The Wand Chooses The Wizard

He entered, but before he could take a step, an old, pale man with wide, bright eyes appeared behind the counter, speaking in a quiet voice that startled him. "Ah, Mr. Black! I've been expecting you. I was quite surprised to hear of another Black. Your family has a long history with wands... tricky things, they are. Let's see what we can find for you."

Damian jumped slightly at the sudden appearance, but Ollivander began his work immediately, measuring him with a magical tape that seemed to have a mind of its own, measuring everything from arm length to the width of his nose. As Ollivander spoke about wand cores and their importance, he handed Damian a series of wands to try.

Ollivander picked up a slender box and opened it, revealing a wand crafted from dark mahogany with a core of dragon heartstring. "Let's start with this one. Mahogany, unicorn hair core. Excellent for charms."

As Damian took the wand, feeling its woody texture against his palm, he raised it cautiously. He waved it, but Ollivander snatched it away just in time.

"Not the right match. A powerful wand, indeed, but not your wand," he said, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

He replaced the wand and reached for another box. "Let's try something different." He produced a wand made of willow with a dragon heartstring core. "Willow, known for its flexibility and loyalty. It's said to bond deeply with its owner."

Taking a deep breath, Damian accepted the wand. He waved it, but there was a sudden roar of a dragon, and he dropped it in surprise as it burned his hand—though there were no burnt marks left behind.

"An interesting effect," Ollivander remarked, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "But still not the one."

"Don't be disappointed. The right wand is out there for you. Let's keep searching," he encouraged, reaching for another box.

He presented a wand of elderwood, which gleamed with an ethereal light. "Elderwood, phoenix feather core. A wand with great potential and power, but very selective."

Damian took the wand and waved it. Suddenly, the flower pot near him burst into countless pieces, scattering soil and shards everywhere.

"Not that one either," Ollivander clapped, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. "Let's try one more."

Three wands later, and still nothing. Damian felt none of the magical connection he had read about, and Ollivander's excitement only seemed to grow with each failure. "Interesting, very interesting. You are quite the unique individual, young Mr. Black," he mused.

After about an hour of testing wands, Damian felt a flicker of frustration creep in. None had chosen him. Yet Ollivander's smile never wavered. Instead, he rushed to the back of the shop.

When Ollivander returned, he carried a trunk that looked like it had seen better days. Damian couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and anticipation. "My uncle, a rather mad fellow, was a bit of a... researcher, shall we say," Ollivander explained as he opened the trunk. "These wands are not from the usual materials, but I believe you might be suited for one."

He presented Damian with a wand crafted from Thunderwood, measuring 10 inches and housing a core of Thunderbird feather. Its very presence hummed with energy, and he felt an electric thrill course through him as he accepted it. But when he flicked his wrist to cast a simple spell, a spark flickered briefly at the tip before fizzling out in a puff of smoke, leaving only a faint scent of burnt wood.

"Not quite the right fit," Ollivander murmured, studying him closely with his keen eyes. "Thunderwood resonates with passion and boldness. It seems it seeks a different wielder today."

Disappointment flickered within Damian as he returned the wand, but Ollivander was already moving again, fluid and assured in his motions. Soon, he reappeared with a second wand.

"This one is made of willow wood, 11 ¾ inches long, containing a core of kelpie horn," he explained, handing it over with an air of expectation.

Damian grasped it tightly, feeling its coolness against his palm. With a wave, he hoped to conjure a small light, but instead, the wand shot a jet of water straight into his face. He spluttered, wiping his eyes, and glared at the wand.

Ollivander chuckled softly, shaking his head. "It seems this wand has a sense of humour. It prefers a more fluid master."

Mortified yet amused, Damian returned the damp wand, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as Ollivander continued his search. He soon handed Damian a third wand. "This one is a sturdy ironwood measuring 9 inches and housing a Dementor bone core."

As soon as Damian held the wand, he was enveloped in a wave of icy cold, as if he had stepped into the heart of winter. A shiver ran down his spine, and a feeling of emptiness washed over him.

"No, no, this isn't right," he stammered, instinctively letting go of the wand as the oppressive chill dissipated almost instantly.

"Indeed," Ollivander nodded knowingly. "The essence of a Dementor seeks a master who can embrace despair. You are not meant for such darkness."

A mix of relief and frustration washed over Damian as he watched Ollivander reach for the last box. With a delicate touch, he opened it to reveal a wand of pine wood, 12 ½ inches in length, containing a heartstring from a Nundu.

"This," Ollivander said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "is a wand of immense power. The Nundu is a creature of legend, and this core reflects both strength and resilience."

As Damian wrapped his fingers around the pine wand, an extraordinary warmth surged through him, like dipping him in magic. It felt as though the very essence of the Nundu flowed through him, grounding and empowering him. In that moment, he knew he could face anything the world threw at him.

A smile spread across his face as he raised the wand, feeling the magic align perfectly with his intent. It was as if the wand had chosen him, and he felt a profound connection that echoed deep within.

"This wand has chosen you, Damian," Ollivander observed, his expression filled with approval. "With its power, you can achieve greatness, but remember to wield it wisely. It carries the legacy of a creature that commanded respect and fear."

"This is it," Damian whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Ollivander's eyes gleamed. "A wand for a true predator. Use it wisely, Mr. Black."

With the wand in hand, Damian felt invincible, ready for whatever awaited him at Hogwarts. 'Just wait, Hogwarts, the strongest wizard ever seen is coming,' he thought, excitement bubbling within him.