The Headmaster Really Loves Me (Read On!)
"How… how could this be?" Ollivander rubbed his eyes as if hoping the sight would change.
"I think it suits me perfectly."
Owen lifted the wand and casually pointed it at a teacup on the counter.
A neat, smooth Transfiguration washed over it—
straight to curved,
ceramic to plant,
solid to living.
No sparks, no stuttering, no backlash.
The wand behaved as if it had been crafted for his hand alone.
"All right," Owen said cheerfully, "how much for this wand?"
"No—" Ollivander started urgently.
"Oh? You won't sell it?" Owen sighed dramatically. "Well, then I'll just ask my grandfather to come fetch it tomorrow."
"You—!"
Ollivander trembled with fury, but what could he do?
He was an honest wand-maker.
He could not, under any circumstances, offend that dark wizard.
After a long silence, defeat washed over him.
Fine.
If evil insisted on buying from him, at least evil paid in coin.
"For… for you, perhaps something can be discounted." He took a deep breath. "Fifty Galleons."
"???"
Owen blinked.
Had he misheard?
"Fifty Galleons?"
You actually dare say that out loud?
He calmly placed the wand back on the table.
"Then I'll let my grandfather come buy it."
"Wait—! This is made of Elder wood! The rarest wood in the world! Plus a phoenix feather—"
"Even the rarest materials wouldn't cost that much," Owen cut him off. "Harry's wand cost seven Galleons. Don't think I don't know."
Ollivander's lips twitched.
"And phoenix feathers?" Owen continued mercilessly. "Mr. Ollivander knows exactly how he got them."
Right—Dumbledore's phoenix.
Stripped bald by him.
"That wand is worth at least twenty Galleons…" Ollivander tried again. "It's the culmination of my—my life's research."
"Life's research?" Owen snorted. "You said your father started the research when he was injured. How old were you then? Don't lie. Besides, no one but me can use this wand. It's basically a decoration. Selling worthless merchandise for a premium? Maybe I should report you to the Ministry for consumer fraud."
Ollivander choked.
"Oh, by the way…" Owen lowered his voice, eyes gleaming wickedly. "Isn't the Daily Prophet headquarters right next door?"
"I swear," Owen continued brightly, "as soon as I step outside, I'll lie on the ground and never get up. Anyone who asks, I'll say, 'That old man attacked me! He even used the Imperius Curse on me! I won't get up for anything less than a few thousand Galleons!'"
"You—!"
Ollivander staggered back, absolutely helpless before such shamelessness.
He collapsed onto the counter, instantly looking ten years older.
With a defeated sigh:
"…Fine. Tell me. How much are you willing to give?"
"Eight!"
Owen announced proudly. "Eight, for good luck."
He opened a familiar-looking little pouch and lined eight Galleons on the table.
Ollivander froze.
His breath caught in his throat.
This… this money…
Wasn't this the exact payment he had given Dumbledore recently for phoenix tail feathers?
"Ugh—!"
The master wand-maker fainted on the spot.
And thus—after the Sorting Hat—the second "wizard defeated by Owen's nonsense" was born.
---
Hagrid and Owen hurried back to Hogwarts.
Hagrid mainly feared what other catastrophes the boy might cause.
The Floo powder flared green.
One big man and one small menace stepped back into Hogsmeade.
Owen practically bounced as they made their way up the path.
Hahaha!
Grandpa Grindelwald.
Grandma Dumbledore.
Two of the most powerful wizards alive… and both spoiling him rotten.
How could he not feel blessed?
He would roam the wizarding world like a leopard!
Beat whoever he wanted!
Curse whoever annoyed him!
Harry Potter?
Savior?
Hmph.
Watching Harry save the world was entertainment.
The real savior was—Hermione.
Owen, steps growing looser and more carefree, started humming a song from his previous life:
The sun was shining bright~
I went to bomb the school~
I tried to set the fuse, but I ran too slow~
They caught me right away~
The school wasn't blown away~
The teachers all found out~
They caught me, dragged me out~
I thought I was done for—
But the Headmaster smiled at me~
said I did a good job~
patted my head, gave me some treats~
and let me go home alone~ Ah~~~~
—
"Good heavens, Professor Dumbledore—ye just let the lad go?" Hagrid gaped at Owen skipping out of the headmaster's office with his new wand.
"That kid is definitely a dark wizard! A future Death Eater! Why didn't you discipline him?"
"I understand your concerns, Hagrid," Dumbledore said gently, studying the wand Owen had handed him—Grindelwald's wand. "But that boy is not a bad person."
"Not?!" Hagrid sputtered. "He wants to teach Harry the Killing Curse!"
"They are first-years," Dumbledore replied calmly. "They cannot cast such a curse yet."
He paused.
"But the boy did say something correct."
"What thing!?" Hagrid grumbled.
Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled.
"Having no sword, and having a sword but choosing not to use it… are not the same."
---
"Hey! My dear friends—look at my new wand!"
Like a triumphant hero returning home, Owen raised the wand as soon as he crawled through the Hufflepuff barrel entrance.
"Wow… it's beautiful."
Justin stared wide-eyed beside Hannah, who was studying a magical plant.
To be fair, purely based on appearance, the wand could rank among the most elegant in the world.
Crimson, dangerous, and untamed—Owen wouldn't trade it for the Elder Wand.
"What happened? Why did you change your wand?" Hannah asked, her cheeks flushed, her golden braids bouncing.
She had gotten along unusually well with Owen this past week—
for reasons entirely unrelated to Owen's desire to get close to his future Gryffindor sword-wielding wife.
Definitely unrelated.
"Oh, it's like this!"
The cunning boy flopped lazily onto an armrest, holding the wand up dramatically.
Then he launched into a vivid retelling of the day's events—
Snape bullying Harry, Dumbledore's "sponsorship," the trip out of Hogwarts, and the entire wand-buying debacle.
Carried away by his own storytelling, he even gave the two completely overwhelmed Hufflepuffs a crash course in wand theory.