"Arrogant, extreme, explosive..."
Sitting on the steps in front of Ollivander's Wand Shop, basking in the warm sunlight, Vaughn studied the brand-new elder wand in his hand.
Even ten minutes later, Ollivander's cryptic murmurs still echoed in his ears.
"Dragon nerves hardly reject any magic, Mr. Vaughn Weasley. Unlike unicorn hair, which resists dark magic, or phoenix feathers, which tend toward the balanced and noble, dragon nerves can channel any spell—perfectly, powerfully, and dazzlingly."
"But I must say—it's also the most accident-prone of all wand cores. Especially when paired with elder wood. Elder has a temperament of extremes. From the moment it's shaped into a wand, it yearns for greatness."
"There's long been talk in the wizarding world that elder wands bring misfortune. From my personal experience, that's not strictly true—but the fact remains: if one day your destiny is no longer unique, no longer powerful, or if you're defeated by someone stronger…"
"…it may very well abandon you."
"You've heard the tale of the Elder Wand, haven't you? The Tales of Beedle the Bard may be a children's storybook, but even fables carry truth. The Elder Wand—has never truly belonged to anyone."
Vaughn gently stroked the wand. The unique texture of elderberry felt smooth, comfortable, and almost alive. He could sense its excitement, trembling faintly in his grip, as if eager to resonate with his magic.
"So... will you abandon me too?" He muttered quietly. Of course, the wand didn't have the wisdom to answer.
"Meow!"
Hexby, resting its head on Vaughn's knee, raised its face and gave a soft cry. It licked his chin gently, as if offering reassurance.
Vaughn chuckled and ruffled Hexby's thick fur.
The big cat curled up tighter in his lap, purring contentedly.
How could he be worried about a wand's betrayal?
The conditions Ollivander had warned about? They would never apply to him. A destiny that's no longer unique? Unless another transmigrator appears!
No longer powerful? Then stay powerful!
Defeated? Not happening!
Even Ollivander, sly as he was, had framed the Elder Wand's story as a fairy tale. But Vaughn knew better. The Elder Wand was real. It had stirred war under Grindelwald and remained with Dumbledore for decades. Never once had it 'abandoned' its master.
In the end, it was Grindelwald's failure or Dumbledore's death that ended their journeys, not the wand's decision.
The wand was just a tool. A powerful one—but a tool nonetheless.
"If you long for power," Vaughn whispered, "then wait. One day, I'll compare you with the real Elder Wand."
He smiled, sliding the wand into the holster at his waist.
Behind him, the crackling sound of test spells echoed from Ollivander's shop. After a moment, the door swung open and Ron strode out, red-faced and brimming with pride, holding his new wand like a trophy.
"Fourteen inches! Willow and unicorn hair—brilliant!" he bragged. "You should've seen it, Vaughn! I made thousands of boxes float at once!"
He was glowing with self-satisfaction—completely forgetting how, just fifteen minutes earlier, he had practically been dragged into the shop by his mother.
Now, finally holding something new—not hand-me-downs—Ron was overjoyed.
Then Vaughn smiled and asked casually, "Did you get the wand holster?"
"..." Ron's grin froze.
"They're expensive, you know. And they need special oil for upkeep. A full set costs dozens of Sickles."
"..." Ron's shoulders slumped.
"Tsk. I guess we're all giving gifts this Halloween," Vaughn said lightly. "Well—some of us won't need to anymore, I suppose."
Ron sniffed, eyes welling with tears. He tried to puff out his chest, to retort. But... Halloween gifts...
Blast it!
He'd been tricked!
Molly, like most middle-aged women, loved chatting about family matters. After thoroughly catching up with Ollivander, she finally stepped out of the store, marking the end of their shopping trip to Diagon Alley.
Well... it wasn't exactly 'enjoyable' for Ron.
Back at the Burrow, the family arrived via Floo Powder. Throughout the afternoon, owls began delivering their purchases, including Hexby, who couldn't travel by fireplace.
Besides Vaughn's own school supplies, there was also a pile of candy he'd bought for Ginny.
The little girl kissed him hard, then shared her sweets with Hexby.
From the moment she'd first seen Hexby, she'd been smitten by the "kitty." Especially when Hexby, sensing Vaughn's scent on her, happily rubbed against her. Ginny was so thrilled, she almost took Hexby on a tour around the house to declare new territory.
Ron, meanwhile, sank deeper into despair. He barely left his room and refused to let Scabbers out.
Yet early the next morning, Hexby caught Scabbers on the second-floor windowsill.
Somehow, the rat had unlatched the window and packed a few biscuits onto its tail—clearly ready to run away from home.
But a single Stunning Spell flew across the air, and the cunning little rodent became Hexby's new toy without resistance.
When Ron woke up in the night to use the bathroom and found Scabbers missing, he panicked. By the time he found them, a chunk of Scabbers' fur had been torn off, and the rat looked half-dead.
Ron collapsed in tears, trying to drive Hexby away, only to get kicked by Ginny's short legs.
After that, he nailed all the windows in his room shut and begged Arthur to craft a special cage for his "beloved" mouse. From then on, Scabbers lived locked away.
Every time Vaughn passed the fourth floor with Hexby, he could see Ron peeking from behind his door, watching them with wide, fearful eyes.
To be honest... he looked pretty pitiful.
Only when Vaughn went to the attic to brew potions every two weeks—and Hexby accompanied him for days—did Ron enjoy some peace.
Vaughn didn't concern himself too much with Scabbers. As long as the rat didn't escape, it was fine.
While waiting for school to start, Vaughn kept his life disciplined: brewing potions every fortnight, and practicing spells in between—spells from textbooks, which he'd already been learning since he was eight, using his brothers' old books and wands.
His skill varied by spell. Without a teacher, self-study could only get him so far.
Arthur and Molly were busy with work and house chores and had no time to spare. Percy? Too self-centered to help anyone. And Fred and George?
They were hopeless. Vaughn still remembered from a book in his past life that, even two years older than Harry, they needed him to teach them the Disarming Charm...
Absolutely ridiculous.
Time slipped by, and finally, September 1st arrived.