Chapter 3: Wandworks

Walking into the store, I was greeted by quite a peculiar sight. Boxes stacked floor to roof, much like the books in Flourish and Blotts but in a messier fashion. Silence hung in the room like a physical thing, weighing down on me and instantly setting an atmosphere of mystery and intrigue. It was then I noticed McGonagall was nowhere to be seen, most likely waiting outside. In my pocket I found seven galleons, the exact price of a wand.

Walking towards the counter, I looked around some more. Knowing each and every one of these boxes held an object of such power astounded me. Knowing only one person made them astounded me even more. There must have been thousands, if not tens of thousands of wands in here.

I was barely able to contain myself, knowing that in just a few minutes I would have access to magic previously out of my grasp. I wanted to know how a wand works and interacts with its wizard partner so bad I almost bolted off to grab a box. Only my respect for Ollivander and his craft held me back. Suddenly a voice sounded out from my left, in a previously hidden alcove.

"Ah, a customer, how delightful. One wand I suppose? Yes I guess it is that time of year again isn't it."

Jumping, I spun around quicker than you could say 'wand'. I was looking all over the shop, all the while listening intently for Ollivander, yet I still didn't notice him until he showed himself. Whether it was magic or pure skill, I couldn't tell, but either way it was quite potent.

"Ollivander, I presume? Do you enjoy nearly giving your customers heart attacks?" I asked rhetorically. To both questions he nodded in the affirmative. What a strange old man. He seemed slightly off his rocker.

"I'll admit, it gets quite boring here. Not many wizards come in for wands besides their first time. A good sign I suppose, but not very good for making friends or business."

Scratch that, he's so far off his rocker he couldn't get back on even if he tried.

"Ahem.. yes, I am here for my wand." I responded, awkwardly scratching my head. This man was quite hard to deal with.

The old wand maker nodded his head enthusiastically, disappearing amongst his creations once more. As he was gone, a tape measure that I assumed had been enchanted flew up, getting all sorts of strange measurements such as the length of my nose and distance from middle finger to belly button. Why he needed such measurements, or if they were even necessary or not I would probably never know.

Ollivander returned after some time with a large pile of boxes in his arms. Setting them on the counter lightly, he picked up a single box. Inside the box was a magnificent piece of craftsmanship, nearly a foot long and slightly curved. It was clear that Ollivander must've put an incredible amount of effort into this wand. And most likely not even just his one. Every wand in the entire store was most likely made with just as much if not more effort. Say what you want about him, but he was a genius and an artist when it came to wandcraft.

"Eleven inches, willow and unicorn horn, swishy and good at charms." He said, handing me the wand. Instantly I felt a warmth penetrate my hand and arm, reaching beyond my physical body all the way to my core. It was almost perfect for me. Almost.

"No, no, not that one." He said, snatching it back. He placed it back in the box, setting it in a separate pile. "Here, try this one. Ten inches, English oak with a dragon heartstring core. Quite the potent wand I must say." He said as he handed me another box.

Again, I felt a strong connection with this one, but it was just slightly off. Sure, I could do spellwork with it, many times better than I did with just my hands, but it didn't feel like mine. It felt more like a tool in my hands than a part of me. It just wasn't right.

"Hmm, that's not right either. You seem to be closer attuned with a dragon heartstring core… Try this one. Twelve inches, blackthorn and dragon heartstring, firm and steady. An excellent wand for both a duelist and warrior."

Grabbing the wand, an incredible feeling shot through my arm, straight into my core. It was so amazing I barely even registered the flickering candlelight or cracks of lightning dancing around my fingertips. Perhaps it was because I was from another world without magic, or maybe because of my relentless practicing, but the feeling was so clear. It was so close. But because I was so adept at sensing my own magic, I could tell something was wrong. It was so close to perfect, but it wasn't my wand. Regretfully, I put it down, surprising Ollivander.

"I'm sorry sir, that one was so close, but just didn't feel perfect." I said sadly. That was the last wand of the pile, meaning I didn't connect with any of them. I would have to do with the blackthorn wand. I guess nearly perfect was good enough.

Fishing the coins out of my pocket, I picked the blackthorn wand back up again, only to be interrupted by Ollivander.

"Now wait a second, in all my years of making wands, I have never left a customer unsatisfied. The search goes on!" He declared, storming into the back of the store with a grin on his face at the thought of a challenge.

I was left there alone with my thoughts for the time being.

'Will he really find a better wand? I've never even felt something come close to that wand, it was near perfect. I guess I can only hope for the best.'

A couple minutes later, the old man came back with a box so old it seemed to be made of dust. Despite the deplorable state of the box, the wand inside was still in pristine condition. My respect for wandmakers again jumped a-hundred fold, seeing such a piece of art. It was so beautiful I barely even heard the next words that left his mouth.

"Twelve and a half inches, cherry wood and dragon heartstring. A wand that had lethal power, with limitless potential. A unique wand made by my great-grandfather, one of the most talented wandmakers to ever walk the earth. A cherry wood and dragon heartstring wand was thought to be impossible before he created this masterpiece due to the strong personalities and power of the core and wood clashing. Of course, there are plenty floating around today, but none match this level of perfection. I dare say it is one of the finest works of art I've ever seen, surpassing even my own creations which, in my humble opinion, are some of the best of the era. A user that owns such a wand has to have exemplary self control due to the powerful magics that are bound to be created. It is sublime at charms, curses, and enchantments but takes a powerful wizard to control it. Give it a go."

Despite not even touching it, I already knew this one was mine. It was me and I was it, much like my core. It seems Ollivander knew as well, due to the lengthy speech.

Tentatively, I reached my hand out to the wand, grasping its handle.

Power.

There was a deep thrumming within my very essence, filling my body with power untold. Instinctively, deep in my bones, I could feel this wand was not like the others. Those were mere tools, instruments for wizards to string together magic. This wand was an extension of myself. Magic felt so… easy. Everytime I cast a wandless spell, I knew my magic was leaking. There was a certain inefficiency to wandless magic that I haven't been able to overcome yet. This wand, though, had no leaks whatsoever. It even seemed to amplify my own magical power by a fair margin too. The feeling was indescribable.

Lights flickered, a glow enveloped me and lightning cracked. There was a hum that permitted the room, and everything got slightly warmer. Power suffused the room and a whirlwind enveloped me and my new wand, my new partner.

Eventually, I got down from my high and looked at Ollivander with wonder on my face. Amusement in his eyes, he said, "My, my, I don't think I have ever seen such a reaction in all my years in the craft. Such a perfect match is only known through rumors of old. You shall do great things, young Orion, this I'm sure of."

Apprehensively, I asked Ollivander about the wand I was just handed.

"Sir, you spoke of this wand as if it were important to you. Are you sure I can take it..?" I asked more out of politeness than anything. He would have to pry this wand out of my cold, dead hands before I gave it to him willingly.

"Of course you can't take it." My stomach dropped, fear creeping up my spine. I was ready to just bolt with the wand before: "You owe me seven galleons, the standard price for a wand." He said cheerfully with mirth dancing in his pale eyes. The fear instantly dissipated into nothing, leaving only annoyance at the old man.

"I take back everything good I thought about you, Mr. Ollivander. You are completely crazy." The old man, crazy as he was, only laughed in response. Dropping the coins into his outstretched hand, I turned heel and walked out of the shop. Still entranced with my new wand I completely ignored Mr. Ollivander, which for some reason made him even happier. Crazy old man.

McGonagall was waiting for me outside as I thought, deep in a conversation with a stranger with a green hat similar to her own. I was fine with this, of course, as it allowed me to probe my wand more. I sent out strands of magical power into the wand, marveling at the ease at which it drew out my power. It was truly incredible. How wizards could hold such an amazing piece of magic and decide not to go on some sort of quest for knowledge astounded me. How could you wield the power to control the forces of the universe at your fingertips, yet squander away the potential by working somewhere behind the desk in the Ministry of owning a store? Even with this world being more logical and realistic than the original books, one fact remained the same. Wizards were idiots.

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The way back to the orphanage was a blur to me. I vaguely remember McGonagall looking at me with amusement before the world spun once more, but only vaguely. Shutting the door to my room closed, which I only now realized I was in, I set my mind in motion.

How can I get around the trace?

I assumed it was either some sort of widespread ward covering the whole of England, which was extremely unlikely due to the sheer power required for such a feat, or some sort of charm. If it was a charm, it had to be placed on the individual. It could be placed on the wand itself that the trace was placed on, theoretically, but then why would it pick up Dobby's magic? No, it was much more likely it originated on the individual and spread out over a small diameter to pick out spells like the Levitation Charm which didn't have a starting point or end point, but were simply placed instantaneously from afar.

If that were the case, there had to be something that placed the charm. It couldn't have been McGonagall, because the trace affected everybody. People like Malfoy and Ron Weasley didn't go to Diagon Alley with a teacher, but their parents. There's no way the ministry has the parents apply all of the charms, that would be too irresponsible, even for the Ministry.

So far, I know that it had to be placed on every single magical child in Britain that went to Hogwarts. That means there has to be an event where every single child is in one place, and be easily charmed. Now, if only there were some sort of an ancient artifact that interacts with every single eleven year old wizard-in-training after the kid gets to Hogwarts. That's right. I believed that the Sorting Hat not only sorts the children into houses, but also placed the Trace on each and every one of them.

That's not even mentioning that in the books, Hermione said she practiced multiple spells before even boarding the Hogwarts Express, and never mentioned any trouble coming from it. This means the trace doesn't get applied before the Hogwarts Express, but is applied before the end of the year. The sorting hat fits the criteria perfectly. The Hogwarts Express could also be where it was placed, but it was a recent creation from only a few decades ago, and it was so large it would take an astounding amount of magic to enchant the entire thing with the trace.

Slowly, a maniacal grin spread across my face. If the trace is only applied during the Sorting Ceremony, then I am currently Trace free. You know what that means…

TRAINING MONTAGE TIME!