Chapter 20: Wand and Magical Experiments
Every wand made by Ollivander awaits the arrival of its master; unfortunately, for some people, the owl doesn't deliver the letter in time.
William couldn't remember where he'd heard that, but as someone who rarely watched movies, the quote hadn't made much of an impression on him back then. Now, as he was testing the eighteenth wand, the sentence just popped into his head.
After a measuring process even more meticulous than a tailor's, Ollivander had taken down a pile of wands from the wall for him to try one by one.
Although he didn't feel anything magical about these steps, William still cooperated with everything, waving each wand as Ollivander instructed.
These new wands weren't as resistant to his waving as the last one, but before William could even attempt to use magic, Ollivander would snatch the wand away, put it back in its box, and hand him the next one.
When the nineteenth wand was passed over, William took it subconsciously. He discovered that the wood, which should have been slightly cool, had become warm, even scorching. But it didn't hurt; instead, it was like being handed a hot water bottle when your hands and feet are frozen in winter, making you completely unwilling to let go.
He gently loosened his grip, and the wand slid down a few inches, then became incredibly responsive, as if it were an extension of his own arm.
Silver stars shot out from the tip of the wand, transforming into brilliant fireworks in the blink of an eye, painting a beautiful curtain of light in the air.
"Good, wonderful. A perfect match."
Ollivander clapped in praise. "Thirteen inches, cedar wood, unicorn hair. It has chosen you."
"I think so too." William broke into the happiest smile he'd had since arriving in the Wizarding World. The feeling just now was as if his best friend had taken his hand, making him feel like he was no longer fighting all alone.
He had no intention of figuring out what any of the materials meant right now; even if someone offered him a Gundam in exchange, he wouldn't be willing to part with it. What did the materials matter?
If not for poverty being the last bastion of his reason, he would have thrown all the money he had at Ollivander, content to leave with just this wand.
"Eleven Galleons. There's a discount for a new student's first wand," Ollivander told him with a smile.
It was far cheaper than he had imagined. Resisting the desire to just grab a handful of gold, William carefully counted out eleven Galleons and handed them over. Without a doubt, the man before him was a true master.
To conduct a monopoly with such rigor, carefully completing every detail of the job—those money-losing hacks in Canada should really reflect on why they've failed so miserably.
After bidding Ollivander farewell again, William left the shop with his two wands.
He originally had a long list of things to do, but now, William pushed all of them to the back of his mind.
What he needed now wasn't a jumble of potion ingredients, nor some magic he had never seen before, and certainly not Galleons or any other currency. What he needed was a quiet, undisturbed room to familiarize himself with his first wand, and then to use that wand to practice the magic he had secretly been learning for so long in Azkaban.
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The Leaky Cauldron.
Old Tom was a bit puzzled that William wasn't out enjoying the fresh air after his release from prison, but he merely informed him of the mealtime and said nothing more. If he missed it, the free meal would be replaced by the priced evening special.
William acknowledged him and then eagerly returned to his room and locked the door.
Although it was unlikely for a clichéd scenario like murder and robbery to happen in Old Tom's pub, William still did it subconsciously.
Next, he spent less than ten minutes moving the furniture and clutter out of the way, clearing a small but adequate practice area for himself.
"Whew..." William took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. He raised his wand and cast the first spell of his life.
"Lumos!"
The newly acquired wand lit up, its soft glow undiminished even by the daylight.
"Ha," William let out a breath and collapsed onto the bed. If he had to learn even the simplest magic from scratch, he would probably become the most laughable professor in the history of Hogwarts.
Once he was labeled as having been kicked out of Hogwarts for incompetence, William would probably have to go overseas to make a living, and would most likely starve to death due to his lack of ability.
"Next spell, the Levitation Charm."
He recalled the instructions: "The key to spellcasting is not to mispronounce it, or you might summon a cow—"
William exercised extreme caution. Summoning a cow might be a joke among students, but he genuinely had enough magical power to actually summon one.
A few seconds later, the quill he was using for the experiment floated perfectly in the air—a success.
Aguamenti—success.
Alohomora—success.
...
By the time dinner approached, William had successfully experimented with more than a dozen simple spells that didn't target himself. At most, it took him three tries to succeed. However, these simple spells weren't very difficult to cast, and with his ample magical power, casting them was no challenge at all.
Filled with the joy of success, William bounded down the stairs in just a few steps, causing Old Tom to shout at him several times to be careful.
When the food was served, Old Tom couldn't help but ask, "What's this, little William? Did you rob Gringotts?"
"Hey, I just got out of that dreadful place. I have no intention of giving the Hit-Wizards an easy bust."
"Then did some pure-blood take a liking to your pretty face and decide to save you a few years of struggle?"
"I wish. But don't pure-bloods only go for other pure-bloods?" William deliberately played along with the joke, as it was the only way he could share his current joy.
"That's not necessarily true. There are pure-blood masters, not just mistresses."
"Get out of here! Careful, or I'll report you for putting alcohol in your water!" William feigned anger.
"In that case, this glass of yours is pure alcohol. That'll cost extra," Old Tom said, not at all annoyed, holding out his hand with a grin.
William fished out a Knut and feigned generosity. "Here, here, keep the change."
The idle onlookers chuckled, and the pub erupted in good-natured laughter.
Old Tom accepted the bronze Knut without any disdain, waving it at the crowd of drinkers before leaving triumphantly. Now he was sure that life in Azkaban hadn't cast too much of a shadow on the young man before him.
William shot a proud look at the people around him, walked to the bar in a few steps, and bought a round of drinks for everyone present, expressing all his joy in this way.
The atmosphere in the pub grew even livelier.
(end of chapter)