The Early Years 6

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When we’d entered Gringotts, I’d been distracted by the walls, the door, the goblins… well everything really. Thus, I’d not paid much attention to the street we’d been on. Yet, as we exited the bank, and the sun shone down on us as Arcturus took the first step toward the street, I almost stumbled as I took everything in.

I mean, I’d been here once before as a child, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was. The street was nothing like how it was described in the books, nor anything like the movies.

Instead of the narrow, busy alley that I’d expected, what greeted my sight was a wide thoroughfare. The street – calling it an alley would be an insult – was paved with dark marble to the side with a lighter marble in the middle. Brightly lit stores lined each side of the alley as wizards and witches moved around. In the windows of one store, I saw some sort of magical animal – a lizard though I couldn’t tell what breed – moving around, almost stalking those passing by. On the other side of the alley, miniature images of people on brooms raced around in the air, exploding in a kaleidoscope of colours that instantly drew one’s attention. Yet only a moment later my eyes drifted lower, seeing the road, which was made of marble so highly polished – and likely kept that through magic – I could see my reflection in each tile.

Patterns moved and flowed in the marble, and as I stepped down I saw that not only were faint ripples of colours shifting around in front of those walking on the darker marble, but the lighter marble showed images, that were, from the words I was catching as my eyes danced around in amazement, advertisements for various shops.

“Have you not visited Diagon Alley before?”

I looked up at Arcturus, and catching the slight frown on his face hastily came up with a reason for my amazement. “Yes, and no. I’ve been before, but my mother always carried me, so I never saw the ground. It’s… incredible.”

A small smile bled through to Arcturus’ face. “The enchantments on the alley’s floor are but a hint of the wonders of what magic can do.” He moved to one spot on the alley, away from the general hustle and bustle – though it wasn’t anywhere near as busy as I’d expect for late morning – and pulled his wand from a hidden holster.

After moving it around, a pane of glass appeared between me and the marble tiles. No, it was a mirror as the tiles were now larger and clearer to see. At the edges of each, I saw faint inscriptions; ones that I remembered seeing in books in my family’s library as I’d studied under the watchful gaze of my ancestors. “Runes?”

“Yes. Each tile is inscribed with a fairly common, though slightly complex, rune system that links to those around it.” He moved his wand and twirled it over the mirror, bringing the edge of one tile into clearer sight. “Tell me, can you understand any of this?”

I moved closer to the conjured mirror and examined the runes. He wasn’t kidding when he said the system was complex as, initially, it looked little more than a collection of scribbles and scratches. Yet, as I looked closer, I saw several started to become clearer. “Raido,” I muttered half-pointing at one section of the system, “Ehwaz, Gebo, Ansuz.” Those were four basic Elder Futhark runes that meant travel, friendship/travel, gifts, and communication respectfully.

“Impressive.” I looked up at Arcturus as he swished his wand and the mirror vanished. “While magical children are taught runes from eight, few are able to detect even a single rune in such a system until they’ve started Hogwarts. Let alone four.”

“There’s more than four, but those are the ones which repeat the most.” That turned the hint of a smile into a genuine one, though it only lasted a moment before he schooled his features.

“Indeed. It seems you may have some skill with runes, which is no doubt due to your family’s magical speciality.” My brow creased, wondering how he knew of Fleshcrafting, or if, perhaps, he just thought that runic arrays and systems were what the MacLeods were known for.

Sadly, instead of explaining his meaning, he turned and looked one way down the street. “If you are unsure of where you are going, simply name the shop you wish to visit, and the street will guide you. Show me Ollivander’s Wands: Lord’s Private Room.”

I watched as the tiles in front of us glowed faintly. Then, an image rose from the tiles. The banner that formed showed the sign for Ollivander’s along with the tagline ‘Makers of fine wands since 382BC’. There were other words under that, but I couldn’t make out what they said.

“Every display has that blurred section, for those of us with true status, however, it becomes clearer.” Arcturus looked back at me over my shoulder, though as he did, I saw his wand move subtly. “Use the words I did, and don’t worry about being overheard. I have cast a small muffling charm to prevent others from eavesdropping.”

“Show me Ollivander’s Wands: Lord’s Private Room.”

I watched as the tiles shifted in front of me, and the banner rose, though my eyes were drawn to the bit just below the banner, as this time it wasn’t blurred. ‘Ollivander has been informed of your request for a private audience, Chief MacLeod’. Even as I stared at the floating text, a faint purple glow overtook the tiles, leading down the alley toward, I assumed, Ollivander’s. When I looked up at Arcturus, my shock must’ve been highly visible as his lips once more twitched into a short smile.

“The magic of the street is tied to Gringotts’ recognition of your status. If you had tried that before we confirmed your position, the text would’ve stated you weren’t able to request such a meeting. And before you grow concerned, the magic of a Lord’s private room, in shops that have such a thing, prevents the owner from speaking to any bar the lord they meet about what is discussed in the room; and only when they are once more in said room. An owner, many centuries ago, once tried to use what he learnt from private meetings. He, his shop, and his immediate family were… removed by the magic inherent in the alley.”

“That’s… effective.” Horrible might be a better word to think that oaths could be so efficient in enforcing their intent, but I suspected Arcturus would consider me saying horrible to be a sign of weakness.

“Indeed, it is. Now, since you can see the path, perhaps you might lead us there.”

I nodded at him and moved forward, marvelling at how the faint violet light stayed a tile ahead of me. This was incredible, as it would help me find any store I wanted, though something told me that if I ever wished to visit a store on Knockturn Alley, the magic might only extend to the alley’s entrance.

With my excitement at getting a wand slowly growing, and encompassing all else, I followed the violet path laid out for me, though not too fast as I didn’t want to seem childish to Arcturus.

… …

It took about ten minutes for us to reach Ollivander’s, though about half of that was me getting distracted by the magic in shop windows, or in two cases, by advertisements for other shops. Both those shops revolved around books, and Arcturus after I stopped at the second advert – this one for Obscurus Books – promised that, provided we weren’t delayed with Ollivander for too long, would take me there before we left. While that was certainly something to look forward to, catching sight of Ollivander’s drew my attention back to the moment.

Yet, as we approached, the purple path laid out by the marble tiles moved away from the main door, toward a small building next to it. This building wasn’t marked with any sign, and at first glance, I was sure I’d ignore it entirely while passing the main door to Ollivander’s.

I turned back to Arcturus and frowned, which judging by the mirth in his eyes, he expected and was amused by. “If all knew where a Lord ventured to gain his wand, all would want to enter.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. Though others can gain a custom wand, only the heads of families of at least Established rank can gain one without permission of the Chief Warlock and Head of Magical Law Enforcement. At least from a registered shop with access to officially licensed components.”

I nodded, understanding what he was saying without doing so. I’d expect senior Aurors all had second, custom wands which were legal, while many others would also have one – at least – though the quality would be lacking. Assuming that every possible opponent once I was older had a second wand would make things difficult. Especially, if, as I suspected, they had them holstered, disillusioned, and protected from summoning.

Arcturus stepped in front of me and moved toward the nondescript door. “Come along.”

I followed behind, though I almost stumbled as, once we were but two tiles from the entrance, and off the main thoroughfare of Diagon Alley, the door shifted. Gone was a simple, unassuming door of darkened wood, and in its place was a door of highly polished dark wood. Inlaid in the door with shimmering silver were the words ‘Ollivander’s Wands for Lordly Pleasure’. Near the handle, which was carved from a shining white wood, hung a sign: ‘Entrance is only allowed with an appointment. Do not attempt entry otherwise.’

Arcturus paused a tile from the door. “Lord Black and The MacLeod for a private viewing’.”

I watched in wonder as the letters on the sign flowed like quicksilver, shifting into a new phrase. ‘Lord Ollivander will be with you shortly, my Lords.’ Before I could wonder how that enhancement worked, the door clicked and then swung open without a sound. Arcturus stepped forward and as he passed through the frame, shimmered out of sight.

I paused, shocked at what I’d just seen before realising it must be an enchantment to hide what was inside while the door was open. I glanced back at the street and watched as several people walked past, though none seemed to see me. Hell, one was even looking toward the main entrance of Ollivander’s yet seemed unable to focus upon me.

“Magic fucking rocks,” I muttered before moving after Arcturus.

As my foot pierced the boundary of the frame, an eerie tremor surged through my being, an arcane force cascading upon me. It caressed my flesh with tingling tendrils of power, while the torc clandestinely enshrouded upon my form experienced a tender surge of heat. The enigmatic essence of the frame's magic momentarily embraced me, yet in relentless pursuit, I pressed forward, my journey unabated. “Fuck me,” I muttered as what was beyond the frame come into view.

The room exceeded my expectations, its true size defying the unassuming exterior, being nearly double the size of my bedroom. A polished, dark-red wood floor stretched beneath, accentuated by a substantial carpet adorned with captivating, animated imagery. At the heart of it all, a counter of the same deep-red hue stood resolute, flanked by shelves reaching a towering ten meters. These shelves were lined with countless enigmatic boxes, beckoning curiosity and inviting exploration.

I took a step toward the counter, wanting to see what was behind, only for Arcturus to place an arm in my path. “You will see what is there soon. For now, we must wait until Lord Ollivander arrives.” He gestured to my right, and I saw four chairs waiting. Each was large and made of dark hardwood with intricate carvings in the wooden frame and a deep blue cushion set into the seat and back. “And later we shall discuss your lack of decorum,” he added as he moved to the chairs.

I grumbled in understanding that at least one of my recent comments had reached his ears. One thing he’d made abundantly clear in our lessons on manners was that swearing was highly uncouth, and not something a noble-raised child should do around elders; and certainly not in the company of Lords and Ladies of the Great Houses of the Wizengamot.

My concerns about my forthcoming revision on manners faded from my thoughts as I slid into a chair next to Arcturus. “Ah,” I sighed contently as I felt myself sink into the cushions, a gentle, relaxing warmth spreading through my body.

Before I could ask about the chairs, part of the wall on the far side of the counter shimmered, and through it walked a man. He looked older than Arcturus, with silver hair pulled back into a simple tail that was held in place by a strap of red fabric. On his nose rested a set of very old-fashioned glasses that should’ve fallen the moment he moved, yet didn’t, which I had to assume was because of magic. The man carried himself with grace, yet his clothing was far from the finery that Arcturus wore, though it still appeared more expensive than the clothes I wore; which wasn’t a huge surprise as while my clothing was made from fine cotton, clothing for growing children wasn’t made as delicately as the expansion charms to allow them to last longer while their wearer grew decayed finer material like silk.

“Ah, Lord Black, a pleasure to see you once again,” the man began as Arcturus stood. “I do hope nothing has happened to your wand. Black walnut with a chimaera heartstring core bound in orichalcum and capped with an emerald, if I recall correctly?”

Arcturus lowered his head and pulled a wand from up his sleeve. “You do, and it has yet to be anything less than a perfect partner for me.” That wasn’t the wand I’d seen him using around Dunscaith Castle, the Black Estate or today in Diagon Alley and Gringotts. No, this one looked far more ornamental. The dark wood was inlaid with gold-looking streaks of metal weaving sinuously through the wood while the end held an emerald as if it was a pommel of a sword. While Arcturus’ other wand looked nice, this one made it look like a toy to be scrapped. That had been the wand of a wizard, the one he wielded now was that of a Lord.

The man’s gaze turned to me, and his eyes narrowed. He leaned forward and as tapped his glasses; I felt a wave of magic wash over me. “Hmm, this isn’t a Black. At least not one of your line, Lord Black. His magic… I sense.” The man paused and looked at Arcturus. “A MacLeod?”

I frowned, wondering how he could sense that so easily even as Arcturus nodded. “Not just a MacLeod.” He gave me an expectant stare.

Understanding, I lifted my arm and willed the torc to appear. The old man inhaled sharply before leaning forward further, almost as if he was bodysurfing on the counter. “If I might ask, Chief MacLeod, how old are you?”

“Seven, sir,” I replied slowly.

The man tapped his glasses twice, and I felt magic wash over me again, though this was something different. It prodded at me, at the magic that flowed in my veins and even as I tried to push the probes away, I felt the torc warn and when I looked down at it, I saw it glow gently, taking on a dark, threatening green. The man stumbled back, pushed away by some unseen force and I felt the air grow thick around me as the torc pulsed dangerously, and his face rippled with surprise.

The man waved a hand and the pressure I’d felt, one that I knew would kill me if I wasn’t careful, vanished between the ticks of a clock. “Forgive my actions, Chief MacLeod. I was… overcome with curiosity at meeting such a young lord.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

I looked back at the man even as Arcturus watched us quietly. “You are forgiven, though it seems you have me at a disadvantage, Mister…”

The man laughed gently. “Ollivander, Lord Gervaise Ollivander.” He lifted a hand and a bronze ring appeared, one bearing a sigil inlaid upon a sapphire that looked like three wands forming a triangle. He lowered the hand and the ring vanished even as he turned to Arcturus. “I admit, when the request for a private viewing came in from The MacLeod, I thought perhaps something was amiss. I see now it is not. At least not in any improper manner.” Ollivander turned back to me. “Your father was Aonghus?” I nodded. “Hmm, I know only of his heir, Tamhas, so it seems you now have me at a disadvantage Chief MacLeod,” he finished with an amused smirk.

“Dòmhnall, Lord Ollivander. An honour to meet you.” I extended my arm and then as he returned the gesture, grasped his forearm. I willed the magic in me outward, letting it greet his magic, showing my respect for his position and title as Arcturus had instructed me to do.

“Likewise Chief MacLeod, though within this room, all are free to call me Gervaise provided their intentions are pure.” I nodded in understanding as we released each other’s arms. “You are well taught for a spare. Lord Black’s doing?”

“Yes. He and Lady Black have been preparing me for the role I now hold.”

Ollivander nodded and then his face turned solemn. “My condolences for what happened to your family this past summer. That a group would strike at so many families of note is a crime against magic itself.”

“Thank you, Lo… Gervaise. What happened haunts my sleep nightly and I won't stop until I find out who did it and make sure they get what they deserve.

Ollivander chuckled. “Now I see Anoghus in you.” He looked at Arcturus once again. “The Wizengamot is aware of his presence?”

“Gringotts is, and proof of his lineage has been secured.” He pulled a roll of parchment from his robes, one bearing the seal of the goblin bank. “However, before the Wizengamot is made aware of his title, there is one matter of importance that he requires. Otherwise…”

“… they might not accept him, and place his life in danger from line theft by a cadet branch,” Ollivander finished, which earned a nod from Arcturus. I’d been informed that while my uncle – the one who’d tried to enter the castle ever since the attack, though I still wasn’t sure which uncle it was – was unlikely to have been behind the attack on my family, he could potentially challenge for my title. Without a wand to help confirm my status before the Wizengamot, I’d be defenceless if he chose to challenge me for the title of The MacLeod. Hence why we were here today.

Ollivander moved along the counter, away from us. “Normally, I wouldn’t permit this, you are far too young, not even having entered Hogwarts.” He tapped a section of the counter and it vanished. “However, you bear the regalia that marks out The MacLeod, and to confirm that for those… slower-minded individuals in the Wizengamot, you require a wand. Therefore, it will have to be a Lordly one.” He smiled and moved to unblock the new gap in the counter. “Now come. It is time to choose what will be combined into your wand.”

I moved forward slowly, curious how this would work. From what the books and movies suggested, he was meant to bring wands to me to try, yet Arcturus had said the process for a Lord’s wand was different; that the wizard was much more involved than the wand simply choosing them.

“Come, come,” Ollivander waved me through the counter and guided me to the shelves. He paused and looked from me to Arcturus, a wide smile spreading over his face. “This may be the first time I’ve done this for one before they gained their first wand. How refreshing.” Arcturus didn’t respond even as Ollivander looked down at me. “Give me but a moment as the normal speech I would use would only confuse you.”

I nodded and waited as he looked at the shelves for a moment.

“When you come to gain a wand for Hogwarts, or another school within these isles or beyond, you are told that guided by magic, the wand chooses the wizard.” He paused as his smile grew, and he glanced toward where he’d come from. “My son enjoys saying that more than I, but he is young and not yet numb to repeating the speech for hundreds of children each year.” He shook his and then turned back to me. “However, for those of title, power or the right connections, in this store, it is different. The wizard brings into being the wand. How perhaps, do you think one might do that?”

I stared at the shelves, deep in thought. "Um, maybe the answer is that we somehow feel which wand is meant for us," I said, trying to figure it out. "I've seen Lord Black's wand, and it's not like any ordinary wand." I turned to Arcturus, observing the elegant wand in his hand. He nodded, giving me a reassuring look.

"It's got more than just wood and a core, there's metal and a jewel and there are four rows of shelves," I explained, turning back to Ollivander. "So, maybe I'm supposed to pick the parts that will create my wand?"

Ollivander stared at me for a moment before laughter that reminded me of a dog filled the room. “Yes! Bravo!” He looked at Arcturus. “He is a bright young one.”

“He is indeed, though after what he has endured, he has been forced to mature before his time.”

That cut Ollivander’s laughter off at the root and forced the smile from his face. “Yes, yes.” He shook his head and sighed. “They say a man is forged in fire, but no child should be denied their childhood nor see what you have no doubt seen.” A smile returned to his face, though it lacked any humour. “You are right to say you choose the components of your new wand, though to do so you must draw upon your magic and extend it over the room.”

“How?” Arcturus had spoken of being able to do this, and how learning to do and meditating with my magic would help me reach my full potential. However, I hadn’t been able to draw on it yet, though the lessons had only been going on regarding that for a few weeks and he had explained that it wasn’t something explained or encouraged to take place until one reached Hogwarts.

“You remember earlier when you reacted – rather bluntly – to magic shifting around you, and I stumbled back?” I nodded. “That was you doing so. And while there was more power than I expected from a child,” his eyes shifted to Arcturus for a second, “it lacked the refinement and finesse an adult would possess.” He closed his eyes, and I shuddered, feeling the magic in the air around me shift. It grew… warmer, reminding me of the feeling of entering a forest on an early spring morning.

The feeling ended and Ollivander opened his eyes. “That is how you will find the components of your wand.” He stepped back, moving toward the opening in the counter. “Normally, a wizard or witch will take between ten and thirty minutes to find their components. However, the process can take far longer, and with your age and lack of training, I would be surprised if this came quickly or easily.” He moved over to Arcturus, settling into a free chair. “Just take your time, close your eyes, feel the magic within you, and then slowly, as if exhaling the first breath after a long slumber, release it into the air.”

I did as he asked and closed my eyes. Yet I felt nothing. No matter how I slowed my breathing as Arcturus had shown me, nor tried to look inside me, I couldn’t feel anything.

“Easy there, lad. Relax. Take your time and…” Ollivander chuckled. “Have you ever done accidental magic?” I nodded. “Anything you remember?” I frowned which he must’ve seen as he chuckled. “You’re a strong one, lad. I'd be shocked if you hadn't.” I nodded as I remembered quite clearly what happened at the orphanage. “Good, then focus on that, on how you think it worked and how it made you feel.”

I nodded and brought images forth from when that happened, frowning as I felt a spark of anger ignite once more. Slowly, in the darkness of my thoughts, I saw something move. A faint spark of something. In the recesses of my mind, I raced toward that spark, only for it to move toward me. Flames raced around me, sparks of purple dancing ominously within the white-hot swirls of fire that moved around me as if alive.

I stood amidst the engulfing inferno; my breath caught in awe as the searing flames caressed my outstretched arms. Astonishingly, the scorching touch failed to elicit pain; instead, an exhilarating surge of power surged through my veins, as though a profound metamorphosis was taking place within me, transcending the very essence of my being. The flickering sparks, imbued with an unmistakable purpose, danced gracefully across my skin, yet left no lasting marks, transforming the hairs on my arms into a mesmerizing, iridescent hue akin to the shimmer of violet lightning. As the enigmatic white fire coursed through the channels of my limbs, it bestowed upon me a warmth so unfamiliar, yet so enlivening.

Suddenly though, I gasped. From where the flames and sparks had come, I sensed something moving, shifting in my mind's deepest, darkest recesses. In the murkiness, I sensed something moving, sliding around, holding at the very edges of my senses, yet inevitably moving closer. I reached out, feeling an instinctual connection to whatever was moving in the darkness.

“Remember, once you can feel your magic, push out slowly with it.” Ollivander’s voice drew me away from what was moving in the recesses of my mind and when he finished speaking whatever had been there was now gone.

“How do I do that?”

“Your magic is yours to command. It obeys you and bends to your will.” Arcturus cut in, reciting the same words he’d said each time I’d tried to touch my magic during our lessons. “Think of it as a tap and slow…”

I gasped as I felt my magic rush from me, surging outward and slamming into everything. Around me I felt things react, some well, others violently. Panicking that I’d gone too far, I reacted and tried to pull the magic back to me, but that only made it worse. I felt the magic in me flood outward, overwhelming me, surging so rapidly that nothing else came to mind, that I couldn’t even…

“AH!” I gasped loudly as I felt two strong thrusts against my magic, driving it back, back into me.

“Relax Dòmhnall. You command magic. It does not command you.” Arcturus’ words cut through the otherworldly sensations burning all over my skin and throughout my body as my magic was aggressively forced back. “Rein the surge in, temper it, control it.” As he spoke, I felt the two thrusts draw closer and I realised one was familiar. It was Arcturus’ magic as I’d felt it often enough in our sessions. The other had to be Ollivander’s.

Taking the words to heart, I imagined grasping the tendrils of magic that surged from my body, fighting against the demands being placed on it by the two other wizards. The tendrils struggled to slip from my grasp, wanting to escape, to be free, yet they were a part of me. Without me, they were nothing.

Slowly, painfully, I held the tendrils and dragged them back within. Only once I felt them return and settle once more, did I risk opening my eyes. The sight that greeted me was a disaster.

The chairs were shattered, the legs and backs thrown all over the place while the shelves were tipped over, and the woods, stones, gems and other objects – some of which seemed to be glowing – covered the floor so much that not a hint of the wood could be seen.

“I… I’m sorry” I mumbled, shocked at the chaos I’d unleashed.

“No, no. The fault was mine for not guiding you better,” Ollivander said. As I turned to face him, and saw he appeared unperturbed by the chaos around him, a slight shimmer dying from around him, he flicked his wand. I watched as the pieces of the chairs moved, carried by magic to re-join together until the four chairs looked brand-new and untouched by my magic’s lashing out. He flicked his wand again and the shelves groaned, righting themselves.

“Dòmhnall,” Arcturus began, drawing my attention to him as he approached. “You touched your magic, and with that, I am impressed. However, the… unhabituated nature of its release was unbecoming of your house, to say nothing of your status as Chief.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh nonsense,” Ollivander cut in before Arcturus could continue. “Yes, he made a mess, but can you say you didn’t do the same when you were his age? Or older?” Ollivander moved toward me, his wand still pointing at the shelves as I heard things moving behind me. “You have great power within you, young Dòmhnall. Great power indeed. However, as you’ve realised, you’ve yet to learn how to control it. How to harness and shape it to your wishes.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Now, try again, but this time, only allow the tiniest sliver of that power to slip out.” As he spoke he turned me until I once more faced the shelves, letting me see everything was back in place.

I closed my eyes and once more reached out for the magic within me. It took a few moments, but I soon found it and gasped as once more flames of white with dancing strands of purple sparks rushed toward and into me.

“Good, good. I can sense you’ve found it. Now, slowly, carefully, allow the faintest sliver of it to pulse from you.”

In my mind, I reached out with my hand, marvelling at the shifting flames racing through it, and cautiously pushed against it. I clenched my fist bar my index finger and demanded some of my magic leave under via the finger while fighting to prevent the flames swirling in my fist from joining in.

“There, that’s it. Now, a little more.”

I extended another finger, and then another, slowly allowing more magic to flow from me. As I did, I felt… tingles from somewhere around me. No, in front of me.

“A fraction more.” I extended my pinkie, keeping only my thumb clenched tight against my palm. “There. Perfect. Now, at the very edges of your thoughts, you can sense other things?” I nodded. “That is the magic in the objects used to make wands. All of them will resonate with your magic, though in vastly diverse ways. Some might push back, or even explode as you near. Those elements will not work for you. What you need to find, no matter how long it takes, are those that not only welcome your touch but seem to grow stronger the nearer you move. As if your magic and that inherent in them is empowering each other.” I felt a gentle push on my back. “Now go, walk toward the shelves, but keep your eyes closed. Trust your magic to guide you to those components that resonate best with your magic.”

I moved forward slowly, unsure of where I was going. I knew where the shelves were, but that was it. Yet, after taking my first tentative step, I felt the first reaction to my magic at the edge of my thoughts. I pushed my magic toward it gently, only to recoil as whatever was there seemed to snarl and snap back at me like a rabid dog.

“As I said, most components won’t resonate with you,” Ollivander offered after a brief laugh at my expense. “Don’t be put off by your first attempt being unsuccessful. You may have a thousand such moments before finding your first match.”

That was both encouraging and disheartening as if as he said I only had a one-in-a-thousand chance of finding a part for my wand, this could take hours. Still, there was no way I wasn’t going to leave this shop with my wand. Or at least the components for it selected.

After a dozen more rejections, all of them violent, I felt a reaction that didn’t lash out. I moved closer, wondering if this might be the one, yet as I did, the source I was sensing vibrated rapidly, and I took a step back.

“There. That one wasn’t a match, but it was close. Search around it, find the ones nearby that react better and focus on them, hone in until you find one that comes willingly to you.”

I ignored the almost sensual way Ollivander spoke and did as he asked. A dozen sources were near the one that had rejected me more gently than anything before, but each vibrated aggressively when I focused upon them. All save the last. It still vibrated, yet it was gentler. Still a rejection, but one that had me hoping I was close to finding my first component.

Over a hundred more attempts passed, and with each meeting with slightly less rejection than the one before it, I was rapidly getting more excited.

And finally, on what was the one hundred and forty-seventh attempt, I reached out for a source. As my magic closed on the source, I felt myself being pulled inward, drawn towards it. My heart raced as I pushed more magic into the probe, and it raced faster still when the source accepted and drew in my probe.

I blinked as I felt my fingers brush against something and opened my eyes. in my hand was a block of wood. It was reddish-brown with a knot about a third of the way along.

“Hmm, fir, an interesting choice.” I almost jumped at Ollivander’s voice, not having realised he was beside me.

“A wood that favours survivors and those with a leaning toward Transfiguration. If you are indecisive, the wood will not obey, yet in the hands of one strong of heart, character and conviction, there are few wands more dependable and powerful.” His hand came out toward the wood. “Here. Now we have one component of your wand, but others remain. Continue.”

I let him take the short branch of wood from me and closed my eyes again. My hopes of finding what I needed renewing with my first success. I turned, planning to move toward the next shelf, assuming they contained the cores, metals and gems that I’d need. Or that I’d thought I’d need going by Arcturus’ wand. Yet as I reached out with my magic once more I felt another source resonate nearby and moved deeper into the shelves filled with wand woods as if in a trance.

Nearly a hundred attempts later, I felt another acceptance of my magic. Though where the fir had accepted my touch, drawing me in, this wood seemed to challenge me. As if demanding I prove myself. For a moment, I thought perhaps I’d made a mistake, yet when I accepted the challenge, it allowed my touch, and I felt a surge of strength rush through my bones. When I opened my hand, I found a deep ebony wood in my hand that seemed to suck in the light around it.

“Hmm, a second wood, and blackthorn at that. While unusual to have two woods wish to work with you, it’s not unheard of. Blackthorn is a wood suited to one with conviction, and a willingness to see it through. To fight and, if needed, die for a cause they believe in. However, before it truly yields a wizard needs to bond with it through hardship.”

“Can two woods merge?” I asked, curious about how it would work even as I handed him the wood.

Ollivander smiled. “It depends on the woods selected and how balanced the blend will be. Often one wood has more of a resonance with the wizard than the other. Occasionally, the two woods simply cannot accept each other. However, for you, I feel they will complement each other.” I smiled at hearing that before he gave me a gentle tap on my shoulder. “Now go. While I doubt you’ll find another wood to add, you still have a core, focus and channelling metal to discover.”

I turned a smile on my face, and closed my eyes, wondering just what the other components would be.

… …

About thirty minutes later – which was far quicker than I’d expected when I’d first started searching for components that accepted me – I was standing beside Arcturus on the other side of the counter. Ollivander was across from us and between us on the counter were the components of my wand.

Joining the woods, was the primary feather of a thunderbird, deep grey like a storm and arcing with small bits of lightning, a shimmering silver ingot of mithril – which was a shock to discover existed – and, the biggest surprise, a black opal. I knew from my former life that such a gem was rare as fuck.

Still, for all its rarity, I knew there was more to the opal than just that. While it was mainly black as I’d expect, inside, almost as if caught at a moment of an intricate dance, streaks, swirls and sparks of red, purple, orange, white and green existed. Ever since I’d found it, I’d struggled to keep my thoughts on much more, with even the shock of discovering mithril, the last component I’d found, doing little to divert my attention.

“Well, this was unexpected,” Ollivander said, breaking the silence. I reluctantly looked away from the opal at the wandmaker as he smiled. “Yet this will be something special once made.”

“Yes,” Arcturus agreed. “From what little I know of wandlore, two kinds of wood in a wand is rare enough, but mithril and an opal… Have you ever constructed such a wand?”

Ollivander stroked his chin. “Personally, no, but I recall my grandfather speaking of one such wand, though the woods differed, and I do believe it was basilisk heartstrings for the core and bound in hihi'irokane.” He chuckled as his hand moved from his chin. “Still, this will be a masterpiece once completed. However, it will be expensive; even compared to your wand, Lord Black.”

“I would expect nothing less given the materials. However, we require the wand within three days due to the opening of the Wizengamot.”

Ollivander nodded. “Yes, I had expected as such. Though that will include a premium.” I gulped, wondering just how much this wand was going to cost. The components alone were rare, and now it was to be rushed. Ollivander chuckled. “Just because I will need to focus on your wand, don’t doubt its quality.” He looked back at Arcturus. “Will you be paying, or will the young chief?”

“Gringotts cannot grant him access to the main family vaults until the Wizengamot accepts him. As you well know. Therefore, I shall be bearing the cost with a promise to have it repaid at the first opportunity.” I nodded, accepting that.

It hadn’t occurred to me until now that, even though Ranlor had mentioned there were at least four million Galleons in the MacLeod vaults, he hadn’t given me a way to access them. Hell, because I wasn’t even a student at Hogwarts yet, my parents hadn’t yet created a vault for me to draw from. Thus, I was stuck relying on Arcturus’ help to purchase anything. Something, now that I thought about it, he no doubt planned to use to further ingratiate himself with me. And something I’d have done in his place.

“Including base price, the value of components and the hurried nature of the wand, I’d say nine hundred Galleons should cover it.” I felt my jaw fall open. Harry’s wand, which admittedly had come from the main shop and only had a single wood and core, had cost seven Galleons. The wand I was about to have made was going to cost over a hundred times as much.

“Acceptable.” Arcturus reached his hand out and they shook on it as if such a price was nothing. That had me wondering just how rich the Black were. I mean, I knew from the MacLeod vaults, nine hundred Galleons wouldn’t even dent accounts, but I remembered seeing my father haggle over the odd hundred Galleons here and there with others. Yet Arcturus didn’t even bat an eyelid at the price Ollivander had quoted.

I was still in shock as he led me from the store, though as we stepped outside, I blinked. After shaking on the price, Arcturus willed a ring to appear. It bore the sigil of House Black, yet I didn’t think it was his mark of Lordship. He’d then pressed that into a sheet that Ollivander had placed on the counter. I wondered if that was some form of magical way to pay directly from the vaults, sort of like a credit card for magicals.

“Now, with that taken care of we have several other matters to attend to,” Arcturus began as we returned to Diagon Alley, which was now quieter than when we’d entered, and the sun sat lower in the sky. “I did promise you a visit to Obscurus Books. However, before then I feel an owl is required. While I have no doubt there are some within your home, you need one for personal correspondence. Something you will have to deal with starting from next week.”

I nodded and fell into step behind him. While getting an owl was important, I couldn’t bring myself to focus on that, as my thoughts were still on Ollivander and the wand that he’d make for me.

… …

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