"Nope. Hard pass, System," I thought, internally shaking my head. "Not today, Dark Lord. Definitely not today."
The audacity of it, offering Voldemort as a pet project! My mind was still reeling a bit, even as I forced myself to walk normally alongside Mum and Daphne. The sheer, terrifying humor of it all was almost too much. Future torment of the Dark Lord would have to wait for a more... private setting, perhaps when I actually had the resources to contain a sentient soul fragment without getting myself instantly expelled.
The alley continued its vibrant assault on the senses, but my internal world was now a kaleidoscope of newly acquired abilities and highly sensitive information. It was like getting a software upgrade while trying to walk across a crowded street.
"Alright, darlings," Mum announced, her voice cutting through my thoughts, "Ollivanders is just here. Wands are, as you know, quite personal. Be patient."
Ollivanders. The name hung in the air, heavy with history and a faint scent of dust and ancient magic. The shop front was narrow and dingy, looking almost forgotten between the brighter, more bustling storefronts. But I knew better. This was where destinies were found. Or, in Harry's case, where a bit of Voldemort still hung out.
We stepped inside, and the world instantly changed. It was quiet. So, so quiet, after the street. The air was thick with unspoken magic, and rows upon rows of narrow boxes, stacked precariously high, loomed over us. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light filtering through the grimy window. It felt less like a shop and more like a library of sleeping power.
Mr. Ollivander emerged from the shadows at the back, a pale, wispy man with wide, silvery eyes that seemed to see right through you. Or, in my case, probably straight into my hidden System interface. He moved with a quiet, almost unsettling grace, as if he himself were a wand, waiting to choose his master.
"Ah, Lady Greengrass," he murmured, his voice soft, like rustling parchment. "And young Miss Greengrass. And Master Lucian. I had thought it would be today."
Mum gave a polite nod. "Indeed, Mr. Ollivander. My twins are ready for their first wands." Astoria, clutching Mr. Snuffles, whimpered slightly and buried her face in Mum's robes. She was clearly not a fan of unsettlingly perceptive shopkeepers.
Ollivander's silvery eyes fixed on Daphne first. "Miss Greengrass. Let us see..." He pulled a box from a high shelf with a fluid motion. "Ten inches, hawthorn, unicorn hair. Try this."
Daphne took the wand. Great Sage immediately began processing:
'Wand Type: Hawthorn (Complex, requires skilled master).
Core: Unicorn Hair (Consistent, loyal).
Compatibility with Subject: Daphne Greengrass:
High. Sub-analysis: Daphne's inherent control and analytical mind align well with Hawthorn's nuanced power. Unicorn hair will complement her loyalty.'
See? Useful.
Daphne gave it a gentle wave. Nothing. No sparks, no warmth. Ollivander took it back with a faint sigh. "No, no. Not quite."
This went on for a bit. Daphne tried wand after wand. Each time, Great Sage gave me a little rundown.
'Wand: Fir, Phoenix Feather.
Compatibility: Moderate.
Reason: Too volatile for current control.'
————-
'Wand: Cypress, Dragon Heartstring.
Compatibility: Low.
Reason: Too headstrong for subtle approach.'
Daphne remained perfectly poised, but I could tell she was getting a little frustrated. Her lips were pressed just a fraction too tightly.
Then, Mr. Ollivander handed her a slim, elegant wand. "Eleven inches, blackthorn, dragon heartstring. Supple."
The moment Daphne's fingers closed around it, a shower of silver sparks erupted from the tip, and a soft, warm breeze swirled through the shop. Daphne's expression softened, a genuine, delighted smile gracing her lips.
'Wand: Blackthorn, Dragon Heartstring.
Compatibility with Subject: Daphne Greengrass: Exceptional.
Reason: Blackthorn's fierce loyalty resonates with Daphne's protective nature. Dragon heartstring provides power she can channel with her inherent control.
Prediction: Subject will be a powerful wielder of defensive and counter-spells.'
"Excellent! Oh, excellent!" Ollivander beamed, his eyes twinkling. "Yes, Miss Greengrass. A splendid match."
Next up: me. My turn.
"And now, Master Lucian," Ollivander murmured, his silvery eyes lingering on me for a moment too long. "I confess, I find you... an interesting case. Very interesting indeed." He stepped closer, his gaze unnervingly piercing.
Great Sage went into overdrive.
'Subject: Garrick Ollivander.
Status: Highly Sensitive Magical Signature Detector.
Probability of detecting System: Low (non-magical source), but probability of detecting unusual latent magical aura: High.'
Right. He wouldn't see the System, but he'd sense that something was different about my magic. Good to know.
He handed me a wand. "Ten and a quarter inches, beechwood, phoenix feather. Try this."
I took it. Nothing. The wand felt cold, inert.
"No, no. Definitely not." Ollivander took it back, his eyes still analyzing me. He began to move more quickly, pulling boxes from every direction. "Perhaps... cherry and unicorn hair? No. How about cedar and dragon heartstring? Too rigid. Willow and phoenix feather? Too flamboyant for your subtle nature."
Wand after wand, they came and went. Each time, I'd give it a flick, and each time, my Great Sage would process the feedback.
'Wand: Yew, Thunderbird Feather.
Compatibility: Moderate.
Reason: Power aligns, but connection to death theme suboptimal for current objective.'
——-
'Wand: Vine, Dragon Heartstring.
Compatibility: Low.
Reason: Creative energy too wild for controlled application.'
The shop was slowly becoming a disaster zone of discarded wands. Dust motes seemed to swirl in annoyance. Even Astoria looked up, Mr. Snuffles dangling precariously, to watch my string of failures. My mother's subtle composure was beginning to fray at the edges.
"Perhaps, Mr. Ollivander," Mum began, a hint of steel in her tone, "we could speed this along?"
Ollivander ignored her, his eyes still fixed on me.
"Every wand, Master Lucian, has a story. And yours... yours is proving to be a particularly intricate tale."
He seemed to be listening to the air around me. "Ah, yes. I believe I have it. A difficult customer, but a rewarding one."
He climbed a shaky ladder to a very high, dusty shelf, pulling down a single, unassuming box. He opened it carefully. Inside lay a wand that looked... ordinary. Nothing particularly flashy. It was a dark, polished wood, simple in its design.
"Ten inches, blackthorn, with a Thestral hair core," Ollivander whispered, presenting it to me. "A rare combination indeed. Blackthorn, known for its loyalty and protective qualities, but also its affinity for darker magic when wielded by the right hand. And Thestral hair... a core that chooses a wielder who has known death. A core that demands a certain... understanding." His eyes seemed to bore into my very soul. "Highly individual. Very adaptable."
I took the wand.
The moment my fingers closed around the cool wood, a jolt, not of magic, but of recognition shot through me. It wasn't the warm, comforting embrace Daphne's wand had offered, but a cold, clear clarity that vibrated deep in my bones. It felt less like a tool and more like an extension of my very being, a resonant frequency I hadn't known I possessed. Great Sage exploded with data, faster and more intensely than before, a torrent of information that somehow felt both alien and intimately familiar.
'Wand: Blackthorn, Thestral Hair.
Compatibility with Subject: Lucian Greengrass: Exceptional.
Reason: User's unique origin (reincarnation) provides 'understanding of death' requirement beyond conventional experience, forming a profound spiritual connection. Blackthorn's fierce loyalty and affinity for unconventional or 'darker' magic (manipulation, subtle power, self-preservation) perfectly complements user's strategic nature and past-life disposition. Thestral Hair core enhances adaptability, facilitates connection to liminal energies, and amplifies user's innate capacity for observation and unseen influence.
Analysis: Wand will grow stronger in direct correlation with user's emotional maturity, intellectual development, and strategic prowess. Potential for non-standard spellcasting, highly efficient silent magic, and subtle manipulation: Extremely High.
Warning: May attract attention from entities sensitive to death-related magic or those who perceive 'darker' affinities.'
A faint, almost invisible wisp of dark, ethereal smoke curled from the tip of the wand, then vanished, leaving a lingering scent of ozone and ancient earth. It wasn't menacing, not truly, just... an acknowledgment. The air around me felt suddenly sharper, clearer, as if a filter had been removed from reality. The incessant hum of Diagon Alley outside, the distant shouts, the clatter of commerce, it all faded into the background, becoming distant echoes against the profound silence of this new connection. This wasn't just a stick; it was my stick, perfectly attuned to my utterly unique existence, designed not just for casting spells, but for rewriting the rules.
"Oh, yes," Ollivander breathed, a look of profound satisfaction on his face, his silvery eyes twinkling as if he'd just witnessed a personal miracle. "Indeed. A fascinating choice, Master Lucian. I daresay we can expect great things from you. Very great things." He seemed to be talking to the wand as much as to me, a silent conversation only they understood.
Mum, who had been watching with thinly veiled impatience, finally gave a relieved sigh. "Finally. Two wands. Shall we proceed to the rest of the supplies, Mr. Ollivander?"
But I wasn't listening. I just held the wand, a strange mix of awe and strategic satisfaction swirling inside me. This wasn't just a stick; it was a tool, perfectly attuned to my unique existence.
This was going to be an 'MAGICAL' year, indeed.
*If you're enjoying the story, toss me a power stone and help Lucian conquer the multiverse one chapter at a time! 💎🔥*