Wyzett frowned, his gaze lingering on the strip of ancient leather in Ollivander's hands. The memories of battles he'd witnessed in the Iridescent World resurfaced, making the old wandmaker's hypothesis seem all the more plausible.
When he thought about the Isaian Society and the mysteries surrounding Serena Pendragon, it all seemed to echo this theory—each thread, in its own way, weaving a tapestry of confirmation.
"Wyzett, just treat it as a story," Ollivander said with a gentle smile, shaking off the weight of legend. "Let's return to the matter of wands. Tell me—have you ever heard of the Elder Wand?"
"The Elder Wand?" Wyzett echoed, brow furrowing. He recalled a battered storybook from his childhood—The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
For the magical world, that book was the very equivalent of a Muggle's fairy tale anthology.
One tale in particular, "The Tale of the Three Brothers," spoke of the Elder Wand—a wand said to be unbeatable in battle.
There were other treasures in the story as well: a Resurrection Stone that could recall the dead, and an Invisibility Cloak that never wore thin.
All were "gifts" from Death itself to the three brothers:
The eldest claimed the Elder Wand, only to fall to betrayal and arrogance.
The second took the Resurrection Stone, but in the end, he too embraced death.
Only the youngest, wise enough to evade Death's grasp, donned the Invisibility Cloak and lived out his natural life, meeting Death as an equal when he finally removed the cloak.
"Yes, the Elder Wand!" Ollivander nodded, his eyes gleaming with a strange mix of fascination and dread. "It goes by many names—the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick…"
"This wand is utterly unique. Its soul characteristics are unmatched—far beyond any other wand ever crafted!"
"And it's precisely those soul traits that draw wizards in, awakening a fierce, almost uncontrollable desire. Only a rare few can resist its temptation."
His brow creased, as if recalling memories best left buried.
"Wyzett, remember what I once told you? The wand chooses the wizard… Well, the Elder Wand takes this truth to its most dangerous extreme."
"I've studied it with other wandmakers. It's a wand that inspires awe—and, I must admit, a kind of dark enchantment…"
Ollivander carefully rolled up the leather, conjured two chairs, and invited Wyzett to sit.
"Throughout history, the Elder Wand's trail flickers in and out of sight. Only those who devote themselves to its study can piece together its legend from scattered clues."
"I believe History of Magic is a required subject for first-years at Hogwarts, isn't it? Wyzett, you must know of Emeric the Evil?"
Wyzett nodded. "He was mentioned in the very first History of Magic class—how he ruled southern England with terror, sparking the witch hunts."
"Mr. Ollivander, are you saying he was the Elder Wand's master? And that his duel with Egbert the Egregious was really a struggle for the wand?"
"I also read about Egbert—after he defeated Emeric, he too died in a duel not long after… Was that the Elder Wand's doing as well?"
"It seems every time the Elder Wand surfaces, death follows in its wake. Maybe the wisest course would be to hide it away, once you've claimed it."
"But if the Elder Wand is truly that extraordinary, won't it always draw seekers—won't history just keep repeating itself?"
"You'd make a marvelous professor, Wyzett." Ollivander chuckled warmly. "You're absolutely right. All those tragedies stemmed from the Elder Wand."
"As you've said, its appearance, its moments of glory, its vanishing—all are shadowed by bloodshed and betrayal. Even those closest to you can't be trusted."
"There was once a father and son—Godelot, after obtaining the Elder Wand, was murdered in his own cellar by his son Hereward. I imagine you've heard of Godelot?"
Wyzett replied, "According to A History of Magic, Godelot was a powerful Dark wizard. He left behind the book Magick Moste Evile."
"That book contains a trove of Dark Arts, many with ancient origins. It's contributed a great deal to magical research over the years."
Suddenly, a thought struck him. "Wait—a collection of ancient Dark Arts… Could they have come from the Elder Wand itself? Does the wand somehow remember these spells?"
Ollivander nodded, his voice tinged with awe. "Incredible, isn't it? A wand truly worthy of legend—so powerful that generations of Dark wizards have fought to possess it."
"As a wandmaker, of course I dream of crafting such a masterpiece! But I hope it'll serve as a source of wisdom, not as an excuse for slaughter."
"There are too many secrets in the past—perhaps, like the Elder Wand and that strip of leather, they hail from a time before humankind, artifacts forged by gods…"
…
The inspiration Ollivander had drawn from the leather would take years to fully realize.
But his lessons with Wyzett pressed on. Once the potion segment was complete, they moved to the next stage of wandmaking—carving the wooden core and cutting the groove for embedding the magical core.
This step called for the use of the Severing Charm. Wyzett had practiced similar spells in Snape's private lessons, so he found the process manageable.
This particular wand would be paired with unicorn tail hair—the simplest of the three carving techniques. It required only careful measurement and a straight, precise groove.
He cast a Levitation Charm to gently embed the unicorn tail hair, then presented his work to Ollivander. "Mr. Ollivander, does this meet the standard?"
Ollivander squinted, scrutinizing the seamless fit of the groove. He was momentarily stunned.
The speed of the carving… it was even faster than he'd anticipated.
He remembered his own first attempt—it had taken an entire day to complete.
For a beginner, this process was daunting. The Severing Charm was tricky to control and could easily slice straight through the magical wood.
As for Wyzett's timing—whether ten minutes or twenty—Ollivander hadn't even bothered to check. He simply hadn't expected it to be over so soon.
"Mr. Ollivander, is there anything I should improve?" Wyzett asked softly.
"I haven't quite mastered the texture of this magical wood yet, so my technique isn't perfect. That's why it took me a bit longer."
"Ah…" Ollivander couldn't help but laugh. "Wyzett, you've done an excellent job! Oh, and that matter you mentioned last time—I've already sorted it out for you!"
Wyzett accepted a purple certificate bearing his name, his qualification as a Junior Potioneer, and the official seal of the Ministry of Magic.
He hadn't expected that a casual request would be fulfilled so swiftly—yet here it was, thanks to Ollivander's influence.
Ollivander smiled kindly. "I showed them the activation potion you brewed, so we skipped a few unnecessary steps. If you ever run into trouble, just let me know."
"I can't promise miracles everywhere, but at least in Europe, my status as a wandmaker still counts for something. Don't be shy about asking for help!"
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