The young wizard's eyes seemed to light up like lamps.
Seeing that reaction, Ollivander did not hesitate. Following Dumbledore's instructions, he made a show of heading into the back room, while in reality simply pulling a wand at random from storage.
He was a little unconvinced, so the first time around he had not chosen with much care.
"Cypress wood, unicorn hair, not exactly the ideal combination... though since it's for someone brought by Dumbledore, it might at least serve as a precaution..."
Only after he had already taken it did Ollivander fully realize what he had picked up. Then again, that was why the old masters were old masters. Without changing expression, he wrapped the wand in a shabby old cloth, even dusted it twice beneath his bedframe for effect, and then brought it out wearing the solemn expression of someone presenting a treasure.
"This wand was the masterpiece of my great-great-great-grandfather. It took roughly two and a half years to complete. The core came from an extraordinarily legendary unicorn."
"And yes, the wood itself also came from an extraordinarily legendary cypress tree. When that tree fell, every animal within a mile heard it sigh."
Ollivander slowly unwrapped the rag in front of Iain.
He spoke with such vivid conviction that one might have thought he had personally witnessed the entire event from the womb onward.
"Hiss... The Ollivander family really is the greatest alternative prophet clan in the world. They possess some kind of idiot-proof technique for precisely predicting every young wizard's destiny."
Iain was awed by how clearly Ollivander could seem to recall events from so long ago. At the same time, his anticipation for this supposedly fated wand of his only grew stronger.
Legend plus legend. At minimum, his future achievements had to be legendary squared.
"Glory, power, supremacy, miracle... in short, I never imagined anyone could ever be chosen by it. A wizard as perfect as the one it was meant for ought never to have been born into this world."
Ollivander seemed to be running out of words, so he simply piled on values and adjectives until, like a man eager to finish the job, he thrust the wand into Iain's hand.
He had assumed that same strange resistance between person and wand would appear once more.
But it did not.
Iain extended his hand, and his fingers touched the wand.
In that instant, he heard nothing. And yet he seemed to feel it. Countless traces of magic gathered around him, lively and jubilant, as though they were tangible things in their own right.
Never in his life had the young wizard felt anything so clearly.
The wand was like some kind of amplifier for a wizard's senses. He could almost see the vast sea of magic inside his own body.
No refined language could possibly describe that kind of indescribable perception.
"Yes! Yes! They've been waiting for thousands upon thousands of years, and at last, I've arrived!"
That was Iain's first instinctive thought.
Whether he meant the wand or magic itself was difficult to say.
"This little monster..."
Ollivander could not help covering part of his face. But in the next second, that expression of I cannot hold this together anymore froze stiff, because the young wizard had already, quite instinctively, given the wand a casual flourish.
And then the phenomenon that marked the perfect union of wand and wizard, the first "agreement" between them, appeared.
Only it was not a burst of sparks.
Nor some invisible gust of wind.
It was a vast manifestation, a shimmering mirage-like vision trembling into existence.
"What? That works too!?"
Ollivander was still standing directly in front of Iain. His silver eyes flicked frantically across the unfolding vision, and his face held nothing now but the dazed collapse of worldview, values, and common sense.
"No, wait... This boy actually believes whatever story he's told, and once he believes it, he can actually twist reality to fit it!?"
At that moment, cold sweat burst from Ollivander's back. His face was full of horror. He no longer dared look at Dumbledore, because he had begun to suspect he had just discovered a terrifying secret of world-shaking magnitude.
Then came a rushing sound.
Countless silver-white threads poured from the wand, layer upon layer, like the strings of fate itself spreading outward, weaving a dreamlike mist around the young wizard.
Within that haze, scenes unfolded in wild, surging motion.
There were flickering figures.
There were roaring beasts.
And there was also... a world bent in submission beneath some eternal and arrogant throne.
"Hm?"
Iain stared at the image without blinking.
The scenes in the mist immediately reminded him of the dream world that surfaced from his subconscious every seven days. The ornamental style around that throne looked strikingly similar to the underground palace of his recurring dream.
"All things must bow before this iron law beyond magic..."
The young wizard could not help murmuring the translation Dumbledore had once given him.
"Magnificent."
Dumbledore, standing by the window, suddenly let out a quiet sigh of admiration.
Behind the half-moon spectacles, those pale blue eyes had narrowed into two fine slits.
No one could read what emotion lay inside them.
His gaze lingered on the throne longer than anywhere else. Even after the throne had completely vanished, his eyes remained fixed upon the place where the vision had been.
In truth, the phenomenon faded quickly, and the room returned to what it had been before: dark, old, and crowded with the weight of thousands of drawers and hundreds of years.
"I can feel it. This is my wand. It really was waiting for me. Only I am worthy of it. And only by following me can it attain glory, power, supremacy, miracle!"
Iain was wildly excited. It felt to him as though he had found something that was not just another doglike follower.
The young wizard who had only just learned he was the magical world's Dragon King was quite clearly still in the phase of severe internal inflation.
"????"
Ollivander had no idea how to respond. Using a level of reading comprehension entirely beyond his grasp, the boy had somehow reinterpreted the nonsense little story Ollivander had only told because he'd been instructed to.
Of course, Ollivander was not actually looking down on the young wizard's confidence. If anything, everything he had just witnessed, along with the strange vision that had appeared, suggested something deeply terrifying to him.
"I am certain you will be of great use in the future, and draw the gaze of all history."
There was a complicated note in Ollivander's voice.
He cast one more glance at Dumbledore. There seemed to be something peculiar about the current Headmaster of Hogwarts. He always managed to bring the magical world children capable of the impossible.
"Thank you for the blessing! I also hope I can be of great use. I intend to verify exactly why, while I walk among men, God can only remain in heaven!"
Now that he no longer wished to use Merlin as his point of comparison, Iain, being a modest child, was doing his best to refrain from casually blaspheming his ancestor.
"..."
Ollivander still had no idea how to continue this conversation. After letting out a soft sigh, he said quietly, "A wand reveals destiny. At present, I do not believe you can yet understand how it will guide you toward that splendor."
"Of course, I do not possess the ability to explain it fully to you. But this much I can tell you... the wizarding world, all wizardkind, has been waiting for that splendor for countless years."
Even as he said it, Ollivander hesitated and glanced toward the great white wizard, Dumbledore, only to find the old man's eyes lowered as though he had heard nothing at all.
Even so, Ollivander did not dare think or say more.
After accepting the seven Galleons, he watched as the old man led the young wizard out of his shop.
"May your studies be joyful, Your Highness."
All the questions he wanted to ask, all the things he wanted to say, in the end became only that single blessing.
And with the departing young wizard, they passed silently beyond the self-closing door.