"Proud, extreme, and volatile."
Warren sat on the steps outside Ollivander's, basking in the warm afternoon sun as he examined his new wand.
The words Ollivander had murmured just ten minutes ago still echoed in his mind.
"Dragon heartstring is exceptionally versatile, Mr. Weasley. Unlike unicorn hair, it does not turn aside from the Dark Arts, nor does it share the equilibrium of a phoenix feather. It will aid you in channeling your magic into spells that are powerful, brilliant, and flamboyant."
I must warn you, however. It is the most prone to accidents of all core materials, especially when paired with elder wood. That wood is extreme by nature. From the moment it is created, it craves greatness.
There is an old superstition that elder wands bring misfortune. In my experience, that is complete nonsense. Yet, the truth is that if your destiny ever ceases to be unique, if you cease to be powerful, or if you are ever defeated, it may very well abandon you.
You are sure to have heard the tales of the Elder Wand. The Tales of Beedle the Bard is a children's book, of course, but it does illustrate the nature of the elder wand accurately. It has never truly belonged to anyone.
Warren traced his finger gently along the wand. The knotted grain of the elder wood felt smooth beneath his touch, fitting comfortably in his grip.
He sensed a faint tremor running through it, vibrating with a near-joyful eagerness to channel his magic.
"So, will you abandon me?" he whispered.
The wand, naturally, offered no wisdom in reply.
Meow.
Milo, her head resting on Warren's lap, looked up at him. She mewed softly and licked his chin, as if attempting to comfort him.
Warren smiled and scratched Milo's thick fur.
The massive cat leaned into his touch, purring contentedly.
Why would he worry about a wand betraying him? Warren would simply never allow the conditions Ollivander had described to happen.
A destiny no longer unique? That wouldn't happen unless another transmigrator somehow appeared in this world.
No longer powerful? Then he would just have to stay powerful and keep getting stronger.
Defeated by someone? Not a chance.
Ollivander had recounted the tale of the Elder Wand, but he dismissed it as a mere fairy tale for children. Warren knew the truth. The Elder Wand was real. It had helped Grindelwald rise to power across Europe. It had rested peacefully in Dumbledore's hands for decades. It never simply abandoned its master without reason.
Ultimately, be it Grindelwald's defeat or Dumbledore's death, those were choices made by the wizards themselves. A wand was just a tool, nothing more.
"Someday, when you are ready, we will see how you measure up against the one holding the Elder Wand."
Smiling at the thought, Warren tucked the wand into the holster on his belt.
Behind him, the sounds of wands being tested continued from inside Ollivander's. At last, the door opened and Ron emerged, beaming, his new wand held high.
"Fourteen inches. Willow. Unicorn hair. It's brilliant." Ron boasted loudly. "I made thousands of boxes float in there. You should have seen it, Warren."
His smugness was a stark contrast to the terrified, screaming boy their mother had practically dragged into the shop less than twenty minutes ago.
Having finally got something new, something that wasn't a hand-me-down from his brothers, the boy was absolutely insufferable.
Then Warren smiled and asked, "Did you buy a wand holster while you were in there?"
Ron's smug grin froze on his face.
It requires special polish, you know. A decent set costs at least a few dozen Sickles.
Ron's shoulders slumped.
"Oh, and people usually exchange presents on Halloween, don't they? I suppose some people won't be receiving any this year if they aren't careful." Warren's smile remained pleasant.
Ron sniffled, tears welling in his eyes. A stubborn part of him wanted to puff out his chest and shout a retort, but Halloween presents were at stake.
Curse it all.
He had been tricked again.
Molly, like many middle-aged women, loved to chat. When she finally finished catching up with Ollivander and stepped out, their Diagon Alley shopping trip was effectively complete.
Well, perhaps the trip was not entirely satisfying for Ron in the end.
They returned to the Burrow via the Floo Network. Throughout the afternoon, their purchases arrived by owl, including Milo, who could not travel by Floo.
Along with his own school supplies, Warren had bought a variety of sweets for Ginny.
The little girl gave him a big kiss on the cheek before running off to share them with Milo.
She had fallen in love with the cat the moment she saw her. When Milo, catching Warren's scent, rubbed against Ginny's legs, Ginny practically glued herself to the animal. She dragged Milo all over the house, showing off her new territory.
This only made Ron more miserable. He spent almost the entire day hiding in his room, afraid to take his eyes off Scabbers for even a second.
But early the next morning, Milo caught Scabbers on a second-floor windowsill.
The rat had somehow managed to open Ron's window and was trying to make a run for it, with a few stolen biscuits tucked under his tail.
Unfortunately for him, a well-placed Stunning Spell from above turned the sneaky rat into Milo's personal plaything.
When Ron got up to use the bathroom, he realized Scabbers was missing. Upon finding the pair, he saw that the rat had already lost a sizable patch of fur and was nearly dead. Ron dissolved into hysterics, yelling and screaming as he tried to shoo Milo away. Ginny stormed over and pummeled him with her small fists until he backed off.
After that, Ron nailed all his windows shut and begged Arthur to make him a rat cage. Scabbers became a prisoner in his own home.
Every day when Warren walked Milo past the fourth floor, he would see Ron peeking through a crack in his door, watching them warily.
Honestly, it was a bit pathetic.
The only times Ron seemed happy were during Warren's twice-monthly potion brewing sessions. Warren would spend those days in the attic with Milo, leaving Ron entirely alone downstairs.
Warren did not worry too much about Scabbers, provided the rat did not manage to escape.
In the weeks leading up to the start of school, Warren's life continued as usual. He brewed potions every fortnight and practiced spells in his spare time. He had been learning basic spells from his older brothers' old textbooks since he was eight, using their discarded wands to hone his skills.
His progress was inconsistent. Without a teacher to guide him properly, self-study could only take him so far.
Arthur and Molly were too caught up in work and the house. Percy was too self-absorbed to sacrifice his own study time to help his younger brothers. As for Fred and George, they were a lost cause. Warren recalled from the books that, despite being two years older than Harry, they would still need him to teach them the Disarming Charm later on.
It was ridiculous, really.
Finally, September 1st arrived.
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