“Is that so?” Eric remained unmoved, smiling as he said, “I’d still like to try some other wands.” “I don’t understand.” Seeing that Eric had no intention of changing his mind, Ollivander’s expression grew even darker.
“The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Clapton.” “I’ve met others before you who rejected a wand that had chosen them.
None of them came to a good end.” “Once you’ve rejected a wand, even if you return later and try to use it again, that wand may reject you in turn.” “The greatest mistake anyone can make when choosing a wand is trying to find the ‘best’ one.
My experience has taught me that there is no such thing as the best wand in the world.
There is only the wand best suited to you.” “And in my judgement, that oak wand is precisely the wand best suited to you.” When Ollivander finished, he stared fixedly into Eric’s eyes.
He was waiting for the boy to change his mind.
Eric merely shook his head and continued holding the oak wand out towards him.
“…Very well.” After a moment, Ollivander raised his chin and regarded Eric with faint contempt.
He took the wand back from Eric and said, “You are remarkably stubborn, Mr Clapton.” “I only hope your talent is great enough to justify your arrogance.” Ollivander turned and carefully returned the oak wand to its place.
Then he went back to stand before the wall stacked high with wand boxes, bracing both hands against the counter.
“You may tell me what sort of wand you’re looking for now, Mr Clapton.” “I don’t mean to boast, but this truly is the finest wand shop in Diagon Alley.
There is no second.
I don’t limit myself to particular materials; I have wands made from every sort of wood.” “What about fir?
Fir wands often favour witches and wizards who are stubborn and possess strong convictions.
You happen to fit that description rather well.” Eric didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he turned and began strolling around the shop, examining the wands one by one.
He was perfectly relaxed and paid little attention to the sarcasm in Ollivander’s voice.
The relationship between a wand and a wizard was, in truth, extraordinarily complicated and mysterious.
The wood, the core, the length, and countless other factors all affected a wand’s properties.
Correspondingly, it was indeed true that wands chose their wielders.
The relationship between wand and wizard was more like that of lovers, or perhaps intimate partners.
Whether they were compatible depended partly on their innate natures and partly on how they grew accustomed to one another over time.
If a wizard failed to respect his wand, then without question, he would never be able to draw out truly powerful magic through it.
And today, Eric had indeed been the one to offend Ollivander first.
Ollivander had every reason to be angry.
Any proud wandmaker would have reacted much the same way to Eric’s behaviour, especially after witnessing how perfectly he had harmonised with the oak wand.
There was, however, one thing neither Ollivander nor Tom knew.
For Eric, who possessed Wand Affinity, there were almost no wands that would resist him.
Quite the opposite.
Standing in the middle of the shop, Eric could faintly sense every wand around him calling out to him, each one seemingly eager to be held in his hand.
He didn’t need to personally try every wand to know it.
The wands were actively trying to please him, each doing its best to reveal what made it special.
Eric had sensed that the moment he grasped the oak wand.
It had almost seemed to be flattering him.
He had barely channelled any magic into it, yet the wand had spontaneously produced that astonishing display.
And where’s the fun in that?
Something obtained too easily was often difficult to treasure.
Eric was beginning to feel exactly that way.
He didn’t explain his reasoning aloud, but he chose to follow his own instincts and continue searching for another wand.
After all, the worst possible outcome for him was that he could pick up practically any wand and still draw out most of its potential.
If that was the case, why wouldn’t he choose the most unusual one?
If Ollivander had known what Eric was thinking, his jaw probably would have hit the floor.
For everyone else, choosing a wand meant searching through countless possibilities for the one wand willing to respond to them.
Eric, meanwhile, was choosing among countless wands that all suited him, searching for the most unusual one, even perhaps a wand that wouldn’t respond to him at all.
It was an outrageous waste of good fortune.
Watching Eric wander around the shop, stopping here and there with obvious interest, Ollivander finally couldn’t bear it any longer.
He stepped out from behind the counter and followed Eric, introducing every wand that caught his attention.
“Holly.
Excellent form, phoenix feather core, thirteen inches…” “This one is ebony.
It has a core made from two different materials, a very rare composite technique.
Though, if I’m being candid, it isn’t as good as the oak wand you just tried.” “Elm…” “Alder…” …
“What exactly are you looking for in a wand, Mr Clapton?” After following Eric around for more than ten minutes, Ollivander finally lost patience.
His mouth was practically dry from talking.
Aside from the first wand, Eric hadn’t picked up a single other one to test.
Ollivander had to admit that his earlier anger had now largely been replaced by curiosity.
He wanted to see what sort of wand Eric would ultimately choose.
“Well…” Eric smiled.
“I’m not entirely sure myself.
Mr Ollivander, do you have any particularly rare wands?
Or perhaps ones that are almost never popular with customers?” Eric genuinely was having trouble deciding.
A wand wasn’t like an ordinary magical object.
You could only truly judge whether it suited you by holding and using it yourself.
Even if Eric activated his Mental Field, he couldn’t immediately distinguish which of these wands was particularly unusual.
To him, every wand felt suitable.
And if he tried examining them one by one with his Mental Field, even he wouldn’t be able to absorb such an enormous flood of complicated information all at once.
Ollivander was nearly speechless.
If he hadn’t personally witnessed Eric’s talent earlier, he might have suspected the boy had been sent by his competitor Gregorovitch purely to cause trouble.
“Mr Clapton, that way of thinking is far too extreme.
Allow me to tell you one final time: the wand chooses the wizard, not—” “No.
You’re wrong, Mr Ollivander.” Eric interrupted him with a smile.
“As far as I’m concerned, I’m the one choosing the wand.” What?
Ollivander felt as though some final thread of sanity inside his head had suddenly snapped.
He had never been so furious in his life.
His face flushed red as he glared at Eric.
“Who exactly do you think you are, Mr Clapton?
I’ll have you know that even You-Know-Who wouldn’t dare say such a thing!” Eric didn’t argue.
Instead, he casually picked up a nearby wand and gave it a light flick towards Ollivander.
The next instant, something spectacular happened.
Ollivander suddenly rose straight off the floor.
His entire body floated into the air.
A stream of dreamlike, multicoloured mist poured from the wand in Eric’s hand and rapidly spiralled around Ollivander.
It gathered beneath him like a cloud, seemingly supporting him in mid air.
Then a dazzling rainbow burst from the mist.
It curled around Ollivander’s shoulder before tying itself into a bow around him, making the elderly wandmaker look even more spectacularly decorated.
Before Ollivander could recover from his shock, Eric severed his connection with the wand and calmly returned it to its original place.
The cloud of mist beneath Ollivander vanished at once.
With nothing left to support him, he dropped out of the air and landed on the floor.
Fortunately, the ceiling of Ollivanders wasn’t particularly high, so Mr Ollivander escaped without injury.
“This…!” Sitting on the floor, Ollivander stared dumbfounded at everything that had just happened.
His gaze met Eric’s smiling eyes.
“Now then, Mr Ollivander,” Eric said, “perhaps you can tell me what sort of wand that was.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Hidden_Quill Thank you so much for reading!