The Wand and Nicolas Flamel

On the south side of Diagon Alley, there was a small, crowded shop. The window displayed a single wand on a faded purple velvet cushion, and the sign read "Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC." The brass doorbell inside suddenly let out a crisp ding-dong. Dumbledore pushed open the door of Ollivander's Wand Shop, bringing Horatio inside.

Inside Ollivander's Wand Shop, an ancient and mysterious aura permeated the air. Hundreds of boxes containing wands were displayed on oak shelves. Mr. Ollivander straightened up from behind a workbench piled high with wood shavings, his silver-white hair exploding around his shoulders as if under a Levitation Charm. "Esteemed Headmaster Dumbledore, it has been several years since we last met."

"Ollivander, it has indeed been a few years. We can catch up later. For now, could you please help this young wizard choose a wand?"

"Oh~ Hello, young wizard." Ollivander turned to look at Horatio after hearing Dumbledore's words.

"Hello, Mr. Ollivander. My name is Horatio Quibble. I'm a new student starting this year." Horatio bowed to Ollivander and replied.

"Oh~ A new student this year, is it? Then, could you please show me your acceptance letter? Even though Headmaster Dumbledore brought you here personally, rules must still be followed. I wouldn't want the Ministry of Magic to find fault with me later."

Horatio took out his Hogwarts acceptance letter from the envelope in his pocket and handed it to Ollivander.

"Alright, Mr. Horatio Quibble, which arm do you usually use?"

"My right."

Ollivander picked up a measuring tape and measured Horatio's arm.

After the measurement, Ollivander pondered for a moment, took a box from the oak shelf behind him, and took out a wand. "Try this one, eleven inches, Black walnut dragon heartstring."

Horatio waved the wand, and its tip shone with a dazzling light. It felt surprisingly effective.

"No, no, not this one. Try this one, Cherry wood unicorn hair."

The tip of this wand also shone with a dazzling light.

"No, it's not this one either."

After trying dozens of wands, Horatio's arm grew sore. He felt that none of the wands rejected him, but they always felt slightly off when he used them.

"A truly picky customer. Then, there's only this one left: Yew phoenix feather." Ollivander said, glancing at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore also watched Horatio nervously. But when he saw the magic flow unimpeded as Horatio swung the wand, he closed his eyes in pain.

"Alright, alright, this is the one. The last person to possess this material was..."

Before Ollivander could finish, a locked box burst open. A jet-black wand, like a queen catching a mistress, struck the wand from Horatio's hand, then landed steadily in Horatio's grip.

"Merlin's beard, no, no, no, it's not supposed to be like this." Ollivander clutched his head, his expression pained.

Horatio tried waving the wand. How to describe it? The previous one was like a childhood sweetheart who had accompanied him for a long time, while this one felt like fate's destined arrival. Eriri Spencer Sawamura was furious, so to speak.

Under the bewildered gazes of Horatio and Dumbledore, Ollivander began to explain. "In our family's long history of wand-making, there are always a few who go against tradition. This wand comes from an ancestor who was expelled from the family.

Logically, a wand can only have one core. Different cores will inevitably conflict. But my ancestor thought, 'Why should a wand only have one core?' He kept experimenting, and finally, with a special alchemical potion, he succeeded in combining two materials that should conflict, Thestral tail hair and phoenix feather, into one. Furthermore, he used Elder wood, the most difficult material to control, as the wand's wood.

For hundreds of years, this wand has been like ordinary wood; no one could channel magic into it. It was even considered a failed wand by my family and has been used as a cautionary example for future generations. But today, I have witnessed a miracle."

"Child, do you know? I was taught from a young age that a wand can only have one core, but today I feel like my worldview has collapsed. I don't know what this wand represents, and I can't guarantee there won't be any problems later. Child, it's up to your choice now, whether to choose this unknown one or the stable one."

Horatio looked at the wand in his hand. "Adults make choices, children want it all. They are both my wings."

Ollivander and Dumbledore: "..."

In the end, through various means such as Horatio throwing tantrums, threatening to die, and going on a hunger strike, Horatio left with two wands, completely satisfied.

"Professor, where do we go next?" Pushing the small cart, he followed Dumbledore to a secluded corner.

"France. I need to retrieve something, and you need to stay there for a month."

"What? Professor, are you going to sell me off to France and make me a house-elf for Beauxbatons Academy?"

Ignoring Horatio's antics, Dumbledore placed his hands on Horatio's shoulders and instantly vanished from the spot.

"Ugh~" Upon arriving, one person, one cat, and two birds immediately clutched the wall and vomited. "Who the hell invented Apparition? I'll dig up their grave another day."

"Stop messing around and try to control yourself. We need to visit a great alchemist now."

Following Dumbledore's footsteps, Horatio arrived in front of a Victorian-style house.

Before Dumbledore could knock on the door, an aged voice came from inside. "Is that you, Dumbledore, my friend?"

"It is I, Nicolas."

"Come in, my friend. Forgive me, my legs are not what they used to be, so I cannot greet you personally."

As Dumbledore pushed the door open, an old man in a white robe sat on the sofa. He looked like a dried-out Mandrake, his fingers long and thin like withered branches, his nails a sickly grayish-white, and his joints bulging like old tree knots. As he lifted his teacup, veins snaked across the pale back of his hand, and the tea in the cup trembled slightly, reflecting his sunken eye sockets.

"You're here to retrieve that item, aren't you? Perenelle and I have discussed it. Time may not take our lives, but it still takes our age. We are very old, and we have experienced what we needed to experience. I agree with your plan, it's just a pity that you are entangled in trivial matters, otherwise, you would surely surpass me and become the greatest alchemist."

"Speaking of which, Horatio, show Nicolas what you've made."

Hearing Dumbledore's words, Horatio took the Philosopher's Stone, the size of a fingernail cap, from his pocket and approached Nicolas Flamel.

Nicolas Flamel took the Philosopher's Stone with trembling hands. "Is this the Sorcerer's Stone? No, it's more advanced. Child, you made this?"

"Yes, I used the life energy and soul energy of some cockroaches, spiders, and mice to make it. Strictly speaking, it should be called the Philosopher's Stone, not the Sorcerer's Stone. They have a key difference, but..." Horatio glanced at Dumbledore meaningfully.

Nicolas Flamel understood. He took out a cloth bag from his pocket and threw it to Dumbledore. "My friend, you have obtained what you needed. You go ahead with your business. I will take good care of Mr. Horatio. You can come back to pick him up when school starts."

Dumbledore took the cloth bag and looked at Nicolas Flamel and Horatio with confusion. Without saying more, he left Nicolas Flamel's house with the bag.

"Child, now can you tell me the difference between the Sorcerer's Stone and your Philosopher's Stone?"

Horatio did not answer. He simply 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, to Nicolas Flamel's disbelief, the Philosopher's Stone disappeared. In its place was a piece of chocolate.

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