"Planning to buy a new wand? Do you have any requirements, sir?" Gregorovich led Elijah deeper into the shop.
The shelves were packed with items left behind by Gregorovich's ancestors. Many of the wands had gathered dust, and the entire store carried the scent of time.
"I hope to get a powerful wand," Elijah said, glancing around the wand shop.
There were probably tens of thousands of wands here. The dense, towering shelves were filled with long-neglected wand boxes. The light inside the store was dim, and the massive shadows made the temperature feel slightly cold.
et the atmosphere was anything but bleak.
Dust motes drifted lazily in the dry air.
"Everyone who comes here to buy a wand says the same thing," Gregorovich said with a proud smile. "Among the three most famous wandmakers in Europe, only my wands are the most powerful. Of course, others have their own strengths. Some customers seek the most suitable wand, while others pursue the most stable one."
He pulled a box from the shelf without hesitation.
"Elder wood, dragon heartstring. A combination of death and power. Twelve inches. Very proud and very powerful. Only the most talented wizards can subdue it."
After Elijah took the wand, he immediately felt its magic. He had never handled the Elder Wand itself, but the wand in his hand was indeed the most powerful he had obtained in quite some time.
He gave it a light wave. Magic burst from the tip, and red sparks exploded in the air.
"You control it very well. Every wizard who tried this wand before made quite a mess, and none of them could make it submit," Gregorovich said in astonishment.
"This is indeed the most powerful wand I've encountered so far. I'll take this one."
Elijah was quite satisfied.
But after seeing how easily Elijah subdued the dragon heartstring wand, Gregorovich clearly had other thoughts.
"Of course, I say without modesty that I am the most outstanding wandmaker in the history of the Gregorovich family," he said with a smile. "But perhaps you should try one more first. The wand chooses the wizard."
With a casual flick, he cast a Summoning Charm. A delicate box flew quickly toward them, knocking over several wand boxes along the way. Gregorovich did not look distressed in the slightest.
Ever since studying the Elder Wand, he had experimented with countless combinations.
He had once attempted to perfectly replicate the Elder Wand's elder wood and Thestral tail hair core. Unfortunately, the results had been disappointing. Several replicas in a row had all been mediocre.
Later, he experimented with new materials and gradually discovered certain patterns. Phoenix feather paired well with elder wood, but phoenixes were extremely rare, and the results were unpredictable. Sometimes the wand would be extraordinary; sometimes disappointingly ordinary.
By contrast, dragon heartstring was far more compatible with elder wood and often produced unexpectedly strong results.
As for other magical creatures, he had also conducted many experiments, including thunderbird feathers.
Wands made with thunderbird cores were already extremely powerful, but they were far more sensitive and difficult to control than most others.
Even now, very few wizards could properly wield them.
Elijah grew curious about what Gregorovich was hiding.
When the exquisite box was opened, a truly magnificent wand appeared before him.
"It's also elder wood," Gregorovich said softly, "and the core comes from a very strong and very special thunderbird."
Elijah was drawn to it at first sight.
It measured about twelve and one-third inches, straight and finely jointed. The handle resembled two folded wings, and the shaft was engraved with patterns like lightning.
He reached for it almost unconsciously.
The moment his fingers closed around the wand, its power resonated violently with him. In his mind, he seemed to see vast dark wings spreading wide. Sparks burst from the tip of the wand.
Gregorovich's excitement nearly overflowed.
"This is my favorite work! It has been almost a hundred years, and no one has been able to conquer it!"
"Perhaps Dumbledore could have," he muttered, almost breathless. "But I suppose he no longer needs it. I thought I would never find a suitable wizard in my lifetime. I even believed it would fall to my descendants to meet someone worthy. Yet today… yes, today is the lucky day!"
He grabbed Elijah's shoulders with both hands, eyes shining with rare moisture.
"Yes, you—you will achieve great things!"
Elijah remained noncommittal.
With his talent, achievement had never depended on whether he could do something, but whether he chose to. Pure magical research alone was already interesting enough. Still, the unease in his heart had not completely faded.
"I'll take this wand."
"Thank you very much. Seventy-nine Galleons."
"Seventy-nine?" Elijah's hand froze mid-motion as he reached for his coins. "Isn't that a bit expensive?"
"Expensive? How is it expensive?" Gregorovich bristled immediately. "It has been this price for years! Don't talk nonsense. Building a wandmaking brand is difficult. Sometimes you should reflect on your own situation. Haven't salaries increased over the years? Yes. But the wand price hasn't changed. How is it expensive?"
Suppressing the urge to hit him with a Killing Curse, Elijah said through clenched teeth, "As far as I know, a wand from Ollivanders costs only seven Galleons."
At the mention of price, Gregorovich's expression changed instantly.
"That's a preferential price for young wizards just entering school. Ollivanders has an agreement with Hogwarts—the school subsidizes the difference. Most new students who come to me are pure-bloods and not short on money, sir."
He sighed, then added more seriously, "Moreover, this wand is very special. I know you came to Germany specifically to buy a wand. You must have heard certain rumors about me. I have never responded directly before… but now I can tell you—yes, those rumors are true."
He paused, watching Elijah closely, clearly expecting shock.
Instead, Elijah remained calm, as if the legend of the Elder Wand was far less surprising than the price of seventy-nine Galleons.
Gregorovich could only continue.
"Since obtaining.. and losing.. the Elder Wand, I have devoted myself to uncovering the secret of its power. That is why the wands I have made since then are consistently stronger than most others."
"This wand is the most powerful of all my imitations. Although it still cannot compare to the Elder Wand itself, among existing wands, very few can rival it."
"Especially since I lost the Wand of Destiny… I have never created another wand this powerful."
"All right."
Although Elijah still felt seventy-nine Galleons was steep, the thunderbird wand's power was undeniably impressive. This was not some disposable trinket.
Fortunately, he had extracted some funds from Malfoy before coming to Germany. Otherwise, this purchase would have been impossible.
Gregorovich weighed the heavy pouch of Galleons a few times. His wrinkled face immediately bloomed with satisfaction.
"You will achieve great things, Sir!"
"Perhaps…"
Elijah slipped the wand into his sleeve, pushed open the door, and left Gregorovich's wand shop.
By now, the town was growing busy. Adult wizards walked hand in hand with well-dressed young wizards, shopping for school supplies. Not far from the wand shop were several robe stores, and farther ahead stood a pet shop.
It looked no different from Diagon Alley.
Elijah slipped sideways through the crowd, intending to enter a quiet alley and transform before leaving. Now that he had the wand, there was nothing here worth lingering for.
Of course, there might be ancient secrets hidden in this place—but chasing vague legends was far less efficient than pursuing what he already knew.
For example… the Deathly Hallows.
...
A golden eagle spread its wings and swept across the sparkling sea, cutting through the oncoming waves.
Before long, the high-flying eagle spotted the distant coastline.
He had returned to England.
In the sky, lone Dementors drifted from time to time. Two prisoners had vanished from Azkaban—Fudge could not afford to sit idle and damage his reputation.
Large numbers of Dementors now hovered above the city, and the sky over London had grown noticeably darker. Thick gray clouds hung like heavy pencil strokes across the sky. Even the temperature had dropped several degrees.
This was likely the coldest summer Britain had seen in decades.
A low, damp mist filled the city, as if London had suddenly reverted to its old title—the Fog City. Though at least now it was cleaner than before.
The London Elijah saw today looked almost identical to the one from Riddle's childhood memories. Thick fog. Filthy streets. Rats and insects crawling near the damp sewer mouths. The ground sticky, as if drenched in spilled syrup.
It was no cleaner than the passage leading to the Chamber of Secrets.
Judging from Riddle's memories alone, Elijah could understand why he had grown to hate Muggles.
He had grown up in an orphanage. In those days, children from such places rarely had bright futures. More often, they became street thugs—no different from gutter rats.
Many could barely read. Most fell in with rough crowds in their early teens and eventually became the neighborhood's filth, like porcupines covered in thorns, struggling in the mud.
Worse still, after Riddle was admitted to what they considered a "good" school, they never accepted him again—and Riddle himself had disdained associating with them.
To them, he was an outlier. Someone who should have remained as lowly as they were, yet dared to grasp a better future and carry himself with dignity.
Especially given Riddle's own cold attitude toward them.
Unfortunately for them, once Riddle entered Hogwarts, he gradually lost all fear of these Muggle children.
But he was forbidden to use magic.
That restriction weighed heavily on him. Riddle never wanted to risk being expelled from the magical world.
Few people would have imagined that Voldemort—the dark wizard who would one day spread terror across Britain—had once returned to school year after year covered in bruises.
Riddle's past flickered through Elijah's mind.
Dumbledore had tried to guide him away from wrongdoing, but the method had been flawed and shortsighted.
The fear others showed when you possessed power… the helplessness when confronted by someone stronger… the humiliation of being bullied when you dared not use your true strength…
All of it only convinced Riddle further of one thing:
Magic was power.