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McGonagall pushed the door to Ollivander's shop with a slight creak that resonated in the dusty silence.
The interior was exactly as Aiden had fantasized for years, thousands of narrow boxes stacked from floor to ceiling, a smell of ancient wood and residual magic floating in the air, and that muffled atmosphere of a sanctuary hiding millennial secrets.
- "Professor McGonagall."
The voice had emerged from nowhere, making Aiden jump. An old man with silver-white hair and piercing blue eyes emerged from behind the counter like a materialized ghost.
- "Mr. Ollivander," McGonagall greeted respectfully. "I bring you a new client. Mr. Mortensen starts his schooling at Hogwarts in September."
Ollivander's piercing eyes settled on McGonagall and a nostalgic smile stretched his lips.
- "Ah, Minerva McGonagall. Fir and dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches, rather stiff. An excellent wand for transfiguration. I remember perfectly the day you bought it, you knocked over three display stands trying a cherry wand."
McGonagall blushed slightly.
- "I was eleven, Mr. Ollivander."
- "And already that determined character!" he laughed before turning his attention to Aiden. And there... damn. He stared at him with that disturbing intensity people have who see too many things.
- "Fascinating," he murmured approaching. "Quite fascinating. Those eyes... that physique... I've never seen anything like it."
He circled around Aiden like a vulture studying its prey.
- "You've experienced something... particular recently, haven't you, young man?"
Aiden exchanged a look with McGonagall. She frowned slightly but said nothing.
- "I turned eleven a few days ago," Aiden replied cautiously.
Ollivander had a small crystalline laugh.
- "Oh, much more than that, I think. But no matter. What interests me is finding the wand that will suit you." He rubbed his hands. "Let's see... What is your wand arm?"
- "The right."
Ollivander took out a tape measure from his pocket and began taking measurements - from elbow to fingertips, from wrist to shoulder, from waist to the top of his skull. The tape measure moved by itself, wrapping around Aiden like a curious snake.
- "Each wand is unique," Ollivander explained while noting the measurements, "just like each wizard. You don't choose your wand, Mr. Mortensen. It chooses you."
He disappeared into the shelves and returned with a first box.
- "Let's try this one. Oak and phoenix feather, eleven inches, quite flexible."
Aiden took the wand. He had barely grasped it when Ollivander snatched it from his hands.
- "No, no, no. Not at all. This wand seeks someone more... down to earth. You are far too... complex for it."
He went back to search and returned with another box.
- "Mahogany and unicorn hair, twelve inches. For noble and ambitious minds. It's a wand that prefers elegant, refined spells."
Same result. The wand almost seemed to escape from his hands.
- "Intriguing... Let's try something more... powerful. Ebony and phoenix feather, eleven and a half inches. A wand made for defense against dark forces."
And another one. And another.
After the tenth rejected wand, Ollivander began to look really intrigued.
- "Fascinating... truly fascinating. In fifty years of practice, I've only seen a handful of cases so... selective. You remind me of a certain person, years ago. He too was difficult to satisfy. Finally, it was yew and phoenix feather that chose him, thirteen and a half inches. A powerful wand... very powerful. Too bad he made such poor use of it."
Damn idiot, he's thinking of Tom Riddle, who is none other than Voldemort. Shit, I don't want to be compared to that madman. What is this old fool thinking??
Ollivander disappeared toward the back of the shop and Aiden heard him rummaging noisily. When he returned, he held a box different from the others, longer, more ornate, with symbols engraved on the lid.
- "This one..." He paused dramatically. "I made it three years ago. It's a prototype I never had the chance to test. A technical challenge I set myself, making two woods said to be incompatible work together. Silver birch intertwined with elder, phoenix feather, thirteen inches, inlaid with shooting star dust."
McGonagall's eyes widened.
- "Elder? Mr. Ollivander, isn't that a bit... Doesn't this wand recall..."
- "The Elder Wand? Oh yes, Minerva. But this one is different, much less powerful if its namesake truly exists. The birch here tempers the impetuous nature of elder, it's a balance I've only achieved once." He looked at Aiden intensely. "But look at this young man, Minerva. Really look. This wand has been waiting for three years and I'm beginning to understand why."
He opened the box with surgeon's gestures.
I know how to recognize a colleague haha even if he operates on wands...
Inside rested the most beautiful wand Aiden had ever seen, though he had never seen any except McGonagall's. The birch and elder woods intertwined in elegant spirals, creating silver and dark patterns that seemed to move under the light. Tiny brilliant inlays - the star dust - sparkled along the interlacing like a miniature constellation.
- "Go ahead," Ollivander murmured. "Take it."
Aiden reached toward the wand. His fingers brushed the wood and...
Holy shit.
A discharge of pure energy went up his arm, spread through his entire body like a wave of golden warmth. The shop seemed to light up, thousands of boxes trembled on their shelves, and somewhere in the distance, Aiden heard what sounded like crystalline singing, the voices of elements greeting him.
The wand pulsed in his hand, warm and alive, as if it were breathing. Golden sparks burst from its tip, forming luminous arabesques that danced in the air before vanishing.
- "Extraordinary," Ollivander whispered, eyes bright with wonder. "Absolutely extraordinary. In fifty years of practice, I've never seen such a... perfect connection. Even Albus Dumbledore - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, rather supple, hadn't provoked such a spectacular reaction during our first meeting."
Dumbledore. Of course Ollivander remembers him too.
Aiden looked at his wand, because now it was truly his, with total fascination. He felt his magic flowing through the hybrid wood, as if the wand amplified each of his abilities.
- "Birch," Ollivander explained in a dreamy voice, "is the wood of transformation and renewal. It chooses those who have lived profound changes. Elder... ah, elder is different. It's the wood of destiny, of absolute power. It only bonds with wizards called to mark history."
He turned toward Aiden with an enigmatic smile.
- "And shooting star dust... that's for those who can speak to the sky itself."
Aiden felt a shiver run down his spine. How could Ollivander know? Damn, if I can I should peel through his mind layer by layer!
- "This wand will serve you well, Mr. Mortensen. Very well. But never forget, elder is capricious. It respects strength, but it can turn against its master if it judges him unworthy."
- "How much?" asked McGonagall, visibly troubled by what had just happened.
- "Fifteen galleons because it's an original creation."
McGonagall paid and they left the shop, Aiden clutching his wand preciously against him.
- "Professor," he said once they were in the street, "what did he mean about elder and destiny?"
McGonagall stopped and looked at him gravely.
- "Elder, Aiden, is the most powerful and dangerous wood that exists. Very few wizards can master it. Those who succeed... change the world. For better or worse."
She paused.
- "Your physique, your particular abilities, and now this wand... you're destined for something exceptional. The question is: what?"
Aiden caressed his wand, feeling magic humming softly under his fingers.
Something exceptional, huh? Indeed, Voldy better watch out!
- "I suppose we'll find out in due time," he said with an innocent smile.
McGonagall stared at him for a few more seconds, then nodded.
- "Come. It's time to go back. Mrs. Pemberton must be worried."