New chapter! Thanks for all the support!
x
The boy ran out of the shop in tears, shouting as he went:
"Don't think this is over! I'm telling my father!"
He didn't even know Dudley's name.
At St. George's, Dudley's name alone had reduced students to tears — and that wasn't an exaggeration, it was an established fact.
Perhaps, to the boy's ears, the phrase "Hello, nice to meet you" had sounded more like:
"Hello, may I sample the seasoning of your brain?"
The pressure Dudley exerted at close range was something only those who experienced it could truly understand.
"My goodness, what happened here?" Madam Malkin asked in confusion, hurrying inside after seeing young Malfoy run out crying.
"Nothing at all, ma'am," Dudley replied calmly.
She still looked suspicious, but she had no time to investigate. The shop was filled with new students.
Hermione nudged Dudley in the side.
"Next time, try not to intimidate people."
"I didn't intimidate anyone," he answered innocently. "I simply greeted him politely."
Hermione fell silent. Technically, that was true.
But "polite" was definitely not the appropriate word.
"I am an extremely refined and composed person," Dudley added.
Hermione and Harry thought the exact same thing:
'We need to redefine the meaning of "refined and composed."'
She remembered what had happened at their school in Oxford. At first, everyone thought Dudley was easy to provoke… until a group of bullies learned the hard way.
It had been brutal.
"You won't be able to act like that at Hogwarts," Hermione muttered.
"I know, I know," Dudley said with a nod. "I'll get along wonderfully with my future classmates."
Soon enough, the uniforms were ready.
Their next stop was the wand shop.
Harry and Hermione were brimming with excitement. Hermione, especially, hadn't stopped talking since discovering she was a witch.
To them, the wand was the ultimate symbol of magic.
Dudley, on the other hand, remained carefully composed.
…
Ollivanders – Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
The shop was narrow and ancient. Unlike the other establishments, it did not appear to have been magically expanded.
Thousands of narrow boxes filled the shelves, and a small bell chimed as they entered.
"Good afternoon, children."
A soft voice echoed.
An elderly man emerged from behind the counter, his silvery eyes gleaming beneath the dim candlelight.
The moment he saw Harry, his attention locked entirely onto him.
"I knew I would see you soon, Mr. Potter. Your eyes are just like your mother's. She purchased her first wand here. Ten and a quarter inches, willow, supple, excellent for charm work."
Hermione nudged Dudley.
"Is your cousin well known?"
"Far more than you can imagine," he murmured.
As they spoke, Ollivander began measuring Harry's arm.
"Beech and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Give it a try."
Harry barely flicked it.
"No… no, no…" Ollivander muttered as he swapped wands.
Several attempts followed until—
"Holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches."
When Harry gave it a wave, a red spark flared through the air.
It was perfect.
The old man said something else to Harry afterward, but Dudley paid little attention. He already knew what it must be about.
Next came Hermione's turn.
She found hers quickly.
"Vine, dragon heartstring, ten and three-quarters."
A soft rainbow shimmered when she lifted it.
Then only Dudley remained.
Ollivander studied him for a long moment.
"Let's try this one. Maple, phoenix feather, seven inches."
Nothing happened.
"Ebony, unicorn hair, eight and a half."
Still nothing.
"Hawthorn, unicorn hair, ten inches."
Nothing again.
"Willow, unicorn hair, fourteen inches."
Nothing.
The silence grew heavy.
Ollivander's brow furrowed deeply.
It was as though a Muggle were waving a random branch.
Hermione began to wonder whether her own selection had been too quick.
Dudley finally understood.
He returned the wand to the counter and reached up, pulling a random box from the shelf.
"I think this one is calling to me. Didn't you say the wand chooses the wizard? Well then, I'll take this one."
Without leaving room for objection, he placed twenty-one Galleons on the counter, grabbed Harry and Hermione by the arms, and hurried out.
Ollivander did not stop them.
He simply watched the door close.
"Ironwood… thestral feather… nine inches."
He sighed.
"The wood is far too rigid. The feather far too unstable. Of all the wands I have ever crafted… that one was the most flawed."
He paused.
"Instead of a wand… it is more like a dagger."
x
x
x
If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to add it to your library and drop some Power Stones.
Your support really helps the novel grow!