Chapter 31 – Rather Than a Wand
The boy ran off crying, shouting, "I'll tell my father!" He hadn't even asked their names.
At St. George's School, just hearing Dudley's name could make students cry. It wasn't an exaggeration—it had truly happened. To that boy, Dudley's greeting might as well have been, "Hello, mind if I sample your brains?"
The pressure of facing Dudley at close range was something one had to experience to understand.
"What on earth just happened?" Madam Malkin bustled in, puzzled. She had only seen the Malfoy child flee in tears.
"Nothing at all, Madam," Dudley answered.
Though suspicious, she had no time to press further. New Hogwarts students were arriving, and the shop was busy.
"No bullying," Hermione whispered, nudging Dudley in the side.
"Hermione, I didn't bully him. You heard me—I was only being friendly," Dudley replied.
Hermione stared. Friendly? That was hardly the word.
"I'm really a very polite and easygoing person," Dudley added innocently.
'We may need to redefine the word polite,' thought Hermione and Harry at the same time.
The memory reminded Hermione of Oxford Dragon Primary, where Dudley had once seemed like an easy target—until a group of bullies found out otherwise, in a very brutal way.
"When we get to Hogwarts, you can't act like that again," Hermione whispered.
"Yes, yes, I know." Dudley nodded quickly. "I'll get along with my classmates and make plenty of friends."
Soon, their robes were ordered and fitted. The next stop was the wand shop.
At the mention of wands, Hermione and Harry's eyes lit up, especially Hermione's. Ever since learning she was a witch, she had dreamed of her own wand, chattering excitedly at Dudley's side.
Wands were the key to casting magic.
Compared to their eagerness, Dudley remained calm.
Ollivander's Wand Shop was the largest in Diagon Alley—indeed, the only one.
The decayed door creaked open with a jingle of bells. The interior was far smaller than expected, with none of the Extension Charm that filled other wizarding places.
Stacks of narrow boxes towered high on every side—thousands of wands waiting to be chosen.
"Good day," came a soft voice.
On the counter to their left stood an elderly man, silver-white eyes glowing in the dim light like twin moons.
The moment he saw them, his gaze fixed on Harry. Slowly, he said, "I knew I'd see you soon, Harry Potter. Your eyes are just like your mother's. I remember well when she bought her first wand—ten and a quarter inches, willow, swished wonderfully, a fine wand indeed."
"Is your brother famous?" Hermione whispered, tugging Dudley's sleeve. She had yet to read any wizard books and did not know of the so-called savior, Harry Potter.
"Far more famous than you can imagine," Dudley murmured back.
While they whispered, Ollivander measured Harry's arm, then drew out a wand.
"Beechwood with a serpent nerve, nine inches. Try it."
Harry accepted the wand clumsily and gave it a wave.
"Oh, marvelous. Try this one."
"Marvelous, try this."
"Try this one too."
Harry swapped through wand after wand, but nothing seemed to work.
"Will choosing wands be this troublesome for us too?" Hermione whispered, watching him fail again and again.
Dudley paused. "I think maybe it's just Harry."
Ollivander handed over wand after wand, until finally—
"Holly, phoenix feather core, eleven inches."
The moment Harry held it aloft, a red light flashed.
Ollivander's instincts were right. The fit between boy and wand was undeniable.
Next came Hermione. Just as Dudley predicted, her match came quickly.
With a sweep of her wand, a rainbow arced into the air.
"Vine wood, dragon heartstring core, ten and three-quarter inches."
"And finally… this young man." Ollivander studied Dudley for a moment, then drew a wand and offered it. "Maple, phoenix feather, seven inches, good flexibility."
Dudley gave it a casual wave. Nothing—only a whisper of displaced air.
For the first time, Ollivander frowned.
Not even when fitting Harry Potter had he reacted this way.
He tried again. "Ebony, unicorn hair, eight and a half inches."
Another empty swish.
His brows furrowed deeper.
Third wand. "Hawthorn, unicorn hair, ten inches."
Fourth. "Willow, unicorn hair, fourteen inches."
One after another, Dudley tried them all. Unlike Harry, whose mismatched wands had given sparks and jolts, Dudley's attempts were utterly inert. It looked no different than a Muggle swinging a tree branch.
Ollivander's forehead wrinkled into a pronounced frown.
Hermione glanced between Dudley, Harry, and her own wand, beginning to wonder if her match had been too quick, too careless.
Even Dudley realized something was wrong. Handing back yet another wand, he suddenly grabbed a box at random.
"I feel this wand is calling to me. Didn't you say the wand chooses the wizard? Fine—this one will do."
Without waiting for a response, Dudley slapped twenty-one Galleons onto the counter, pulled Harry and Hermione toward the door, and fled the shop.
Ollivander stood watching them leave, but did not stop them.
"Iron birch, thestral tail hair, nine inches," he murmured.
"Iron birch is too rigid, and thestral hair far too unstable. Neither wood nor core are ones I favor."
"That wand is my greatest failure. Rather than a wand… it is closer to a dagger."
(End of Chapter)
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