Wyzett spoke with quiet certainty. "Blackthorn, ten inches. Unicorn tail hair for the core, right?"
Taming a blackthorn wand was never simple. Wizards who wielded them were often those who'd faced real danger or hardship—only then would the blackthorn truly accept its master. That was why such wands almost never found a match.
"Spot on," said Ollivander, visibly delighted. "You've clearly studied my notes. To deduce the core by weight alone—that takes real understanding."
He moved to the workbench, unrolling a length of dragon hide to reveal a gleaming dragon heartstring within.
"Speaking of which… this heartstring you brought me—isn't it the one you selected with your Oculus Magicae? The quality is remarkable."
Wyzett nodded. "Yes, it felt just like what you described in your notes, so I brought it back."
Ollivander smiled. "Sweden's famous for its Swedish Short-Snouts. Their heartstrings make for wands with powerful fire magic…"
He paused, then slapped his forehead. "But that's not why we're here! Come—stand right there, aim at the platform, and cast whatever spell you like. Don't worry, that platform can take it."
Wyzett hesitated for a moment. "Mr. Ollivander, when I cast the spell, please close your eyes. It's… well, it gets blinding."
"Of course." Ollivander nodded. "Go on—give it your best. I'll be fine."
Following his old routine, Wyzett smoothed out the magical circuits within the blackthorn wand. Only when he felt the connection settle—no resistance between him and the wand—did he raise it and speak the incantation.
"Ansuz!"
With the memory of that hemispherical crater still fresh in his mind, Wyzett drew only upon the Obscurus core, letting it channel ancient magic into the spell.
He built up power. The workshop grew dim, shadows swallowing even the golden gleam of the shelves and cabinets.
Then, with a blinding flash, lightning exploded from nowhere, striking the small platform in a burst of crackling, spherical electricity. White light engulfed the entire workshop.
Sensing the surge, the pure gold shelves and cabinets shimmered, each enveloped in a silvery magical shield—protecting the precious wand materials within.
Even with his eyes shut, Ollivander could feel the spell's power through his eyelids.
As the light faded, he opened his eyes at once, staring at the platform.
It glowed red-hot, like an iron just pulled from the forge.
Such power was impressive, but not unexpected. It shouldn't have harmed the wand.
Given Wyzett's age, though, it was nothing short of extraordinary. In all his years, Ollivander couldn't recall a single student—of any age—whose magic had ever triggered the shelves' protective enchantments. Maybe, just maybe, Dumbledore himself had managed something similar as a youth.
He glanced at Wyzett's wand—still perfectly intact. "Wyzett, you're holding back, aren't you?"
"I am," Wyzett admitted. "I didn't use all my strength."
This test had taught him something crucial: drawing only on the Obscurus core's ancient magic wouldn't harm the wand.
That was a relief.
"Then don't hold back," said Ollivander. "I want to see that magic at its full force."
Wyzett looked around, noting the magical shields still dissipating. "Mr. Ollivander, could we move somewhere else? I'm worried about the wand materials."
"Very considerate," Ollivander said, smiling warmly. "I know just the place. Hardly any Muggles ever go there—perfect for magical experiments."
Under Ollivander's guidance, Wyzett got his first taste of another wizarding form of travel—Apparition.
Normally, he'd have to wait much longer to learn it. But this was Side-Along Apparition: he gripped Ollivander's arm tightly and let the master wizard whisk him away.
It was not a pleasant sensation. Wyzett felt himself squeezed from every direction, as if his whole body were being pressed into a ball.
They appeared in a quiet forest, just in time to see a few startled animals fleeing into the undergrowth.
"There are Muggle-Repelling Charms all around," Ollivander explained. "No one will bother us here. Go ahead, Wyzett."
Wyzett nodded, gripping the wand.
There was something special about blackthorn. As if sensing its fate, the wand vibrated with a thrill of anticipation—like a warrior who relished the challenge, charging into battle even if it meant destruction.
To honor that spirit, Wyzett drew in a deep breath and released both streams of ancient magic at once.
"Ansuz!"
A colossal, plasma-white serpent of lightning crashed to earth. The entire forest seemed to shudder.
Birds erupted from the trees in a cacophony of startled shrieks, their wings scattering like leaves in a storm.
Just as before, a hemispherical crater opened at Wyzett's feet, black smoke curling upward.
The blackthorn wand could not withstand such force. Its unicorn tail hair core was instantly reduced to ash.
Ollivander stood at the crater's edge, eyes closed, as if absorbing the lingering magic.
"Incredible power…" he murmured. "You can replace your wand as many times as you like, Wyzett—but that won't solve the root of the problem."
He turned, meeting Wyzett's eyes. "What you need is a wand made from materials that can truly bear your power. A wand that's yours alone."
The moment he heard those words, Wyzett understood. "Then I'll need to start learning wandmaking."
"Exactly! What a marvelous surprise." Ollivander's eyes sparkled, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
"You have the Oculus Magicae—that's a tremendous advantage. Any issue you encounter in wandmaking, you'll be able to see and avoid. And your foundation is solid. I don't think you'll have any trouble picking it up. What do you say?"
Wyzett did a quick calculation. He still had more than half a month before school started—plenty of time.
Meeting Ollivander's eager gaze, he nodded. "When should we start, Mr. Ollivander?"
"Splendid!" Ollivander beamed. "Anytime you're free. My workshop is always open to you."
"I'll go let Luna and the others know, then come right back."
"Nonsense—it's no bother at all! Treat this place as your own home, Wyzett. Come whenever you wish."
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