Chapter 34: The Wand Chooses the Wizard

Stepping into Ollivanders, Harry immediately felt the shift in the atmosphere. Unlike the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, the wand shop was eerily silent, with dust motes dancing in the dim light. Stacks upon stacks of wand boxes lined the towering shelves, giving the room an ancient, almost sacred feel.

Behind the counter, an elderly man with silvery eyes studied him with an unsettling intensity. "Ah, Mr. Potter," he murmured, stepping forward. "I was wondering when I'd be seeing you."

Harry returned his gaze, feeling an odd sense of familiarity despite never having met the man before. He suspected this was because of his enhanced senses from the Phoenix Force, but even without them, there was something undeniably… knowing about Garrick Ollivander.

"Good afternoon," Harry greeted politely.

Ollivander gave a small nod before flicking his wand, causing boxes to float down from the shelves. "Let's find your match, shall we?"

Testing the Wands

The first wand he tried, a 10-inch beechwood with dragon heartstring, did nothing.

The second, an 11-inch ebony with unicorn hair, shot sparks but then fizzled out.

After the third and fourth failures, Ollivander hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "Curious… You're not an easy match, Mr. Potter."

Harry barely heard him. His mind was racing.

"So I am destined to fight him after all…"

He had hoped—despite knowing it was futile—that his connection to Voldemort was simply a byproduct of the scar. But if he was given a wand destined for battle, one that shared a connection with the Dark Lord's, then fate had already chosen his path.

He sighed inwardly. "Well, even if destiny has a plan, that doesn't mean I have to follow it exactly."

Ollivander suddenly snapped his fingers. "Perhaps… yes, perhaps this one."

He carefully pulled a long, thin box from the highest shelf, opening it with an almost reverent air. Inside was a holly wand, 11 inches, with a phoenix feather core.

The moment Harry's fingers wrapped around the wood, warmth spread through him, like a golden fire awakening inside. A soft, glowing light pulsed from the tip, and a rush of power coursed through his arm.

Ollivander's silvery eyes gleamed. "Extraordinary. That wand, Mr. Potter, shares a core with another… the wand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Harry exhaled slowly, already expecting those words. "Figures."

Ollivander studied him carefully. "You must understand, the wand chooses the wizard. But it is not simply a matter of fate. A wand's loyalty is earned, and destiny is what you make of it."

Harry gave a small smile. "Good to know."

He paid for the wand and turned to leave, gripping it a little tighter.

"If fate thinks it can decide my future, then it has another thing coming."

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Sorry guys for late chapter!

I was busy researching about different stories and little bit issues health issues.