~"Wands are only as powerful as the wizards who use them..."
— Hermione Granger
~
~ Corvus Black - POV ~
~ Ollivanders Wand Shop, Diagon Alley ~
"Ahem, while I am ecstatic and slightly worried to see that look of fascination and utter wonder upon your face, Mr. Ollivander, maybe you can elleviat my worries by explaining what just occurred?" I called out to the wandmaker after a minute of him staring at the two wandboxes that sat on the counter between him and I, ignoring everything else but the boxes.
"Ah, yes, of course, please forgive me Mr. Black, it was just quite an unexpected, surprising moment and more than just a little shocking. It was the first time I have seen something like this." The silver-eyed old man explained while still staring intently at the wandboxes, barely glancing up at me when I coughed to get his attention.
"No apologies necessary Mr. Ollivander as long as nothing has gone terribly wrong somehow, and please just call me Corvus." I responded with a charming smile when I had attention on me for a moment and continued. "You said that this is the first time you have seen something like this happen. Does that mean that this, whatever this is, is not completely unknown to you?"
"Ahem, yes, somewhat. Mind you that I've only read about this type of occurrence within some old family journals. Never would have thought I'd witness it myself to be completely honest with you." He says quickly and with some embarrassment.
"The wand chooses the wizard. That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore... If you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand." He continues after getting passed his embarrassment.
"Wandlore and the study of that connection between wand and wizard has been a grand and lengthy discussion and debated topic between all the wandmakers of the wizarding-world for ages now. But, one thing has always been universally accepted by wandmakers across the world, that the wand chooses the wizard." As he gets further into his explanation he rests his hands on the counter near the wandboxes, but pulls back slightly from them. As if catching himself before he ripped open a Christmas gift the night before Christmas.
"While it is typically the wandmakers job to find that connection between wand and wizard by going through the different combinations of wands, matching wood and magical core to the wavelength of a wizard or witches magic. Occasionally, rarely really, a wand will sense its perfect match before the wandmaker can even begin trying different combinations." He inhaled slowly and exhales through his nose as he looks from the boxes to me.
"I must admit though that this is the first time in my many years as a wandmaker that I have seen or even heard about two such wands choosing the same wizard or witch simultaneously. Not to mention their autonomous use of magic to fly themselves across the shop to said wizard upon just being in proximity to the witch or wizard." He takes another deep breath before fixing his silver eyes upon my face with a look of fascination and wonder.
"I guess that it just means that we should expect some great things from you in the future young Corvus. Great things indeed." He finishes with a chuckle that I half-heartedly return.
"I'll have to try my hardest not to disappoint those expectations then, won't I?" I answer back after a moment with brevity.
"I'll look forward to the day you do. For now shall we take a look at the two wands that have chosen you?" He asked rhetorically while lifting up the cover on the to his left.
Sitting snuggled with a crimsom velvet cushion is a pale, weathered bone shaped wand. The handle is sculpted to look like hooked fingers or skeletal joints wrapping around the shaft, giving it an unsettling, almost living appearance. Its ivory-white color contrasts with darker wands, making it immediately recognizable. The wand is long and elegant, tapering to a sharp point. The wand had an eerie resemblance to the wand of Lord Voldemort with only one glaring distinction, a band of silver with runic carvings at the hilt of the handle. Other than that it is almost an exact copy of Voldemorts wand.
"How fascinating, this seems to be one of my grandfather's later creations," Ollivander exclaimed as we got a good look at the wand before he picked it up. "Made from Yew, yew wands are among the rarer kinds, and their ideal matches are likewise unusual, and occasionally notorious. The wand of yew is reputed to endow its possessor with the power of life and death. Yew wood itself has long been associated in mythology with death, rebirth, longevity, and graveyards. According to the wandlore yew wands often choose exceptionally powerful, and sometimes infamous, witches and wizards."
It seems Ollivander truly does have an encyclopedic knowledge when it comes to wandlore, which isn't surprising when his family has been in the wandmaking business for millennia.
Ollivander holds up the pale bone shaped yew wand to his ear as if listening to it.
"The core is... a Phoenix feather. This was the rarest core type. Phoenix feather wands were capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer to reveal this. They showed the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards seem dislike. They were the most picky about potential owners, their allegiance was usually hard won and they were the most difficult to tame and personalise, a reflection of the independent and detached nature of the bird itself." Ollivander explained in wonder.
"Truly a one of a kind wand, I'll have to see if I can find something about it in my grandfather's journals later. It seems Mother Magic has favorites after all, wouldn't you say young Corvus." He jibes good humorously, while testing the flexibility of the wand. "Unyielding. This is a wand for a powerful wizard that has unshakable conviction. Let us hope those convictions don't lead you astray young man." He finishes assessing the wand with a hint of concern towards the end.
"No worries there Mr. Ollivander, I firmly lean more towards the grey then the black of my more 'eccentric' kin. Plus, I hold a certain disdain towards anything that allines me to the Dark Lord." I say, making Ollivander release a tension he probably didn't even realize he was holding onto since he recognized the shadow of the wand he sold to Tom Riddle.
"Ahem, I must be slipping in my old age if a child can read me so easily. Nevertheless, I appreciate your assurances young Corvus. Now let us take a look at the second wand... Merlins' beard!"
~
~ Platform 9 3\4, Kings Cross Station ~
~ September 1st, 1984 ~
The platform is alive with excitement, laughter, nervous first-years, and returning older students greeting friends after the summer holidays. Some parents and guardians rushing around to make sure that their children have all they need for the school year. Then there is the train itself.
The Hogwarts Express is a magnificent scarlet steam locomotive pulling a long line of matching passenger coaches. Despite the magical world having access to faster transportation, the train is maintained as a cherished Hogwarts tradition, giving students a chance to socialize before arriving at school.
"Come along Corvus, let us get you settled quickly." Arcturus calls out to me as I'm taking in the actual Hogwarts Express. That giddy feeling coming over me again, the same that I got when I received my Hogwarts acceptance letter.
"Coming grandfather." I call out as I quickly check on my shrunken luggage in my coat pocket while double checking on the two wand holsters strapped to both my arms. After making sure that its all secure I catch-up to Arcturus.
Hogwarts here I come.
~