According to the Centaur, "Darkness is spreading in the Forbidden Forest." Based on that, Vison guessed that the one recently wandering there must be Lord Voldemort, who was currently inhabiting Professor Quirrell's body.
After all, according to the information from the original book, Voldemort was extremely weak and needed Unicorn blood to prolong his life.
However, neither he nor Hagrid encountered anything dangerous in the Forbidden Forest.
That didn't surprise Vison. Unicorns possess a natural ability to sense and avoid dark entities like Lord Voldemort. It wasn't easy for him to catch a Unicorn.
That weekend, at Devil's Snare's strong insistence, Vison brought it to Mr. Ollivander's wand shop in Diagon Alley.
This was the most famous wand shop in the entire wizarding world. Vison's main wand had come from Ollivander himself: ash wood, Unicorn tail hair, twelve inches long. It had always served him well.
As soon as Vison opened the shop door, the smell of wood greeted him. Mr. Ollivander was dozing off in his chair.
"Mr. Ollivander?"
Vison stood at the doorway and gently tapped the wooden door frame. The knock was soft but firm—enough to rouse the old man without startling him.
Mr. Ollivander opened his eyes instantly and rose from his seat, his gaze settling on Vison.
He walked over quickly, his old fingers outstretched. "Your wand, Mr.…?"
Vison took out his wand and handed it over.
Mr. Ollivander examined the wand closely for several seconds, his silvery-white eyes glinting in the dim light.
"Hmm… Ah, ash wood with Unicorn tail hair, twelve inches exactly. Mr. Vinson, welcome back. Are you here for wand maintenance?"
Mr. Ollivander was known for recognizing people not by their faces, but by the wands they carried. Vison had heard that the wandmaker could recall the name of every single customer who had bought a wand from him—and now it seemed the rumor was true.
Vison took his wand back and shook his head. "Not for maintenance. I'm here to buy a wand."
Mr. Ollivander blinked in surprise. His fingers twitched nervously. "Is your wand no longer compatible, Mr. Vinson?"
"Not at all," Vison said with a smile. "My wand still suits me perfectly. But my friend here seems to want one of its own."
As he spoke, his robe cuff stirred. A slender vine slithered out, reaching for the shelves—Devil's Snare, growing restless.
Mr. Ollivander's eyes widened slightly as he watched Devil's Snare pick up a wand with its vine and play with it.
The wand instantly began sparking.
"Oh dear! That one isn't suitable for you!" Mr. Ollivander hurried forward and gently retrieved the wand from the plant's grasp. He turned back toward Vison with surprise. "This… is the friend you mentioned?"
Vison nodded.
"This is… unprecedented," Mr. Ollivander muttered. "There have been wizards before who asked me to make wands for non-human creatures, but I refused."
"Why did you refuse?" Vison asked, puzzled.
The old wandmaker sighed deeply. "Do you think a Troll can perform magic? With their brain capacity, they'd probably use the wand to clean their ears. And no wand would ever choose a Troll."
"Then you don't need to worry," Vison said. "My friend here can use magic."
He handed his wand to Devil's Snare. The plant wrapped its vine around the wand and gave it an awkward wave.
A burst of white light erupted from the tip, illuminating the entire shop.
"See?" Vison crossed his arms, watching the shocked Mr. Ollivander.
"…Alright. I'll give it a try," the old wandmaker said after a pause. He walked over to the wand-filled shelves and started rummaging. "This one probably won't work… How about this?"
He finally pulled out a wand and handed it to Devil's Snare. "English oak, Unicorn tail hair, thirteen inches."
The plant waved it once. Only a few weak sparks emerged from the tip.
"Okay, that one clearly isn't compatible…"
After testing several more wands, Mr. Ollivander slumped into a chair, looking disheartened. "I knew it. No wand would choose a plant…"
Vison was a little disappointed, but he offered reassurance. "It's alright, Mr. Ollivander. Honestly, this was more of an experiment. I didn't expect much."
"No!" Mr. Ollivander suddenly jumped from his seat, cutting Vison off. His eyes lit with determination. "This isn't the plant's fault. My wand-making skills simply aren't good enough yet!"
Vison stared at him, unsure what to say.
"Please give me some time, Mr. Vinson," the old man continued, his voice full of passion. "I will make a wand that's suitable!"
"…Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Vison replied. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Mr. Ollivander nodded and turned toward Devil's Snare. "Can your friend provide me with some of its own material?"
Before Vison could respond, Devil's Snare twisted off a meter-long piece of vine and placed it before Mr. Ollivander.
"Perfect," the old wandmaker said with satisfaction. "You can leave for now. This will take time."
As Vison left the shop empty-handed, Mr. Ollivander quickly hung a "Closed" sign on the door and locked it tightly.
Standing outside, Vison glanced down at Devil's Snare, which peeked from his sleeve.
"Looks like you'll have to wait a while."
Devil's Snare swayed gently, indicating that it didn't mind.
Back in Diagon Alley, Vison wandered among the crowds. Though it wasn't peak season, the streets were still bustling.
Without realizing it, he found himself near the fork that led to Knockturn Alley.
This area was deserted.
The line between the wizarding world's most vibrant street and its darkest corner was barely a step apart. It was a strange contrast.
After a moment's pause, Vison turned to leave. He wasn't in the mood to visit that gloomy place today.
Unless you were buying—or selling—something illegal, Knockturn Alley had little to offer. And wandering there too long meant you risked being attacked by some unknown dark wizard.
Plenty of desperate people roamed that place.
But just as Vison turned to leave, a familiar figure caught his eye.
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