Year

In August 1991, summer sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows high above Hogwarts, casting splashes of color across the ancient stone floor. More than four years had passed since that spark-filled seventh birthday.

Over those four years, Silas Cyril had nominally remained a "special resident" of Hogwarts. However, ever since he had mastered portal magic well enough to travel reliably between Hogwarts and his London home, he had actually spent most nights sleeping in his own room, claiming it was "so his parents wouldn't worry." Dumbledore turned a blind eye, as long as he did not cause trouble.

Silas had grown considerably taller by then. Though he still retained a teenager's lean frame, the lazy yet clever air around his brows and eyes had only become more pronounced. The Levitating Cloak had become like a part of his body and almost never left him. Even its collar would make all sorts of little movements depending on his mood.

In an empty classroom on the Seventh Floor of the castle, which he often used to practice magic, Silas was doing his daily "homework." Three straw dummies floated before him.

"Claws of Denak!"

With a flick of one hand, no longer were there merely scattered motes of light. More than a dozen fist-sized, solid energy missiles streaked forth with dazzling golden tails, slamming into the three dummies with guided precision and blasting them to pieces in an instant, straw flying everywhere.

Almost the moment the missiles fired, his other hand swept before him. A Ring of the Ragaddor, five feet across and formed of intricate golden geometric runes, materialized instantly and spun steadily, easily blocking the aftermath of the explosions.

"Mm, my proficiency is about there." Silas dismissed the light shield and clapped his hands. Those four years had not passed idly. He had trained these two basic skills to nearly the peak of LV5, using them with effortless mastery. He could feel that he was only one step away from breaking into the next tier and unlocking the more enticing spells on the skill tree—whether the sturdy Seraphim Shield or the sharp Vishanti Holy Sword, both made him itch with anticipation.

Just then, a familiar barn owl fluttered in through the window, dropped a letter in front of him, then perched nearby and began preening its feathers.

Silas picked up the letter. The envelope was made of thick parchment, addressed in emerald-green ink, with no stamp. The wax seal on its back bore a shield-shaped crest, with a lion, eagle, badger, and snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Oh, it's time." Silas was not surprised in the slightest. Holding the letter, he did not open it immediately. Instead, he walked out of the empty classroom and made his way familiarly toward Professor McGonagall's office.

He knocked on the door, and Professor McGonagall's stern voice came from within. "Come in."

Silas pushed the door open and entered. Professor McGonagall was seated behind her desk grading essays—probably N.E.W.T.-level Transfiguration essays. She looked up at Silas through her square glasses, her expression as stern as ever, though deep in her eyes was a barely perceptible... habitual helplessness. Over the past four years, this "unofficial student" had given her plenty to worry about, even though he was usually quite well-behaved. At least he had not blown up another wall.

"Mr. Kirill, I assume you received this." Professor McGonagall pointed at the letter in his hand, her tone calm. "Though it is more of a formality, given that you have already lived in the castle for four years. But rules are rules."

"I understand, Professor." Silas grinned as he opened the letter in front of Professor McGonagall and quickly scanned the standard admission notice and list of required items. "So, does that make me an official first-year now?"

"Starting September 1st, yes." Professor McGonagall nodded slightly. "You will need to obey all school rules, be sorted into a House, and attend classes as normal. I trust that will not be a problem for you?" Her voice carried a hint of barely detectable probing. After all, having a student already proficient in an unknown magical system go back to learning "Wingardium Leviosa" was a rather strange image to imagine.

"Of course, Professor. I'm looking forward to it." Silas said all the right things, but what he was really thinking about was how to reasonably slack off in class. He waved the letter in his hand. "Then, Professor, if there's nothing else, I'll go see Mr. Ollivander to collect my wand? He sent word by owl a few days ago that he had finally finished it."

Professor McGonagall seemed as though she wanted to say something. She had heard the rumors that Mr. Ollivander had barely left his shop over the past four years, obsessively researching something, all because of the boy before her. But in the end, she only nodded. "Go. And remember, do not abuse your... method of travel within the castle or in Diagon Alley."

"Don't worry, Professor. I'll walk there." Silas agreed readily and turned to leave the office.

The moment he stepped out of the castle gates and onto the sunlit grounds, he threw Professor McGonagall's warning to the back of his mind. Walk? That was far too slow!

He raised his hand, and the Suspended Ring glinted faintly in the sunlight. A massive portal instantly opened before him, its fiery edges stable and its interior clearly displaying the bustling streets of Diagon Alley.

"At last, my wand." A smile of anticipation curled across Silas's lips as he stepped through the portal. He was very curious what sort of wand Mr. Ollivander had forged over four years using his unique "wand core" material.

Soon, Silas stepped out of the portal leading to a quiet corner of Diagon Alley. After straightening his robes, he headed toward Ollivanders Wand Shop. Four years had passed, and the shop looked even more worn and dust-covered than before, but the golden sign above the door appeared to have been carefully polished, gleaming brightly.

He pushed open the shop door, and the bell rang. Almost at the same time, hurried footsteps came from deep within the store, and Mr. Ollivander rushed out like a gust of wind. Compared to four years ago, he looked far more haggard, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and disheveled white hair. Yet his pale eyes burned with an almost crazed excitement and joy.

"Mr. Kirill! You're here!" Ollivander's voice was sharp with excitement as he seized Silas's hand with astonishing strength. "Wonderful! Your timing could not be better! It's finished! Last night! This is absolutely one of the greatest works of my—Garrick Ollivander's—entire life! No, perhaps the greatest!"

Without giving him a chance to respond, he pulled Silas deeper into the shop and reverently took out a wand from an exquisite box lined with black velvet.

The wand's material was exceptionally unique, a warm honey color. Its wood was smooth and marked with faint, lightning-like golden veins, while deep within those veins, a few subtle dark-purple traces could vaguely be seen. The wand was of moderate length, with a simple and elegant design.

"Fourteen and a half inches!" Ollivander introduced it in a chant-like tone, his gaze lingering lovingly over the wand. "Acacia wood—a wood with great character. It refuses to serve a wizard who is not its true master. It is extraordinarily loyal! Reasonably supple, which means it requires a master of unwavering will and exceptional talent!"

He took a deep breath and finally came to the heart of the matter. "And the core... is that... miraculous, unprecedented energy you provided! I perfectly sealed within it that strand of energy balancing light and... some profound power! Child, believe me, this wand will be a perfect match for you! Acacia wood's choice alone proves everything!"

Silas looked at the wand and could clearly feel an attraction as intimate as a blood connection. He reached out and carefully took it.

The instant his fingertips touched the wand—

A warm, vast torrent surged from the wand into his body, resonating intensely with the Vishanti magic within him! At the same time, the strand of sealed dark energy deep within the wand trembled faintly, echoing the gray branch on his skill tree from afar. A blaze of brilliant gold-and-purple sparks burst from the wand's tip like a miniature fireworks display, illuminating the dim shop as brightly as day. A faint, ethereal, ancient ringing even seemed to sound in the air.

Ollivander was so excited that tears filled his eyes. "Look! I knew it! Perfect! It's simply a miracle!"

Silas gave the wand a wave and found it incomparably smooth, as natural as moving an arm. Unlike other wands, this one had not so much "chosen" him as become a natural extension of his body and magic.

"Mr. Ollivander," Silas said sincerely, his tone utterly serious, "this is absolutely not something seven Galleons could buy. It is far too precious. You spent over four years of painstaking effort on it. Please tell me how much you want in payment. I will do everything I can to pay it."

Ollivander wiped the corner of his eye and waved a hand. "Payment? Oh, payment... honestly, being able to make such a wand is itself the greatest payment I could receive... But if you insist..." He hesitated, seeming somewhat embarrassed. "I hope... you can provide me with some more of that miraculous wand-core material. I am willing to offer... five Galleons..."

Silas immediately understood what Ollivander meant. This master obsessed with wandmaking did not value money, but that one-of-a-kind material. He hoped to explore more possibilities.

"Mr. Ollivander," Silas said readily, "forging this wand for me is already an immense kindness. Talking about money is too vulgar."

As he spoke, he held both hands out. A warm, lively ball of golden mystic energy gathered in his left palm, while a wisp of dark-purple energy, tightly constrained by the system's power and no thicker than a strand of hair, emerged from his right. From somewhere, he produced two small, exquisite crystal jars etched with sealing runes and guided the two energies into them separately.

"Here." Silas handed the two jars of astonishing power to the dumbfounded Ollivander. "Consider these two jars of energy a gift from me. When you want to use them, simply use a Levitation Charm to draw out a strand of each energy, then mix and stretch them in the air. If you need more later, write me a letter. After that... we'll settle on five Galleons for two jars."

Ollivander accepted the two crystal jars with trembling hands, as though he were holding the future of the entire wizarding world. He opened his mouth, his voice choking slightly. "I... I had only meant to... say that five Galleons for enough material for one wand would have satisfied me... You... this..."

Silas smiled and carefully put away his new wand. "It's what you deserve. I hope it helps you make even more wonderful wands. Then I'll be taking my leave, Mr. Ollivander."

With that, he turned, pushed open the shop door, and vanished into the crowd of Diagon Alley. Ollivander remained alone in the shop piled high with wand boxes, clutching two jars of "priceless" energy as he gazed in the direction Silas had gone and muttered to himself:

"An incredible child... an incredible wand... the wizarding world may be about to welcome a new legend..."