Savior, Wands, and Destiny

Savior, Wands, and Destiny

"Good afternoon." Ollivander immediately slipped into shopkeeper mode.

Silvan noticed that the moment he saw who had entered, his eyes lit up like two bright moons in the dim shop.

"H-hello." The boy looked somewhat reserved. After entering, he hunched in on himself and tried hard not to touch anything around him, occasionally turning back to glance at the giant.

"Oh, yes, I knew I would be seeing you soon, Harry Potter. Your eyes are just like your mother's. When she came here to buy her first wand..."

Ollivander sank into his memories. He rarely said so much before reciting a wand's specifications.

But the more he did so, the more nervous Harry Potter became.

While the two interacted, Silvan kept his gaze fixed on Hagrid. He noticed that a section of a pink umbrella was faintly visible beneath the giant's open coat.

And when Ollivander mentioned his snapped wand, Hagrid gripped the umbrella tightly.

Such a disguise was meaningless, especially before Silvan.

[Willow (oak), phoenix tail feather, sixteen inches]

[Status: ???]

[Traits: Indestructible. After undergoing some sort of alteration, this wand seems to have changed somewhat. No one would want to be poked by it.]

The status line was blank, probably because it had been snapped and repaired.

Perhaps Silvan's stare had been too obvious. Feeling guilty, Hagrid pulled his coat tighter to hide the umbrella and slowly shuffled toward the door.

"It's just... just an ordinary umbrella... nothing worth looking at..."

"I can help you fix it."

"What?" Hagrid stopped short. His pillar-thick legs actually gave an involuntary shudder.

"I don't know what you mean... it's just... an old umbrella. It doesn't need fixing... yes, that's right."

"I don't think so." Silvan shook his head and said thoughtfully, "Everyone thinks the core is the most important part of a wand, but the truth is exactly the opposite. The seemingly commonplace wand body is its most important component, and it hides a wand's true secrets."

Hagrid's expression grew increasingly serious. Ollivander listened from the side without paying much attention, assuming Silvan was simply explaining the mysteries of wandmaking.

"Repairing a wand core isn't difficult, but the wand body is different. Even if it's repaired with unimaginably powerful magic, it can never be exactly the same as before. Over time, it may crack again. Then it needs another layer of magical tape, or a layer of different wood wrapped around it for reinforcement, like... an umbrella handle."

"Then what should I do..." Hagrid blurted out, only to realize what he had said and clutch his chest again.

"I... I was just curious."

"Completely repairing a wand is simple." Pretending not to notice his movement, Silvan continued, "You just need to find a highly skilled wandmaker, such as Ollivander."

Hagrid became more and more intent, but at that moment, Silvan suddenly turned and returned behind the counter.

"You must be a Hogwarts professor too. Nice to meet you." Silvan stopped there and said no more.

Even when Hagrid looked over, he merely raised his head and flashed the bright, sunny smile unique to an eleven-year-old child.

But Hagrid was different.

Silvan was completely right. After several decades, his repaired wand had become covered in cracks, and he could only wrap another layer of willow wood around it for support.

Though Dumbledore's skill was exceptional and the cracks did not affect the casting of spells, it was still an annoying problem.

Hagrid had always wanted to fix it.

He had never expected Silvan to give him such an unexpected surprise, only to stop at the most crucial point.

He stood there frozen, staring at Silvan with an indescribably miserable expression, and that expression remained on his face until they left the shop.

The door opened and closed again. Harry left with dreams of the magical world in his heart.

Through the dust-covered glass, Ollivander watched the two fading figures and sighed.

"Is this destiny? He still took that wand after all."

Silvan shrugged, neither confirming nor denying it.

A few days ago, Ollivander had rummaged through boxes and cupboards and found a wand from ten years ago... the premium item he had classified as legendary gold.

It seemed Ollivander had known Harry Potter would be coming to Diagon Alley soon and had begun preparing back then.

Tch. That old fox of a wandmaker.

Fortunately, Ollivander had no idea Silvan was thinking such disrespectful thoughts and continued speaking.

"I also considered letting him try other options."

"Other options?"

Ollivander did not explain. He merely pointed at the large pile of wands on the table that Harry Potter had tried.

None of them had suited him.

Silvan swept his gaze over them and narrowed his eyes.

Beech wood, symbolizing wisdom, paired with the heartstring of a powerful fire dragon. Only wizards who possessed both wisdom and courage could earn its favor.

Maple wood, phoenix tail feather... continuous growth and hope.

Ebony wood, unicorn tail hair... do not forget loyalty while pursuing power.

In the wand lore passed down through generations of the Ollivander family, these combinations had almost all been tailored to the Savior's character, yet not a single one suited him.

Harry had still chosen the wand bound to his destiny.

Holly wood: purity, rebirth.

Phoenix tail feather: hope, rebirth.

Only after learning wandlore did Silvan realize that these two materials should not have been combined, because their meanings overlapped.

Only one who had died once could be reborn.

And purity... was it the purity of the soul? That fragment of Voldemort's soul?

Silvan suddenly felt a little regretful. He should not have spent all that time staring at Hagrid, his future supplier of materials.

He should have watched Harry more closely.

"What are you thinking about?"

Ollivander's voice brought Silvan back to himself.

"Nothing." He shook his head. "I was just wondering which House I'll be sorted into."

"They're all good, as long as they're at Hogwarts," Ollivander blurted out. "I nearly forgot—you haven't chosen a wand for yourself yet."

As he spoke, he suddenly became enthusiastic.

"Well? Do you need me to pick one for you?"

"A new wand?" Silvan blinked.

"Do I need one?" Before Ollivander could answer, he pulled a large handful of... things that could barely be called wands from his pocket.

Unlike traditional straight wands, the ones Silvan took out were all somewhat unconventional.

Arched, semicircular, perfectly circular, right-angled, Z-shaped, lightning-shaped... there were seven or eight of them in the handful.

But there were not only seven or eight. Silvan's hands were simply too small to hold any more.

Seeing those bizarrely shaped wands, several veins instantly bulged on Ollivander's forehead, throbbing wildly.

"At least they've been passed down... passed down..."

Ollivander took several deep breaths, trying hard to persuade himself to accept new things.

After all, he had tested those wands. They worked.

Whether they worked well was another matter, but at least they worked. They really were wands, and that was enough.

Besides, when he was eleven, he had still been carving wood. Yet at eleven, Silvan could already make real wands—and more than one.

Such talent was beyond even him. Even if he hugged the Ollivander family tree and traced it back several centuries, he would not find anyone comparable.

So what if the boy liked bending wands into circles? It was no big deal. He could just flick them around when using them.

Before the next customer arrived, Ollivander finally convinced himself... probably.

But for the rest of the time, he never mentioned new wands again, as though he had never brought it up at all.

(End of Chapter)