Half an hour later, standing in front of Ollivander's Wand Shop, Kyle's skeptical gaze flickered between Dumbledore and the shop's weathered sign.
"This is the legendary cheat-code emporium—er, I mean, wand shop?"
The store looked small and dilapidated, its golden sign peeling with age. The faded lettering read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.
In the shop's window, a single wand rested on a faded purple cushion.
"Some things cannot be judged by appearances alone," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile. "Ollivander is the finest wandmaker in wizarding Britain—among the best in Europe, too."
Pushing open the door, Kyle stepped into the wand shop.
The shop was tiny, with nothing inside but a single bench in the corner. Thousands of narrow wand boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling, each covered in a thin layer of dust.
A tinkling bell chimed as they entered, and a white-haired head popped out from behind the stacks of boxes. Upon spotting the elderly man behind Kyle, the figure hurried forward with enthusiasm.
"Dumbledore? Welcome, welcome! It's such a pleasure to see you!" As for Kyle, he was momentarily overlooked.
When the old man reached them, his pale, moon-like eyes—gleaming in the dim shop—finally registered Kyle's presence.
"Good heavens, this is—!" Ollivander's gaze locked onto Kyle's heterochromatic eyes, and he let out a gasp. He glanced at Dumbledore, as if seeking confirmation of something.
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Ollivander, it's exactly as you suspect."
Kyle's rare eyes were impossible to conceal from a wandmaker who had spent a lifetime dealing with all manner of witches and wizards.
His suspicions confirmed, Ollivander rubbed his hands together excitedly and pulled a silver-marked measuring tape from his pocket. "Which arm do you favor?"
"My right."
From shoulder to fingertip, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and finally head circumference—Ollivander measured it all.
As he worked, he muttered, "Every Ollivander wand contains a core of powerful magical substance—that's the essence of it."
"We use unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings."
"Every Ollivander wand is unique, as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are ever quite the same."
"And, of course, if you use a wand meant for another witch or wizard, the results will never be as good."
Kyle couldn't help but wonder if Ollivander recited this speech to every customer.
Watching the old man's peculiar methods, Kyle couldn't resist asking, "Why do you need to measure all this to buy a wand?"
"Because every Ollivander wand is unique," Ollivander replied. "To find the right wand for you, I must first measure your arm length, forearm, height, head circumference, and other dimensions, then select a wand based on those parameters."
Hearing this explanation, Kyle thought for a moment, then extended both hands. Placing his left hand on his right arm, he gave a sharp tug—pop—and dislocated his right arm.
Looking at Kyle's now-elongated arm, Ollivander's face darkened instantly.
Dumbledore, witnessing Ollivander's frozen smile and twitching mouth, turned away to stifle a laugh. Then, feeling a pang of sympathy, he faced them again.
"Episkey," Dumbledore intoned, and with a pop, Kyle's arm snapped back into place.
"Sorry, sir, can we continue?" Kyle asked.
Ollivander opened his mouth, his voice dry. "Oh, yes, of course."
In all his years crafting and selling wands, Ollivander had seen it all—or so he thought. This? This was a first.
Snapping out of it, Ollivander retrieved a box from the shelves and handed Kyle a wand. "Cherry wood, unicorn hair, thirteen inches. Give it a wave."
It seemed Ollivander had no intention of indulging in further unnecessary chatter.
Kyle gave the wand a casual flick, and suddenly, he felt a surge of magic within him, itching to burst free. Following the impulse, he released his control over his magic. A bolt of lightning shot from the wand's tip, blasting a shelf behind Ollivander—along with several wand boxes—into smithereens.
Kyle: Bloody hell!
Ollivander: Merlin's beard!
Staring at the wreckage, both Kyle and Ollivander couldn't help but curse inwardly.
Kyle worried the old man might demand compensation, while Ollivander mourned his losses.
Ollivander looked pleadingly at Dumbledore. "Dumbledore, this…"
Dumbledore understood. Only he could set things right. With a wave of his wand, the shop seemed to rewind: shattered shelves, wands, and boxes flew back into place, restored to their original state.
Both the old man and the boy let out sighs of relief.
Ollivander snatched the wand from Kyle's hand and thrust another into it. "Try this one. Willow, phoenix tail feather, twelve inches."
"Don't wave it! Just a gentle flick!" Ollivander shouted, panic-stricken, as Kyle raised the wand again.
Amused by Ollivander's reaction, Kyle ignored the warning and gave the wand a vigorous wave—though this time, he restrained his magical output.
Ollivander flinched violently.
Another bolt of lightning shot from the wand, grazing Ollivander's scalp and striking the cabinet behind him.
Thankfully, the cabinet didn't explode into pieces this time.
Ollivander, however, was scared half to death. Calming himself, he fumbled in some corner and pulled out a mirror, staring mournfully at his now even more pronounced bald spot.
"Sorry, Mr. Ollivander," Kyle said.
"No, no, it's fine. A bit of Hair-Regrowth Potion will fix it," Ollivander replied with a forced smile.
If it weren't for the formidable figure backing this troublesome kid, Ollivander swore he'd show him why the flowers outside bloomed so red.
"It seems this wand isn't quite right for you either," Ollivander said, producing a third wand. "Walnut, dragon heartstring, eleven inches."
Unlike the previous wands, the moment Kyle grasped this one, a strange sensation washed over him. It felt as if the wand was an extension of himself, as if they were one.
No longer restraining his magic, he gave the wand a gentle wave. A stream of water materialized from thin air, twisting and reshaping in the air as Kyle waved the wand like a conductor's baton.
"Remarkable. I've never seen anything like this," Ollivander said, staring at Kyle's heterochromatic eyes. "This is the one."
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