Gellert Grindelwald was in Germany.
Across Europe, there were three true wandmaking masters. More precisely, three great wandmaking families.
Britain's Garrick Ollivander, France's Leclerc, and Germany's Gregorovitch.
Each of them controlled the wand supply for a major magical school. In a sense, they were the three greatest arms dealers in the wizarding world.
Fleur's wand had been custom-made by the current Leclerc. Its core was a strand of her grandmother's hair. Leclerc had been so satisfied with the piece that he refused payment altogether.
Among the three, however, old Gregorovitch was the most ambitious.
He wasn't content with supplying just one school. He wanted a share of the other two's markets as well.
So, long ago, he spread a rumor.
That he had obtained the legendary Elder Wand… and had secretly incorporated its techniques into the wands he crafted.
But not long after, on a stormy night, the Elder Wand was stolen by a blond youth.
Gregorovitch hadn't seen the thief's face clearly. Yet years later, when a wizard who would shake the world appeared in the newspapers, he immediately recognized the wand in that man's hand.
The Elder Wand was unmistakable.
Its shape resembled human finger bones, segmented and protruding.
From that moment on, Gregorovitch buried the truth deep within his heart, treating it as his greatest secret. He became far more low-key. Whenever anyone brought up the old rumor, he would laugh it off and deny everything.
...
That day, Gregorovitch finished maintaining the unsold wands as usual. Just as he was about to head upstairs to rest, the shop door creaked open.
"Sorry, we're closed. If you need anything—"
His voice stopped abruptly.
The brush slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.
Because he had seen the man standing at the entrance.
Wild white hair. A defiant expression. And those unmistakable mismatched eyes.
"Gr—Gr—"
"Grindelwald, sir," Grindelwald said softly, offering a polite nod. "It seems the world hasn't forgotten me. It's been decades… you've aged quite a bit."
"Mr. Grindelwald…"
Gregorovitch swallowed hard, his body stiff.
"Congratulations… on leaving your prison. You're just as you were back then."
"Thank you."
Grindelwald smiled faintly and walked toward the counter.
Gregorovitch didn't dare move. He could only watch as the dark wizard casually picked up a wand from a box and examined it.
"Hawthorn wood. Graphorn tail hair… suited for a wizard with a wavering heart and an unclear sense of self. Am I correct?"
"Your knowledge is… vast," Gregorovitch replied cautiously, choosing his words with care.
Grindelwald shook his head slightly.
"I've simply seen a great deal. That leads to understanding… though not mastery. When it comes to wandmaking, you are still the true expert."
He looked at Gregorovitch.
"Mr. Gregorovitch, would you be willing to make a wand for me?"
Though phrased as a question, there was no room for refusal.
Gregorovitch hurriedly turned, about to fetch wands from the shelves for selection, but Grindelwald stopped him.
"I said make one for me. Not let me choose."
"Yes—yes, I understand."
Gregorovitch nodded repeatedly.
"Then remember my requirement."
Grindelwald's gaze turned meaningful.
"I need…"
"A wand that can perform exceptionally well against the Elder Wand."
Silence fell.
"Mr. Gregorovitch, I believe you can do it. After all, you once possessed it. There is no one in this world who understands the Elder Wand better than you."
Cold sweat beaded across the old man's forehead.
Grindelwald wasn't even pretending anymore. He had laid everything bare.
"I… I'll do my best," Gregorovitch forced out.
"You should know better than anyone how difficult that is."
Grindelwald merely glanced at the dark night sky.
"You have one night."
"When the sun rises, I will leave with my wand."
The hidden meaning was unmistakable.
Either the wand would go with him…
Or Gregorovitch would.
Stiffly, the old wandmaker turned toward his workbench and began crafting at once.
...
Grindelwald was right.
Gregorovitch did understand the Elder Wand.
As a proud wandmaker, he had long thought about how one might counter such a legendary wand. Completely suppressing it was impossible. He didn't even fully understand the source of its power.
But relying on experience, knowledge, and his understanding of materials, he could attempt to create a wand that might barely stand against it.
Still, with only a few hours?
This was no different from asking for his life.
And yet, if he wanted to keep living a few more years, he had no choice but to give it everything.
...
While Gregorovitch worked frantically, Grindelwald wasn't idle either.
He began testing the wands already in the shop, one after another.
Tom's method had given him inspiration.
If a single ordinary wand couldn't endure many battles before breaking, then he would simply carry more.
As long as there was some degree of compatibility, they could serve as backups.
The atmosphere in the shop grew strange.
Each man busy with his own task.
Gregorovitch silently thanked fate that it was late autumn turning into winter. If it were summer, dawn would come much earlier, and he would never finish in time.
...
At last, as the first light of dawn crept in, Gregorovitch handed over the newly crafted wand.
Grindelwald tested it with several spells.
Then, with a faint nod of approval, he gathered it along with the dozen or so backup wands he had selected…
And left the shop.