On the south side of Diagon Alley stood a narrow, crowded shop. Its window displayed a single magic wand on a faded purple cushion, and its sign read, "Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC." The brass bell inside suddenly chimed brightly as Dumbledore pushed open the door to Ollivander's Wand Shop and led Horatio inside.
Ollivander's Wand Shop was filled with an ancient, mysterious atmosphere. Hundreds of boxes containing magic wands lined the oak shelves. Mr. Ollivander straightened up from behind a workbench covered in wood shavings, his silvery-white hair exploding around his shoulders as though under a Levitation Charm. "Headmaster Dumbledore, it has been several years since we last met."
"Ollivander, it has indeed been several years. We can catch up later. Could you first choose a magic wand for this young wizard?"
"Oh~ Hello, young wizard." After hearing Dumbledore, Ollivander turned to Horatio.
"Hello, Mr. Ollivander. My name is Horatio Quibble, and I'm a new student starting this year." Horatio bowed to Ollivander as he answered.
"Oh~ A young wizard starting this year. Then could you please show me your acceptance letter? Even if Headmaster Dumbledore brought you here himself, rules are still rules. The Ministry of Magic might otherwise pick at me and cause trouble."
Horatio took out his Hogwarts acceptance letter from the envelope in his robes and handed it to Ollivander.
"Very well, Mr. Horatio Quibble. Which arm do you usually use?"
"My right hand."
Ollivander picked up a tape measure and measured Horatio's arm.
After finishing the measurements, Ollivander pondered for a while before taking a box from the oak shelves behind him. He removed a magic wand. "Try this one. Eleven inches, black walnut dragon heartstring."
Horatio waved the magic wand, and a dazzling light shone from its tip. It unexpectedly felt quite usable.
"No, no, not this one. Try this instead—cherry wood unicorn hair."
A dazzling light shone from its tip as well.
"No, not this one either."
After trying dozens in a row, Horatio's arm was sore from waving them. He felt that none of the magic wands had rejected him, but every one of them seemed to be lacking something.
"What a picky customer. Then there's only this one left: yew phoenix feather." After saying that, Ollivander glanced at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore watched Horatio nervously as well, but when he saw magic flow through him without obstruction as he waved the magic wand, he painfully closed his eyes.
"Yes, yes, this is the one. The last person who possessed this material..."
Before Ollivander could finish, a locked box burst open. A pitch-black magic wand, like a wife catching her husband's mistress, smacked the magic wand from Horatio's hand with its handle before landing steadily in Horatio's palm.
"Merlin's beard, no, no, no, this isn't how it was supposed to be." Ollivander clutched his head, his face twisted in pain.
Horatio tried waving the magic wand. How should he put it? The previous one was like a childhood sweetheart who had stayed by his side for years, while this one was like a destined love falling from the heavens. Eriri Spencer Sawamura was furious.
Under Horatio and Dumbledore's puzzled gazes, Ollivander began to explain, "Throughout my family's long history of wandmaking, there have always been a few rebels who defied convention. This magic wand was made by an ancestor who was struck from our family records.
"In theory, a magic wand can only have one core. Different cores are bound to conflict with one another. But that ancestor of mine believed that there was no reason a magic wand could only have one core, so he kept experimenting. In the end, using a special Alchemy potion, he successfully fused Thestral tail hair and phoenix feather—two materials that should, strictly speaking, conflict—into one. He also used Elder wood, the hardest material to control, as the wand wood.
"For hundreds of years, no one had been able to channel magic into this wand. It was like an ordinary piece of wood. My family even regarded it as a failed magic wand and kept it as an example to warn later generations. But today, I witnessed a miracle.
"Child, do you know? Since childhood, I was taught that a magic wand could only have one core. But today, I feel as if my worldview has collapsed. I don't know what this magic wand represents, and I cannot guarantee that problems will not arise later. Child, the choice is yours. Will you choose this unknown one, or that stable one?"
Horatio looked at the magic wand in his hand. "Adults make choices. Children want them all. They are both my wings."
Ollivander and Dumbledore: "..."
In the end, after Horatio threw tantrums, rolled around on the floor, threatened to die, and went on a hunger strike, he left with two magic wands to his heart's content.
"Professor, where are we going next?" Horatio asked as he pushed his cart after Dumbledore into a secluded corner.
"France. I need to retrieve something, and you need to stay there for a month."
"What? Professor, are you going to traffic me to France and sell me to Beauxbatons Academy as a house-elf?"
Ignoring Horatio's antics, Dumbledore pressed a hand onto Horatio's shoulder, and they vanished from the spot.
"Bleurgh~" The moment one person, one cat, and two birds arrived, they all leaned against the wall and vomited. "Which damned person invented Apparition? One day, I'm going to dig up his grave."
"Stop fooling around and restrain yourself. We're about to visit the greatest Alchemist."
Following Dumbledore's footsteps, Horatio arrived before a victorian style house.
Before Dumbledore could knock, an elderly voice came from inside. "Is that you, Dumbledore, my friend?"
"It's me, Nicolas."
"Come in, my friend. Forgive me for being unable to greet you personally. My legs are inconvenient."
As Dumbledore pushed open the door, an old man in white robes sat on the sofa. He resembled a dried mandrake, with long fingers like withered branches, unhealthy gray-white nails, and knuckles protruding like knots on an old tree. When he lifted his teacup, veins wound across the back of his pale hand. The tea trembled gently in the cup, reflecting his sunken eye sockets.
"You came for that thing, didn't you? Perenelle and I discussed it. Though time cannot take away our lives, it still carries away our years. We are already very old. We have experienced everything we were meant to experience. I agree to your plan. It is only a pity that you have been entangled in trivial matters. Otherwise, you would certainly have surpassed me and become the greatest Alchemist."
"Speaking of which, Horatio, show Nicolas what you made."
Hearing Dumbledore's words, Horatio took the fingernail-sized Philosopher's Stone from his pocket and walked over to Nicolas Flamel.
Nicolas Flamel accepted the Philosopher's Stone with trembling hands. "This is the Sorcerer's Stone? No, it's more advanced. Child, did you make this?"
"Yes. I made it using the life energy and soul energy of cockroaches, spiders, and rats. Strictly speaking, it should be called a Philosopher's Stone rather than a Sorcerer's Stone. There is one major difference between them, but..." Horatio covertly glanced at Dumbledore.
Nicolas Flamel understood. He took a cloth bag from his pocket and tossed it to Dumbledore. "My friend, you have already obtained what you needed. Go attend to your affairs first. I will take care of Mr. Horatio. Come pick him up when school begins."
Dumbledore accepted the cloth bag and looked doubtfully at Nicolas Flamel and Horatio. Without saying anything more, he left Nicolas Flamel's home with the bag.
"Child, can you tell me now what the difference is between the Sorcerer's Stone and your Philosopher's Stone?"
Horatio did not answer. He merely took the Philosopher's Stone from Nicolas Flamel's hand and held it in his palm. "I want a piece of chocolate."
"What does the Philosopher's Stone have to do with chocolate..."
As Horatio slowly opened his palm, the Philosopher's Stone had vanished before Nicolas Flamel's disbelieving eyes. In its place lay a piece of chocolate.
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