"But what if I do this instead?"
Lynn didn't doubt Ollivander's earlier explanation, but he wasn't the type to give up just because someone said "no."
With a tap of his wand, the small wooden block on the table transformed into a gleaming golden bullet.
"If I engrave runes directly onto it—using alchemical crafting methods to produce the bullet—couldn't I cast spells quickly without having to write out full spell-runes every time?"
"My biggest weakness is my insensitivity to spells. It limits me—keeps me from casting the way other wizards can."
"If that's how you're thinking," Ollivander said, nodding slowly, "then yes… in theory it's possible."
Most wizards didn't have Lynn's kind of limitation, so they never even thought along these lines. But the old wandmaker understood.
"This method would let you cast quickly," he admitted. "But it's terribly rigid, isn't it?"
He pointed out the flaw immediately.
"When you write runes manually, you can tailor the effect—how high you want something to float, which direction it moves, how strong the force is. But once you engrave the runes into a fixed object, that spell becomes locked. Fast casting comes with a price: you lose almost all fine control."
"What if I add Transfiguration into the process?"
Lynn offered another idea.
"I could use Transfiguration to modify the runes right before activation—changing the spell structure so each shot fits whatever I need."
"That introduces new complications."
Ollivander shook his head.
"Casting like that would be incredibly troublesome. Worse, you'd face magical interference—the magic from the Transfiguration would clash with the magic of the spell triggered from the transformed material. It's a serious problem."
The veteran wandmaker had seen far more than Lynn; his instincts were sharper.
"Maybe I'll figure out a workaround one day," Lynn muttered, rubbing his brow. For the moment, though, he had no real solution.
"Who knows? Inspiration strikes when it wants to." Ollivander smiled. "But right now, you need more knowledge. Come on—let me fetch a few more books for you."
He led Lynn toward his workroom, which doubled as a massive private library.
---
By the time Lynn finally stepped out of Ollivander's shop, the sky was turning orange.
His enchanted pocket now carried over twenty thick books—enough reading to last him more than a month.
Trying to recreate the "gun" he had seen reflected in the Mirror of Erised was much harder than he first imagined. The more he discussed it with Ollivander, the more he understood why nobody in the wizarding world had ever seriously pursued this bizarre research path.
Using alchemy to cast spells was… clunky. Inefficient. The magical equivalent of someone with perfectly good hands insisting on eating with their feet. Only someone like Lynn—who had a very specific handicap—would consider such a route.
"The future is bright! And the path is long!"
Lynn gave himself a little pep talk, straightened his back, and kept going.
"Well… first things first. A hot bath and some dinner."
He slipped out of Diagon Alley via the Leaky Cauldron, headed to a nearby park, pitched his trusty all-purpose tent, and activated the enchanted Gourmet Tablecloth. Delicious aromas drifted into the chilly air.
"Curry and rice again? Has British cuisine officially surrendered to India?"
---
In the days leading up to Christmas, Lynn holed up alone inside the tent. When he wasn't poring over Ollivander's books, he was organizing his cards and Auto-Chess materials to give his brain a break. For most kids his age, such monotony would be unbearable.
But Lynn didn't mind at all.
He was used to the grind.
He jotted down ideas for his personal wand—such as using magical gemstones as bullet casings—but without experiments, theories remained just theories.
Before he knew it, two or three days had passed. When he realized Christmas Eve was that very night, he packed up camp and flagged down a deep wine-red taxi heading toward South Kensington—where Qiu Zhang's family lived.
The neighborhood was an old-money area of London. Walk ten minutes and you'd pass four G5 university campuses. Jog around here and there was a 32% chance you'd bump into the President of Imperial College.
Any wizard living here needed more than wealth—they needed power. Maintaining magical protections this close to Muggles took real skill.
Following the note Qiu had given him, Lynn found the magically concealed townhouse. Before he could knock, a beautiful tabby cat bounded toward him, lifted a paw in greeting, and meowed politely.
"Well hello there."
Lynn crouched and scratched the friendly tabby's head.
"Meow~"
The cat nudged against his hand affectionately—right as the front door opened.
"Lynn! You made it!"
Qiu looked delighted, smiling brightly. Then she turned to the cat.
"Mò Dòu, give us a backflip!"
"Meow!"
The tabby obeyed instantly, flipping gracefully in midair before landing perfectly.
"See? My cat is amazing!"
"This isn't an ordinary tabby, is it?"
Lynn rubbed under the creature's chin. Something about its magic felt… old.
"Probably not," Qiu admitted. She knelt beside him. "Mò Dòu came with my parents when they immigrated. He's been with my family almost thirty years. Technically, he's my elder. Mom told me that when I was little and mischievous, Mò Dòu was the one who kept me entertained."
"Come on inside. Mom's cooking tons of food. Our Christmas dinners aren't like the typical ones—you won't find a dry turkey here. That stuff is awful."
"But Mom's Christmas pudding cake is incredible!"
"I really appreciate it," Lynn said.
"Oh please—you begged your way into this dinner."
Qiu scooped up Mò Dòu and strutted forward with a playful huff.
Lynn pulled a few small gifts from his pocket—tea, wine, and fruit. You don't show up for a holiday meal empty-handed.
When he entered, Professor Zhang—Qiu's father—walked into the living room. He paused for a split second when he saw Lynn.
"Wait… Professor Zhang?"
Lynn blinked in surprise.
"You!" the man laughed. "I knew your name sounded familiar."
"Dad, you know him?" Qiu asked, stunned.
"At Oxford, this kid was a legend. Finished six years of coursework in three months. The History and Archaeology departments practically fought over him. The commotion nearly shut down half the campus."
"I met him a few times back then. I even taught him Old Norse. Took him a week to master the whole language. If I hadn't been leaving for an archaeological dig, I would've taken him as my student."
Professor Zhang gave his daughter a teasing look.
"And Qiu… this classmate of yours was very popular with the girls. Even when he was only eight or nine, he had hundreds of older students swooning over him."
If Lynn hadn't been so young at the time, he would've topped Oxford's "Most Dangerous Heartthrob" list.
"Ahem."
Lynn coughed lightly and quickly stepped forward, offering his gifts.
"Thank you for having me, Professor. Just a small token of appreciation—please go easy on me."
Professor Zhang burst into laughter.
"You little rascal."
He took the gifts, patted Lynn's shoulder, and said,
"Sit down. Make yourself at home. I'll quiz you in a moment."