Cassius awoke before dawn.
The room was still, shadows curling along the walls, but he could not rest another moment.
His heart thrummed like a drumbeat in his chest, excitement fighting with the discipline he usually held so tightly.
For the first time in years, Cassius Snape abandoned routine.
He dressed quickly, black trousers and a simple shirt, slipped out of the house, and called for a cab.
The driver hardly glanced at him.
To Muggle eyes, he was just another boy too eager for a birthday errand, just meeting up with friends he hadnt seen in weeks since the summer break began.
But Cassius was not bound for toy shops or cake.
He was bound for a date with destiny.
The cab rolled through London's gray streets until, with a sharp instruction, Cassius stepped out onto the street and walking a block only stopping before the Leaky Cauldron.
The trip was short, but was enough time for the sun to have fully risen on the horizon, marking for many the start of the new work day.
The pub smelled of old wood and spilled butterbeer, the morning hour making it nearly empty save for Tom the barman polishing a glass behind the counter.
Tom gave him a curious nod but did not ask questions.
Children came through this way often enough, though rarely alone.
Cassius wanted to ignore him, but without a wand he could not enter the alley so with a simple side nod of his head and the flick of a gold galleon, Cassius had himself a helper.
A few taps of a wand later, the entrance to Diagon Alley unfolded, bricks curling aside like a mechanical puzzle.
The sight of the bustling street, already alive with shopkeepers preparing their wares, filled him with a strange mixture of anticipation and triumph.
But he did not linger.
He did not marvel at owls in cages or cauldrons stacked high.
His steps carried him directly to the narrow front of Ollivander's shop, wedged like a secret between taller storefronts.
The bell above the door chimed softly as he entered.
Inside was silence.
Dust motes danced in the shafts of light from high windows.
Hundreds, perhaps thousands of slim boxes crowded the walls, each whispering possibility.
The storefront looking no different than what he had seen all those years ago when last he came here.
And from the shadows, he came.
"Ah…" A soft voice, like the rustling of parchment. "I wondered when I would see you again."
Cassius straightened, a flicker of satisfaction passing across his face.
Ollivander's pale, silvery eyes glimmered, fixing on him with unsettling precision.
"It has been… yes, nearly seven years, hasn't it?" the wandmaker murmured, stepping closer, thin as a reed and ageless as stone. "Last I saw you, you were but a child. Barely able to hold a wand steady, and yet—already so determined."
Cassius reached into his pocket, producing the training wand.
He placed it gently on the counter between them.
"You lent me this," he said evenly. "I have used it well. Thank you."
Ollivander's fingers, long and careful, brushed the metal wand.
His expression flickered with curiosity.
"Yes. Certainly something only for a child, it seems you've used it quite excessively so?"
Cassius gave a thin smile.
"Well... i dont like to admit it but i've been waiting for this day to arrive ever since we last met and the only thing keeping me sane has been the ability to use your training wand to sate my desire for magic."
The wandmaker chuckled softly, his gaze piercing.
"Well your patience has finally been rewarded as today you get to find your partner, and accessing the true range of your maical abilities."
He beckoned Cassius toward the measuring stand.
With a flick of his own wand, a tape measure sprang to life, zipping about Cassius like a serpent—measuring the length of his arms, the breadth of his shoulders, the span of his fingers.
It even darted near his nose before snapping back with a rustle.
"Which is your wand hand?" Ollivander asked, though he already seemed to know the answer.
"My left," Cassius said firmly.
"Mm."
The wandmaker nodded, muttering under his breath as though adding lines to an invisible ledger.
"Left-hand dominant in charms, I imagine. But I suspect your right does not sleep entirely. A duality in you… how curious."
Cassius remained silent, though his lips twitched faintly.
The old man was sharper than most, though his insight was not quite as indepth as his own mentor, but still impressive for a first blush estimate.
At last, final step of the old mans wand granting ritual ended.
Ollivander vanished into the rows of shelves, humming softly, boxes sliding from their places at his touch.
He returned with three, setting them on the counter with reverence.
"Ebony and dragon heartstring, twelve inches, slightly unyielding. Try this."
Cassius took it, the wood warm against his skin.
He gave it a practiced flick.
A gust of air stirred, then sputtered into nothing.
The wand felt… heavy.
Dead.
No better than the metal wand he'd used previously.
"No," Cassius said simply, setting it back.
Ollivander's eyes glittered.
"Indeed, no."
The second wand: rowan and unicorn hair, ten and a half inches, rigid.
It sparked faintly when he touched it, but when he raised it, the spark died.
"This one rejects me," Cassius said, his magical sight showing him threads of light recoiling.
"Correct again," Ollivander murmured, though his brows furrowed now in faint intrigue.
The third wand: ash and phoenix feather, eleven inches, supple.
The moment Cassius touched it, the air in the shop seemed to hold its breath.
But when he lifted it, the box trembled as though trying to drag it back.
Cassius frowned.
"Not right. It does not want me."
Ollivander leaned forward, fascination deepening.
"You see it, don't you? The rejection."
Cassius nodded.
"Every wand in this room is whispering 'no.' as if my fated pair does not exist here..."
The words hung in the dust-laden air.
Ollivander's lips parted slightly, a rare moment of surprise creasing his features.
"Remarkable," the old man whispered. "I have fitted wands for generations. I have seen rejections, yes, but never so total. It seems…"
His eyes gleamed.
"It seems you are not meant for what sits upon these shelves, these are beginner wands designed to grow along with their paired wizard, but in your case a custom wand might be better suited..."
Cassius tilted his head. "So i cannot get a wand here today."
Ollivander's gaze slid past him, toward the darker recesses of the shop.
"Not exactly there is another option, i do have some experimental wands, ones i dont show to almost anyone, due to their... issues with pairing, but in your case perhaps one of thsoe would fit you?"
Cassius felt a thrill in his chest, sharp as lightning.
Yes!
Please let it be one of these experimental wands, something comparable to the Elder wand or greater!
Who cares about a core the same as the darklord when one designed to be independant from all others would be better!
He straightened, his voice calm but unyielding.
"Then please, show me."
Ollivander studied him for a long moment, as if weighing not just the boy but the destiny behind him.
And his possible potential to become yet another in a long line of darklords one better off never receiving a wand to begin with.
Then, with a slow nod, he turned and vanished once more into the labyrinth of shelves, this time toward the shadowed corner few customers ever saw.
Cassius stood alone in the quiet shop, heart pounding.
Every wand here had rejected him.
Which meant that the one meant for him was something beyond ordinary.
Something rare.
Something powerful.
He smiled faintly, eyes glinting in the dim light.