 1950 and 1960.”

He stared at me seriously as he took the top off the box.

“Many a wizard had tried to wield it, only to fail spectacularly because of how picky it is with its wielder. Be warned, Mr. Potter. There have been times when it has reacted violently to wizards who tried to wield it and caused severe harm to them. Please be cautious.”

With the box cover removed, I was presented with a wand that took my breath away.

Putting aside the handle, which I will be replacing shortly, it looked exactly like the wand that I used to have in my old life.

A spiraling piece of wood that had accompanied me through thick and thin.

Gently, I picked up the wand, allowing our magics to meld and giving the wand the time it needed to acclimate.

However, our perfect harmony was suddenly disrupted when I felt something move from my scar and towards my wand, making the wand react violently.

“Mr. Potter! Drop the wand-“

I ignored the old shopkeeper and concentrated on the wand.

‘You will submit to me. You hear me? I will not allow you to judge me based on some stupid energy that I can’t even identify. You are mine! And that is final!’

My magic exploded in a tempest of energy as it clashed with the wands, prompting it to produce its own tempest to match my own in defiance.

Caught between these two tempests, whatever crawled out of my scar retreated swiftly, allowing the two tempests of energy to finally merge together and solidify into an unbreakable bond.

It was only when I opened my eyes and saw my surroundings that I realized what had happened during this duel of magical energies.

The Ollivanders had become a mess. With wands lying everywhere thanks to the tempest of energies creating a literal storm within the store and catching everything in the crossfire.

However, instead of being angry, Ollivander had a mad grin on his face.

“Excellent! Truly! I had guessed that you would be a talented wizard based on your parents and your lineage, but I never imagined you would be so in tune with your magic! Truly Marvelous.”

The old man started laughing.

“That wand has finally found its match. Now, I can finally say that all of my father’s works have found their rightful owners. I must thank you, Mr. Potter.”

………Yeah, he is definitely an Ollivander, no doubts about it.

That being said, time for the next part of the business.

“……Do you sell handles as well?”

The gleam in his eyes told me everything that I needed to know.

“Why yes, we do. What did you have in mind?”

“Regal series handle form 1890. Specifically, blue and gold.”

His grin stretched even more at my words.

“An excellent choice, Mr. Potter.”

My Wand vibrated with excitement as it read my mind, seeing the image I had in mind for its future appearance.

If I am to take my revenge, then I must do it In Style.

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Harry's wand: