Ollivander's wand shop was quiet and solemn. Countless long, narrow boxes were arranged in neat rows on shelves that nearly touched the ceiling, and the air was filled with the pleasant scent of wood. A few specks of dust were faintly visible in the sunlight streaming through the glass, dancing along to a soft clinking sound from somewhere unknown.
"Good afternoon."
A gentle voice drifted over from the back, followed by an elderly man. His eyes were silver-white and enormous, like two moons. To Avada's Magic Sense, those eyes corresponded to an incredibly complex and strange structure.
He froze for a moment when he saw Dumbledore, then his face lit up with delight. "Oh, Professor Dumbledore! What a pleasure to see you again... Have you brought that child to buy a wand?"
"Yes, Mr. Ollivander. Sorry for the trouble, but would you please choose a wand for him?"
Dumbledore greeted Ollivander with a smile, then stepped aside.
Ollivander seemed to want to say something else, but at Dumbledore's gesture, he could only shake his head helplessly before turning to Avada.
"Then let's begin."
Ollivander stared at Avada with his silver-white eyes for a moment, making him feel a little uneasy. Just as Avada was about to ask what was wrong, Ollivander's expression grew increasingly odd. "What's your name, child?"
"..."
Avada turned to look at Dumbledore and received an affirming nod.
"Avada Kedavra."
He drawled the name in imitation of Dumbledore, hoping to make it less of a shock to Ollivander. But Ollivander still shuddered when he heard it, though a look of dawning understanding soon crossed his face.
"I see. No wonder..."
"All right, Mr. Kedavra, which hand do you favor?"
"My right."
"Raise your arm."
The measuring tape in Ollivander's hand floated up by itself, circling Avada as it measured every part of his body, while Ollivander himself plunged into the pile of wands behind him and began rummaging.
"My eyes can see certain unusual things. Combined with the buyer's name and measurements, that lets me narrow down the range of suitable wands. But with a fussy customer, it can still take a dozen tries—or even dozens..."
"All right, try this one. Ten and three-quarter inches, acacia, Phoenix Feather core. Give it a wave..."
He broke off mid-sentence, staring in surprise as a red light surged from the tip of the wand, wrapped around the hand holding it, and gradually enveloped Avada's entire body.
"Whoa!"
Avada couldn't help crying out in surprise. The moment he grasped the wand, his Magic Sense felt as if he'd suddenly put on a pair of glasses—it became several times clearer!
He also vaguely sensed that his own golden radiance—his mental power—could extend in a focused stream along the wand, growing more concentrated and reaching much farther!
This thing was a casting tool beyond compare!
"A perfect match on the first try? That's unusual!"
Ollivander exclaimed happily, then composed himself and smiled. "Well, Mr. Kedavra, congratulations. You've found the wand that suits you best. It will stay by your side as you begin your journey into the Wizarding World."
"Uh..."
Avada felt a little strange. He'd seen others trying wand after wand for ages, then finally finding a powerful, unusual one that made Ollivander burst into excited exclamations. So how come, when it was his turn...
"Could I try some others?"
He asked a little sheepishly.
"You want to try others? Very well. After all, it would be a shame to choose a wand without experiencing one that doesn't suit you." Ollivander laughed, then took out another wand. "Twelve and a half inches, ebony, Unicorn Hair. Give it a try."
Curious, Avada reached out and took hold of the wand. The instant he grasped it, it too burst into red light, sending a warm current through his whole body and leaving him feeling wonderfully comfortable—the exact same thing as with the first wand.
"Hm?"
A trace of surprise appeared in Ollivander's eyes once more.
"Very few people are such a perfect match for a second wand." Ollivander studied the little fellow before him with interest. "Perhaps you were drawn to make the choice to try another wand? Could this be the guiding hand of fate?"
"Um... Could I try another one?"
"Haha, still want to experience a wand that doesn't suit you? All right, then. Thirteen inches, cherry, Unicorn Hair. Try this one."
Avada accepted the newly produced wooden box, opened it, and grasped the wand. Once again, red light and a warm current.
"What's going on?!"
Now it wasn't just Ollivander who looked astonished; even Dumbledore, standing nearby, wore a look of surprise.
If one person getting two perfectly suited wands in a row could still be put down to coincidence, then a third time meant something strange was going on.
"Try this one!"
Ollivander didn't even bother listing the usual three wand details anymore. He simply pulled out a wand and shoved it into Avada's hand—and, once again, the red light and warm current signaled a perfect match.
"What about this one?"
A perfect match, red light and warm current.
"This one!"
Red light and warm current.
"This one!!"
Red light and warm current.
"..."
Red light and warm current.
Ollivander, Dumbledore, and Avada all fell silent.
"This shouldn't happen. How can this be? It makes no sense..."
"Do you have any idea, Professor Dumbledore?" After mulling it over for a long time without reaching an answer, Ollivander could only turn to Dumbledore, who had brought Avada in. All he got in return was the same bewildered look.
Avada stood there, awkwardly holding a wand, the corner of his eye twitching. At least he'd gotten to experience the feeling of trying wand after wand.
Just in reverse.
"So..." He broke the silence cautiously. "How am I supposed to choose my wand?"
The atmosphere in the wand shop grew even more silent.
"...Perhaps you should just take the first one?"
Dumbledore's brows drew together so tightly they nearly pushed his glasses off, but in the end he could only nod helplessly. "That would be best."
Ollivander still didn't seem entirely convinced, but in the end he said nothing. He simply accepted seven Galleons in silence, then handed Avada the wand that was ten and three-quarter inches long, made of acacia, and had a Phoenix Feather core.
There was one benefit, though. As they went on to buy textbooks, robes, and the other supplies for first-year students, Dumbledore looked as if he were pondering some matter of grave importance to the entire Wizarding World. Everyone nearby thought better of interrupting him, so Avada made it through the trip to Diagon Alley with ease.
Only after Avada signed the Ministry of Magic's compensation agreement with his wand and completed the magical contract did Dumbledore stare straight at him and speak slowly, his tone grave.
"You have talents beyond anything we could imagine, Avada."
"I hope you'll use them wisely."
Instead of the long lecture he'd expected, those were the only two short sentences Dumbledore had for him. But then his tone lightened again. "Before you start mastering your talents, I suggest you pick up a few proper Muggle textbooks on your way back to your friends. Otherwise, you may have trouble answering their questions."
"Also, I should warn you that the coming month will be your last chance to perform magic outside Hogwarts before you leave. You'll regret it if you don't make the most of it—but be discreet. Matters related to the International Statute of Secrecy are always a headache."
"Thank you for the reminder, Professor."
Avada thanked him sincerely, then remembered something else. "Also, Professor Dumbledore, about my name..."
"There's no need to worry too much."
Dumbledore smiled. "The names registered with Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic can't be changed, but you can use an alias in front of the students. That way, at least only the professors in the whole school will know your real name, and you'll be spared any trouble from your classmates. Hmm, Avada Kedavra... How about 'Mr. K'?"
"Sounds good." Avada sighed inwardly. But doesn't that make me 'the one whose name must not be spoken' too?
An orphan, brought to Hogwarts by Dumbledore, astonishingly talented, and forbidden to say his name...
I won't be sorted into Slytherin... right?
That would still be better than the Sorting Hat learning my real name and getting such a shock that it sends me straight to Azkaban, wouldn't it?
Before you continue