Chapter 29: The Wand Chooses the Wizard… or Not
After finalizing his account setup, securing his VIP status, and shocking the goblins into the idea of a wizarding credit card, Barrett Wayne found himself in possession of something unheard of in the magical world—a small, sleek card with intricate runes that linked directly to his vault. The goblins had been reluctant at first, but with enough persuasion (and the promise of extreme wealth being funneled through their bank), they had come around to the idea.
McGonagall had looked as though she wanted to protest, but after seeing the efficiency of the system, she had merely sighed, resigned to the fact that Barrett Wayne operated on a level far beyond the norm.
"Shall we continue, Professor?" Barrett asked smoothly, flipping the card between his fingers.
McGonagall simply gestured forward. "We still need to get your wand. I hope this will not be another… spectacle."
The moment Barrett stepped inside Ollivander's, the atmosphere changed. The dimly lit shop, lined with shelves filled with ancient, dusty wand boxes, seemed to hum with magic. Garrick Ollivander himself, an aged man with bright silver eyes, emerged from the shadows with a curious expression.
"Ahh… another new student. Welcome to Ollivander's," he said in his quiet, airy voice. "Here for your first wand, I presume?"
Barrett gave a small nod. "Indeed."
The old wandmaker peered at him, as if sensing something unusual. He blinked before shaking his head and retrieving a few wands.
"Let's see now," Ollivander muttered, handing Barrett a wand. "Elm, dragon heartstring, twelve inches, quite sturdy."
Barrett took the wand, and the moment he gave it a flick, a small explosion rocked the shop. Shelves trembled, boxes fell, and McGonagall sighed heavily as dust settled over them.
"Perhaps not," Ollivander said, rubbing his chin. He handed another. "Try this one—holly, phoenix feather, eleven inches."
Another flick.
A stack of wand boxes combusted into flames.
Ollivander let out a breath, his eyes now glinting with curiosity. He quickly moved to grab another wand. And another. And another.
Each attempt ended in disaster. Wands cracked, burst into flames, or simply refused to react. The room soon became filled with charred wood and swirling magic, leaving Ollivander staring at Barrett as though he were the greatest mystery of his career.
"Well," the old man finally said, shaking his head. "This is… highly irregular."
McGonagall folded her arms. "I should have expected this."
Ollivander, intrigued beyond reason, turned to Barrett. "Tell me, Mr. Wayne, have you ever wielded magic before? Or perhaps encountered an artifact of great power?"
Barrett considered his words carefully. "You could say I have an unusual affinity for magic."
Ollivander hummed in thought, his fingers drumming against the counter. "In very rare cases, a wizard's magic is so potent, so… unique, that a traditional wand will not suit them. There is another option—custom crafting. Though, such an endeavor requires an exceptional core."
Barrett had been waiting for this moment. He reached into his coat and withdrew a single feather—sleek, dark with iridescent gold highlights, exuding an aura of sheer, undeniable power. It was one of his own, plucked from his wings long ago and carefully stored away.
The moment Ollivander's fingers brushed against it, a visible shiver ran down his spine. He staggered back, eyes wide in disbelief.
"This… this is…"
Barrett raised an eyebrow. "A problem?"
Ollivander slowly regained his composure. "Not a problem, per se. But this feather… it holds an energy unlike anything I have ever encountered. It is divine—no, something beyond that." He narrowed his eyes at Barrett. "Where did you acquire this?"
Barrett smirked. "A family heirloom."
McGonagall shot him a sharp look, clearly unsatisfied with his answer, but said nothing.
Ollivander studied the feather for a long moment before nodding. "It is more than suitable. This will make a wand of immense power."
Ollivander led Barrett to the back of his shop, a place few had ever seen. Ancient tools, enchanted carvings, and suspended strands of raw magic floated in the air. The wandmaker carefully selected the wood—Ebony, a rare and powerful conduit, resilient and suited for one who walked between light and darkness.
As the feather was integrated into the wand's core, the room trembled. Magic surged through the space, coiling around the forming wand like a living entity. Ollivander murmured incantations, his hands deftly carving runes along the length of the ebony wood.
After hours of meticulous work, the wand was complete. It was sleek, almost unnaturally smooth, with golden streaks running along its black length. The moment Barrett took it into his hand, the entire shop pulsed with energy. A rush of power swept through him, settling in perfect harmony.
Ollivander exhaled, looking both exhausted and exhilarated. "Fascinating. This wand… it will not obey conventional rules. It is bound entirely to you."
Barrett twirled the wand between his fingers, feeling the absolute control it gave him. "Good."
McGonagall, despite herself, was impressed. "Let us hope you use it wisely, Mr. Wayne."
Before leaving, Barrett picked up one of the wands that had technically "chosen" him—yew, basilisk heartstring, thirteen inches. He had won it in one of the earlier chaotic trials.
"What do you need that one for?" McGonagall asked, narrowing her eyes.
Barrett slipped the wand into his coat. "Just a little backup. You never know when an extra tool might come in handy."
She frowned but said nothing.
Ollivander gave him a knowing look but did not question his decision. "A wise wizard always plans ahead."
With that, Barrett left the shop, his custom wand secured and his shadow wand tucked away for more… illicit endeavors.
With his wand secured, Barrett continued his shopping, leaving a trail of astounded shopkeepers in his wake. He bought only the finest robes, enchanted tomes beyond the standard Hogwarts curriculum, and potion ingredients that made McGonagall raise an eyebrow.
"I see you're preparing for far more than your first year, Mr. Wayne."
Barrett simply smirked. "What can I say? I like to be prepared."
By the time the day ended, his purchases were transported directly to Wayne Manor via a custom Gringotts service—because, of course, he refused to lug everything around like a commoner.
As they made their way back, McGonagall massaged her temples. "I have a feeling Hogwarts will never be the same after your arrival."
Barrett chuckled. "Oh, Professor… you have no idea."