Cassandra watched with wide green eyes.
Ollivander was one of the three finest wandmakers in the world.
There was a perfectly respectable argument for placing him first.
Yet this boy had defeated him.
The man looked close to breaking down.
It was extraordinary.
Cassandra had always been proud of her abilities.
Ever since she was little, she had excelled at almost everything she attempted, comfortably outstripping other children her age.
Very few had ever struck her as worth taking seriously.
Being the best grew rather dull when no one could offer a challenge.
She would be starting at Hogwarts that year, and she had been looking forward to meeting someone who might prove a worthy rival.
That was why the sight of Professor Dumbledore escorting a boy through Diagon Alley had caught her attention.
What sort of child warranted the personal attention of such a powerful and celebrated wizard?
Perhaps this boy would be worth competing against.
She still needed a wand herself, so she had followed them into the shop.
Then he had blown one up.
For all her family’s knowledge of magic, Cassandra had never heard of that happening.
Even she, who considered herself quite familiar with the magical world, had been taken aback.
Without knowing it, she had given Black a Silver Chest.
Well.
At least he isn’t boring.
Intrigued, she had continued watching.
Then he had taken the second wand and turned a box into a fluttering white dove.
That had truly shocked her.
Because she couldn’t do it.
Not long ago, with careful instruction from her parents and the use of her mother’s wand, she had spent an entire week learning to turn a match into a flawless silver needle.
Her parents had been delighted.
A prodigy of the Vole family, they had called her.
She hadn’t even turned eleven at the time.
With a child’s limited magical reserves, it had been an impressive achievement.
But this boy, who was about her age, had casually turned an inanimate object into a bird while trying out a wand.
How?
Her father had specifically told her that she didn’t yet have enough magic for that sort of transformation.
Why could this boy manage it?
Much as she resented the fact, she couldn’t deny what she had seen.
For the first time in her life, someone her own age had surpassed her.
A trace of hostility joined her astonishment.
All right.
You might be good enough to compete with me.
She held her head a little higher.
But if I had someone like Professor Dumbledore teaching me, I could do it too.
[Shock detected.]
[Chest draw in progress.]
[Gold Chest obtained ×1.]
Black turned and caught the expression on Cassandra’s face.
No mystery about that one.
Before he could give it much thought, another notification sounded.
[Profound despondency detected.]
[Chest draw in progress.]
[Diamond Chest obtained ×1.]
Another Diamond Chest.
He ought to have been delighted.
But the sight of Ollivander’s ashen face made it rather difficult.
For one thing, this entire shop apparently contained no wand that suited him.
He wouldn’t be getting one today.
For another, Ollivander had suffered rather badly.
Black hadn’t meant to do any of it, but that scarcely improved matters.
‘I’m sorry, Garrick.
I’ll cover the damage.’
Dumbledore sighed and set a money bag on the counter.
The losses were substantial.
More than eighty wands had exploded.
At roughly seven Galleons apiece, that was well over five hundred Galleons.
Dumbledore didn’t know what had caused it.
He suspected, however, that it had something to do with Black’s origins.
A child created in an incubation vessel was bound to differ from an ordinary wizard in some respects.
‘Don’t worry, Black.
We’ll find a way to get you a wand.’
And how bitterly disappointing it must be to leave without it.
‘Wait.’
Ollivander raised his head as Dumbledore prepared to lead Black away.
The defeat in his eyes had given way to stubbornness.
‘I don’t need the money, Albus.’
He looked at Black.
‘Mr Grin may have destroyed a great many of my wands, but he has also presented me with a challenge unlike any I’ve encountered before.’
He drew himself up.
‘I should not be afraid of a challenge.’
He was ashamed of having suggested they visit his fellow wandmaker in Germany.
He was one of the finest in the world.
He couldn’t simply give up.
‘Mr Grin.’
Ollivander came out from behind the counter and seized Black’s arm.
‘Clearly, none of the wands I have in stock will suit you.
So I shall make one specifically for you.’
Black looked at his bloodshot eyes.
‘That’s very kind, but are you sure?’
He had destroyed more than eighty of the man’s wands.
Now Ollivander was refusing compensation and offering to make him a bespoke one.
‘Please don’t refuse.
I can assure you, if I cannot solve this problem, no other wandmaker will.’
His grip tightened.
‘And I believe this may be the opportunity I need to take my craft further.’
Black discreetly eased his arm free.
Having a wand made especially for him certainly sounded appealing.
‘You don’t want to spend the rest of your life unable to use one, do you?’
That settled it.
‘All right.
I agree.’
‘Excellent!
Thank you!’
Ollivander swept him into an enthusiastic hug.
From the bench, Cassandra stared.
The boy had practically blown up his shop.
And now he was thanking him?