“If your wand turned out to be eleven inches, holly, with a phoenix feather core, I might be quite troubled.”
The moment they stepped into Ollivanders wand shop, Harry heard Dumbledore make this candid statement.
Route-wise, they were originally supposed to buy books first.
But Harry truly couldn’t wait any longer.
“You’re always probing me, Mr. Dumbledore. I can feel it,” Harry said helplessly.
“You’re constantly trying to find the shadow of someone else in me. Though I don’t know who it is, perhaps it’s related to that Dark Wizard?”
His words rang out clearly in the empty little shop.
In truth, Harry knew who Dumbledore was looking for—the departed soul killed by the Sword of Triton.
However, there were certain things he could reveal, and others he could not.
His status as the savior afforded him a great deal of leniency.
Yet even that leniency had its limits.
He needed to learn more about what had transpired back then before deciding whether to lay everything bare to Dumbledore.
Almost the very next instant, an exceedingly elderly man popped up from behind the counter, holding a long wooden box in his hand.
“Oh, is this the boy?”
The old man behind the counter stretched his body with difficulty, seemingly trying to lean over the counter to get a closer look.
“I knew I would be seeing you soon, Harry Potter. You have your mother’s eyes. It feels like only yesterday she was in here buying her first wand…”
He rambled on.
But Harry was growing impatient; he didn’t care about any of these messy, nostalgic details at all—they belonged to the past, to the previous generation.
He had lived in that dream for over six years, experiencing many things, including life and death.
He had to look forward.
“You seem to be in a hurry. Very well, very well, let’s give it a try first then,” Ollivander noticed, handing over the wooden box.
“Give this a try.” He stared intently at Harry, only then noticing something different.
“Wait, your—”
He fixed his gaze on Harry’s forehead, his expression turning tense.
Afterward, Ollivander looked toward Dumbledore.
“Yes, it’s gone. It shouldn’t be gone,” Dumbledore answered. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
“That was a mark left by a powerful curse; almost no potion in this world could make it disappear, yet it truly is gone.”
Harry paid no attention to their conversation, taking the wand out of the wooden box and staring at it attentively.
“Hey… this feeling.”
He sensed the power within his body, just like when he gripped the Sword of Triton, only much clearer.
The sword was like a ravenous beast, constantly leeching power from him to do what it was meant to do.
Whereas the wand—
“It’s very gentle. You were right, Mr. Dumbledore—it’s guiding my power,” Harry said sincerely.
This was truly an obedient weapon.
With a light flick, he felt the items across the entire wand shop violently fly in all directions.
They slammed straight into the counter and the floor, and one box almost struck Dumbledore on the head, but the Headmaster nimbly ducked out of the way.
Harry glanced at the two men beside him; they had been observing him from start to finish, completely unbothered by the chaotic scene.
They were merely slightly surprised by what had happened.
However—
The wand shop’s owner shook his head.
“…No, not this one. Remarkable magic, but it’s not the one. Harry, I almost thought you had just undergone a outburst of accidental magic—that’s hardly the kind of power a young wizard should possess.”
Dumbledore’s gaze grew increasingly soft.
“Is there something special about this wand?” Harry asked, puzzled.
“Is it the Dark Wizard’s wand?”
“Well, close. Two wands were made using tail feathers from the very same phoenix; one belonged to him, and as for this one, I originally thought it would belong to you. After all, your fate has been entwined with his since the day you were born,” Ollivander said cryptically.
“But now, it seems we must go through the usual process.”
He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings from his pocket.
“Which is your wand arm, Mr. Potter?”
“…Left hand?” Harry offered hesitantly.
“…An unexpected answer, contrary to most,” Ollivander replied, measuring Harry’s arm.
“In truth, either hand works, but my right hand has more strength,” Harry allowed himself to be measured.
“If someone gets close to me, I feel I’d need a longsword far more than a wand.”
He clearly noticed Ollivander’s hand pause.
“Ho! A natural Gryffindor—without a doubt, he will certainly end up in Gryffindor,” Ollivander remarked.
“Congratulations, Albus, you’ve met a very fitting successor.”
Harry was somewhat baffled and was about to ask.
“Every Ollivander wand has a core of powerful magical substance—that is its very essence. We use unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstring, which respectively symbolize loyalty and purity, mystery and wisdom, as well as strength and fierce temperament…”
However, the old man launched into a long winded speech.
Perhaps this was part of the process, too?
“Now then, Mr. Potter, try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring, nine inches long, nice and flexible. Hmm, doesn’t seem quite right—the wood, I mean.”
“You suit dragon heartstring well. Such a core signifies that you are an ambitious person who craves power. Well, you might not necessarily end up in Gryffindor; Slytherin is a possibility too. Though wands like these aren’t easy to control… Next, try this yew one, also with a dragon heartstring core. Very suitable for ambitious, powerful young wizards. Hmm, this one isn’t right either?”
“Then try hornbeam. Hornbeam can help you better control the wand, allowing a young wizard to precisely fulfill their ambitions rather than acting recklessly. What a picky little wizard—this one isn’t right either. The wand chooses the wizard, so it will find one similar to itself…”
Ollivander kept stuffing wands into Harry’s hand, only to take them right back.
As for the things he said, Harry actually felt they suited him quite well.
Especially the hornbeam one.
It was a long process; Harry couldn’t even tell what was suitable and what wasn’t.
He felt every wand was exceptionally suitable and immensely powerful.
Each could effectively guide the power within his body out, causing total chaos throughout the wand shop.
Still, he cooperated with Ollivander’s movements quite patiently.
After all, this was the wand he had been anticipating for so long.
As for Dumbledore, he simply stood by waiting, wearing a smile the entire time.
Until—
When Harry’s palm once again gripped a wand stuffed into it by Ollivander, a sudden, striking sensation welled up from the bottom of his heart, as if this wand had come alive.
It was a living thing.
Harry could sense its emotion.
It was wild—yes, this likely came from the heartstring of a hot-tempered dragon.
Yet clearly, its wildness and violent nature were far weaker and far less unhinged than the Sword of Triton!
Harry attempted to give the wand a wave.
Unlike the previous attempts that had wrecked the shop, the wooden boxes scattered all over the floor merely shuddered; they didn’t float into the air as before, but simply quivered.