Chapter 10
A wand… the main weapon, tool, and almost the very essence of any self-respecting wizard. Many modern wizards, as far as I knew, even sincerely believed that proper magic was simply impossible without a wand, and destroying such an important instrument was treated as one of the harshest punishments a wizard could face.
An artifact of astonishing importance. I understood that almost immediately, as soon as Minerva brought me to Ollivanders, where the man bearing that name began selecting the principal magical instrument of any wizard for me.
"No, no, no—still not right," the wandmaker muttered. So far, all his attempts to find me a suitable magical focus had failed. The flustered old man even tried to sell me that "very wand," the sister to Voldemort's, but even it refused to accept me as its master.
And yes, the line that once made me laugh so hard—about how it isn't the wizard who chooses the wand, but the wand that chooses the wizard—was said out loud, too. And I was even somewhat ready to agree with that… peculiar statement. To my magical senses, wands really did feel partly alive.
Not alive in the same way living creatures were. The magic of animals, Squibs, and wizards felt completely different. But a wand's magic also did not resemble ordinary enchanted objects, or even the ingredients in an apothecary's shop. It was hard to put into words—maybe I simply wasn't sensitive enough to magic to catch every nuance, but the difference was absolutely there.
And I had no idea what to do with that discovery… because it still wasn't helping me find a wand. I had already tried a good dozen of these magical foci, creating absolute chaos in Ollivanders with my spontaneous magical flashes, and still there was no result. Only a growing unease that filled my heart more strongly with every passing minute.
"Did I manage to break something in my own magic during my training and experiments?" I thought almost in panic, taking up yet another wand… and immediately feeling a faint warmth from the long piece of wood.
"Oooh, I see you have finally found yourself a suitable companion, Mr. Potter," the gray-haired old man said brightly, watching the soft distortion of air now coming from my wand. "Holly and dragon heartstring, long and springy, fourteen inches. Perfect for a strong and persistent wizard… carry it with honor, Harry Potter."
"Thank you… it really does feel quite good," I exhaled hard, feeling the anxiety that had been tearing at me only a moment ago dissolve rapidly, while the wand itself… it seemed this little wonder of nature had finally accepted me as its master.
A strange feeling—but holding this almost ordinary-looking piece of wood suddenly became comfortable, even pleasant. A light, familiar weight in my hand, and an almost instinctive certainty that now every spell I had only studied in theory would surely work… It was wonderful and thrilling, even if I still didn't understand how the artifact functioned.
"Congratulations on your purchase, Mr. Potter… but do not forget to take a care kit and a proper holster. Believe me, any self-respecting wizard must keep his magical focus in proper condition," McGonagall said gently and unobtrusively, but still firmly—and I took her advice at once.
A couple of Galleons was not the kind of price that would make me worry, and carrying such a long, heavy stick without a holster was simply inconvenient. It would fit in no pocket, and… I wasn't eager to treat my main magical weapon so carelessly.
"So, now for an owl?" I asked my escort, waiting with a hint of anticipation for the end of this entire shopping marathon.
"That is correct, Mr. Potter," the woman gave me a thin smile, clearly not expecting wand selection to drag on so long… And it seemed Minerva was also afraid I would take just as long choosing a pet. But no, I had no desire to stretch this shopping trip out any further.
Besides, all the owls in the specialized shop-breeding house were not all that different from one another. Well, no—there were many breeds on display, even if I didn't know much about them… I noticed a huge, very beautiful, perfectly white bird almost immediately and for a moment even thought it was fate… But when I listened to the magic around me, I suddenly understood that all the owls were more or less identical.
So I didn't want to overpay for the brightest showpiece in the owlery. I chose an ordinary brown-gray owl of a breed I didn't recognize. It nuzzled my hands so happily at first touch that I simply couldn't resist that big-eyed cuteness. And overall, the bird I chose seemed a little more intelligent than the others, which felt rather important for a mail owl.
Ahem. Yes—something like that, in general, was how my shopping trip ended. After buying the owl, McGonagall did take me to a local café and treated me to sweets at her expense, congratulating me on my birthday that way… Then she led me back to the goblin bank, letting me collect the statement of my account, while also giving me a few more lectures about responsible spending and the prohibition on using magic in the ordinary world…
But I already knew most of that. The only thing that surprised me was the train ticket to Hogwarts handed into my hands… Minerva either forgot or deliberately chose not to explain properly how to reach the right platform. Not pleasant, but I didn't think it was critical. On the first of September, I'd figure it out somehow…
For now, I had more serious problems. After all, back home, my relatives were still waiting—relatives who were not exactly thrilled by my magical antics. The talk with my aunt and uncle that day was nervous and exhausting. Calming them down was a task and a half—if I hadn't admitted that since the age of eight I'd been consciously releasing my magical outbursts far away from home and crowded places, I would have been in real trouble.
As it was, by the end of the conversation Uncle Vernon even took my side, seemingly admitting that my decision to hide my abnormality from them and the neighbors had been the best possible choice… He even promised to take me to the right station on the first of September without any unnecessary questions, which honestly was something I still expected to raise many questions.
"Haaah… how exhausting," I smiled crookedly. By the end of the day I had practically run away from everyone and hidden on my favorite roof. My magic that turned eyes away from me had been working for a long time now without any conscious strain.
"Rough day?" a mocking voice sounded above my head. The suddenness made me leap, and I almost kicked the familiar wizard in the ribs. "Tsk, tsk, tsk—why are you so jumpy? Something happen?"
"Hmph. Don't sneak up on me like that… Next time I'll hit you properly. Maybe even with magic," I snorted, instantly relaxing and letting a smile slip onto my face. "Long time no see, Krusho."
"Yeah, it's been a while," the older wizard exhaled, sitting down right on the roof. "So, I take it I can congratulate you on getting into Hogwarts?"
"Hm. And how do you already know?" I frowned slightly, keeping the wand holster on my belt, but still—how did he know which school I'd been accepted into?
"In the simpler academies, wands are bought after the school year begins. As a rule, they gather the Muggle-born students into a group and send them with a professor to Ollivanders. Buying a wand before the start of the school year is a tradition unique to Hogwarts," the man grinned, explaining what had given me away.
"I see. You never told me that," I frowned, trying to remember whether my memory had failed me for once, or whether comrade Zhelov truly had skipped that detail.
"It just never came up," the wizard shrugged, confirming my memory was still perfectly fine. "By the way, I didn't come empty-handed today… Here. A birthday gift," the habitually unshaven wizard pulled out a small, neat wooden box.
"What is it?" I asked honestly, focusing my senses on the gift and immediately realizing there was some kind of magic inside… but its purpose remained a complete mystery to me.
"A simple little toy for training accuracy," Krusho smirked, setting the box on the roof and feeding it a bit of magic through his wand… The artifact opened like a small chest, and twelve fairly large spheres immediately flew out—spheres that by any logic could never have fit inside such a tiny box.
"Training accuracy?" I frowned, not quite understanding how those lazily circling spheres could help me… with accuracy. "They're targets for spells?"
"Exactly. The more balls you hit with your magic, the faster the remaining ones start moving. The last one is just as fast as a Snitch, so hitting it is a real task even for a very experienced wizard… And a simple barrier lets you practice spells indoors without risking blowing everything to hell," the Bulgarian explained enthusiastically, making me take his gift far more seriously.
"Sounds fun… but it seems suited only for practicing combat charms," I frowned, wondering if my grown-up friend had really decided to give this kind of toy to an eleven-year-old boy.
"Or transfiguration," Krusho Zhelov nodded easily. "Believe me, you'll need it. Young wizards very often prefer to solve their problems with magical fights and nasty curses. You should be ready for that… Mr. Harry Potter," the wizard smirked at the end of his speech… revealing, in his own peculiar way, that he had uncovered my little secret.
"I'll keep it in mind," I smirked, not reacting to his last line at all. "Will you show me how to use it?.. And can I use it in the ordinary world? I won't get expelled for using magic outside school?"
"It won't save you from trace spells, so you'll have to master my gift properly once you're already at Hogwarts," Krusho accepted the new rules of the game without pressing my surname any further. "But I'll still teach you how it works… It even has a few modes!.."