Ollivander hurried straight toward Gringotts.
After presenting the necessary token, he was granted entry into a vault. Not long after, he emerged carrying a long rectangular box in his arms.
Even through the box, he could feel the ominous force pulsing inside it.
He didn't hesitate. Holding the box tightly, he rushed back toward his shop.
At the same time, Lucius—who was browsing pets with Narcissa for Karmit and Draco—just happened to glance toward the alley entrance.
He froze. "Why is old Ollivander here?"
Narcissa lifted her head to follow his gaze. The moment she saw the box in Ollivander's hands, she stopped breathing for a second.
"No way… Did Karmit ask him to retrieve that?"
Lucius frowned. "Retrieve what?"
"A wand," Narcissa whispered.
Lucius frowned deeper. "What wand?"
"I always thought it was only a legend," Narcissa said. "No one ever imagined the wand truly existed. Why would Karmit know about it? And why would he have Ollivander bring it out?"
"A legend?" Lucius repeated.
Narcissa nodded. "A very old one. In fact, you could call it the origin of the Black family."
"You know as well as I do," Lucius said, "that the Blacks are known as the oldest, richest, most noble family."
"That's only half of it," Narcissa said. "The family records you know start with Sirius Black's generation—only six generations leading to Karmit.
But everything before that was hidden. Only the inner Black family members know those ancestors ever existed."
"Hidden?" Lucius asked. "Why hide it?"
"Fear," Narcissa whispered. "And the need to stay concealed."
Lucius frowned. "But the Black family was once powerful enough to rival any other. Wealthy, influential—why hide from anything?"
"I don't know," Narcissa said. "Even if I did, I wouldn't be allowed to say.
All I know is this: my father once told me the Black family possesses a wand—one so dangerous that it forced the family into obscurity. And that wand was made of elder wood."
Lucius's eyes widened. "Elder wood?"
No witch or wizard in the world could fail to understand what an elder wand meant.
Narcissa nodded. "Yes. Elder wood. My father said the moment a Black heir touches that wand, the world will sense it.
That is why the ancestors entrusted it to the Ollivander family for safekeeping. To hide it—and in hopes the Ollivanders might one day find a way to neutralize its threat."
...
Inside Ollivander's Wand Shop, the wandmaker had returned. He placed the long box gently on the counter.
"Karmit," he said, "are you certain? My ancestors never managed to resolve the danger surrounding this wand. It may truly bring misfortune."
Karmit stepped forward and looked down at the box. "It's only a legend, isn't it?
A wand fashioned to imitate the Deathly Hallows—crafted with basilisk nerve. The story says its creation drew Death's attention. Terrifying, perhaps, but still only a story."
"Perhaps," Ollivander said. "But every Black family patriarch refused to ever remove this wand from the vault. Some legends exist because they are true."
"And so what?" Karmit said calmly. "Mr. Ollivander, I've never lacked the courage to face anything—or anyone. Even a god."
Ollivander sighed. "I can't tell if you're arrogant or brave. But that is no longer my concern. As you've said, the wand rightfully belongs to you. Would you like to open it?"
"Of course," Karmit said.
Ollivander gestured politely and stepped back several paces.
Draco stepped forward immediately, curious. He leaned in to get a better look at the box.
Karmit turned sharply. "Draco. Outside."
Draco blinked. "Why?"
"Outside," Karmit repeated, frowning.
Draco pouted, disappointed, but he would never disobey Karmit. He turned and left the shop.
Karmit took a slow breath, placed his hand on the box— And cold flooded into him instantly.
A chilling force seeped through the wood, curling around his palm like a snake.
Karmit smirked. Interesting. Even through the box, it reacted this strongly.
That alone proved its power.
Without hesitation, he opened the box.
At once, a violent surge of magic burst outward, swirling around him like a storm. The raw energy wrapped tightly around Karmit's body.
He exhaled sharply. "Enough."
The magic froze—then shattered into nothing.
Karmit lowered his gaze into the box.
There lay the wand.
Pale as bone, segmented like a finger, exuding faint tendrils of black mist. Just its presence lowered the temperature in the entire shop.
The shelves trembled. The wand boxes rattled. The countless wands inside them were shaking in fear.
Ollivander noticed the movement and frowned deeply. But his eyes remained locked on the wand.
A masterpiece. A terrifyingly perfect creation.
Long. Sectioned. Powerful. Every detail broadcast a single message: this wand was extraordinary.
....
Inside the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts, Dumbledore was innocently nibbling on a cockroach cluster when the drawer of his desk began to vibrate violently.
He opened it. Inside, the Elder Wand was thrashing and trembling uncontrollably, releasing bursts of raw magical pressure.
"What…" Dumbledore murmured, taking hold of the wand. Even in his hand, the Elder Wand continued to shudder.
"What are you reacting to? A battle? An enemy? Why such sudden unrest?"
A voice suddenly spoke from one of the portraits behind him.
"The Elder Wand. That wand. Someone has awakened the other one. Damn it—only Karmit would dare tamper with that wand!"
Dumbledore turned toward the portrait.
In the lower corner, the nameplate read:
Phineas Nigellus Black.