Everything went smoothly.
Potions ingredients — purchased.Gold — overflowing.Robes — custom tailored.Supplies — secured in my personal expanding satchel.
The only remaining stop was the one I had been dreading since the very beginning:
Ollivanders.Makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.
A place where a piece of wood would attempt to judge me.
When I stepped inside, the air itself seemed to watch. Dusty boxes stacked to the ceiling. Wand magic clung to the atmosphere like ancient spiderwebs.
Ollivander turned toward me, silvery eyes sharp.
"Ah… Mr. Black," he said softly, recognizing my ring. "Curious. Very curious indeed. I wonder—"
His voice stopped.
Because I willed it to.
A silent pulse of domination — the kind of power that once bent kings to Sauron's will — crossed the shop like a shadow. With a flick of my fingers, the shutters slammed, locking us into darkness.
"Sleep."
Ollivander's head slumped forward before he even realized what spell was cast. His wand rolled away across the floorboards.
A lesser mind would have considered theft messy. Risky.But I had mastered Legilimency, and now… Sauron's Intelligence sharpened every decision into a masterpiece of subtlety.
My magic slid into Ollivander's memories — a vault of centuries' worth of understanding.
◼ Core woods◼ Magical substances◼ Bonding techniques
◼ The theory of loyalty and wand sentience
It absorbed effortlessly into my eidetic, divine-enhanced mind.
When I pulled away, I didn't just know wandlore.I understood it on a level Ollivander never could.
Because I was Maiar.
I walked into the back room — shelves lined with wand cores taken from legendary beasts.
Thestral tail hair
Basilisk horn shaving
Phoenix feather
Black Unicorn mane
A craftsman's paradise.
Softly, I placed my hand on a locked chest. It responded to my presence — dark magic recognizing dark lineage — and opened with a click.
Inside:
🔹 Mithril-bound wand templates🔹 An ancient, forgotten core wrapped in runic cloth🔹 Wand-binding blackstone from the age of founders
I smiled.
"These will do nicely."
My satchel swallowed the materials whole.
With a casual wave, I erased every trace of my intrusion — mind, memory, wards, and sound.
Ollivander would wake believing I had never arrived.
As I stepped back into the sunlight of Diagon Alley, I breathed deeply.
No wand in existence would ever dominate me.No Elder Wand would ever rise above my craftsmanship.
I would forge a wand worthy of Mordor.
A wand worthy of Lord Sauron Reborn.
Hogwarts had no idea what was coming.