Wyzett pressed further, "If the activation potion were infused with even more soul characteristics, and we used it in wandmaking—what would happen?"
"That's… precisely what we've been trying to discover," Ollivander replied, a note of helplessness in his voice. "The craft of wandmaking is always evolving, you know."
"At least for the Ollivander family, it has. Every generation of wandmakers has worked to refine our potion recipes, hoping to endow wands with even stronger soul traits."
"But progress is painfully slow. I honestly can't imagine what might happen if an activation potion were truly saturated with soul characteristics…"
Suddenly, something seemed to dawn on Ollivander. He looked at Wyzett with a spark of hope. "Wyzett, are you saying you could actually enhance the soul aspect of an activation potion?"
He set his crystal goblet down with great care, his eyes bright with anticipation.
The resemblance between the activation potion and the Draught of Peace reminded Wyzett of a certain ancient magic: Ancient Magic: Potion Equilibrium Transmutation.
With this spell, one could use ancient magical forces to shift the balance between a potion's soul properties and its other effects.
He considered for a moment, then nodded. "I can give it a try, but I can't promise it'll work."
When it came to potions that touched the soul, Wyzett was careful to temper expectations—for his own safety, and for Ollivander's.
"Quite right! There's always a risk of failure in potion-making," Ollivander agreed, nodding. "How about this: go home and get some rest first."
"You've worked hard enough today. Get a good night's sleep—come back when you're feeling refreshed."
…
The next morning, Wyzett returned to Ollivander's wand shop.
In the workshop, Ollivander made a generous gesture. "Use as many ingredients as you need—don't hold back. I'll cover everything."
After going home, Wyzett had mentally reviewed the entire brewing process, noting every pitfall and nuance.
For his first two batches that morning, he didn't use Ancient Magic: Potion Equilibrium Transmutation.
Compared to yesterday, these two activation potions showed improvement mainly in speed.
Ollivander watched closely, quietly amazed.
Such talent—after just a single day, the progress was already so apparent.
Standing over the cauldron, Wyzett ran through the steps in his mind one last time, then began his third attempt.
Everything went smoothly. The milky potion steamed and began to bubble over.
Wyzett calmed the agitated brew with a wave of his wand, then invoked Ancient Magic: Potion Equilibrium Transmutation.
He poured soul energy into the cauldron, and the potion responded—golden motes of light multiplied and intensified, swirling and flickering like a constellation come to life.
Ollivander watched, utterly transfixed. His pale silver eyes seemed to catch the golden glow, reflecting it back.
He widened his gaze, committing every extraordinary change to memory.
When it was time for the final step, Wyzett added the clover essence and performed the last spell.
As he lowered his wand, a soft rustling filled the air.
Ollivander snapped out of his reverie and turned to the shelves of pure gold nearby.
Every stick of magical wood began to tremble, as if awakening, their tips all leaning toward the cauldron before Wyzett.
Ollivander nervously rubbed his hands together, his breath quickening. He stared unblinking at the cauldron, as if the potion within was the rarest treasure on earth.
Wyzett banished the sweat from his brow with a quick spell. "Mr. Ollivander, should I bottle it?"
"Yes! Please, you do it!" Ollivander glanced at his own hands and gave a helpless laugh. "I'm afraid I'd spill it…"
He didn't take his eyes off Wyzett, watching every movement, terrified that even a blink might cause the potion to vanish.
Wyzett set the crystal goblet on the table. "Mr. Ollivander, how do we test its effects?"
"Yes, yes! We need to verify it!" Ollivander seemed almost giddy, spinning in place like an excited child.
"All those magical woods are yearning for it—that alone proves this potion is extraordinary… But wait, let me fetch something."
Ollivander vanished into the back of the workshop. When he returned, he held a rolled length of what looked like ancient leather.
"This is the greatest secret of the Ollivander family. Only activation potion can awaken it and reveal its contents."
He laid the leather on the table and slowly unrolled it. An aura of age and mystery seemed to fill the room.
Just as he'd said, the parchment revealed no markings or writing at all.
He picked up the crystal goblet, muttering under his breath, "Out with the old, in with the new… out with the old, in with the new…"
It sounded like he was steadying his own nerves. At last, he gritted his teeth and poured the entire potion over the leather.
The hide absorbed the potion instantly, like parched earth drinking in rain—not a single drop spilled.
Then it seemed to come alive, curling in on itself before unfurling into a dense, living forest.
A robed figure wandered through the trees, a branch in his hand, drifting from shadow to shadow…
Wyzett watched intently. With his knowledge of wandmaking, he could see at once that this figure was crafting a wand—using a method so simple it bordered on the miraculous.
But his own experience was limited. The figure's later actions and intentions grew increasingly difficult to decipher.
Ollivander was just as absorbed. Having dedicated his life to the craft, he understood more of the subtle meanings.
He observed every gesture, nodding and whispering, "So that's how it's done… this step could be changed here…"
Before they realized it, the robed figure and the forest faded away. The leather returned to normal, the final image frozen on the figure raising his wand and summoning a host of skeletons.
Wyzett didn't dwell on the figure's intent. Instead, he focused on the process itself.
Compared to the complicated wandmaking of today, the robed figure simply communed with various plants, drawing power from them until the branch in his hand became a wand.
Ollivander spoke softly, "No one knows when the first wizard appeared. Perhaps he was among the very first in this world… or perhaps he predates wizards entirely."
"After all, he needed no potions, no ritual magic—he could create a wand of great power by aligning with nature itself."
"That's why some wandmakers have a theory: maybe gods once walked this world. They could communicate directly with all things, and what we call magic was simply the product of that communion…"
"Then, something changed. Those gods vanished, leaving only traces behind—like this leather scroll." He patted the ancient hide gently.
"Later, humankind arose. Some were born sensitive to these traces and followed them to become wizards. The rest became Muggles."
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