Magic Wand

"Please, Mr. Riddle. You go first." Nelson stepped back, yielding the few feet of stage to Tom, who had long since grown impatient and restless.

Come on, I'm curious too. Will it be the wand of destiny that chooses you in the end?

"Mr. Riddle, is it? Tom Riddle..." Ollivander drawled Tom's name in his uniquely ethereal voice. "Which hand do you favor?"

"R-Right hand." Even the precocious Tom seemed somewhat nervous when facing such an important moment in life.

"Very well, Mr. Riddle." Ollivander produced a silver measuring tape from nowhere. Its markings were severely worn, and its color was remarkably close to Ollivander's eyes. "Hold out your arm, like this."

He measured from Tom's shoulder to his fingertips, then measured his forearm, upper arm, height, arm span, even his waist and head circumference. Nelson noticed that although Ollivander held the tape in his hand, he did not seem to be exerting any force to control it. The tape darted up and down as though alive. Noticing Nelson's gaze, Ollivander explained, "This measuring tape has accompanied our family since Ollivanders Wand Shop was founded in 382 BC. For generations, it has performed its duty perfectly—helping every wand made by the Ollivanders throughout the ages find its most suitable partner."

"Every Ollivander wand is unique. Unique." He took out a notebook and began leafing through it, seemingly searching for something. "Every wand has its own unique core, made from materials taken from powerful magical creatures. We use only Unicorn hair, Phoenix feather, and Dragon heartstring as wand cores. They are all beautiful and powerful magical creatures. These creatures are unique, after all. There are no two identical unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes in the world."

Ollivander waved his own wand, and the measuring tape began measuring some of Tom's more embarrassing parts—such as the width of his nostrils. At the same time, wand boxes flew out one after another from the pile. "These unique wands choose their own masters. So when you use someone else's wand, there is a good chance you will cast clumsy magic because it does not acknowledge you."

"Try this one, Mr. Riddle." Ollivander put away his tape. "Blackthorn and Dragon heartstring, twelve and three-quarter inches. This wand can cast tremendously powerful magic, see you through hardship, and help you achieve great things."

Tom took the wand, and a roaring blaze surged from its tip, whipping up a whirlwind of scorching air. Nelson found it dazzling and uncomfortable, and instinctively shut his eyes. Tom looked at the scene he had created, excitement written across his face, and was about to speak.

"Not bad, but not enough." Ollivander plucked the wand from Tom's hand. "Let me think. Ebony wood and Dragon heartstring, ten inches long, short, stout, and tough. A fine wand for attack."

Tom took the wand, and suddenly crackling lightning burst across his body. Watching from the side, Nelson could not help internally blurting, Holy shit. Even this scene, like an enormous burst of static electricity, failed to move Ollivander. Ignoring the jumping arcs around him, he reached out and took the wand away. "Not stable enough..."

"Try this one. Acacia wood and Unicorn hair, eleven inches. A loyal wand..."

"Try this one. A rare and extraordinary combination: Applewood and Phoenix feather..."

"Try this one..."

Tom, standing there and being manipulated by Ollivander, was already at his wits' end. Nelson had watched more than a dozen flashy scenes that looked like awakening cinematics and had developed aesthetic fatigue, even becoming numb, yet Ollivander still seemed tireless.

"A picky customer, are we? Wandmakers of the Ollivander family love picky customers. In truth, every customer is picky. After all, for a Wizard, a wand accompanies them even longer than a lover does, so one must be as cautious as possible." He rummaged through the pile of boxes again and pulled out another. "Try this combination! Yew Wood, Phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches. Powerful, exceedingly powerful."

The moment Tom took the wand, he slowly began to float. Though he was inside a small shop with its doors and windows shut tight, the jacket he wore still billowed behind him as if a fierce gale were sweeping through the room! Tom raised his right hand and lowered his head to look at the wand in it. Then he raised his left hand and stroked the extraordinary, fated wand as though caressing a lover. Lowering his head again, he pressed his thin, pale lips to the wand, floating there in midair as he kissed it.

"Yew Wood is often associated with death in legend, while the Phoenix is renowned for being reborn through nirvana..." Ollivander looked at Tom floating in the air, his silvery-white eyes like mirrors. He said with satisfaction, "In all my years in this trade, I have never seen such a sight. You will achieve great things, Mr. Riddle. This is a wand that was born to belong to you."

"Mr. Williams, it is your turn." After landing, Tom kept a straight face and pretended to be unruffled even if a mountain collapsed before him. Yet beneath the counter, he kept secretly wiping the wand clenched tightly in his right hand with the sleeve of his left arm. Hearing Ollivander's call, Nelson suppressed his own unease and stepped forward to undergo the examination.

"Which hand do you usually favor?"

"My right hand, sir." Having learned from what came before, Nelson was exceptionally cooperative. The measurements ended swiftly and smoothly, and before long, more than a dozen wand boxes flew over and stacked themselves in front of Ollivander.

"Let us start with this one. Birch wood, Phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches. Beautiful and sacred."

Nelson took the wand, but nothing seemed to happen.

"Ah, this..."

He was just about to speak and break the awkward silence when he suddenly felt a chill around his ankles. Looking down, he saw it.

Misty vapor was spreading throughout the shop, quickly condensing into clear, glittering droplets on the floor. Unlike the blazing fire that erupted when Tom received his first wand, this vapor was not eye-catching, but it was exceptionally harmonious, even, and symmetrical.

That's it? Nelson was wondering what sort of phenomenon this was when Ollivander suddenly snatched the wand away.

"No, no. You should try this one instead. Willow wood, Unicorn hair, fourteen inches. Extremely flexible. A fine wand for advanced magical techniques."

Nelson took the wand, and the vapor in the room grew denser, even becoming like thick fog and making it hard to breathe. Just as he was about to speak, Ollivander swiftly seized the wand from him.

Strangely, after he let go of the wand, the vapor in the shop did not immediately vanish like Tom's earlier effects. Instead, it lingered for a while before dissipating like real fog. Looking at the mist filling the shop, Ollivander stood before the pile of wands, deep in thought.

Maybe I could try learning the Hiding in Mist Technique someday? Or the Rain Tiger at Will Technique? Nelson stood there idly. The vapor made his calves itch a little, but he was too embarrassed to bend down and scratch them. Ollivander seemed to have gone offline as well, so Nelson could only think of strange things to let his mind wander. When I duel other Wizards in the future, I can start by saying, "My pain is greater than yours," then crush my opponent with the initiative granted by sheer style...

Smack! Ollivander clapped his hands, interrupting Nelson's wild thoughts. "You must have grown up in London. Let us try these wands." He brought out a pile of wands and had Nelson test them one by one.

Yet in Nelson's hands, these wands only made the fog in the wand shop grow thicker... By the time he had tried more than a dozen, the mist no longer gradually thinned or dispersed after the wands left his hand. Instead, it formed into a tangible fog that spread through the crack beneath the shop door and out onto the street.

"Lumos." A light shone from the tip of Ollivander's wand, allowing him to see his customers. Startled by the brightness, Tom withdrew the hand that had been brazenly stroking his wand in the thick fog while relying on no one being able to see him. He tucked the wand into his pocket and looked around.

"Why is this happening?" Ollivander was equally puzzled. "Mr. Williams..."

"Sorry, I..." Nelson did not know how to explain.

"Sorry, this should not be a problem for the customer to worry about. I will find a wand that suits you."

Before long, Ollivander emerged again carrying a stack of boxes. "I think we should change our approach. Though we are in the fog, we should not lock our minds in it as well. These wands that currently seem to have nothing to do with your traits—"

Ollivander stopped his analysis. Extreme surprise appeared in his silvery-white eyes as he watched a long black wand fly out from the pile and into Nelson's hand, where Nelson gripped it.

"—appear to have quite a lot to do with your traits after all."

Nelson raised his hand, and the mist scattered throughout the shop surged wildly toward the wand in his grasp. The hem of his short trench coat danced in the fierce winds around him. Unlike when Tom had hovered in the air as though surrounded by a gale, an actual violent wind had now risen inside the wand shop!

"A wand shaft crafted from Black walnut wood is extraordinarily tough and difficult to bend, while Dragon heartstring as its core makes this wand even more formidable! A beautiful wand, fourteen inches, long, straight... A perfect combination. Mr. Nelson, you possess a special gift. Be sure to explore it well, but before that, you must often question your own heart."

Ollivander fulfilled the role of a qualified commentator or narrator. As he spoke the final word, the wand in Nelson's hand drew in every trace of mist. Then, all was calm.

Tom watched his friend's process of finding a wand, seemingly comparing it to his own in secret. He suddenly smiled. Too bad you can't fly. His expression was far too easy to read.

Nelson raised his hand and examined the wand he held. As Ollivander had said, it was long and straight. At fourteen inches, it looked noticeably longer than everyone else's wand. Fortunately, both Nelson and Tom were tall for their age, so they could barely handle wands of fourteen inches and thirteen and a half inches. Nelson brought the wand close to his eyes and studied it carefully. The distinctive grain of the Black walnut wood gave it a gorgeous yet mysterious appearance. He gave his right hand a gentle flick, and the only chair in Ollivander's shop collapsed... This wand gave him the feeling of being connected by blood, as natural to use as an arm or a finger.

"Sorry, Mr. Ollivander."

"It is all right. Reparo." With a light wave of his wand, the chair was restored to perfect condition. Ollivander smiled at them both with those clear, large silver eyes. "The wands in my shop are like my children. When they find suitable partners, I am the happiest person."

Tom and Nelson rubbed the wands in their hands and exchanged a smile.

"However," Ollivander added, "Mr. Riddle, your wand will cost seven Galleons, while Mr. Williams, yours will cost seven Galleons and thirteen Sickles."