A bell chimed from somewhere deep inside the shop as Lynn pushed open the old door of Ollivanders. The light dimmed at once.
"Welcome."
A soft voice sounded. Mr. Ollivander, his face deeply lined with age, appeared from behind the counter.
"A new Hogwarts student, I presume?"
He spoke gently, his gaze mild as he looked at Lynn, who was curiously taking in the shop.
"Yes, sir."
Lynn smiled slightly. "I'm here to buy a wand, sir."
"Very good. Come over here."
Ollivander stepped out from behind the counter and gave a wave. A measuring tape used for taking body measurements floated up into the air.
"Which hand do you use for your wand?"
"My right hand."
"Raise your arm, please."
As Ollivander directed the measuring tape to start taking Lynn's measurements, he spoke to him in a light tone.
"Every Ollivander wand is made with highly magical substances. That is the essence of a wand. I favour unicorn hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring. Every Ollivander wand is unique."
"A wand will be a wizard's lifelong companion, his most faithful partner. The wizard chooses the wand, but at the same time, the wand chooses the wizard."
"Try this one. Ash, unicorn hair, eleven inches, straight, pliant. Give it a wave."
Lynn reached out to take the wand Ollivander handed him and gave it a light flick. A spray of silvery sparks burst from the tip, a bit like waving a sparkler on a dark night.
"My eye is rarely wrong."
Ollivander nodded with a smile. "But finding the right wand on the very first try is not common. Most customers have to try several. Still, I think this is better."
"Ash wands will always stand by their masters. They are the least suited to being handed over to others, and that trait is even stronger when combined with a unicorn hair core."
"The two together make up for unicorn hair's natural shortcomings," Ollivander went on after a brief pause. "Compared with phoenix feather and dragon heartstring, unicorn hair is a little weaker in raw power. It is difficult to make the most powerful wands with it."
"But if you treat your wand kindly and remain loyal to it, it will not disappoint you."
He looked seriously into Lynn's eyes, the wrinkles on his face softening into a faint smile. He rather liked this boy, which made him willing to say a bit more than usual.
"Sir, do you mean… you believe wands have souls as well?"
The question made Ollivander's eyes brighten slightly.
"I prefer to call what you mean 'spirit' rather than 'soul.' Wands can die—especially those with unicorn cores. If you treat them roughly and use them for magic that doesn't suit them, unicorn hair easily becomes… melancholy."
"This shows itself in weaker spell effects, reduced precision, poorer control, even outright resistance to casting. After that, the unicorn hair at the core simply dies. If it isn't replaced, you've said goodbye to that wand forever."
"This usually happens when a wand has been stolen. And when—" Ollivander's gaze sharpened a touch, "—a wizard holding a unicorn-hair wand uses it to unleash evil power."
"Dark magic?"
Lynn's brows rose slightly.
"There is no such thing as magic that is purely and absolutely dark or light," Ollivander shook his head. "Magic is a tool, like a blade or cutlery that can be used in battle or in service of daily life. Magic itself is neither righteous nor wicked."
"A sharp sword can cut the ropes binding an innocent person. A knife and fork for eating can also become blades plunged into a heart. It's the wizard's intention when casting a spell—the will he pours into the magic—that decides whether the magic is good or evil."
"Magic is the power of the mind. That power is released and conveyed through a wand. The wand is a bridge between a wizard's inner self and the world."
"It is crafted by wizards, but it is not given life by them, nor can it be. However, the magical substances that make it up do possess a spirituality beyond that of ordinary things. Strictly speaking, wandlore falls under the biological alchemy branch of alchemy."
"In that sense, it's a sibling discipline to the Potions course you'll be studying at school. We are both working to awaken the inherent power of magical substances and to combine them."
"Making a wand is not as simple as finding a stick and shoving a core into it. There is a whole fusion process, much like brewing a potion."
"Only after going through all those steps can the core and the wood truly merge, and a new and unique power emerge. That is why there are no two completely identical wands in the world."
Lynn had had no idea there was so much depth to wandcraft. His curiosity stirred to life, and the thirst for knowledge in his eyes smoothed more of the wrinkles from Ollivander's face.
It had been a long time since he'd met a child interested in wandlore—a subject obscure, dry, and difficult. The Ollivander family had produced excellent wandmakers for generations, not because they refused to share their knowledge, but because so very few people cared enough to learn it.
As one of the finest wandmakers in Europe, Ollivander longed to see this field blossom and flourish, full of different schools and new thought.
Money, after all, was something his family had accumulated for hundreds—thousands—of years. They had more than they could be bothered to think about.
The Ollivander family history was recorded even before the founding of the Ministry of Magic or any modern magical government.
"If you're interested, my boy…"
Ollivander patted Lynn lightly on the shoulder. "Would you like to come and see how a wand is made?"
"Thank you very much, sir!"
Lynn agreed at once. He really was deeply interested in the craft.
As Lynn followed Ollivander into the back of the shop, Dumbledore had already been back at Hogwarts for some time.
He had shut himself in the headmaster's office, fingers steepled under his chin, his deep, distant gaze fixed on empty air ahead of him. Even now, he still could not make sense of one thing—
How had Harry turned into Holly?
He was quite sure he hadn't misread anything. He was absolutely certain that what Trelawney had said in the Hog's Head all those years ago had been a true prophecy.
As Grindelwald's dearest friend, Dumbledore had witnessed many prophecies made by that man—revered by many as a seer—and every one of them had come true.
Trelawney herself was unreliable, but she was the great-granddaughter of the true Seer, Cassandra Trelawney. There was such a thing as inheritance through blood in the wizarding world. Otherwise, those self-proclaimed noble pure-blood families wouldn't be so obsessed with marrying among themselves, because bloodlines really did help ensure that each generation produced wizards steadily.
Just as Dumbledore was lost in thought, there came a rapid knock at the door of the headmaster's office.