X. Wand of Fate

🙞 29 June 1991 | Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley 🙜

Harry sat in a chair, the tower's walls surrounding him, and in his hands was a book. He was once again back in his Mind Palace, now reinforcing his memories.

Aldrik had told him that memories varied in appearance depending on the person. To Harry, it had been no surprise that his appeared as books. If anything, it would be more surprising if they hadn't instead.

~ An Owl sat perched on his room's window in Leaky Cauldron, a letter held by its beak. Taking it, he almost shouted in delight as he read the recipient's name - 'Konrad Barak Schwarz'. ~

As he finished reminiscing on the memory, the book lit up in blinding light. Then, it disappeared as if it had never been there. Just as he began to wonder where it could have possibly gone, a voice from far away robbed him of the opportunity.

Opening his eyes, he stared at Aldrik, "Go buy your supplies." The man said, with no further explanation, leaving just as quickly as he appeared.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Harry, a raven suddenly appeared in his Mind Palace, confused with its surroundings. Omen had just closed his eyes, prepared to enjoy his afternoon nap, when he felt a pulling sensation.

It reminded the bird of Harry when both communicated using memories as words. Omen had - of course - followed the pull, which was why he was there now, in that strange land with nothing but a single tree and tower.

The pull, however, didn't end there. No, it took Omen to the tree, where he noticed something peculiar. The tree had a book halfway embedded into its bark.

It called to him, and he answered it.

🙞 29 June 1991 | Ollivanders, Diagon Alley 🙜

The shop's smell was similar to that of Flourish and Botts, even though it had dust in every corner. Harry stood by the entrance, waiting for the shop's owner to appear. His feet couldn't stop moving on their own, and anticipation clouded him.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the only emotion that he felt. There was another feeling, niggling in the back root of his head, begging to be released. It was anger. Besides the shop's owner, Harry wasn't alone.

A string of magic permeated the shop, its nature similar to the trickle he'd felt on that fateful day in Diagon Alley. Its pull, however, was unlike any before, strong like a bowstring ready to shoot an arrow.

It had its source coming from a nondescript box in the back of the shop, a wand most likely. A cough from his right interrupted Harry's thoughts. Immediately, he whirled around, noticing the older man peering from the corner of the shop, his hair white and tangled, like a nest for birds.

"Good afternoon, mister..." The man - Ollivander, Harry presumed - drawled.

"Konrad, sir." He politely replied.

The older man chuckled, "A most unusual name..."

"Indeed." Harry chuckled as well but didn't elaborate any further. It seemed Ollivander expected more than only that, however.

The silence stretched on, uncomfortable, but Harry paid it no mind. Having learned from Aldrik, Harry had plenty of experience cutting conversations short. A short, awkward moment later, the man relented.

"I can only suppose, then, that your wand will be just as unusual. Are you right-handed?" Harry nodded, and the man quickly took measurements of his arm.

Task completed, the man then went away, disappearing to the back of the shop. Before Harry could even blink, Ollivander was back already.

"Why don't you take a look at this, a thick holly wand. The length is eleven inches long. Dragon heartstring, quite flexible." The man spoke, opening the box slowly as if to cue in suspense.

With anticipation brimming inside him, Harry took the wand without much fanfare.

Immediately, upon taking it in his hand, Harry felt sick. It was wrong. His body felt heavier on the right side, where his writing hand was. A headache surged, and he felt like his arm was slowly heating.

"No, no, that won't do." Ollivander took the wand, disappearing, yet again, to the back of the store.

Before long, he presented another magical focus, "This might be it, a finely-carved willow wand. In length, it is nine inches long. Quite inflexible. The core consists of Unicorn hair."

The same results.

Wands started piling on the corner of the shop, not a single one of them usable. Slowly, Harry began to develop an aversion to each new magic Foci presented. It felt wrong to his magic. It was as if they were trying to rob him of his connection with it.

Then, the worst happened, the man took the box surrounded by the strange energy.

"I wonder... this one. Holly possessing of a Phoenix feather as the core. 11' long, nice and supple." He opened the box, and instantly, it pulled onto Harry.

Whispers enticed Harry to take the wand, saying it was his Fate to have it. He didn't even dare raise his hand, however, fearing it might fall to temptation.

"It makes me sick." He said to the man. Immediately, he noticed the brief flash of disappointment that crossed Ollivander's face before it was gone.

The man took the box and departed to the back of the store again, thinking. In that brief moment, Harry took a decision - one he hoped to be the correct one.

The trickle of magic sizzled in the air, its energy turning foul. It wouldn't be the first time that Harry had gone against its wishes, however. And it wouldn't be the last.

When Ollivander returned with another wand, Harry resigned himself to his judgment, unwilling to back down.

"A cherry-wood wand. The length is just a bit over twelve and one-half inches long. It has a core of Unicorn tail hair. Sufficiently pliable."

As he touched the wand, he pulled onto a happy memory he had once reinforced on his Mind Palace. Instantly, a natural smile blossomed on his face, and his entire expression spoke of true joy.

"This one," Harry spoke in wonder, even though it was a complete lie.

No display of magic came forth from the wand. Regardless, it wouldn't be the first time Ollivander witnessed such a case. It wasn't always that a Wizard's wand displayed outward signs.

Of course, to say he was confused was an understatement. After all, he had expected the wand to be incompatible, but such were the many mysteries of Wandlore.

"It will be seven galleons."