The door creaked as Dumbledore pushed it open, and Julian followed him into a shop smelling faintly of dust and polished wood. The tall shelves were crammed with long, thin boxes stacked to the ceiling.
Those must be wands, Julian thought, his curiosity sparking.
Perched on a ladder, arranging boxes, was an elderly man with pale eyes. At the sound of the door, he turned, his gaze drifting past Julian before settling on Dumbledore. A gentle smile spread across his face.
"Ah, Dumbledore. Good afternoon. It has been far too long since you visited me. What brings you to my little shop today?"
"Nothing more than routine, Ollivander," Dumbledore said smoothly. "This young man is here for his first wand. Julian Wooless."
Ollivander's pale eyes flicked to Julian, studying him as though examining not skin and hair, but something beneath. After a long pause, he sighed. "Well then, boy—dominant hand?"
"My right," Julian replied.
"Hold it up, shoulder level."
Obediently, Julian raised his arm. Ollivander muttered absently, and a enchanted tape measure darted about, circling Julian, recording chest, waist, arms, even the space between his nostrils and shoulders, before vanishing back into Ollivander's hand.
The old wandmaker turned to the shelves. He plucked a box, drew out the wand within, and handed it to Julian without ceremony.
"Mahogany. Dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Sturdy wand. Try it."
Julian hesitated for a heartbeat—then waved.
With a bang!, a vase on the counter shattered violently, shards skittering across the floor.
"No, no, absolutely not," Ollivander said, snatching it away before the boy could even react. He shuffled back to the shelves. "Let's try again. Snakewood. Basilisk nerve. Nine and a half inches. Particularly suited for silent spells."
Julian raised it, and almost instantly, Ollivander plucked it back. "No. Definitely not."
The process repeated. Wand after wand was forced into Julian's grip, only to be snatched away moments later. An hour passed. Then two. The counter was now a small mountain of rejects, and Julian felt ridiculous, like some child unworthy of any wand.
At last, Ollivander stopped before a dusty shelf and drew down a plain box. He opened it carefully. "Locust wood. Unicorn tail hair. Ten inches. Flexible. Let's see."
The moment Julian's fingers curled around it, a sensation spread across his skin. Cool, like holding a rod of jade. Not sharp, not biting—simply pure and calm.
Then light. Brilliant silver erupted from the wand's tip, forming swirls of mist. Julian felt warmth flood his chest, joy and memory surging unbidden: holding Sasuke as a baby, his first hard-earned friendship, the clumsy triumph of learning ninjutsu, Anne's shy smile when given candy...
Without truly knowing why, Julian raised the wand high and cried, "Expecto Patronum!"
The power within him surged outward. Silver light blazed, the fog thickening, combining, until it solidified into the radiant form of a unicorn. Its mane shimmered in ethereal strands, its eyes deep and kind.
The creature nuzzled Julian's cheek before leaping free, bursting through the shop's door. Outside, under the evening sky, the luminous unicorn galloped gracefully, running and leaping across the rooftops. The street fell utterly silent.
Wizards and witches stopped in their tracks. Even passing Muggles lifted their eyes, wonder washing across their faces. For a moment, every burden, every worry seemed to fade.
Dumbledore, Ollivander, and Julian rushed out, all three staring up in stunned silence. At last, Julian—realizing the commotion he had caused—hurriedly slashed his wand. The unicorn dissolved into sparks. But the damage was done. Hundreds had seen it.
A murmur rippled through the street. Eyes—curious, amazed, suspicious—turned toward the shop and toward Julian.
Quickly, Dumbledore ushered him inside. With one flick of his wand, the broken door mended itself. Ollivander, however, simply stared at Julian with open curiosity, those pale eyes shining.
Julian lowered his head, guilt flooding him. "I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to—"
Dumbledore's voice was calm. "No apologies, Julian. You did not do wrong. Overwhelmed, perhaps. But that is no crime. Few could resist the joy of uniting with a wand."
A loud crack! from outside interrupted them. Several figures appeared at the door—Ministry wizards. Leading them was a stern man with a mane of tawny hair that made him resemble a lion.
"Good afternoon, Rufus," Dumbledore greeted smoothly. "A surprise to meet you here."
"Not so pleasant for me, Dumbledore." Rufus Scrimgeour's eyes narrowed. "Thousands of Muggles saw that Patronus an hour ago. Thousands. This could be the worst breach of secrecy in a decade. Tell me—who cast it?"
"Come now, Rufus," Dumbledore said mildly. "Murderous words ill-suit this situation."
"Oh, it suits it well enough! An organized exposure, a breach of law—"
"Nothing of the kind," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "Merely the magic runaway of a young wizard bonded to his first wand. Julian here is only days shy of eleven. Accidents, as you know, are common in pre-adolescents."
"Common?" Rufus barked. "A Patronus charm? For Merlin's sake, Dumbledore—no underage wizard has the control or reserves for such a spell!"
Ollivander finally spoke, voice even. "The boy's wand is unicorn tail hair. Rare, and pure."
Scrimgeour's eyes darted to Julian, then back to Dumbledore. "This… is absurd."
"Not absurd, Rufus," Dumbledore replied, tone sharpening ever-so-slightly. "Julian accepted, just this morning, a potion crafted by Marcus himself—the ultimate enhancement potion."
The name alone froze Rufus in his tracks. For a moment, his face blanked.
A subordinate entered, whispering a report that confirmed Marcus had indeed visited the Leaky Cauldron—and given Julian a gift. Scrimgeour exhaled slowly, tension fading into defeated caution.
He turned back to Julian, voice gentler. "Boy… is that true? Did you drink the potion? Tell me—what did it taste like?"
Julian blinked, confused at the odd question. "Yes, sir, I drank it. I… wait, sir. Did you just ask me what it tasted like?"
Scrimgeour stiffened, realizing his own outburst, and waved dismissively. "Forget it. No matter. This was an accident. Nothing more."
He turned briskly to his men. "Stand down. Everyone out."
Julian ran after him, hesitant. "Wait—don't I need to be punished?"
Scrimgeour paused at the door, then glanced back with a wry grin that didn't fit his stern face. "Punish an eleven-year-old? If I did that, boy, they'd have my head for supper."
And with an utterly misplaced playful wink, the "lion of the Ministry" departed with his entourage.
Julian stood frozen, mortified. A lion… winking at me? His face burned, caught somewhere between horror and a laugh.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly. Ollivander only smiled, the pale glint of curiosity still upon Julian, as though this was only the beginning.
Outside, the whispers of the crowd would soon spread like wildfire. The story of the boy who cast a grown wizard's Patronus before even arriving at Hogwarts would not go untold.