Once he confirmed the gray mist was usable, Harold immediately reached for it to pull it from the unicorn's horn.
But just as his hand extended, he heard a sharp crack in the distance—like a whip slicing through the air.
No… that was Apparition.
Only then did Harold realize that far more time had passed since he summoned the unicorn spirit than he'd thought. The Ministry may be inefficient, but they wouldn't just ignore such a massive magical anomaly—they had to send someone to investigate.
Fortunately, the job was already done.
As he quickly recalled the unicorn spirit into his wand, Harold reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet-wrapped parcel, roughly the size of a Golden Snitch.
The velvet and parchment burst apart, revealing a gold button, which Harold grabbed firmly.
"Whoever cast magic here—I've got you!" someone shouted nearby, rapidly closing in.
But before they arrived, Harold's surroundings twisted and blurred. The barren rocks and weeds vanished. Everything around him streaked by so fast it became a blur, the only constant sensation being the button clenched tightly in his hand.
Then—thump—his feet hit solid ground.
Harold staggered, steadied himself, tapped open the entrance to Diagon Alley with his wand, and walked through like nothing had happened, blending seamlessly into the crowd.
The alley was busy as usual. No one noticed when one more person joined the throng.
Back at Ollivanders, Garrick was sitting behind the counter, absentmindedly flipping through a book. When Harold walked in, he blinked in surprise.
"You're back already? Did you forget something?"
"Of course not." Harold closed the door behind him. "Got what I needed, so I came back. I'm not spending the night out there."
"So soon?" Garrick was momentarily stunned.
He often spent months, even years, searching for wand materials. Just last year, he and Gregorovitch had taken nearly a year seeking the legendary rowan grove in Norway. If not for the incoming first-years, he might still be there.
Harold had been gone… what, a few hours?
It was barely ten minutes to two. Harold had left around eight in the morning—less than half a day.
"I got lucky. The Knight Bus dropped me near the perfect spot," Harold said, not realizing what Garrick was thinking.
He'd truly lucked out—the Knight Bus driver's instincts had saved him hours of searching.
No way was he spending the night in a desolate place like Wiltshire.
"But what about the ghost?" Garrick looked behind him. "You didn't bring it back, did you?"
"Right here." Harold raised Silvermane. A flash of blue light, and the unicorn spirit appeared in the shop.
Garrick's eye twitched. He'd seen this magical anomaly last year, but it still defied belief.
Harold tugged the gray mist from the unicorn's horn. It had shrunk and smoothed, looking more like a translucent gray soap bubble than fog now.
Garrick stared. "What… is that? Does it have something to do with that Bloody Baron ghost?"
"In a way." Harold decided not to explain—it was too much hassle. Besides, as he was speaking, he noticed the mist had shrunk again.
Wait. Was this thing evaporating?
Unlike Voldemort's soul fragment, which had lingered for hours on the unicorn horn, this one was already half gone.
Clearly, the Bloody Baron was nowhere near as powerful.
Still, that only meant he had to hurry.
Harold slipped behind the counter, drawing out the serpentwood wand. He muttered an incantation, splitting the wand cleanly down the middle, revealing the dim orange runes within.
The unicorn spirit moved closer, wrapping itself around the open wand halves.
Harold's hands gradually came together as he chanted.
Drawn by a mysterious force, a thread-like wisp of gray mist unraveled from the bubble and wove itself through the orange runes like silk.
Immediately, the orange glow dimmed.
When the last wisp disappeared, the wand snapped shut and began to tremble violently.
Harold and Garrick both stepped back, eyes locked on the wand.
It shook harder, emitting a deep, buzzing hum.
"This doesn't look good…" Garrick murmured.
A large split opened in the serpentwood, nearly two-thirds of its length—six to seven inches.
Harold picked it up, disheartened. The crack was massive. Through it, the orange runes were still faintly visible.
"Did it fail again?" Garrick sighed.
Then, something strange happened.
The wand began to soften.
It grew slick—serpentine.
Moments later, the tip twisted into a snake's head and slithered around Harold's index finger.
"Oh, Merlin…" Garrick stared in disbelief.
He'd been making wands for decades—never had he seen this.
The snake coiled once, then bit its own tail.
In a blink, it devoured most of its body, tightening into a ring on Harold's finger.
Only the snake's head remained, right over the cracked section. The glowing orange inside resembled a vertical slit—like an eye.
[Serpentwood, Cursed Eye — 10⅓ inches (now 2⅓ inches)]
[Status: Conflict, Containment]
[Trait: Soulpiercer – +3% damage to the soul from spells]
[Exclusive Magic: Basilisk Gaze (Visus Basiliscī) – Channel magic to awaken the basilisk's eye. Those who meet its gaze will be petrified. If the target's magic is weaker than the user's, it becomes an instant death curse.]
The ring weighed heavily on his finger.
It was like carrying an entire basilisk.
For a moment, Harold truly wondered if he belonged in Slytherin.
He'd claimed the title "Heir of Slytherin" to provoke Riddle, but now… it almost felt real.
Unlike a real basilisk, the ring's death effect depended on the caster's strength.
For most, it was just a petrification spell. Only powerful wizards could wield it to its full potential.
But Harold didn't mind.
Basilisks might not kill petrified prey—but he could. Just follow up with a Crushing Curse. Same result.
Just a bit more effort.
Garrick suddenly rushed out and returned moments later, arms full of books.
He flipped page after page, desperate to find any mention of something .
No record. No precedent.
Still, he knew the wand was finished. He could feel it. Thıs content belongs to 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵⟡𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮⟡𝓷𝓮𝓽
But… was it still a wand?
"Maybe it's a magic ring?" Harold joked, thinking back to the Hogwarts kitchens and the house-elf called Gollum. He chuckled.
"Hm?" Garrick glanced up.
"Nothing—just a happy thought."
"Can I examine it closely?" Garrick asked. After a pause, he decided not to call it a wand anymore.
"Sure." Harold reached to remove the Serpent's Eye.
But no matter how he tried, it wouldn't budge. The snake-shaped ring tightened around his finger each time.
"…You've got to be kidding me." Harold stared at the elaborate ring.
Was he really going to have to wear this thing to school?