Ollivander's eyes twinkled as he addressed Erwin. "Remember, Mr. Cavendish, the wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around. But you're quite right—this one isn't for you."
He retrieved another box from behind the counter and withdrew a slender wand. "Give this a try: cedar wood with a dragon heartstring core. I must admit, I'm not fond of dragon heartstring—it's notoriously unstable, full of quirks. Still, it pairs beautifully with cedar, suiting those with bold personalities and sharp wits."
Erwin gripped the wand and gave it a swish. A burst of flame erupted from the tip, streaking toward the ceiling. Dumbledore, standing nearby, snapped his fingers. The fire snuffed out instantly, but Erwin felt that familiar resistance humming through his arm.
Ollivander whisked the wand away, tucking it back into its box. "Not quite."
Erwin tested a few more, but the resistance persisted each time. Ollivander's brow furrowed. "What a demanding young wizard you are. In that case, there's only one option left."
Before Erwin could respond, the wandmaker darted to the back room. Erwin blinked, wondering at the old man's boundless energy.
Minutes later, Ollivander returned, dusted with grime on his shoulders and in his silver hair. He clutched a dusty wooden box. With a puff of breath, he scattered the dust—Erwin stepped back discreetly, wrinkling his nose.
From the box came a peculiar wand: thinner than most, gleaming silver like moonlight, with a handle wrapped in two bands of gold. It was exquisite.
"This," Ollivander said reverently, "is acacia wood, crafted by my grandfather. The core? A mystery, even to me. Acacia is rare—it bonds with only one master for life, rejecting all others. It chooses the truly gifted, unleashing devastating power in their hands. Grandfather didn't shape it much; the form emerged naturally when core and wood fused. Have a go."
Erwin's gaze locked on the wand. It was stunning, but more than that, a thrill stirred inside him, as if it whispered his name. He extended his hand, and the wand leaped into his grasp.
Ollivander's jaw dropped. The instant their cores connected, Erwin felt an extension of his own arm—seamless, alive. On instinct, he waved it.
Silver light poured from the tip, arcing across the shop. It danced over every shelf, and under Ollivander's wide-eyed stare, the boxes flew open. Wands rose into the air, hovering in a shimmering cloud. They quivered, as if paying homage to the silver wand in Erwin's hand—a grand procession, or perhaps a triumphant chorus.
Ollivander gasped. "Incredible! Utterly unprecedented!"
Outside in Diagon Alley, curious witches and wizards paused, drawn by the spectacle spilling from Ollivander's window. A crowd gathered, murmuring in awe.
Dumbledore's expression mirrored the surprise, though his was tempered with deeper intrigue. Even his own Elder Wand trembled faintly in his pocket. With a subtle flex of will, he quelled it. His eyes fixed on Erwin's wand. Acacia alone couldn't spark this; it had to be that enigmatic core.
The throng outside swelled. "Mr. Cavendish," Dumbledore urged calmly, "best put it away before we're mobbed."
Erwin glanced over and froze. Wizards pressed against the door and windows, peering in like spectators at a Quidditch final. No wonder his System had just chimed with a surge of wizarding acclaim.
He retracted his arm. The silver light faded, and the wands drifted obediently back to their boxes, as if the whole event had been a dream.
"Congratulations, Mr. Cavendish," Dumbledore said with a warm smile. "You've found a truly exceptional wand."
Erwin nodded, barely containing his grin as he admired it. The bond felt unbreakable, deeper than any lock. It carried a loyalty binding, far surpassing mere blood allegiance—no one else could wield it.
Ollivander still gaped. "In all my years, I've never witnessed the like. To think this old relic found its master today!"
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Erwin replied. "It was worth every moment. How much do I owe you?"
The wandmaker waved a hand. "No trouble at all—witnessing magic like that is payment enough. For this one? Ten Galleons will do."
Erwin agreed, and Old Tom, lingering behind him, handed over the coins without a word.
"Use it well, Mr. Cavendish," Ollivander added earnestly. "I sense its immense potential. I look forward to the day you bring glory to the Selwyn family!"
Erwin chuckled. "I won't disappoint."
Ollivander fetched a larger box from the counter. "A gift from me: a wand care kit, plus this handy holster. Strap it to your arm, flick the catch, and it'll slide into your hand when you need it."
Erwin accepted it gratefully. "Brilliant—that sorts out a real headache for me."
"It's my pleasure," Ollivander said, beaming. "An honor to serve a promising young wizard like you."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Well, that's one item down. We should move on—textbooks next, for your first year. Flourish and Blotts is the place to go, and time's slipping away."
Erwin nodded, offering Ollivander a final wave. With Dumbledore leading, they stepped out into the bustling alley, the crowd parting with excited whispers.