Chapter 16: Standing His Ground

"Where did you really get this wand, Ronald Weasley?"

Molly's sharp tone cut through the quiet kitchen, her eyes narrowing as she held up the wand Ron had crafted himself. The atmosphere, once calm, had shifted quickly. Ron had hoped his casual explanation would suffice, but he should've known better than to think his mum would let it go that easily.

"I told you, Mum. I've been practicing. I made it," Ron said, keeping his voice steady, though he could feel the tension building. He had been prepared for this conversation, but that didn't make it easier.

Molly shook her head, clearly unimpressed. "Nonsense. You can't just make a wand, Ron. That's advanced magic. Even adult wizards go to specialists for that. Ollivander's been crafting wands for decades—there's a reason we all go to him. Whatever this is, it's not going to cut it for Hogwarts."

Ron sighed, his fingers tightening around the edge of the table. This was why he hadn't wanted to share his Crafting ability. It wasn't just about secrecy; it was about control. He knew how powerful his abilities had become, but if he revealed too much, too soon, it would complicate everything. His family would worry, and they'd insist on sticking to traditional methods. That wasn't the path he wanted to take.

"I know how it sounds, but this wand works, Mum," Ron said, meeting her gaze firmly. "I've been using it for weeks. It's not some makeshift toy—I put real magic into it. You just have to trust me."

Molly's expression softened, but only slightly. "I do trust you, Ron, but this isn't a game. Wands aren't something you just experiment with. You need a proper wand if you're going to Hogwarts, and Ollivander—"

"No," Ron interrupted, more forcefully this time. "I'm not going to Ollivander."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging between them. Molly stared at him, clearly taken aback by his defiance. Ron had never spoken to her like that before, but he wasn't going to back down now. This was more than just about the wand—it was about taking control of his own life.

"I've already made my wand," Ron continued, his voice firm. "It's not like anyone else's, but that's the point. I'm not like anyone else."

Molly's eyes searched his face, and for a moment, Ron thought she might start arguing again, but instead, she just sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "You're growing up too fast, Ron," she said softly. "I don't know where this confidence is coming from, but I worry about you."

Ron's chest tightened. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but he couldn't keep living in the shadow of other people's expectations. "I'll be fine, Mum," he said, his voice gentler now. "I know what I'm doing."

Molly gave him a long look, her lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, she relented. "We'll have Ollivander take a look at the wand," she said, her tone leaving little room for argument. "Just to make sure it's safe. If he says it's alright, you can use it. But if not, we're getting you a proper wand."

Ron nodded, knowing he'd have to make sure the wand passed Ollivander's scrutiny. He didn't like it, but it was a compromise he could live with. It would keep Molly off his back, and once they saw how well his wand performed, they'd have no choice but to accept it.

Later that evening, after the tension had simmered down, Ron retreated to his room, his mind buzzing. The confrontation with Molly had been more difficult than he'd expected, but at least he had stood his ground. The real challenge, though, was figuring out how to explain his abilities to his family—if he ever decided to tell them.

He had kept his Crafting ability hidden for several reasons. Partly because it was new, still something he was getting used to, and partly because it gave him an edge. If everyone knew he could craft magical items, they'd expect him to use that ability for them, or worse—they might see him as a threat.

It wasn't that he didn't trust his family; he just didn't want the attention that came with it. The system had given him something special, and he wasn't ready to share that part of himself. Not yet.

Ron stared at his wand, the runes etched into its surface glowing faintly in the dim light of his room. The Enhanced Crafting had allowed him to create something powerful, something uniquely his. But it also came with responsibility. He couldn't be careless with this ability—it required control, focus, and, for now, discretion.

They wouldn't understand, he thought. The magical world had strict rules, traditions that everyone followed without question. Wizards bought their wands from wandmakers, brewed their potions according to set recipes, and learned magic in the same structured way. Ron was breaking away from that, and he knew that meant facing resistance from those who were bound by tradition.

The next day, Molly insisted on taking him to Diagon Alley to visit Ollivander's. Though Ron tried to remain calm, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in his chest. He trusted his Crafting ability, but Ollivander was a master wandmaker. If anyone could tell something was unusual about Ron's wand, it would be him.

As they entered the wand shop, the familiar smell of polished wood and old parchment filled the air. Ollivander, with his wild silver hair and piercing eyes, greeted them with his usual cryptic smile.

"Ah, young Ronald Weasley," Ollivander said, his voice soft but commanding. "It's about time you came to get your first wand."

Ron glanced at his mum, who was watching him closely, and took a deep breath. He handed Ollivander the wand he had crafted, trying not to reveal his nerves. "I... already made one," he said, keeping his voice steady.

Ollivander raised an eyebrow, taking the wand from Ron's hand with a look of mild surprise. "Did you, now?"

For a moment, the wandmaker studied the wand in silence, his eyes narrowing as he ran his fingers along its length, inspecting the core and the runes etched into its surface. Ron held his breath, waiting for a reaction.

Finally, Ollivander looked up, his expression unreadable. "Curious," he murmured. "Very curious."

Molly tensed beside Ron, clearly expecting the worst. "Is it... alright?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

Ollivander's gaze flicked to her, then back to Ron. "This wand is not from any wandmaker I know," he said slowly. "And yet... it is well-crafted. The core—thestral feather—paired with drakespine and moonroot... an unusual combination, but effective." He turned the wand over in his hand, giving it one final inspection. "This is powerful magic."

Ron could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but he kept his expression calm. "It works well for me," he said, meeting Ollivander's gaze.

Ollivander studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Indeed, it would. A wand must choose its master, and in this case... it seems the master has chosen the wand."

Molly blinked, clearly confused but relieved. "So, it's safe for him to use?"

Ollivander smiled faintly. "Safe, yes. But unusual." He handed the wand back to Ron, his sharp eyes lingering on him for a moment longer. "You've crafted something unique here, Mr. Weasley. Take care of it."

Ron nodded, feeling a surge of relief wash over him. Ollivander had accepted the wand, and that was all he needed. Molly, though still uncertain, seemed content with the wandmaker's approval.

As they left the shop, Ron couldn't help but smile to himself. He had passed the test, and now, his wand was officially recognized. He had kept his Crafting ability hidden for now, but he knew it wouldn't stay that way forever.

One day, he'd reveal the full extent of his power. But for now, he was content to play by his own rules.