Threads of Fate

"One-Winged Bird, the materials you brought last time were truly miraculous!" Mr. Ollivander brushed his fingertips over the two wands with the utmost gentleness, as if afraid to disturb the souls slumbering within:

"This legendary creature—the male's wing feathers are sharp enough to cut through metal, while the female's down can soothe the most violent surges of magic.

They depend on each other for life, sharing one wing and one eye; only together can they take flight."

His gaze grew distant as he began to recount the story of these wands, or rather, the fate of these materials.

"This one,"

he said, pointing to the deep brown wand on the left.

"I used the hardest primary feather the male lost in a storm while guarding his mate, mixed with dragon heartstring, to shape this wand. It represents 'protection' and 'strength.'"

"And this one,"

he added, gesturing to the wand on the right.

"I took the softest neck feather the female shed while preening her mate's plumage on the most peaceful moonlit night, with a core of phoenix tail feather. It symbolizes 'comfort' and 'connection.'"

Ollivander's voice carried the pride of a craftsman:

"They resonate with each other. If held by wizards whose hearts are in sync, casting together, their magic is no simple addition.

It blends and elevates, creating miracles that belong only to them."

Hermione was utterly captivated, completely drawn in by this romantic and powerful concept.

"But what if," she couldn't help asking, driven by curiosity, "what if the two people holding these wands used them to attack each other?"

Mr. Ollivander's moon-like eyes instantly fixed on Hermione's face, and the atmosphere turned sharply serious.

"Attack each other?" he repeated, slowly shaking his head, his tone carrying an unyielding warning.

"Child, that would be the ultimate betrayal of this bond that lasts until death. The magic of the One-Winged Bird stems from 'symbiosis,' not 'opposition.' If you force them to be enemies..."

He paused, and a chill seemed to pass through the air.

"The feathers at their cores would begin to disintegrate from within. The male's fierce power would backlash against its master, and the female's gentle essence would turn into corrosive sorrow.

They would not harm each other, but they would annihilate themselves.

The magical circuits would burn out completely, leaving nothing but two handfuls of lifeless charred wood and ash. This is a taboo etched into their very origin—never to be touched!"

He cast a meaningful glance at Caesar, then back at Hermione.

"Choosing them means choosing absolute trust and bonds. They are both peerless blades and the most fragile of vows. Now..."

He turned to Hermione, his voice returning to its usual tone: "Let us see which of these long-waiting companions is fated for you."

Hermione's heart pounded. She looked at the two wands, which seemed to hold life within them, then raised her eyes to Caesar beside her.

The shopkeeper's words echoed in her mind like an ancient prophecy.

They must not attack each other, or the wands would self-destruct.

This was not just a description of the wands' traits, but a metaphor for the relationship between their holders—only intimate wizards could earn their recognition.

"Go ahead and try. The wand will choose who becomes its master."

At that moment, Caesar's gaze also fell on the wands, his profile looking especially deep in the dim light. Clearly, he had not known about this beforehand.

These two wands had such a setup. Hermione might be able to pick up one, but could Caesar himself pick up the other?

Top-tier wands choose their own masters—that was an eternal truth!

Just as Caesar was deep in thought, Hermione reached out, with a trace of reverence and unwavering resolve, stepping forward first toward the female wand symbolizing "comfort" and "connection."

The moment her fingertips touched the warm, smooth wood—

A sudden change occurred!

The Jade Necklace hidden beneath her clothes, always carefully tucked away, grew warm without warning.

The Symbiotic Feather embedded within it seemed to come alive, emitting a faint but unmistakable rainbow glow.

At the same time, the wand in her hand trembled lightly, its tip spilling golden light specks as soft as ripples on water.

Almost at the same instant, Caesar, standing beside her.

The necklace he had never shown anyone, similar in style but more ancient, made from the male's materials, also radiated a faint heat and resonance beneath his robe.

He frowned slightly, instinctively pressing a hand to his chest, a flicker of barely perceptible surprise flashing in his eyes before settling into a profound understanding.

Two wands, two necklaces, as if crossing the boundaries of time and space.

In that moment, they were tightly bound by an invisible thread, resonating with an ancient rhythm only they could comprehend.

A warm, harmonious, and immensely powerful magical field filled the air, and even the thousands of wand boxes around them seemed to hum faintly.

Mr. Ollivander's moon-like eyes widened as he murmured:

"Remarkable, truly remarkable! I sensed they would respond, but I never imagined such a deep resonance! This is not just the wand choosing the wizard, but the weaving of fate's threads!"

Hermione was completely immersed in this wondrous sensation, as if she held not just a wand, but an extension of some living pulse.

She looked up at Caesar in surprise, wanting to share this awe.

But Caesar had already swiftly reined in his outward emotions.

He did not respond to the flickering questions and excitement in Hermione's eyes, merely stepping forward with calm composure.

Imperceptibly blocking Mr. Ollivander's potentially overly probing gaze, he withdrew a heavy money pouch from the inner pocket of his robe and placed it on the counter.

His tone returned to its usual steadiness, betraying no ripple of emotion: "Mr. Ollivander, this is the cost for two wands. Thank you for your masterwork."

The old wandmaker paused for a moment, then nodded in understanding, accepting the clearly substantial sum of Galleons without further comment, turning to record the wands' information.

Seizing this gap, Caesar leaned slightly closer to Hermione's ear.

His voice dropped to an extremely low pitch, carrying an unyielding solemnity, his breath brushing against her earlobe: "Little Hermione."

Caesar did not use the formal address of Hermione, but his tone was more serious than ever before.

"Everything that just happened—about the necklace, about the resonance..." He paused, his gaze deep as he looked at her. "Do not speak of it to anyone. Remember, anyone."

"Why? We have nothing to be ashamed of. We're family... Fine."

Hermione's heart gave a sudden lurch as she met his eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through everything.

She saw the warning within them, along with a hint of indescribable complexity.

She understood his meaning in an instant.

This strange connection woven from the One-Winged Bird's materials between them transcended the ordinary teacher-student relationship.

Under Hogwarts' rules, it was a secret that could not be spoken aloud.