Guoguo Tea truly did have Kneazle blood.
Her instincts were sharp enough to sense something amiss, and for the rest of the morning she circled Ron relentlessly—sniffing him with narrowed eyes and a solemn, almost judgmental expression.
Ron trembled so badly his knees nearly knocked together.
He didn't dare complain. All he could do was silently mourn the grim fate he imagined awaiting Scabbers.
When the last of the shopping was finished, Molly crossed another item off her list with obvious satisfaction.
"Well then—only Ollivanders left. Ron, Vaughn, dears… you're about to get your very own wands."
At last, Ron's spirits revived.
They followed the crowd deeper into Diagon Alley.
Ollivanders was the oldest shop on the street—older even than the Leaky Cauldron, which itself dated back to the sixteenth century. The wand shop lay near the very end of the alley, its small, narrow frontage looking worn and unremarkable, with peeling paint and a dusty display window that gave no hint of its legendary reputation.
Only the sign spoke of its history:
Ollivander — Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
They stepped inside.
The shop was cramped—though perhaps that was simply because it was filled from floor to ceiling with narrow boxes stacked in every direction imaginable. Thousands upon thousands of wands, packed so tightly they seemed to press in on the visitors.
The bell on the door chimed softly.
An old man with pale, silvery eyes emerged from behind a shelf.
"Ah… good afternoon," he said in a drifting voice. "Welcome to Ollivanders."
Ron swallowed audibly.
Molly, however, was perfectly at ease. She had stood in this shop five times before—counting her own school years. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, and George had all come here in quick succession.
And wands, of course, could never be handed down.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander," Molly greeted warmly. "Do you remember me?"
"Of course," Ollivander replied at once. "Molly Prewett Weasley. There's no need to ask me every time—you'll find I'm not quite senile yet."
His gaze drifted to Vaughn and Ron.
"And these must be two new Weasleys?"
"Yes, Mr. Ollivander."
"Splendid. The beginning of term is always my favourite season. Not merely because of business—though that helps—but because my wands finally meet the witches and wizards they belong to."
He cocked his head slightly.
"Hear that? Some of them are already calling out. So… who shall go first?"
"…Gulp!"
Ron panicked and clutched Molly's arm.
"Vaughn first! Mum—I need air!"
With no choice, Molly led the pale and shaking Ron back outside.
That left Vaughn alone with Ollivander.
The old wandmaker seemed unperturbed. He produced a tape measure from his pocket.
"Mr. Vaughn Weasley—your dominant hand?"
"Right."
Ollivander nodded and began taking measurements, the tape writhing of its own accord.
"I've heard of you, Mr. Weasley," he said softly. "The potions prodigy."
"Thank you for the compliment," Vaughn replied politely.
"You don't appear frightened."
Vaughn shrugged. "The first time I brewed a potion, I accidentally frightened Ron into tears. He thought I was cursing him—when I was only muttering the steps aloud."
Ollivander nodded enthusiastically.
"Indeed! Those with technical gifts often develop habits others find… unsettling."
Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "So measuring people obsessively is one of your habits?"
"Quite so!" Ollivander said cheerfully. "Every witch and wizard is unique. Their wand must be equally so."
Vaughn glanced at the towering shelves.
"I've heard you use only unicorn hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring as cores. With such limitations, how do you avoid repetition?"
Ollivander's eyes gleamed.
"An excellent question! For most customers, I give the simple answer—that every unicorn, phoenix, and dragon is unique. But in truth…"
He lowered his voice.
"The secret lies in the wood."
He finished measuring and retrieved a box from a high shelf.
"Twelve inches. Dragon heartstring core. Fir wood. Fir favours those who are focused—strong-willed, even forceful."
Vaughn flicked the wand.
A sudden gale erupted inside the shop.
Ollivander snatched it away instantly.
"Ah! It likes you—but you are not suited."
Another wand followed.
"Ten and a half inches. Dragon heartstring. Elm wood. Despite the rumours, elm does not favour bloodlines—it favours leadership."
Golden sparks burst from the tip.
Again, Ollivander took it back.
"It likes you as well. Still… not right."
After the second attempt, Vaughn had already begun to understand.
When Ollivander spoke of wands "cheering," it was no exaggeration. Vaughn had felt it—faint but unmistakable. A sense of recognition. Of joy.
So when Ollivander reached for a third box, Vaughn stopped him.
"Earlier, you mentioned wand wood. May I assume that each type of wood carries its own temperament—and chooses its wizard accordingly?"
Ollivander froze.
For the first time, genuine surprise flickered across his pale face.
"…Very perceptive, Mr. Weasley," he said quietly. "The core determines what magic a wand excels at. But the wood determines whom it chooses."
Vaughn inhaled slowly.
He could not hear wands the way Ollivander could—but he remembered the reactions of the earlier ones. And he remembered his own life.
He had died once.
He lived again.
Wizard and wand were not merely chooser and chosen.
They were meant to complete one another.
Ollivander did not know this—not fully.
Which meant that only a wand of uncommon nature could possibly suit him.
Vaughn closed his eyes.
He let his magic flow freely, lowering his Occlumency barrier entirely.
And then—
He felt it.
Moving toward a cluttered shelf, Vaughn reached into a pile of boxes and drew out a plain one. The moment he opened it, the wand inside seemed to leap toward him.
Crack!
Lightning burst through the shop as Vaughn swung it—snakes of electricity slithering across shelves and dancing over countless boxes.
Ollivander stared.
"Fourteen inches… dragon heartstring… and—"
His voice trembled.
"Elder wood. Proud. Extreme. Volatile."
He swallowed.
"It chooses witches and wizards bound to… extraordinary destinies."
(End of Chapter)
PS ;
Ollivanders – Legendary wand shop in Diagon Alley, founded in 382 B.C.
Dragon Heartstring – Wand core known for power and strong spellcasting.
Unicorn Hair – Stable wand core with consistent magic.
Phoenix Feather – Rare core with wide magical range.
Elder Wood – Exceptionally rare wand wood associated with fate and power.