The moment Noah stepped inside the shop, something extraordinary happened.
Old Ollivander opened his mouth to greet the customers, but his eyes widened at the sight before him.
In the silent shop, the sound of trembling boxes filled the air. Every wand reacted to the boy's presence. Lids rattled, some nearly bursting open on their own. The air itself seemed to come alive, as if the entire place had recognized him.
It lasted only a few seconds. But it was enough to shock everyone present.
Adam was stunned. Noah, no less so.
"Am I really that amazing?" he wondered, convinced the wands had responded to him alone.
But what unsettled him wasn't the wands. It was Ollivander's eyes—huge, icy blue, filled with a curiosity and interest that felt… unnatural.
"Fascinating, I must say, Mr…?" the old man murmured, stepping closer until he was less than a meter away.
Noah didn't back down.
"Gray. Noah Gray."
"Mr. Gray…" Ollivander repeated, as though savoring the name. "Very well, Mr. Gray. Which is your dominant hand?"
"My right."
In no time, Ollivander brought out his enchanted tape measure, which began moving on its own—measuring Noah's height, arm length, shoulder width, even the distance between his eyes.
Once done, the old man disappeared among the shelves and returned with a plain brown box.
"Ash, unicorn hair core. Let's try this one."
Under both men's watchful eyes, Noah took the wand. A shiver ran through his hand, but… nothing. No spark, no reaction.
"I can feel something… but this isn't the one."
Minutes passed as he tested several more wands. Each reacted, buzzing with anticipation when he touched them, yet none truly accepted him.
Strangely, Ollivander didn't seem frustrated at all. Quite the opposite—each failure only deepened his fascination.
Time slipped away. Noah began to question that first overwhelming reaction, when suddenly… Ollivander was gone.
Lifting his eyes, Noah no longer saw the old man. He had descended into the basement.
Down there, among old boxes, defective wands, and scribbled notes from failed projects, the old wandmaker went even deeper. He flicked his own wand several times, and before him—where nothing had been—a small box appeared.
The box grew, swelling until it became a chest.
"Should I…?" he muttered, hesitating.
But the gleam in his eyes betrayed his choice. Without further thought, he opened it. Inside, there was only a single wand box.
Meanwhile, back in the shop, Noah had activated his right eye. He scanned the shelves carefully, hoping to hasten the process—maybe even sense the energy of the right wand.
What he saw was unsettling.
Every wand was still. Terrified. Like cornered mice shrinking before a predator.
"What the hell…?"
"Mr. Gray."
Ollivander's voice pulled him out of the vision.
Noah looked up. The old man was holding another box. At first glance, it looked no different from the rest. But when Noah focused his right eye… something shone inside.
Not the wood. Not the box. Something within.
A golden light pulsed faintly, like the beat of a heart.
His gaze was caught, hypnotized. And for a moment, everything else vanished.
He heard a laugh.
The purest sound he had ever known. The laughter of a child—untouched by cruelty or malice.
"Mr. Gray?" Ollivander's distant voice.
"Mr. Gray!"
Noah blinked back into reality. Still dazed, he realized the old man was gripping his arm.
Only then did he notice flames crawling up his own fingers, spreading onto Ollivander's sleeve.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't turn me into charcoal," the wandmaker said calmly.
Noah pulled back at once, extinguishing the fire.
"My apologies."
Yet what unsettled him even more was that Ollivander wasn't burned. The flames hadn't harmed him. Reflexes? Or had the old man protected himself somehow?
Noah shook off the thought and focused on the box in Ollivander's hands.
"What is that?"
He'd deactivated his right eye at some point, and he didn't dare use it again. He wasn't sure he wanted to see.
Ollivander smiled and slowly opened the box.
"This, my boy, is a wand. A very special one." His eyes gleamed. "Do you know why? Because not a single wizard I know has ever been able to use it."
Noah barely heard him. His eyes were locked on the wand inside.
It was long, over twelve inches. Black as obsidian, with strange patterns etched across its surface. At the handle, a dark stone—like crystal—seemed to breathe.
Without thinking, he reached out.
Ollivander didn't stop him. He simply smiled, as if witnessing something unique.
The wand responded the instant Noah touched it. He felt it—deeply, unmistakably.
"Funny, isn't it?" Ollivander murmured. "Sometimes we don't find the things… the things find us."
Noah turned the wand slowly in his hand, feeling its weight. The dark stone near the handle—amber—pulsed faintly, as though breathing with him.
He closed his eyes, reaching for that earlier sensation—the pure laughter that had echoed in his mind. Activating his right eye, he braced for the trance to return.
But nothing happened.
Instead, his gift failed to see past the surface. A barrier stood before him, impenetrable. The amber blocked his sight completely. That had never happened before.
Noah exhaled slowly. "So… you can even silence my eye."
Then he noticed something else. A gentle current flowed from within him, drained bit by bit into the wand. His magic was being absorbed, channeled into the amber. It didn't hurt—it wasn't even uncomfortable. It was… fascinating.
"And? What do you think?" Ollivander asked eagerly.
Noah held his tongue. He couldn't reveal what he felt. Better to keep it to himself.
"Strange," he said at last. "But… it accepts me."
Ollivander's smile widened.
"Extraordinary. You know, I bought this wand many years ago. At an auction, from some family selling off an old wizard's belongings. Nothing remarkable. But when anyone tried it, it was… unstable. Even the simplest spell wouldn't work."
The old man ran a hand along the box, nostalgic.
"So I kept it. I've always believed every wand has its destined wizard. And now… I see I was right."
Noah remained silent, weighing his words. He knew more than Ollivander did—about the barrier, the draining. The old man had no idea.
"I'll take it," Noah said firmly. "I want to see how far it goes."
The smile on Ollivander's face grew, though a shadow of unease flickered in his eyes.
"As you wish. But… it won't be easy."
Noah lifted the wand and attempted a simple spell—a light charm. The result was weak, unstable, flickering like a dying flame.
He sighed.
"In that case… I'd better take another one too. Something more reliable."
Ollivander's mouth twisted in disapproval.
"I don't like that. One wand should be enough."
"Even so," Noah said calmly. "I'd rather have a backup."
The old man drew a deep breath, resigned. Then he returned with another box, presenting it with solemnity:
"Acacia. Eleven inches. Flexible. Phoenix feather core."
Not long after, Noah stepped out of the shop. The sky was bright blue, lazy clouds drifting far above. He looked down at the black wand in his hand and sighed.
"So… you're the one scaring all the others, aren't you?"
No answer. Only the silent gleam of the amber.
He shook his head, smiling faintly.
"I tried so many… and none responded. Only you. I guess I didn't have a choice."
Noah raised the wand toward the sky.
"I'm willing to see what secrets you hide… I feel like you'll surprise me."
That pure laughter echoed again in his mind, sweet as crystal.
He closed his eyes for a moment and whispered:
"I love magic."
"Doesn't she look like a fine owl?" his father's voice interrupted his thoughts.
Noah turned. Adam stood there, smiling, holding up a cage.
Inside, a pitch-black owl stared back at him, its large yellow-and-black eyes gleaming with intensity.
Noah smiled in return.
He was ready for Hogwarts.