Black Cat soared into the sky, effortlessly carrying the bag of robes and its own cage back toward the carriage. Ethan watched it disappear into the distance, amazed at how much a single owl could carry.
Ollivanders was located deep within Diagon Alley.
Passing Gringotts, Professor Fig led Ethan to a small, shabby-looking shop.
The faded gold lettering above the door read: "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." Through the dusty window, Ethan glimpsed a single wand resting on a faded purple cushion.
As they entered, a bell tinkled faintly somewhere deep inside the shop.
Ollivanders was narrow and cramped.
Aside from a single spindly chair and a counter, the room was filled entirely with shelves stacked from floor to ceiling with thousands of long, thin wand boxes.
Professor Fig settled himself onto the chair to wait, while Ethan approached the counter, gazing in awe at the countless boxes lining each wall.
With a loud whoosh, an elderly man with white hair slid along a ladder from the depths of the shop, coming to a halt in front of Ethan.
Climbing down slowly, he peered past Ethan to glance briefly at Professor Fig.
"Fir wood, unicorn tail hair, twelve inches, slightly springy. Wise and resilient—a wand that perfectly complements its master. Professor Fig." Ollivander nodded slightly in greeting.
"Find young Ethan here a suitable wand, Garrick," Professor Fig replied succinctly, not rising to the bait.
Ollivander turned his attention to Ethan, examining him closely.
"Aha, interesting, very interesting indeed. Which is your wand arm? Stretch it out so I can measure you."
"I can use both hands equally well, sir," Ethan replied, extending both arms.
Ollivander stepped from behind the counter and pulled a silver-marked measuring tape from his pocket, beginning to measure Ethan carefully, muttering softly under his breath as he worked.
"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Ethan. Unicorn hair, phoenix feather, or dragon heartstring. Each wand is unique, as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are exactly alike. Of course, if you were to use a wand belonging to another wizard, you'd never achieve the same excellent results."
Ollivander released the measuring tape, allowing it to finish measuring on its own, and moved swiftly to a nearby shelf.
He took down a box, opened it, and handed Ethan a wand.
"Try this one—holly wood, phoenix feather, eleven inches, quite supple."
Ethan took the wand from the box and gave it a gentle wave. A beautiful glow appeared, accompanied by sparks that burst from the tip like tiny fireworks.
"Hmm, not bad, not bad—but not quite right," Ollivander mused. "Try this instead: willow, unicorn hair, fourteen inches."
He produced another box and handed Ethan another wand, but before Ethan could even wave it, Ollivander snatched it back quickly.
"No, no, same as before. Try this one—vine wood, dragon heartstring, fourteen inches."
One wand after another was placed in Ethan's hand, tested, and discarded onto a growing pile on the counter. Ethan's arm began to ache, and he asked impatiently, "Mr. Ollivander, haven't we found the right wand yet?"
"No, no, your case is quite unusual, Mr. Ethan. You must understand, it's the wand that chooses the wizard. Normally, compatibility is either perfect or nonexistent, but your compatibility with every wand we've tried is somewhere between seventy and ninety percent—almost perfect, but not quite. I've never encountered such a situation before. Fascinating, truly fascinating..."
Suddenly, Ollivander paused, deep in thought. "Perhaps you should try that one... wait a moment."
He turned and disappeared into the back of the shop.
Ethan could hear the clattering and rustling of boxes as Ollivander rummaged around.
After a while, he emerged holding a bright yellow box.
He placed the box carefully on the counter, blew off a thick layer of dust, and gently opened it.
Inside lay a silver-grey wand that gleamed softly in the dim light, its surface reflecting a subtle metallic sheen.
The wand was segmented by small nodes at regular intervals, resembling a slender bamboo stalk.
[Looks something like this.]
"This wand...is very special. Twelve inches, elder wood, and its core is... dragon tendon. I believe it might suit you."
"Dragon tendon? Didn't you just say you only used unicorn hair, phoenix feathers, and dragon heartstrings as cores?"
"As I said, this wand is unique. When I was younger, I traveled the world extensively to perfect my craft. I made this wand during my travels, incorporating Eastern wand-making techniques. However, no wizard has ever successfully matched with it, so it's been gathering dust here for years."
Ollivander regarded Ethan solemnly, though the dust now sprinkled in his hair and on his nose gave him a slightly comical appearance.
With some hesitation, Ethan took the wand. It felt surprisingly warm and comfortable in his hand—not hard and cold as its metallic appearance suggested, but smooth and reassuring. Raising the wand, Ethan gently waved it.
He felt a gentle surge of energy flow from his arm into the wand. Bright silver sparks erupted from the tip, blossoming in mid-air like dazzling fireworks, drifting down in shimmering, rainbow-colored trails.
"Yes! That's it—exactly right!" Ollivander shouted excitedly, delighted beyond measure.
Ethan swung the wand experimentally, clearly pleased. Its shape reminded him fondly of the steel whip he'd enjoyed practicing with in his previous life.
"I'll need to keep up my physical training even at Hogwarts," he thought privately.
"A wand that suits you well, isn't it?" Professor Fig stood from the chair, smiling and beckoning Ethan over. "How much for this wand, Garrick?"
"Honestly, I was tempted to give it to you for free, Mr. Ethan—but considering the material costs—well, I do need to make a living. Eight Galleons will suffice."
Ethan counted out eight gold coins onto the counter and slid the wand neatly up his sleeve—it was slightly shorter than his forearm. He followed Professor Fig out of the shop, with Ollivander bowing politely behind them.
"Thank you for your patronage."
Ollivander straightened and turned back to survey the chaos left in his shop from the wand-testing session.
"Elder wood... Aha, fascinating... truly fascinating..." he murmured quietly to himself, taking the wand from behind his ear and waving it gently around the room.
"Reparo."