Stepping out from the green flames, I quickly readjusted myself, looking back and watching my Father appear from the fireplace. I never could truly get used to traveling by the Floo Network. It made me a bit dizzy every time… not as dizzy as using a Portkey, mind you. That one, I truly hate.

“You look as if you just inhaled a handful of ash, son!” Father laughed, slapping my back, knowing my thoughts full well. “You can’t go everywhere by broomstick!”

“I thought about apparating, mind you,” I replied indignantly.

“Did you, now?” He smirked at me, and I knew that tone very well, as I used it frequently when dealing with one of my younger cousins. “Getting your wand and already aiming to learn apparition? Well, well, well! Go for it!”

“Ugh… Father… you know full well, I don’t know how….” I answered, giving up as it was impossible to win against him. He was my Father, after all.

“No, I am serious.” He continued, and I felt his hand squeeze my left shoulder. “You are young, but if you think you can master it, go for it. Hogwarts only teach it when you get older, but if you manage to sneak into the restricted part of the library and….”

“Are you telling your only son to break the rules and do something… bad?” I asked back, in a more hushed voice, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Rules are there for those who can’t think for themselves.”

“Ah.” I smiled. It was a family motto. Kinda. I don’t know where it came from, but Father loved to repeat it to me… yet when I got myself into trouble and quoted him, somehow it never counted… figures! Well, whatever! It is not like I would try to do something to get myself into trouble while at school… well… let me clarify that. I would not get caught when breaking a rule. I’m not in the mood to experience the punishment that is dished out in there.

“Here we are!” Father said, stopping right before Ollivander’s shop. I was so spaced out I did not even realize we arrived. Maybe it was because it was still early in the morning, and people were just coming about. I wanted to say something, but then a monotone, cold voice made me halt my tongue.

“Angus.”

I looked towards the source as to who would call my Father by his first name so casually… and then I saw him—the current Headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape. I knew not much about him, only what Father told me when I first met him six or seven years ago. He was HIS most loyal supporter or one of them. No wonder he was made Headmaster at Hogwarts after Dumbledore was chased out. Thinking about that, I also remembered what my Father said to me then… people can be deceitful.

“This will take some time,” Father said to me, nodding towards Ollivander’s shop. “Go, take your time. When finished, wait for me here. Got it?”

“Sure.” I nodded, glancing at the icy, bland look on my future Headmaster’s face before turning away, reaching to the door handle… yet I could still feel his cold gaze on my back. Was he hostile to our family? I hope not! Even though my Father is a minister and a Death Eater, he is not in the inner circle like… him. All things considered, the Headmaster of Hogwarts outranks my Father by a large margin.

“Ah… Welcome.” An old, calm but a bit shaky voice greeted me as I entered, leaving my Father and my previous thoughts on the outside. “Purple hair and eyes… you must be from the Anguine bloodline.” He said, watching me with those silvery, ancient-looking eyes of his.

“Yes,” I answered politely and tried to sound as firm as possible, trying to hide that his look was somewhat creeping me out. I knew he had to expect my arrival, as my Father booked the whole store… but still. His look and voice made me forget all of that. “My name is Conrad Anguine.”

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“Mhm.” He nodded, “I remember the wand I sold to your father, Angus Anguine.” He continued in a low, whisper-like voice. “Made out of yew with dragon heartstring, a perfect match for his skills in dueling, as I heard.”

I could only nod my head in answer, amazed by his words. Father did say that he was a master craftsman and wandmaker… but now I think I understand what he meant. There was something in his voice. Something that I could only describe as magic.

“Try this.” He said, picking out a slim box from the hundreds that decorated his small shop’s walls.

Looking into it, I recognized the wood it was made from; Reed. I also remembered its brief description and couldn’t help myself from reciting it.

“Best suited to those who are bold and eloquent. Mr. Ollivander is flattering me.” I smiled, picking it out while he remained silent and just shook his head.

“No.”

I knew immediately that it was not his answer to my little joke as I also felt… nothing. It is said that the wand chooses its master, and holding it in my hand; I felt just the same as when my hands were empty. Does this mean I wasn’t eloquent enough? Wel…

“Here.” He pulled out another box while I put back the previous wand into its place and looked at the next contender. I did not recognize this one. Picking it out, I did feel a prickling sensation, gave it a wish, and managed to engulf its holding box in flames.

“Mmmh… no.” Mr. Ollivander said, extinguishing the flames and taking it back, ignoring my embarrassed expression and failure even to say ‘sorry.’

Sadly, my next dozen attempts at getting my own wand ended in failure. Then another twelve were a no-go… and another. Honestly, I was starting to doubt my own talents. I am long past the phase where I was angry or on the verge of tears… I just wanted a wand. Whichever it may be! I don’t care about its core, nor its wood, length, whatever! Just give me my wand! Please!

“Hm…” Mr. Ollivander hummed, remaining calm and collected, whishing his own magical instrument, cleaning up the mess, and returning all my tryouts to their neat little boxes and places.

“Am I doomed to learn wandless magic?” I asked, and my voice had to be just as crestfallen as my expression.

“Some tribes in Africa pursue that. It IS an option.”

“Great…” I groaned, not really fond of the idea.

“Let’s try… this.” He continued in a much more livelier voice than before. It sounded to me as if he just thought of something and wanted to experiment with it, me being the unfortunate soul who will have to withstand its results. What he brought back was a particular-looking wand, and for the first time, he started explaining it to me. It was bright, light brown in color, smooth from top to bottom, with a curved handle that looked to fit into the palm nicely. “It is made from cypress. A wood for nobility and I do not simply mean wealth or rank in society.” Mr. Ollivander explained, making my brows furrow. I was nobility, simply by my bloodline.

“I see,” I added, but I was hesitant to hold it. If another rejects me, I think I would simply resign and tell my Father to announce that I died of illness or something. I didn’t want to face anybody and explain that there was no wand in Mr. Ollivander’s shop that could fit me.

“It has a unique core… not from my usual choices.” He continued, looking at the wand and then at my slightly trembling fingers. “It has a Horned Serpent horn as its core. When its owner is in danger, it emits a low, musical tone that only the wielder can hear. Also… knowing your bloodline.” He looked at me but said no more, and I was not about to ask him. Not if he did not want to say it.

“Never heard of it.” I blurted out, not even thinking about it. My mind was already stretched thin, so I simply went for it. Grabbing ahold of the hilt of the wand, I felt it. A rush of energy, something bursting out from it, washing through my body, filling me with an unknown but truly pleasant sensation.

“Ten-inch long, highly flexible.” He smiled, watching my expression of amazement as I let the feeling of magic wash over me. “I think we found it, Mr. Anguine.

“Y-yes… I agree.” I nodded with relief washing over me. I couldn’t help but let my lips part into a wide grin, going from ear to ear that I was still maintaining when I exited the shop and was met with Father, waiting there for me.

“Hah! See? I knew I had to book the shop! It is already past noon!”

“Wait… is it?!” I gasped, looking around, finding a clock in one of the shop’s windows, seeing he wasn’t joking.

“Doesn’t matter! The fact you took so long means you got something unique, hmm?”

“Y-yes!” I answered, proudly showing it to him and explaining everything that Mr. Ollivander told me about it, watching his smile grow just as wide as mine. I bet we looked like two simpletons in the middle of the street, but I didn’t care. I had my own wand, and by looking at my Father, I knew I made him proud. That was just as great as the feeling of holding my wand in my hands.