The Wand Chooses the Wizard
Title: The Wand Chooses the Wizard
Author:
broms_lullaby
Fandom: BBC Merlin/Harry Potter
Pairing(s): None yet, though if I continue it will be Arthur/Merlin eventually. Probably more as well.
Genre/Rating: GEN/PG
Word Count: 2700
Summary: Merlin and Arthur buy their wands.
Warnings: Hidden cameo of another universe, abuse of Harry Potter canon wandlore. Probably boring. Mild coding failure, but that doesn't really affect much.
Author’s Note: This was only going to be the first part, but after the lengthy research I did for that I just had to write the second part, because there are a lot of interesting and meaningful things associated with wands. Interesting fact: rowan is considered to be a magical wood, and most real life “magic” wands are made from rowan, but it is never mentioned in Harry Potter canon. The next part that I write will be a follow up to The Incident in Charms Class, and most likely preslash. Or at least involve prophesies of slash. Also, I am dropping hints at things that probably won't come up until later, but please, feel free to research any of my hints and try to figure things out.
Series: The Fifth House
Disclaimer: The original ideas are mine, but the unoriginal ones belong to their respective owners.
The Wand Chooses the Wizard
Merlin was filled with excitement. Not only was he going to be leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow, but today he was buying all of his supplies. He had already bought his books and robes and other supplies, all he needed was his wand. Finally, that prized instrument of magic, the one that announced to the who world “This is a Wizard!” would be his.
He was practically vibrating with excitement as he and his mother stopped by their room in The Rising Sun Inn to drop off his books and give Archimedes a treat. “Merlin, dear, calm down. We will go get it now,” his mother told him tiredly. He tried to feel bad about being annoying, but couldn’t quite get there.
After everything was packed into his trunk they left the inn and headed down Camelot’s busy Main Street in the lower town. Camelot was one of the larger enclaves of magic in Britain, located in southeastern Wales, on the coast. It was, like Ealdor where Merlin grew up, a strange place in that where a wizard fins Camelot, a muggle could go to the exact same place and find another city, and one that was decidedly muggle.
Soon they came to the shop they were looking for. It was rather nondescript with a sign over the door that read:
Smith’s Forge
Wands, Athames, Brooms & Other Magical Implements
Est. 542
They stepped inside the cheery shop and were instantly greeted by a large black man that introduced himself as Tom, the owner. “Hello, Tom, my son needs a wand. He’s leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow,” Merlin’s mother said. He nodded emphatically.
“Well then, let’s get you a wand then,” he agreed. He walked behind the counter to a door and beckoned them to follow. As they did, he explained. “Most of our wands were made by Tauren, Camelot’s finest wandmaker, but we also have some from Ollivander’s and Gregorovitch. And, in case none of those work for you, we have a few other, special wands. Let’s see what we can come up with, hmm?”
They were now in a room lined with shelves that held long, thin boxes. Merlin looked at them all in awe.
“First,” Tom said, “What is your name? Sometimes wands with certain characteristics go best with certain families.”
“Merlin Wyllt,” Merlin replied, a little amused at how wide Tom’s eyes managed to go at this.
“I see, well, I’m guessing that these most basic wands won’t do, in that case...” He trailed off in thought, looking around the room. He went to a shelf on the far wall and pulled out one of the older looking boxes in the middle. He went back to Merlin and opened it, revealing a thick, black wand. “This is a Tauren, unyielding, 11 inches, grenadilla, which is an African hardwood. The core is a unicorn tail hair. Give it a wave.” He presented it to Merlin.
Merlin took it out of the box and held it. It was a lot heavier than he expected. It was rather plain compared to the other wands he had seen, but it was comfortable. He waved it in a simple gesture and felt his magic surge, only for the wand to fly out of his hand and plant itself firmly in the floor. “Alright, not that one then. Why don’t we try...” He went back to the same shelf and pulled out a newer box. This one held a thinner wand with a nice brown color on the body and a handle wrapped in black leather. “Tauren also made this one. It is rosewood, 12 inches with a little give and a phoenix tail feather.”
The origins of its core were made quite evident when Merlin waved it and not only the wand, but also all of the boxes on the shelf that it had come from burst into flames. Tom and Hunith both shouted “Ignem exstinguere!” and thankfully there didn’t seem to be much damage, aside from the wand which was now a pile of ashes where Merlin had dropped it. “Right, I think that one was trying to tell us something. Let’s try a different maker...” He grabbed a box from the other end of the room. This one was thick and black again, with a curved handle. “I think you need the strength of the grenadilla, this one is ten inches, unyielding, with a core of serket sting. It is quite old, made by one of the Gregorovitch family. It is a very powerful wand that is very selective in its wielders.”
Merlin took it and was instantly sure that it wasn’t right for him. It was cold to the touch and soon his arm started to go numb. “No, this one isn’t right.”
Tom seemed to let out a breath and nodded, smiling. “I had hoped so. It also has a tendency to turn its wielders into homicidal maniacs before killing them.” He replaced it and grabbed another. That one was sluggish, and therefore rejected. They tried about ten more before Tom asked them to wait and went back into the front of the store. When he came back he was carrying a highly polished wooden box. When he opened it, Merlin was surprised. Inside was a long, thick wand that was mainly white, but the handle was a light silvery metal with four panels of differing woods. There were tendrils of the metal wrapping the main body of the wand in Celtic patterns, originating at the base of the body where there were four rings of metal separating it from the handle. One was the same light silver, then a darker silver, a dull grey, and gold. The whole thing was covered in small, delicate runes. Those that Merlin recognized were extremely powerful.
“This wand has been in and out of this shop for centuries. It is said to have been a collaborative work between one of my ancestors and Godric Gryfindor. It is a composite wand, meaning that it is made from several wands. The base wand is an Elder wand with a living dragon heartstring, meaning that the dragon it came from was still living when the wand was made. That was wrapped in griffin feathers, which were experimental at that time and haven’t been used for centuries, as well as phoenix feathers, then it was painted with a special mystic quicksilver and encased in a Yew shell. The handle and the bindings are mythril, the rings are mythril, silver, lead and gold, and the panels are parts of other wands. It was commissioned by Emrys himself shortly before he died, and they came from his favorite wands. Rowan, Ash and Oak, the importance of which have been lost, and the last is from his Hawthorne Wand, which was supposedly made from the original Avalon Hawthorne, which grew out of a pilgrim’s staff when he brought the Cup of Life to Albion. There is a second core in the handle, it is somewhat morbid, but it contains part of a bone from Kilgarrah. Do you know of him?”
Merlin nodded. “Yes, he was Emrys’ mentor, called the Great Dragon of Albion.”
Tom nodded and proffered the wand to Merlin. “It is clear to me that your magic is far too powerful for any of the wands I have for sale. I think that this wand might be your only choice.”
Merlin took it and knew that it was right. It felt comfortable and slightly warm in his hand. he gave it a wave and a shower of rainbow sparks flew out of the tip where the mythril tendrils came to a sharp point. Tom nodded. “What do the runes mean?” Merlin asked.
“I honestly don’t know. I know that some of them are bindings or wards, but most of them I haven’t ever seen before. Every once in a while a runelorist comes to try and decipher them, but ultimately they all give up.”
Merlin’s mother spoke up then. “You indicated that this wand isn’t for sale, does that mean that you won’t give it to us?”
“No, I meant that it isn’t for sale as a wand. It has bounced its way around the various wealthy families, but no one has ever been able to use it. It came to my father during the First Wizarding War. Apparently You Know Who was trying to find it and he couldn’t let that happen, so he hid it away. We brought it out of hiding after He was finally dead, but decided that we wouldn’t sell it just to be a curiosity. It is a priceless artifact that deserves more respect than it would receive if it was just sitting on someone’s mantle as a conversation piece. No, I am not selling it, but as I see it, it was originally paid for by your ancestor, therefore it should be yours. I’ll not make you pay for it.”
Merlin smiled and cradled his new wand near his heart. “Thank you, Tom.”
He smiled and replied, “Of course. Good luck at school. My daughter is about to start as well, you will probably meet her on the train.”
“What is her name? I will look out for her.”
“Gwen. Gwen Smith.”
Arthur was still in a daze as Morgana excitedly pulled him into a dusty old shop to “Buy a wand.” The last few days had been a frantic rush of confusing events, starting with his father’s friend Gaius showing up at Pen y Bryn with a letter that he had been sure was a joke leading up to now.
The store had a high ceiling and all of the walls were covered in long, thin Boxes. A middle aged woman came out from behind the shelves that also held the boxes and eyed them calculatingly. “Miss Morgana... LeFay, right?” Morgana nodded. “You have a Rosewood wand with a unicorn tail hair?” Morgana nodded again, and the woman smiled. “I am getting better at remembering my customers. Grandfather will be pleased.”
As if on cue, a very old man appeared at her side with a wide smile. “Yes, Clara, very good. Now, Miss LeFay is accompanied by a young man. What do you suppose their relationship is?” Arthur scowled. How rude, talking about them as if they weren’t there. He was about to say something when Morgana touched his arm and shook her head.
“Well, they look nothing alike, so I would guess it isn’t familial... She mentioned that she was adopted when she bought her wand, it was the reason that we couldn’t make assumptions based on her family. Could you be an adoptive brother?” She directed this last at Arthur.
“Yes, I am Arthur--” the old man cut him off before he could add the Prince of Gwynedd part, which he felt was important.
“Yes, yes, now, Clara, What do you remember about Miss LeFay’s adoptive family?”
She thought for a moment. “The father is a widower, and a Muggle. She said she thought that the mother was a witch, but she had died when Miss LeFay was a baby, so she didn’t know for sure.”
The old man nodded. “Mr. Pendragon, what was your mother’s name?”
Arthur replied, “Ygraine DuBois. I believe she was a witch.”
Another nod, followed by both of them to cast a speculative look between Arthur and Morgana before meeting each other’e eye and nodding again. “Interesting,” Clara said, pulling out a large book and flipping through the pages. “Yes, I remember now, your mother was a witch. She had one of my father’s wands. Hawthorne I believe, maybe Avalon Thorn...”
The old man continued as she kept looking through the book, “Yes. She was a Daughter of Avalon, we only give them Avalon Thorn, and we only give Avalon Thorn to them. Young Mr. Pendragon here will not be getting one of those wands, and he doesn’t appear suited to Hawthorne either... I wonder. Miss, LeFay, what House do you think your brother will be sorted into?”
“Gryffindor, definitely.”
“I see. Clara, what do you think of ash?”
“Ash is also called Snakesbane... We could try one, but I have my doubts that his wand will be of ash.” When she received a nod and a smile she disappeared into the shelves, presumably to find an ash wand.
“I thank you both for your patience. My time is near, and I am training Clara to replace me when it comes, but she isn’t yet ready.” He smiled at them, and Arthur relaxed a little. He figured that perhaps they weren’t trying to be rude.
Clara came back carrying several boxes. “I think that your wand will be one of these, Mr. Pendragon. Here, try this one, ash with thestral hair.”
He took the wand she offered and waved it like Morgana had shown him on the way to London. He felt a tight pressure, not in anywhere specific, just generally. The wand grew warm in his hand and a gust of wind came from nowhere.
“No. Thestral hair is an interesting choice, why would you choose one of those?”
Clara shrugged at her grandfather. “He seems like he needs a special wand.”
“Yes, I agree, but not that sort of special. What is next?”
“Also ash, but this time with unicorn hair.”
He took the wand and made the motion again. This time a window shattered and the wand grew very hot. He put it down, not wanting to get burned.
“Grandfather, I believe that his wand will not be ash.” She picked the wand up, probably to put it in the box, but dropped it right away. “Grandfather! It is hot... Why is it hot?”
The old man’s smile grew. “Curious. I had my suspicions, but I didn’t dare hope.” He shook his head. “I apologize, Mr. Pendragon, but I am afraid that we will not be able to find the right wand for you. I could explain why, but I doubt that the complexities of wandlore would make sense to you. I do think we have the best wand for you. Clara, I see you brought that box, why don’t you have him try that one?”
Ashe she picked out one of the boxes with a slightly confused grin, Morgana asked “What is the problem, Mr. Ollivander?”
“Oh, I have my theories, I will tell you one day, if they turn out to be true. They will become apparen’t shorty after school starts, I imagine.”
This wand was different from the others. It was black with a gold handle, and there were intricate carvings covering the surface of the wood. He gave it a wave and all of the lights got brighter.
“Yes, that one will do. Good job Clara, what made you choose that one?”
“Well, it was just a wild idea, but I remembered some of the folklore...” she trailed off with an excited smile, which Mr. Ollivander mirrored.
“Well done, Clara. Now Arthur, this is a very special wand. It is 14 inches, stained yew, with a living dragon heartstring. It is usually rigid, but in the right hands it will bend like a sapling.”
“It is a named wand, which is very rare. It is called the Prince’s Wand,” Clara continued. “It is very old and has been worked on many times. Grandfather was the last one to do anything to it, but it has been sitting on our shelves for over a thousand years. There are many myths and legends associated with it, but the reality is that it has never had an owner. It is said that it is the wand that is never quite right, for the one whom no wand is quite right.”
Mr. Ollivander nodded. “Yes. The fact that it works for you is terribly exciting. Now, you must understand, that while it will give you its allegiance, it will never be quite right. I will need to talk to some people so that we can get you something right, but that will do for now. I will come and see you when it is time to replace it. Until then, that will be 33 galleons.”
Author:
broms_lullaby
Fandom: BBC Merlin/Harry Potter
Pairing(s): None yet, though if I continue it will be Arthur/Merlin eventually. Probably more as well.
Genre/Rating: GEN/PG
Word Count: 2700
Summary: Merlin and Arthur buy their wands.
Warnings: Hidden cameo of another universe, abuse of Harry Potter canon wandlore. Probably boring. Mild coding failure, but that doesn't really affect much.
Author’s Note: This was only going to be the first part, but after the lengthy research I did for that I just had to write the second part, because there are a lot of interesting and meaningful things associated with wands. Interesting fact: rowan is considered to be a magical wood, and most real life “magic” wands are made from rowan, but it is never mentioned in Harry Potter canon. The next part that I write will be a follow up to The Incident in Charms Class, and most likely preslash. Or at least involve prophesies of slash. Also, I am dropping hints at things that probably won't come up until later, but please, feel free to research any of my hints and try to figure things out.
Series: The Fifth House
Disclaimer: The original ideas are mine, but the unoriginal ones belong to their respective owners.
The Wand Chooses the Wizard
Merlin was filled with excitement. Not only was he going to be leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow, but today he was buying all of his supplies. He had already bought his books and robes and other supplies, all he needed was his wand. Finally, that prized instrument of magic, the one that announced to the who world “This is a Wizard!” would be his.
He was practically vibrating with excitement as he and his mother stopped by their room in The Rising Sun Inn to drop off his books and give Archimedes a treat. “Merlin, dear, calm down. We will go get it now,” his mother told him tiredly. He tried to feel bad about being annoying, but couldn’t quite get there.
After everything was packed into his trunk they left the inn and headed down Camelot’s busy Main Street in the lower town. Camelot was one of the larger enclaves of magic in Britain, located in southeastern Wales, on the coast. It was, like Ealdor where Merlin grew up, a strange place in that where a wizard fins Camelot, a muggle could go to the exact same place and find another city, and one that was decidedly muggle.
Soon they came to the shop they were looking for. It was rather nondescript with a sign over the door that read:
Smith’s Forge
Wands, Athames, Brooms & Other Magical Implements
Est. 542
They stepped inside the cheery shop and were instantly greeted by a large black man that introduced himself as Tom, the owner. “Hello, Tom, my son needs a wand. He’s leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow,” Merlin’s mother said. He nodded emphatically.
“Well then, let’s get you a wand then,” he agreed. He walked behind the counter to a door and beckoned them to follow. As they did, he explained. “Most of our wands were made by Tauren, Camelot’s finest wandmaker, but we also have some from Ollivander’s and Gregorovitch. And, in case none of those work for you, we have a few other, special wands. Let’s see what we can come up with, hmm?”
They were now in a room lined with shelves that held long, thin boxes. Merlin looked at them all in awe.
“First,” Tom said, “What is your name? Sometimes wands with certain characteristics go best with certain families.”
“Merlin Wyllt,” Merlin replied, a little amused at how wide Tom’s eyes managed to go at this.
“I see, well, I’m guessing that these most basic wands won’t do, in that case...” He trailed off in thought, looking around the room. He went to a shelf on the far wall and pulled out one of the older looking boxes in the middle. He went back to Merlin and opened it, revealing a thick, black wand. “This is a Tauren, unyielding, 11 inches, grenadilla, which is an African hardwood. The core is a unicorn tail hair. Give it a wave.” He presented it to Merlin.
Merlin took it out of the box and held it. It was a lot heavier than he expected. It was rather plain compared to the other wands he had seen, but it was comfortable. He waved it in a simple gesture and felt his magic surge, only for the wand to fly out of his hand and plant itself firmly in the floor. “Alright, not that one then. Why don’t we try...” He went back to the same shelf and pulled out a newer box. This one held a thinner wand with a nice brown color on the body and a handle wrapped in black leather. “Tauren also made this one. It is rosewood, 12 inches with a little give and a phoenix tail feather.”
The origins of its core were made quite evident when Merlin waved it and not only the wand, but also all of the boxes on the shelf that it had come from burst into flames. Tom and Hunith both shouted “Ignem exstinguere!” and thankfully there didn’t seem to be much damage, aside from the wand which was now a pile of ashes where Merlin had dropped it. “Right, I think that one was trying to tell us something. Let’s try a different maker...” He grabbed a box from the other end of the room. This one was thick and black again, with a curved handle. “I think you need the strength of the grenadilla, this one is ten inches, unyielding, with a core of serket sting. It is quite old, made by one of the Gregorovitch family. It is a very powerful wand that is very selective in its wielders.”
Merlin took it and was instantly sure that it wasn’t right for him. It was cold to the touch and soon his arm started to go numb. “No, this one isn’t right.”
Tom seemed to let out a breath and nodded, smiling. “I had hoped so. It also has a tendency to turn its wielders into homicidal maniacs before killing them.” He replaced it and grabbed another. That one was sluggish, and therefore rejected. They tried about ten more before Tom asked them to wait and went back into the front of the store. When he came back he was carrying a highly polished wooden box. When he opened it, Merlin was surprised. Inside was a long, thick wand that was mainly white, but the handle was a light silvery metal with four panels of differing woods. There were tendrils of the metal wrapping the main body of the wand in Celtic patterns, originating at the base of the body where there were four rings of metal separating it from the handle. One was the same light silver, then a darker silver, a dull grey, and gold. The whole thing was covered in small, delicate runes. Those that Merlin recognized were extremely powerful.
“This wand has been in and out of this shop for centuries. It is said to have been a collaborative work between one of my ancestors and Godric Gryfindor. It is a composite wand, meaning that it is made from several wands. The base wand is an Elder wand with a living dragon heartstring, meaning that the dragon it came from was still living when the wand was made. That was wrapped in griffin feathers, which were experimental at that time and haven’t been used for centuries, as well as phoenix feathers, then it was painted with a special mystic quicksilver and encased in a Yew shell. The handle and the bindings are mythril, the rings are mythril, silver, lead and gold, and the panels are parts of other wands. It was commissioned by Emrys himself shortly before he died, and they came from his favorite wands. Rowan, Ash and Oak, the importance of which have been lost, and the last is from his Hawthorne Wand, which was supposedly made from the original Avalon Hawthorne, which grew out of a pilgrim’s staff when he brought the Cup of Life to Albion. There is a second core in the handle, it is somewhat morbid, but it contains part of a bone from Kilgarrah. Do you know of him?”
Merlin nodded. “Yes, he was Emrys’ mentor, called the Great Dragon of Albion.”
Tom nodded and proffered the wand to Merlin. “It is clear to me that your magic is far too powerful for any of the wands I have for sale. I think that this wand might be your only choice.”
Merlin took it and knew that it was right. It felt comfortable and slightly warm in his hand. he gave it a wave and a shower of rainbow sparks flew out of the tip where the mythril tendrils came to a sharp point. Tom nodded. “What do the runes mean?” Merlin asked.
“I honestly don’t know. I know that some of them are bindings or wards, but most of them I haven’t ever seen before. Every once in a while a runelorist comes to try and decipher them, but ultimately they all give up.”
Merlin’s mother spoke up then. “You indicated that this wand isn’t for sale, does that mean that you won’t give it to us?”
“No, I meant that it isn’t for sale as a wand. It has bounced its way around the various wealthy families, but no one has ever been able to use it. It came to my father during the First Wizarding War. Apparently You Know Who was trying to find it and he couldn’t let that happen, so he hid it away. We brought it out of hiding after He was finally dead, but decided that we wouldn’t sell it just to be a curiosity. It is a priceless artifact that deserves more respect than it would receive if it was just sitting on someone’s mantle as a conversation piece. No, I am not selling it, but as I see it, it was originally paid for by your ancestor, therefore it should be yours. I’ll not make you pay for it.”
Merlin smiled and cradled his new wand near his heart. “Thank you, Tom.”
He smiled and replied, “Of course. Good luck at school. My daughter is about to start as well, you will probably meet her on the train.”
“What is her name? I will look out for her.”
“Gwen. Gwen Smith.”
Arthur was still in a daze as Morgana excitedly pulled him into a dusty old shop to “Buy a wand.” The last few days had been a frantic rush of confusing events, starting with his father’s friend Gaius showing up at Pen y Bryn with a letter that he had been sure was a joke leading up to now.
The store had a high ceiling and all of the walls were covered in long, thin Boxes. A middle aged woman came out from behind the shelves that also held the boxes and eyed them calculatingly. “Miss Morgana... LeFay, right?” Morgana nodded. “You have a Rosewood wand with a unicorn tail hair?” Morgana nodded again, and the woman smiled. “I am getting better at remembering my customers. Grandfather will be pleased.”
As if on cue, a very old man appeared at her side with a wide smile. “Yes, Clara, very good. Now, Miss LeFay is accompanied by a young man. What do you suppose their relationship is?” Arthur scowled. How rude, talking about them as if they weren’t there. He was about to say something when Morgana touched his arm and shook her head.
“Well, they look nothing alike, so I would guess it isn’t familial... She mentioned that she was adopted when she bought her wand, it was the reason that we couldn’t make assumptions based on her family. Could you be an adoptive brother?” She directed this last at Arthur.
“Yes, I am Arthur--” the old man cut him off before he could add the Prince of Gwynedd part, which he felt was important.
“Yes, yes, now, Clara, What do you remember about Miss LeFay’s adoptive family?”
She thought for a moment. “The father is a widower, and a Muggle. She said she thought that the mother was a witch, but she had died when Miss LeFay was a baby, so she didn’t know for sure.”
The old man nodded. “Mr. Pendragon, what was your mother’s name?”
Arthur replied, “Ygraine DuBois. I believe she was a witch.”
Another nod, followed by both of them to cast a speculative look between Arthur and Morgana before meeting each other’e eye and nodding again. “Interesting,” Clara said, pulling out a large book and flipping through the pages. “Yes, I remember now, your mother was a witch. She had one of my father’s wands. Hawthorne I believe, maybe Avalon Thorn...”
The old man continued as she kept looking through the book, “Yes. She was a Daughter of Avalon, we only give them Avalon Thorn, and we only give Avalon Thorn to them. Young Mr. Pendragon here will not be getting one of those wands, and he doesn’t appear suited to Hawthorne either... I wonder. Miss, LeFay, what House do you think your brother will be sorted into?”
“Gryffindor, definitely.”
“I see. Clara, what do you think of ash?”
“Ash is also called Snakesbane... We could try one, but I have my doubts that his wand will be of ash.” When she received a nod and a smile she disappeared into the shelves, presumably to find an ash wand.
“I thank you both for your patience. My time is near, and I am training Clara to replace me when it comes, but she isn’t yet ready.” He smiled at them, and Arthur relaxed a little. He figured that perhaps they weren’t trying to be rude.
Clara came back carrying several boxes. “I think that your wand will be one of these, Mr. Pendragon. Here, try this one, ash with thestral hair.”
He took the wand she offered and waved it like Morgana had shown him on the way to London. He felt a tight pressure, not in anywhere specific, just generally. The wand grew warm in his hand and a gust of wind came from nowhere.
“No. Thestral hair is an interesting choice, why would you choose one of those?”
Clara shrugged at her grandfather. “He seems like he needs a special wand.”
“Yes, I agree, but not that sort of special. What is next?”
“Also ash, but this time with unicorn hair.”
He took the wand and made the motion again. This time a window shattered and the wand grew very hot. He put it down, not wanting to get burned.
“Grandfather, I believe that his wand will not be ash.” She picked the wand up, probably to put it in the box, but dropped it right away. “Grandfather! It is hot... Why is it hot?”
The old man’s smile grew. “Curious. I had my suspicions, but I didn’t dare hope.” He shook his head. “I apologize, Mr. Pendragon, but I am afraid that we will not be able to find the right wand for you. I could explain why, but I doubt that the complexities of wandlore would make sense to you. I do think we have the best wand for you. Clara, I see you brought that box, why don’t you have him try that one?”
Ashe she picked out one of the boxes with a slightly confused grin, Morgana asked “What is the problem, Mr. Ollivander?”
“Oh, I have my theories, I will tell you one day, if they turn out to be true. They will become apparen’t shorty after school starts, I imagine.”
This wand was different from the others. It was black with a gold handle, and there were intricate carvings covering the surface of the wood. He gave it a wave and all of the lights got brighter.
“Yes, that one will do. Good job Clara, what made you choose that one?”
“Well, it was just a wild idea, but I remembered some of the folklore...” she trailed off with an excited smile, which Mr. Ollivander mirrored.
“Well done, Clara. Now Arthur, this is a very special wand. It is 14 inches, stained yew, with a living dragon heartstring. It is usually rigid, but in the right hands it will bend like a sapling.”
“It is a named wand, which is very rare. It is called the Prince’s Wand,” Clara continued. “It is very old and has been worked on many times. Grandfather was the last one to do anything to it, but it has been sitting on our shelves for over a thousand years. There are many myths and legends associated with it, but the reality is that it has never had an owner. It is said that it is the wand that is never quite right, for the one whom no wand is quite right.”
Mr. Ollivander nodded. “Yes. The fact that it works for you is terribly exciting. Now, you must understand, that while it will give you its allegiance, it will never be quite right. I will need to talk to some people so that we can get you something right, but that will do for now. I will come and see you when it is time to replace it. Until then, that will be 33 galleons.”