"Alright," Marius nodded calmly.
The Grangers and Hermione leaned in curiously, eager to see what kind of wand someone like Marius Cloud would receive.
"Since you're ambidextrous, young Marius, I'll skip asking which hand you favor," Ollivander began, raising a measuring tape. "But you must understand—though you use both hands, your wand will only be one. Now tell me—which arm shall I measure first, left or right?"
But before the tape could move, Marius gently shook his head.
"That won't be necessary, Mr. Ollivander. I'd like to choose the wand myself."
"Choose it yourself?"
Ollivander looked visibly stunned, his voice almost offended. "Why would you think such a thing?"
He narrowed his eyes, his voice growing stern. "I assumed, given your background, you'd studied wandlore under me enough to know better—it is not the wizard who chooses the wand, but the wand that chooses the wizard. You cannot simply pick one!"
He held up the measuring tape with a huff. "Even I, with all my experience and precision, only use measurements to narrow the scope—to reduce the chaos of trial and error."
"I understand."
Marius remained unbothered, his tone unwavering. "But I still insist on trying it my way."
"…Very well."
Ollivander paused, then let out a long sigh and stepped back to observe, now joined by the equally curious Grangers. While they didn't understand wandlore, even they could tell something unusual was about to happen.
Ollivander had crafted and sold thousands of wands over the decades. Even he had lost track of how many. If Marius was seriously going to try picking one at random, he might be here until his fifth year at Hogwarts.
Still, watching from this angle was a rare treat for Ollivander. He usually guided the process. Today, he was just a witness.
They saw Marius slowly close his eyes, raise his hand, and aim it at the towering shelves of wand boxes. He wasn't reaching for one. He was… channeling something.
Having known Ollivander since he was young, Marius had learned far more about wands than the average wizard. Some might've dismissed Ollivander's belief that "the wand chooses the wizard" as poetic nonsense—but Marius knew better. Centuries of wandmaking had made the Ollivanders right on this.
So how did wa nds choose their masters?
When Ollivander handed a wand to a potential buyer, the wand would come into contact with their magical core and—more importantly—their mental and spiritual energy.
Most children had underdeveloped magical power. What made each person truly unique was their spiritual force—something deeply connected to the soul.
And that was the key.
Marius activated Level 1: Psychic Pulse. He'd already tested it earlier at Flourish and Blotts. Even when not used for direct attack, the technique could unleash his full spiritual energy.
Where others waited to be chosen by a wand… Marius called out to all of them at once.
Instead of letting a single wand sense him during a trial, he poured his mental power outward, blanketing the entire shop. Every wand in the building now simultaneously felt his presence.
The result was immediate.
Rumble…
The towering shelves began to shake.
At first it was subtle, like a breeze rustling tree branches. Then the shaking intensified, as though every wand in the shop was responding to a silent cry.
"What in Merlin's name…?"
Ollivander was dumbfounded.
The shelves trembled violently now—an echo of the magical storm that had erupted in the air.
In all his decades, Ollivander had never seen anything like this.
"What are you doing?" he asked breathlessly.
But Marius couldn't respond. Every ounce of focus was on maintaining the flood of psychic force.
To the wands, Marius' power was irresistible—like a golden apple, sweet rain in a desert, a beacon blazing through the fog. They wanted him. They fought for him.
But only one wand could win.
The shaking stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
No—it didn't stop. It ended—like the final note in a symphony, signaling a victor had emerged.
The moment froze in silence.
Then—
BOOM!
A shelf deep in the back exploded, flinging splinters and magical dust into the air. The shockwave threw the Grangers into a coughing fit, but Ollivander didn't even notice. His eyes were wide, his whole body trembling.
Two wands floated before Marius, suspended midair.
"Unbelievable… truly unbelievable!"
Ollivander's voice trembled with emotion as he stepped forward, voice rising into a reverent chant. "Two wands… two wands have chosen the same wizard. That has never happened in recorded wandlore history!"
Marius, though visibly exhausted, opened his eyes to see the twin wands hovering just inches away.
They were identical in length—exactly fifteen inches—but polar opposites in appearance. One gleamed with brilliant white; the other was pitch black. A palpable aura of power radiated from each one, their magical fields surging with life, equally strong, yet wildly different.
"Mr. Ollivander," Marius asked quietly, "do these two wands have a story?"
Ollivander exhaled, eyes misty with memory. "Oh… a long one, indeed. These two troublemakers were forged years ago—my finest work, and my most frustrating."
"I could never sell them. Not because they were faulty—but because they simply… wouldn't accept anyone. No matter who held them, they refused to awaken."
He took another step forward, voice hushed in awe. "Both are precisely fifteen inches long… but neither was made from wood."
Marius' eyes narrowed slightly. "Then what are they made of?"
"One is carved from the crystallized horn of a Mooncalf that fell during a lunar eclipse. The other… from the feather of a Thunderbird, fossilized in volcanic amber for over a thousand years."
"They are… unparalleled."
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T/N:
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