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Chapter 21 – When Every Wand Wants You
Of course, Darren had no idea what Paggie was plotting in her little house-elf mind.
He only heard her obedient reply and smiled, satisfied.
A good master must always keep his servants motivated, he thought smugly. Especially useful ones.
Still, his gaze slid toward Ollivander.
Wonder how long it'll take this old man to hand over those dividends...
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Ollivander coughed, visibly uncomfortable. "A-hem… Mr. Potter, perhaps we should, ah, focus on your wand now."
He rubbed his temple in regret. Why did I even mention that elf?
If Paggie hadn't shown up, the Potters might never have remembered the shares.
Now he'd be losing decades of unclaimed dividends. Tens of thousands of galleons—gone!
His thoughts spiraled back decades.
During Grindelwald's rise, the wand trade nearly collapsed. Wizards were buying from Gregorovitch in droves, and Ollivander had been on the verge of bankruptcy. Desperate, he sold ten percent of his struggling business—for only two thousand galleons—to a cheerful young entrepreneur named Fremont Potter, who'd made a fortune selling enchanted shampoo.
Then, right after the sale, Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald.
Ollivanders boomed again overnight.
For years afterward, he dutifully sent tens of thousands of galleons in dividends to the Potters—until James and Lily's deaths.
After that, with no one left to claim it, he quietly… stopped.
No one will ever know, he'd thought smugly back then.
Until today.
Now, staring at this bright-eyed boy and his too-clever house-elf, he wanted to hex himself.
Saintly, kind, generous—my wand! Ollivander thought bitterly. If he's so kind, why doesn't he say I can keep the money?!
His opinion of Darren dropped several points on the spot.
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"Well then," he said through gritted teeth, forcing a smile. "Which hand do you usually use, Mr. Potter?"
"Right," Darren answered casually, pretending not to notice the old man's pained expression.
A self-measuring tape zipped out and began wrapping around Darren—arms, shoulders, head, even his nostrils for some reason.
Darren twitched as it brushed his face, and the enchanted tape immediately darted away as if shy.
"Alright, try this one," Ollivander said quickly. "Nine and one-third inches, poplar wood, unicorn hair core. Steady and reliable."
Darren reached out and—
BOOM!
The wand erupted with dazzling fireworks, brilliant sparks lighting up the shop.
Ollivander's eyes widened. "Marvelous! Clearly this is your—"
But before he could finish, he frowned. Something tugged at his senses.
"Wait…" he murmured, gaze drifting to another shelf. "That wand… it reacted when you released your magic."
He retrieved another box and held it out. "Try this one as well."
Darren hesitated, then grasped the second wand.
Instantly, a cloud of pink bubbles filled the air. They shimmered, floated lazily around, and popped with gentle "puff" sounds.
Ollivander blinked. "Incredible… two compatible wands? I've never—"
Then his words died.
Because every wand in the entire shop began to tremble.
Thousands of wand boxes rattled violently, humming with energy. If not for the containment enchantments, they'd already be flying straight at Darren.
Ollivander gaped. "What in Merlin's name…"
He cautiously opened one of the boxes. The wand inside shot out immediately, practically throwing itself into Darren's hands.
The air thickened with silvery mist that wrapped around the boy like a living aura.
Darren blinked. "Uh… sir? Is this supposed to happen?"
Part of him suspected Ollivander was pulling a scam—selling him all the unsold wands in one go to cover his missing dividends.
But Ollivander's voice trembled with awe. "By the heavens… every wand here is resonating with you. They're all saying the same thing—they want you. They want to be your partner."
He looked at Darren as if witnessing a miracle.
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Darren scratched his head, surrounded by vibrating wand boxes.
"So… how do I choose?"
He hesitated, then said innocently, "Mr. Ollivander, can I take them all? I can pay using the Potter family's dividends."
Ollivander's soul nearly left his body.
His face went pale green. "No! Absolutely not!"
"These wands are my life's work! If I sold them all, I'd be ruined!"
He took a shaky breath, forcing a smile. "Listen to me, child. You don't need all these wands. You only need one. One! Believe me."
He straightened up, regaining a hint of composure. "Today, even if every wand begs for you, you may take only one treasure from my shop."
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Darren looked around at the sea of quivering boxes, mist curling around his feet, and sighed.
Even the wands want to follow me now? Being the Holy Father is exhausting.
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