The shimmering silver light danced and intertwined for a moment before gradually returning to the wand. A subtle glow lingered, slowly fading as the wand settled into its own.
"I never imagined it would actually wait for its master. By Merlin, I am clearly witnessing the beginning of a monumental history. You are destined to achieve remarkable feats that will surely be recorded in the annals of history," Ollivander gazed intently at Ian, his cloudy eyes filled with reverence. The old man's hunched form seemed to curve even more as if he were slightly bowing in respect.
"Is this the Elder Wand replica?" Ian asked, looking down at the wand that felt so intimately connected to him. He marveled at how alive it felt in his grasp, sensing his magic pulsing vibrantly.
"Not quietly. But it is the rarest wand material, more challenging to master than any other. Few would choose to make wands from it since it only picks owners with extraordinary destinies," Ollivander explained, his voice steeped in gravitas.
"Every owner of such a wand has historically commanded attention amidst the tides of history... So, you will undoubtedly become an unparalleled figure in the future," Ollivander concluded, a smile stretching across his face.
Perhaps the resonance between Ian and this wand proved that Ollivander's earlier attempts had not been in vain; this was a wand capable of functioning properly and fitting seamlessly with a wizard's essence.
"Thank you for your blessing. I hope to achieve great things as I grow," Ian replied, holding his wand with a sense of pride and delight.
"This is not merely a blessing, Mr. Prince. It is destiny revealed by the wand. In my youth, I chose a unicorn hair for its core, seeking to prove something."
"That combination defies convention, flying in the face of wand-making rules," Ollivander remarked, his gaze now holding a fervor that had been absent moments before.
There was something about his demeanor—almost youthful in its vibrancy—that left Ian puzzled.
"Hm?" Ian cocked his head in curiosity.
Ollivander chuckled, clearly amused.
"You may not yet grasp the characteristics this wand possesses, which will guide you toward the future it signifies..." He seemed to weave riddles as adeptly as Dumbledore himself.
"I lack the ability to reveal the nebulous future to you, but you will certainly reshape and alter many things." Ollivander's focus returned to the wand in Ian's hand, his excitement palpable.
"Well, the first thing I'd like to alter is the wand's outrageous price. Since it has gathered dust for so long, could you perhaps offer me a small discount?" Ian fluttered his eyelashes, adopting a childlike tone as he began to negotiate.
He assumed that Ollivander, overwhelmed with praise and wonder, would be unable to resist his seasoned bargaining techniques.
However, Ollivander's response was swift. "Seven Galleons. That is the standard rate."
A true businessman; the gracious demeanor Ollivander possessed moments ago vanished in an instant when money became the topic of discussion.
"How about only six Galleons?" Ian pleaded.
"If I become a significant figure in the future, I will make you the head of the Wand Protection Association at Hogwarts, allowing you to charge every student an annual wand usage fee," Ian proclaimed with an innocent smile, painting an extravagant picture of what could be.
"…"
The seasoned Ollivander found himself momentarily flummoxed.
"Seven Galleons is the regulation," Ollivander reiterated, a note of exasperation creeping into his tone.
"The Ministry has such a rule?" Ian expressed doubt, convinced that Ollivander must be spinning tales, much like the notion of fate guiding him.
"You'd be surprised. In reality, this already reflects a discount for young wizards. If you want to buy a second wand, even Dumbledore must part with twenty Galleons."
Ollivander's words showcased his commitment to business over sentiment.
"What if Dumbledore promised he'd allow you to collect a wand usage tax each year?" Ian inquired curiously, lifting his head, caught up with the distinctiveness of the proposition.
Ollivander, taken aback by the idea, seemed to contemplate the thought.
"Hmm…"
Well, it seemed that indeed, power held sway!
Ian smirked internally, realizing that all the talk of destiny was mere nonsense. He resigned himself to pay the full amount. With the seven Galleons Snape had provided him, Ian found that after this purchase, not a single Knut remained.
"Enjoy your studies," Ollivander said, receiving the payment with a renewed smile. He slightly bowed as he bid farewell, watching Ian as he turned to leave this small shop.
Ding~!
Just as Ian opened the door to exit, a little girl and her parent arrived at the entrance, ready to push the door open.
"Step aside, child," commanded an elderly woman who exuded an air of aristocracy. She wore a tilted hat adorned with feathers, and a light veil obscured her features slightly. Her tone left no room for argument as she addressed Ian from a position of superiority.
Wishing to avoid an argument, Ian quickly stepped aside but inadvertently loosened his grip on the door handle. The elderly woman, forced to reapply her effort, pushed the door open wide, ushering in the little girl with striking platinum blonde hair. The girl didn't spare Ian a glance as they entered, but her gaze lingered thoughtfully on him.
Ian, on the other hand, couldn't shake off the disturbing feeling he had about the girl. Perhaps it was the reaction to Ian's earlier maneuver; outwardly, this girl seemed perfectly composed, showing little hint of her inner thoughts.
Just like Professor Snape, she has that kind of deadpan expression. This mother-daughter duo must be a perfect match for that old bat, Ian mused, barely holding back a snicker as he studied the girl's delicate features: her elegantly shaped nose, high cheekbones, and perfectly symmetrical lips.
Even among the many strikingly attractive people of German descent, this girl stood out remarkably. Yet it wasn't just her beauty that captivated Ian's attention. It was her eyes—a distinctly rare heterochromia. One eye was a striking blue; the other, an unusual white. The mismatched colors were even more captivating than her flawless exterior.
A pureblood aristocrat, I presume… Ian thought, without lingering to examine her any further.
Having seen enough, he turned and exited, not wanting to interrupt them further.
As Ian pushed the door wide open, he could still hear the sounds from inside the shop.
"Madam Rozier, it's been ages! I didn't expect to see you here in London."
"And you've brought a young witch with you… Let me see... By Merlin! Is she... Yes, I must say, I can't afford to bring any unnecessary trouble upon you."
"I never thought... that this family still had descendants, and such extraordinary talent, at that! I believe she is destined for greatness." The familiar tone, filled with awe, echoed in Ian's ears.
What a surprise! Compliments for everyone who walks through the door! It seems that no matter who it is, they are remarkable and exceptional.
The wizarding world truly exemplified exaggeration!
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(A/N: I've launched a Patreon page where you can get access to 20+ chapters ahead—come check it out! on my patre0n.c0m/HP_PS)