Soul-Bound

29th August 1991

Next on the agenda was heading toward Ollivanders for a wand, a crucial tool in mastering magical spells.

While simple spells could be cast with just the flick of a finger, the precision and power of a wand were unmatched. Wands allowed magic to gather and flow seamlessly, enabling wizards to cast more potent spells with greater ease and speed.

In history, some wizards even wielded two wands for duelling, sacrificing endurance for bursts of formidable combat prowess. This strategy would require careful consideration in the future, along with exploring other magical aids and artifacts.

Despite the abundance of options available for wizards in combat, such as alchemical props, many seemed to overlook them. "I will be different," he vowed to himself. Survival depended not on brute strength alone but on resourcefulness and innovation—traits often overlooked in history's annals.

With a determined stride, he pressed on, passing by broken cobblestones and vibrant storefronts with purpose.

Ollivanders boasted a legacy stretching back centuries, renowned as the premier wandmaker with a global network of connections. Each Ollivander had pursued their craft with distinct motivations—some seeking to craft the most powerful wands, while others aimed for unwavering loyalty.

Now, he stood poised to glean a fraction of their wisdom and forge his own path. Perhaps it was audacious, but he envisioned creating a wand surpassing all that came before, drawing upon the collective knowledge of countless generations.

Lost in contemplation, he arrived at the doorstep of the venerable wandmaker. Twin grey pillars with a faint cyan hue flanked the modest door, adorned with sunlight streaming through the glass, casting a warm glow on the parchment and eclectic decor within.

As the bell chimed, signalling his entrance, anticipation swelled within him.

The shop was empty, the silence stretching out like a welcome mat as Bondrewd took in the scene.

"Disappointing," he mused silently, contemplating the contrast between the shop's humble appearance and its legendary status in the magical world. Despite being part of the hidden elite, the Olivanders seemed content with their unassuming establishment, relying solely on their renowned craftsmanship and reputation.

"Disappointing, isn't it?" An elderly voice broke the quiet, its tone carrying a hint of resignation.

"Not at all, sir. I find it rather peaceful," Bondrewd replied politely, though he couldn't shake the feeling that the elderly man behind the counter had somehow sensed his inner thoughts.

He considered the possibility of Legilimency, the magical art of probing minds, but dismissed it. Such a skill typically required a wand against those with enhanced mental fortitude, a category he himself fell into.

"First wand and one a muggleborn," Olivander said, his voice carrying a hint of mystique.

"How'd you know?" Bondrewd responded, injecting a touch of humor into his tone.

"I remember every wand and every customer that has ever walked within these doors," Olivander replied, his voice bearing a slight gravelly tinge from age.

"Well then, you'd be correct. It is indeed my first wand," Bondrewd confirmed with a smile, choosing to ignore the latter comment.

With a wave of his hand, a tape measure flew out, hovering next to Bondrewd's still smiling face.

"Hm, 12' or perhaps 10?" Olivander contemplated aloud as the tape danced around, meticulously taking measurements.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is the most powerful wand you have?" Bondrewd inquired, trying to maintain an air of curiosity to mask his true intentions.

"There is no 'most powerful' wand, only the most suitable," Olivander retorted sternly.

"Many years ago, I had a boy just like you. He spoke the same and asked the same," Olivander said, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

"I wonder... perhaps?" he continued, reaching for a box under his counter, a thin layer of dust coating the top.

The box creaked open, revealing a seemingly simple honey-colored wand, its rough wood outlining the tip.

"11 inches. Holly, phoenix feather core," the old man announced dramatically.

As Bondrewd reached out and grasped the wand, he felt... nothing.

This wand denied him completely, almost lifeless in its response.

"Curious, very curious. So similar you are, yet seemingly so different," Olivander muttered to himself, barely audible despite the silence.

"What is curious?" Bondrewd asked, intrigued.

"You remind me of someone, a very great yet terrible man, someone who almost changed the very world," Olivander said, evoking a sense of pride in Bondrewd.

"Yet the wand paired with his own shows no sign of responding to you," Olivander finished.

"Perhaps we are not so alike after all," Bondrewd laughed inwardly, echoing the sentiments of the one he deemed so different.

"Hmmm, ah! I know," Olivander exclaimed, pacing before selecting another box.

Another elegant box was soon placed before Bondrewd, this one darker in shade. Opening it revealed an exquisite wooden wand, its material discernible only by the subtle grain running along its length.

"12 inches. Yew Wood, Phoenix feather wrapped in Thestral tail hair," Olivander whispered, Bondrewd closer to the wand as if by magnetic force, the pull of fate itself guiding him.

"A unique combination, the creation of one of my ancestors in the 15th century. An attempt to recreate a certain wand, it failed, but resulted in something utterly unique."

"Thestral tail hair is inherently unstable in a wand, yet when wrapped around a phoenix feather, it can rarely form a delicate balance," Olivander explained, but his words were interrupted as the air subtly changed.

A gust of wind rose up, tousling Bondrewd's dark locks as his eyes seemed to gleam a deeper purple, fixated on the wand before him.

"Mine. I know it's mine!" Every fibre of his being screamed as his hands reached out, gently cupping the base of the wand and giving it a slight twirl with his fingers.

"A wand inherent to those with strong dispositions toward life and death," Olivander finished his speech, slightly in awe.

Magic pulsed from the wand, sending a biting breeze outward, yet all Bondrewd could feel were the soft caresses of a magic uniquely his own.

The wand was his and his alone.

It hinted at the future he desired, a future where he stood above all, life and death inconsequential at his feet, ascended beyond all others as he had dreamed of for years.

It hinted at the reason for his very existence; his soul cried out to the wand, which reciprocated.

A bond unlike any other formed between them, much like the wand's components, connected by life and death.

"It seems you were not so different after all," Olivander chuckled, the wind calming and Bondrewd's hair settling, his eyes gleaming dimly in the darkness.