Ill-Suited Wand

Five minutes later, after hearing Bashat's account, Dumbledore wore a faint smile. "What a good child!"

Bashat asked, "Headmaster Dumbledore, is Vizet really an Obscurial? I couldn't sense it at all, whether from his speech or his behavior."

"This child has a certain charisma. To be honest... even without your warning, I probably wouldn't have been on guard around him. How marvelous."

"Then it depends on whether you believe me." Dumbledore took a sip of red tea. "Vizet is indeed an Obscurial. I saw it with my own eyes."

"The situation was urgent at the time, and the people from the Ministry of Magic arrived before I did. He emerged from his Obscurus state without my help."

"He recovered through his own willpower? He's only at the age to enter school, isn't he?" Bashat said in disbelief.

"This morning, I thought you were worried that he wasn't stable enough, so you asked me to keep an eye on him and find a chance to chat with him..."

"I actually misunderstood you..." Dumbledore shook his head lightly. "I only saw Vizet lingering in the bookstore for a long time and worried that, because he rarely interacted with people, he didn't dare ask to buy a book."

"That's why I asked you to look after him a little. If he needed anything, you could help him as much as possible... You helped me quite a lot this time. I'll remember it."

"No, no, no! Headmaster Dumbledore, you're joking!" Bashat waved his hands repeatedly. "I'm the one who gained the most. I should be thanking you."

"If we keep deferring to each other, perhaps we can consider what to eat tonight." Dumbledore glanced at the time. "I have an interview this afternoon, so I'll need to return to the Leaky Cauldron later."

"Very well. I should return to the bookstore too." Bashat had already risen to his feet. "I'll take my leave first."

Watching Bashat's brisk retreating figure, Dumbledore grew slightly absent-minded. "Ariana... at least this time, I won't repeat the mistake I made back then..."

To modern wizards, a wand was a necessity, affecting every aspect of daily life.

As one of the oldest buildings in Diagon Alley, Ollivander's Wand Shop was truly inconspicuous.

The shopfront was small and shabby, and the golden sign above the door was badly weathered. One could just make out the embossed words: Ollivander: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.

The glass display window was gray and dusty. An old wand lay on a faded purple cushion.

Vizet pushed open the shop door and walked inside. It was utterly silent, with only a narrow passage leading to the shop floor.

It was less a shop than a wand warehouse.

Shelves filled both sides of the passage. Inside them were one wooden box after another, piled like bricks from the floor to the ceiling.

The shop floor was just as cramped, with a polished wooden bench in the corner.

Jingle, jingle...

The pleasant sound of wind chimes echoed through the shop. A figure suddenly appeared in front of Vizet like the wind.

Ollivander was an old man with silver hair and no beard, and his extremely pale, silvery-white eyes were striking.

In the dim shop, those eyes resembled twin full moons, radiating light.

Ollivander's voice was gentle. "Good afternoon. Since the Statute of Secrecy took effect, Obscurials have been rare. You're a special customer... Vizet, I'm delighted to serve you."

His voice held a note of delight. "An Obscurial capable of touching a wand is something I've never seen before... Which hand do you usually use?"

"Right."

"Very good. Please raise your arm and relax a little. I'm only taking your measurements."

As he spoke, a Tape Measure sprang from Ollivander's coat pocket.

The Tape Measure settled on Vizet's shoulder, slowly rolling toward his fingertips, then from his wrist to his elbow, from his shoulder to the floor, and finally circling around his forehead.

At that moment, the shop seemed to come alive. Ollivander darted between the shelves, and with a wave of his hand, three wooden boxes flew into his arms.

"Here, the wood, the Wand Core, the length... everything differs... Every wand is a unique existence."

"Of course, you'll always find a wand suitable for you here. Try this one: Acacia wood, Dragon Heartstring, thirteen inches, with a resilient texture."

The wand was amber-colored from end to end, its carvings following the grain of the wood and giving it an unhurried elegance.

Vizet took the wand in his hand. Before he could even close his grip, Ollivander snatched it away.

"It doesn't feel right... Try this one: Blackthorn wood, Snake nerve, twelve and a half inches, with excellent flexibility."

Repeating almost exactly what he had done before, Ollivander snatched the wand away before Vizet could close his grip.

"Try this one: Holly wood, Phoenix Feather, Thirteen and three-quarters inches, moderately firm."

"Cedar wood, Unicorn tail hair, ten and three-fifths inches. No!"

Ollivander chattered as he introduced each wand, darting back and forth among the shelves with agility far beyond what one would expect at his age.

Vizet took one wand after another, and then each wand was snatched away again...

Wands and wand boxes scattered across the floor, piling up before he realized it.

"How about this one? Ebony, Dragon Heartstring, nine inches..."

"Elder wood, Snake nerve, eleven inches..."

"Laurel wood, Phoenix Feather..."

Time continued to pass. The wand boxes piled higher and higher, like a small mountain.

Ollivander, his eyes shining with excitement, finally stopped and began muttering nonstop. "I never would have expected this. We've tried nearly every type. How could this be?"

Faced with this situation, if he hadn't used the Shield Charm earlier, Vizet might already have begun wondering whether he possessed any magical talent at all.

"Vizet, I need more information." Ollivander's voice was gentle. "Would you tell me about your past experiences?"

"Try not to recall anything unpleasant. Tell me about things that made you happy or interested you... Preferably things from before you met Dumbledore."

Vizet voiced his confusion. "Mr. Ollivander, is something wrong? Why isn't any wand suitable for me?"

"It's very common for a Wizard to be picky about a wand." Ollivander smiled. "The wand chooses the Wizard, and the Wizard chooses the wand."

"Completing the pairing sometimes requires quite a bit of effort. We need to trace things back to their source... Tell me about your past experiences!"

"Things from before I met Dumbledore..." Vizet furrowed his brow and began recalling the past.

"Yes! Just tell me about things that interest you."

"There was a book recording magic in that Wizard's home. It looked very old, and I was very interested in it."

"A book recording Ancient Magic?" Ollivander looked thoughtful. "I have an idea. Wait here for a moment."

He drew his wand and waved it at the wands on the floor. The wands returned to their boxes in an orderly fashion, then flew back to their original places.

Before long, he emerged from the shadows at the back of the shop, carrying a Silver-Blue box.

Vizet stared absently at the swirling-air emblem on the box. He knew that emblem far too well.

The same emblem appeared in the Wizard Combat Guide.