Ollivander

Guoguo Tea did indeed have Kneazle bloodline.

Its keen senses, inherited from its bloodline, had detected something. From then on, it kept circling Ron and sniffing at him. Its solemn cat face and sharp eyes left Ron's legs trembling.

He did not even dare protest and could only silently mourn for Scabbers.

The miscellaneous shopping had come to an end. Molly crossed another item off the note in her hand and nodded in satisfaction. "All right, only Ollivander remains. Ron, Vaughn, my darlings, you'll soon have Wands of your own."

This good news finally brought Ron some comfort.

The family followed the crowd deeper into Diagon Alley. Ollivanders Wand Shop was the oldest shop here, having existed long before the Leaky Cauldron became the gateway to the Wizarding world—the Leaky Cauldron had been established in 1500.

It was hidden at the very end of Diagon Alley, inside a small, shabby shop. Its peeling paint and dusty display window gave no hint of its glorious history. Only its sign revealed its pedigree:

[Ollivander—Makers of Fine Wands since 328 B.C.]

The Weasleys entered the shop. The interior was tiny, though perhaps it only seemed so because of the sheer quantity of merchandise. There were long, narrow boxes everywhere—at a glance, there had to be several thousand of them.

They were piled haphazardly, nearly reaching the ceiling.

The shop was quiet. Only the faint echo of the doorbell, struck when the door had opened, lingered in the air, making the dust and stillness within seem as though they concealed some mysterious magic.

An old man with large pale eyes emerged from behind the shelves. In the dim shop, framed by shadowy racks, his eyes looked like two moons.

"Ah, good afternoon, customers. Welcome to Ollivanders."

His voice was soft and airy. Vaughn heard Ron swallow hard beside him.

Molly, on the other hand, was already used to this. She had entered this shop five times before, including when she herself had gone to school.

Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, and George had all started school only a few years apart, but there was no way to reuse old Wands.

She called out loudly, "Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander. Do you remember me?"

"Of course, of course." Ollivander nodded repeatedly and replied in his drifting voice, "Molly Prewett Weasley. You needn't ask me that every time. I'm not senile yet, so—"

He looked at Vaughn and Ron, then said softly, "Two new Weasleys starting school?"

"Yes, Mr. Ollivander."

"Ah, Hogwarts' opening day is always my happiest day. Of course, not because I can make money—that is merely one reason. More importantly, these Wands I crafted myself have finally found the Wizards they were waiting for."

Ollivander raised one hand beside his ear and said mysteriously, "Can you hear it? Some Wands are cheering—so, who shall go first?"

"...Gulp!"

Ron was Scared Stiff. He hurriedly grabbed his mother and tried to run outside. "Let Vaughn go first, Mum! I need some air!!"

Molly could only follow him out helplessly, leaving Vaughn behind with an entirely unconcerned Ollivander. The old man took a tape measure from his pocket. "Mr. Vaughn Weasley, which hand do you use?"

"My right hand."

Ollivander nodded and began measuring Vaughn from all angles as he spoke softly.

"Mr. Vaughn Weasley, I have heard your name before. A Potions Prodigy."

"Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Ollivander."

"You do not seem afraid of me?"

Vaughn glanced at him and shook his head. "The first time I brewed a potion, I made Ron cry too. He thought I was putting some Curse on him. I was only speaking quietly out of habit while brewing potions."

Ollivander nodded again and again. "Yes, yes. Those who master a craft always have a few peculiar habits, as well as ideas and convictions that outsiders cannot understand."

Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "So measuring every customer is part of your philosophy?"

"Of course. Every person is unique, and so is every Wand. I need to know more about you before I can choose the Wand that suits you best."

Vaughn looked up at the thousands of Wands before him. "I heard that you only use Unicorn hair, Phoenix Tail Feather, and Dragon Heartstring as Wand cores. With such limited materials, how do you ensure there are no duplicates?"

"Oh, a question from a Potions Prodigy. I must say, you have grasped the key point." Ollivander answered happily, "For other Young Wizards, I can simply tell them that every Unicorn, Phoenix, and dragon is unique, because that is easier for them to understand. But since you asked, I must tell you the truth. It also has to do with the choice of wood."

As he spoke, he finished taking Vaughn's measurements.

After pondering for a moment, he pulled out a box, removed the Wand inside, and handed it to Vaughn with both hands.

"Twelve inches. Dragon Heartstring core, Fir wood. It favors Wizards who are focused, strong-willed, even forceful."

Vaughn held it and gave it a light wave. A violent gale immediately swept through the small shop.

Ollivander instantly snatched the Wand back and winked at Vaughn. "See? It likes you very much, but it does not suit you!"

Not long after, Ollivander drew out another box. "Ten and a half inches. Dragon Heartstring core, Elm wood. Legend says it favors Pure-blood Wizards, but in my experience, that is probably nonsense spread by Pure-blood Families. I believe it favors Wizards who are noble and possess the qualities of a leader."

This time, the moment Vaughn waved the Wand, countless golden sparks exploded in the air.

But Ollivander took it away again.

"It likes you as well, but you are not suited..."

After two tests, combined with his judgment of materials from his maxed-out talent for potions, Vaughn had begun to form an idea.

When Ollivander had said that "some Wands are cheering," perhaps he had not merely been putting on a mysterious act. While testing those two Wands just now, Vaughn truly had been able to sense their delight.

It was a very vague, hazy feeling, yet undeniably real.

So, when Ollivander took out a third Wand, Vaughn did not accept it. Instead, he asked, "You mentioned the choice of wood earlier. Can I understand it this way: every Wand has a unique personality and preference, and those traits are determined by its wood?"

Ollivander was visibly taken aback. His pale eyes blinked rapidly, and only after a moment did he nod lightly.

"Very perceptive, Mr. Vaughn Weasley. This is the secret of every Wandmaker. The core can only determine what kind of Magic a Wand is suited for. The wood is what determines how a Wand chooses its Wizard!"

Vaughn fell into thought. Naturally, he could not do as Ollivander did and hear "the Wands cheering," but he thought back to Ollivander's words after the two previous tests: "It likes you very much, but you are not suited." Then he considered his own experience of transmigration.

Vaughn felt that perhaps only a special Wand would suit him!

The relationship between a Wand and a Wizard was not simply one of choosing and being chosen. They fulfilled each other.

That was why Ollivander had said they were "not suited." He did not understand Vaughn. He did not know about Vaughn's experience of transmigration!

With that thought, Vaughn closed his eyes and released his Magic Power, as well as the Occlumency he had kept running all this time!

The next moment, he sensed something.

He walked over to a shelf where boxes had been piled in disorder and pulled one out.

When he opened the box, he could feel the Wand inside practically itching to leap into his hand.

Sss—

As Vaughn waved the Wand, crackling arcs of electricity streaked through the air. Like a lively swarm of snakes, they split and flowed, skimming across the surfaces of countless boxes.

Ollivander's eyes widened.

"Fourteen inches. Dragon Heartstring, and—Elder! Proud, extreme, and explosive... it favors those with a unique Destiny..."