Chapter 6 — Wands
They had not gone far before arriving at the entrance to a small, shabby shop. The faded gold lettering on the sign read:
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.
In the dusty display window, a single wand lay on a faded purple cushion.
The shop itself was very small. Aside from a narrow bench, it was filled to the ceiling with thousands of long, narrow boxes. The air was thick with faint dust and a strange woody fragrance.
As they stepped inside, a sharp jingling bell sounded from the back of the shop. An old man with pale, large eyes appeared before them as silently as a ghost.
"Good afternoon, Headmaster Dumbledore."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander. I've brought a new student to choose her first wand."
"Ah, yes."
Ollivander's gaze shifted to Fern.
"Every young witch or wizard about to begin school comes here. Now then, let me see…" He took out a long measuring tape marked with silver gradations. "Which is your wand hand?"
"My right hand, sir."
Fern gave a slight bow as she answered politely, while instinctively sensing the entire shop around her. Countless faint yet distinct magical fluctuations radiated from those boxes, like a sleeping forest of magic.
Her gaze drifted upward on its own toward a certain corner high above. There, she sensed something gentle—something that made her feel strangely at ease and drawn toward it.
Just as Mr. Ollivander was about to begin measuring her arm length, finger length, and other details, Fern spoke softly. Her tone remained respectful, but there was a note of seriousness in it.
"Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander. I think… perhaps that won't be necessary. I feel that… that one may suit me."
She lifted a finger and pointed with perfect accuracy toward the box she had sensed high above.
Astonishment flashed through both Ollivander's and Dumbledore's eyes at the same time. Following the direction she indicated, Ollivander narrowed his eyes and stared for quite a while before murmuring,
"Incredible… truly incredible…"
With a flick of his wand, the box floated lightly down into his hand. He looked at Fern, his expression becoming intensely focused and curious.
"My child, you are the first person since I opened this shop to sense and identify a wand with such precision before I even began measuring."
A trace of excitement entered his voice.
"Can you tell me why you believe it is this one?"
Fern tilted her head and carefully felt it out again before answering in her usual tone:
"Its aura… is very steady, like an ancient tree. It makes one feel at ease. But inside, there is flowing vitality, and… a kind of clear insight. It feels… very suitable."
Her description was somewhat abstract, yet strangely precise.
Ollivander drew in a sharp breath and opened the box. Inside lay an elegant wand.
"Fir wood. Dragon heartstring core. Thirteen inches. Surprisingly supple.
"Fir suits witches and wizards of strong resolve, calm temperament, and at times an intensity of focus that can be rather intimidating. Dragon heartstring offers powerful force and excellent magical resonance, especially for precise spell control.
"This wand would choose a witch of extraordinary insight, inner strength, and loyalty."
He looked at Fern meaningfully.
"It seems it has found its true owner. Go ahead, Miss Fern. Try it."
Fern carefully picked up the wand.
The moment her fingertips touched it, a warm golden stream of light poured from the tip, like sunlight piercing through forest mist, spilling soft radiance throughout the dim shop. In the air, there even drifted a faint, tranquil fragrance, like old books and parchment.
There was no raging wind, no violent explosion—only a sense of harmonious, powerful, and restrained magical completion.
"Perfect! Absolutely perfect!"
Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands, looking even more excited than Fern herself.
"A marvelous combination! Such precise perception! Child, you possess extraordinary talent!"
A faint blush rose to Fern's face, almost imperceptible. She gently stroked the wand, feeling the power flowing within it and how perfectly it resonated with her own magic. Then she bowed respectfully to Ollivander.
"Thank you very much, sir."
Stark scratched his head and muttered quietly to Frieren,
"That's it? I thought it'd be more like when you test new spells, Frieren—at the very least, I expected something to blow up…"
Ollivander turned toward Frieren and Stark, his heart full of anticipation.
"Then what about these young lady and gentleman? Would either of you also require a wand?"
Although Frieren's magical system seemed different from the wizardry of this era—relying more on the gathering and control of mana within the body rather than an external medium—a wand specifically designed to guide magic?
That sounded like a marvelous new magical tool to collect. It might even help her better understand the magical principles of this age.
"Yes," she nodded, her face brightening with the curiosity of a child looking at a new toy. "I want one too. Not as a first-year. I'll buy it at full price."
She emphasized this point on purpose, as if clarifying something very important, lest the other party give her a discount. Although she loved "shopping" and "bargaining," she sometimes had a strange insistence on paying full price for rare magical items, believing it was a sign of respect for the treasure's true value.
Mr. Ollivander blinked, apparently amused by the phrase buy it at full price, though curiosity outweighed his amusement.
"Of course, madam. Then let us see…" He drew out the measuring tape again. "Your wand hand?"
"Either is fine," Frieren answered calmly. She had lived far too long and was long since accustomed to using both hands with equal ease.
The tape began measuring on its own, while Ollivander disappeared deep among the shelves, muttering to himself as he went.
"A very… unusual lady… ancient and tranquil in aura, yet containing an unimaginable breadth of power… like a deep forest, like an old well… something rather distinctive…"
He returned carrying several boxes.
The first wand: "Mahogany, unicorn hair, ten inches, reasonably flexible—well suited for elegant, highly defensive magic."
The moment Frieren picked it up, only a few lazy golden sparks drifted from the tip before sputtering out.
She tilted her head.
"Hm… it doesn't really seem to want to work."
"Of course, of course!"
Ollivander seemed even more excited. He quickly swapped it for another wand.
"Try this one—ebony, dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches, powerful—excellent for dueling and Transfiguration."
This time, the moment Frieren grasped it, the wand began vibrating violently, emitting a harsh buzzing sound. Several nearby boxes trembled along with it.
Frieren frowned slightly.
"It seems… a little too excited? I don't really like noisy companions."
She preferred to research magic quietly—or sleep in.
"Interesting! Absolutely fascinating!"
Ollivander's eyes shone as though he had discovered the rarest treasure imaginable. He thought for a long time, then even climbed to the very top of a ladder and retrieved an exceptionally old-looking box from a dusty corner. The wood of the box itself seemed to emit a faint glow.
"Perhaps… just perhaps…"
He opened it with the utmost care. Inside, lined with dark blue velvet, lay a wand that looked ancient, understated, and almost modest.
"Holly wood, phoenix feather core, thirteen and a half inches, astonishingly supple.
"Holly symbolizes eternity, protection, and overcoming hardship. It usually chooses witches and wizards of rich experience, noble aims, and lives touched by danger.
"And phoenix… is among the rarest of all cores. It possesses the broadest magical adaptability and symbolizes rebirth and renewal. This wand is exceptionally selective about its master. It has been waiting here for a very long time…"
Frieren's gaze was drawn to the wand at once.
It did not radiate overwhelming power. Instead, it gave off a feeling that was gentle, inclusive, yet unfathomably deep—much like the long years of her own life, where beneath stillness lay countless stories.
She reached out and lightly touched the wand with her fingertips.
In that instant, something wondrous happened.
There was no blinding light, no violent noise. Yet centered on Frieren, a visible wave of soft and vigorous life energy spread outward like ripples on water.
From the tip of the wand bloomed a steady, gentle green radiance. Within that glow, it seemed as though countless tiny buds and sprouts were unfurling and growing. The air filled with the fresh, pure scent of a forest after rain, and somewhere within it there was even the faintest, most delicate hum—as though life itself were quietly pulsing.
The phenomenon lasted for more than ten seconds before slowly subsiding. The entire shop felt as though it had been washed clean by the purest form of natural magic, brimming with peace and vitality.
Mr. Ollivander stood there with his mouth open. After a long moment, he finally murmured,
"…An eternal vitality, and a heart of nature broad enough to embrace all things… I should have thought of it sooner… perfect! This is nothing short of miraculous compatibility!"
His voice trembled with excitement.
"This wand… it has chosen a witch who truly understands time and life!"
Without hesitation, Frieren counted out the proper number of gold Galleons from her case and paid the full price without complaint. Then she carefully put the wand away, a faint smile of satisfaction on her face, the kind one wore upon acquiring a new treasure.
To her, a tool that could resonate so perfectly with her long life and magical nature was absolutely worth the price.
Fern watched quietly from the side. Seeing that Frieren had found a suitable wand, relief also appeared in her eyes. Then she gently reminded her,
"Lady Frieren, please make sure to take proper care of it. Don't casually take it apart to study it or lose it like those magical tools before."
She knew her teacher's habits all too well.
Stark, meanwhile, stared at the pouch of rapidly diminishing Galleons in shock and whispered to Fern,
"Wow… a little wooden stick costs that much? That's enough to buy a whole lot of really good whetstones…"
Ollivander turned toward Stark with bright anticipation.
"And this young gentleman? Would you like one as well?"
Stark hurriedly waved both hands and refused, saying that he could not use magic.
A trace of disappointment flashed through Ollivander's eyes, but the two extraordinary guests he had seen today had already given him more than enough inspiration.
Dumbledore watched the two of them, both visibly delighted by their new wands, and a gentle smile appeared on his face as well.
Perhaps the troubles of the wizarding world might indeed be broken by the people now standing before him.