Ollivander suddenly snapped to attention, as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head. He shook his head vigorously and turned to rummage through a nearby filing cabinet.
"How could I have forgotten about this?" he muttered.
"Of course, Mr. Edward, I should've known you'd be curious about your ancestors."
"After all, we're talking about the ancient and mysterious Knights of the Round Table. Even they used wands, you know."
"Back in ancient times, they had a unified title: Magic Swordsmen, or rather, Magic Knights."
"And of course, some wizards wielded swords too—like the legendary Merlin, known to all."
The more he spoke, the more excited he became, his hands moving faster as he sifted through papers.
Finally, he pulled out a single sheet of yellowed, curling parchment from a stack.
"My family has been crafting wands since before the Common Era," Ollivander said. "The Ollivander family keeps records of every wand we've ever sold, though some have been lost over the centuries."
"But thankfully, the records about the Knights of the Round Table? I kept those separate. Let's see…"
He propped up his glasses and ran his finger along the faded text on the parchment, stopping at a particular line.
"Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating," he murmured.
"What's fascinating?" Edward asked, curiosity piqued.
He'd only expected to learn whether the Knights of the Round Table used wands, not that Ollivander could trace the exact wand his ancestor had used.
Ollivander slid the parchment toward Edward.
The line read: "Poplar wood, unicorn tail hair, 12 inches, sturdy."
The wand material and size used by his ancestor, Sir Bedivere, were identical to his own?
Edward wasn't sure what this meant. He quickly handed over seven Galleons to Ollivander, letting the slightly eccentric old man bow him out of the cramped shop.
Next, he went to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions to get measured for his robes and wandered into an apothecary nearby. Eventually, his parents' faces appeared outside the shop window.
William waved enthusiastically at Edward through the glass, a fluffy, pale blue creature perched on his right shoulder.
"Is that… a Puffskein?" Edward asked, surprised.
He hadn't expected his tall, imposing father to pick such an adorable magical creature.
"Like it? It's your enrollment gift," William said, passing the soft, docile Puffskein into Edward's arms, looking a bit reluctant to let it go.
"Absolutely!" Edward grinned, savoring the fuzzy, cuddly texture.
Their shopping trip in Diagon Alley was done. The trio grabbed a quick bite at the Leaky Cauldron before returning to their estate via Floo powder.
Sprinkling the green powder into the fireplace, clearly stating the destination, and stepping into the emerald flames would whisk you to your desired location in an instant.
The only trick was to pronounce the name clearly—otherwise, you might tumble out of the wrong fireplace, coughing and embarrassed.
Bedivere Manor was located in a secluded plain near Glastonbury, in western England.
Back home, Edward decided to tell his parents about what had happened at Ollivander's Wand Shop.
William and Anne's expressions turned serious.
"That little Malfoy brat dared to point his wand at you?" William growled, practically itching with anger.
"Lucius and Narcissa better hope we don't cross paths anytime soon. I've got a few curses and potions I wouldn't mind testing out," Anne said with a smile that was a little too chilling.
This was exactly why Edward hadn't mentioned the small clash in Diagon Alley earlier. He had no doubt his parents would've turned the place upside down to confront the Malfoys.
"I already handled him. Malfoy's all talk," Edward said quickly, trying to calm them down.
"But what if they corner you at school?" Anne asked, her face etched with worry.
Not wanting to dwell on the topic, Edward steered the conversation toward what Ollivander had told him about knights and wands.
But when he mentioned that his wand was identical to Sir Bedivere's—down to the last detail—his parents' faces lit up with astonishment.
"Son, you're saying your wand is exactly the same as Sir Bedivere's?" William asked, locking eyes with Edward.
"Yeah, Mr. Ollivander said it's identical, even the length," Edward nodded.
He hadn't expected their reaction to this news to be even stronger than when they heard about Malfoy pointing a wand at him.
"Maybe… we should let Edward try it?" William and Anne exchanged a glance before turning to their puzzled son. "Come with us, son."
Bedivere Manor was sprawling. After passing through the grand, spacious hall, the three hurried up the stairs to William's study.
The study was a bit cluttered, with bookshelves overflowing and stacks of books piled nearly to the ceiling.
Behind a heavy wooden desk hung a massive portrait.
The knight in the painting wore polished silver armor, his right arm almost entirely covered in it, a gleaming sword raised high before his chest.
This was a portrait of Edward's ancestor, Sir Bedivere.
"Son, take out your wand," William said, clearing a space in front of the portrait. "Stand here and say, 'Knights of the Round Table.'"
Edward drew his wand from his side, stepped forward, and lightly tapped the frame, whispering, "Knights of the Round Table!"
The portrait of Sir Bedivere gave a slight nod, then pivoted forward, revealing a dark, hidden room behind it.
In the faint light, a dusty, ancient book rested on a pedestal at the center of the room.
"By the Round Table! By Merlin!" William's voice trembled with excitement. "The legend is true!"
"Only the truest heir of the Round Table's bloodline can open this chamber!"
He rushed forward, carefully lifting the book as if it were a priceless treasure. He brought it to the desk, brushing off the dust with a flick of his wand to reveal the text on the cover.
It was in some form of Old English.
"Dryhten Galdorcræftig."
"The Handbook of the Magic Knight?" Anne translated hesitantly.
Edward instinctively touched the book's cover, accidentally nicking his finger on the edge of the page.
A drop of blood fell onto the book and was quickly absorbed by the pages.
The text on the cover seemed to shift and twist with the absorbed blood, rapidly transforming.
Moments later, Edward realized the Old English had morphed into modern English he could read.
"This book is dedicated to the truest heirs of the Knights of the Round Table, those who are truly willing to uphold the spirit of knighthood."
"From Merlin and the Order of the Round Table."
Am I… the truest heir of the Round Table's bloodline?