Holding the wand that was destined for Harry Potter, Rey could actually feel the warmth radiating from the wood into his palm.
For a split second, he felt like the protagonist of the entire Wizarding World, as if he were about to replace the Boy Who Lived.
Under Ollivander's expectant gaze, Rey gave the wand a firm wave.
Once. Twice. Three times...
After the third wave, Rey stopped. Feeling incredibly awkward, he placed the wand back on the desk.
Nothing had happened on the first wave. Rey realized then that this wand still belonged to Harry Potter, not him.
The reason he kept waving it two more times was because a terrifying thought had crossed his mind.
This was the third wand he had tried. Even if a wand wasn't a perfect match, there should have been some reaction—sparks, a puff of smoke, something.
Since three wands in a row had produced absolutely zero response, there seemed to be only one explanation: he was a Muggle. He didn't have the aptitude to become a wizard.
Ollivander, however, seemed to have faith in Rey. He believed the lack of reaction meant Rey had exceptionally high standards for compatibility. So, he continued to pull boxes from the shelves, having Rey test them one by one.
But even the confident Ollivander began to crack. After Rey had tried fifty wands without so much as a spark, the old wandmaker couldn't help but exclaim, "This is impossible!"
"Every young wizard can channel magic through a wand. It is impossible for there to be no reaction at all. Are you... are you certain you are attending Hogwarts?" Ollivander finally asked the question.
It was an incredibly rude question to ask a young wizard. But Rey wasn't offended. He was starting to doubt it himself.
"Here is my acceptance letter, sir."
Rey was nervous. As soon as Ollivander asked, the fear of being a mistake resurfaced. He handed over the parchment envelope, hoping the old man could confirm that he really belonged in this world.
Under Rey's anxious gaze, Ollivander examined the letter carefully. Finally, he nodded.
Rey let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"Don't worry, my boy. I have plenty of wands in this shop. We can take our time. We will find the wand that is destined for you."
---
With the letter verified, Ollivander's doubts about Rey's status vanished. That left only one conclusion: this boy's compatibility requirements were astronomically high.
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. That was his reputation on the line. But as the pile of rejected wands grew, Ollivander began to worry that his golden reputation might be shattered today.
Ancient wands, new wands—it didn't matter. No matter how Rey waved them, nothing happened.
If he hadn't seen the Hogwarts letter with his own eyes, Ollivander would have sworn the boy was either a Muggle or a Squib—perhaps a new type of Squib entirely.
An hour passed. Rey had lost count of how many wands he'd tried. Ollivander fell into long silences, pondering his next move.
During this time, two or three other young wizards had come in, found their matches easily, and left happily.
Another hour passed. Rey felt defeated. "Mr. Ollivander, maybe I should try somewhere else?"
He was terrified to keep trying. He was beginning to suspect that his telekinesis and vanishing glass trick weren't magic at all, but some other kind of superpower that didn't work with wands.
"No, no, it shouldn't be like this..."
Ollivander ignored Rey's suggestion. He tapped his forehead with a fist, lost in thought.
"Wait... wait. Maybe. Maybe it's that one. Yes, it must be..." Ollivander muttered to himself as he walked over to the front window. He reached into the display case and picked up the lonely wand that had been sitting on the faded purple cushion.
He walked back to Rey.
"Acacia, 12 inches, heartstring and nerve of a Hebridean Black dragon. The very first wand made by the Ollivander family."
Garrick Ollivander spoke with a solemn formality. This wand, which had always been for display, was crafted by the first Ollivander. As he held it, he seemed to be reliving its history.
"Acacia is a very unusual wand wood. It typically refuses to produce magic for anyone but its owner."
"Conversely, it only reveals its full power to the most gifted. Therefore, the owner of an acacia wand is usually a subtle wizard—someone with precise control over their magic and a powerful mind..."
Ollivander presented the wand to Rey with both hands, a confident smile returning to his face. He believed this wand would finally answer the call.
---
The wand was twelve inches long, a deep purple-black color. Faint carvings of dragons seemed to coil and leap along the shaft.
Rey took the wand.
The moment his fingers closed around it, a wave of relief washed over him. It felt right—like a fish returning to water, or a dragon returning to the sea.
Suddenly, the carved black dragon on the wand seemed to come alive. It spiraled up the shaft, reached the tip, and dissolved into a wisp of dark mist.
It felt like a lock clicking open—a lock that allowed him to finally access his magic.
"Extraordinary!"
Ollivander gasped in surprise. He didn't need Rey to wave it. The visual confirmation was enough. The very first wand of the Ollivander line had chosen this boy.
"Sir, this...?"
Rey was hesitant to wave it. He wasn't entirely sure if the wand had truly accepted him, and he was terrified that if he waved it, nothing would happen again.
"My boy, the wand has chosen you. There is no need to worry." Ollivander knew exactly what Rey was thinking. He breathed a sigh of relief; the match had been made.
"So, Mr. Ollivander, will I only be able to use this wand for magic?" Rey asked, still worried.
Ollivander smiled and reassured him. "Of course not. The core of your wand is dragon heartstring and nerve. By gaining its approval, you have unlocked the shackles on your magic. You will be able to use other wands now."
To prove his point, Ollivander handed Rey a standard, ordinary wand.
Rey took it and gave it a wave. Bang! A small explosion echoed from where he pointed.
Hearing that muffled boom, Rey finally confirmed it: he wasn't a Squib.
It was a relief for both of them.
"Seven Galleons, my boy. You are truly unique. I expect great things from you in the future."
"Thank you for your patience, Mr. Ollivander." Rey thanked him sincerely and happily paid the seven Galleons.
---
The wand was undoubtedly the most expensive item on his school list. It had been a bumpy road, but he finally had it.
As for the rest of his supplies, Rey had plenty of money. Besides, he hadn't heard anything about tuition fees for Hogwarts.
If tuition was required, the chances of Tom Riddle—a poor orphan—becoming Voldemort would have been much lower.
If Voldemort could attend school as an orphan, so could Rey.
By the time Rey finished buying all his supplies, dusk was settling in.
The streets were emptying out. Rey pushed his trolley toward the brick wall entrance, intending to use the method Tom had taught him to open the gateway back to the Muggle world.
He pulled out his wand.
But just as he did, a filthy, long-haired homeless man suddenly appeared behind him. One hand clamped over Rey's mouth, and the other arm wrapped around his chest, dragging him toward the dark alleyway on the left—Knockturn Alley.
It happened so fast Rey couldn't react. His scream was muffled into a panicked whimper.
His trolley followed close behind, pushed by a pale old man with black lips, steering it toward the entrance of Knockturn Alley.
The entrance was a steep downward slope. In his panic, Rey bit down hard on the hand covering his mouth. A yelp of pain rang out.
At the same time, Rey kicked out with both legs against the narrow walls of the alley entrance.
Crash!
Rey's resistance was more violent than they expected. The three of them, along with the trolley, tumbled down the slope in a chaotic heap.
---