The Wand

Although Ollivander appeared to be speaking to Rosier, his gaze remained fixed on Wentworth. Before Wentworth could even open his mouth, a magical tape measure had already begun busily taking his measurements.

Perhaps it was the mention of Gregorovitch by Rosier that had stung Ollivander, who considered himself the premier wandmaker in Europe. Wentworth could clearly feel that Ollivander's movements were far more meticulous than those described in the original story.

"Left or right-handed?"

"Right, thank you!"

"Try this one. Eleven and a half inches, ash wood with a phoenix feather core. Absolute loyalty, born of absolute self-confidence. An ash wand will never accept a second master, for they firmly believe that their master is the greatest wizard of the age!"

Ollivander carefully took down a wooden box, extracted a wand, and handed it to Wentworth with a look of great confidence.

As the wand touched Wentworth's palm, a warmth like the midday sun in June suddenly flared, illuminating Ollivander's wand shop.

Just as Wentworth was marveling at his good luck in finding a suitable wand so quickly, the light vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, as if it had never existed, leaving Ollivander and Wentworth staring at each other in confusion.

"Oh, ho, no matter. I often encounter such things. Some customers might need to try seven or eight wands before finding the one that suits them!"

"Try this one next. Ten and three-quarters inches, an extraordinary combination: willow with a unicorn hair core. Willow wands choose masters with potential. There is a saying in my family: 'He who travels furthest will find most in willow.'"

When Wentworth took this new wand from Ollivander's hand, a green light spiraled up his arm, and Wentworth felt a sense of refreshment wash over his entire body.

However, just as Wentworth was wearing a look of intoxication and Ollivander a look of pleasant surprise, the willow wand quickly dimmed, returning to its ordinary appearance.

Wentworth looked at Ollivander in confusion, only to find the wandmaker's brow furrowed as he muttered to himself:

"Impossible, it makes no sense. I clearly felt the wand's joy; they should have been happy. Why would they refuse to communicate again?"

Rosier, who was waiting to the side, was already growing impatient.

"Is it going to work or not? If you don't have a wand here worthy of Wentworth, don't waste our time. You are not the only top-tier wandmaker in Europe!"

Rosier had intended to apply some pressure to Ollivander, but to her surprise, after hearing her words, Ollivander's eyes lit up, and he cried out with the excitement of a child:

"That's it! That's it! I understand! I finally understand!"

Ollivander happily summoned a magical ladder, stepped onto it, and climbed to the very top of the shop's storage cabinets, carefully retrieving a box from the highest shelf.

Ollivander gently blew the dust off the box and opened it to reveal a wand that looked somewhat crooked.

"This is?!"

Unexpectedly, when this wand appeared, it was Rosier who had the strongest reaction. She let out a sharp gasp, then immediately covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide. This was the first time Wentworth had seen Rosier look so unrefined.

"Nine and a quarter inches, elder wood with a dragon heartstring core. Come, child, try it. Quickly, come!"

If Rosier hadn't been standing right behind him, Wentworth might have been frightened enough by Ollivander to turn and run! At this moment, Ollivander possessed none of the poise of a master European wandmaker; he looked exactly like the wicked queen trying to trick a princess into eating a poisoned apple.

As Wentworth cautiously took the wand from Ollivander's hand, a flame suddenly ignited at the tip. Then, the fire scattered, bursting into sparks all around the wand like a display of fireworks.

No more needed to be said; Wentworth knew this was his wand.

"Elder is a rare wand wood, harder to master than any other. It disdains to be associated with wizards who lack ability, and wands with dragon heartstring cores are the most prone to turning to the Dark Arts and changing masters."

"This was a piece from my early years. At that time, I was obsessed with crafting the strongest wand and had not yet realized that the most suitable is the strongest! That is why this wand has sat idle for so many years. But this wand has one advantage: it is powerful! Undeniably powerful!"

"Wands with dragon heartstring cores release powerful and dazzling spells, and the elder wood continues to amplify that power. With such a powerful wand, a wizard only needs to worry about one thing: whether they can master it!"

Ollivander looked at the wand in Wentworth's hand with a gaze full of fascination and intoxication.

Suddenly, as if he had just woken up, Ollivander looked at Wentworth with a strange expression and asked:

"Do you know why the previous wands accepted you at first, only to stop responding to you in the end?"

Wentworth shook his head slowly, looking bewildered.

Ollivander continued to study Wentworth with that strange look until Rosier, standing behind him, began to show signs of irritation. Only then did Ollivander explain:

"Because they were not worthy!"

Wentworth was stunned, then quickly tried to explain:

"Mr. Ollivander, please don't misunderstand. Grandmother Rosier didn't mean to look down on your wands; she was just in a hurry. I have always believed that your wands are the best in the world!"

Wentworth assumed Ollivander was still angry about Rosier's earlier comment, so he rushed to clarify, especially since he hadn't even bought this wand that suited him so perfectly yet!

"Of course, my wands are the best in the world! They were not worthy—that is what they said themselves!"

Nani?!

Wentworth and Rosier exchanged a glance, both looking completely lost.

"They accepted you at first, but when they resonated with you, they recoiled. They felt that they were not worthy of you!"

"As for why they weren't worthy, I don't know. Perhaps it is your talent, perhaps your ambition! In any case, they all gave up in the end!"

Hearing Ollivander's words, Wentworth was dumbfounded, while Rosier looked at Wentworth with a gleam in her eyes.

As expected of the future leader of our Acolytes, his ambition is so manifest that even a wand can sense it! But it should be so! Just like the Master in those days! The King of Wizards, infinitely arrogant! Rosier thought to herself.

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