Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

"It feels as if it were only yesterday when you first stepped into my humble wand shop accompanied by Professor Snape," Ollivander began, his misty silver eyes twinkling with nostalgia as his mind drifted back to that day.

Bryan's office had unexpectedly welcomed yet another visitor, none other than Garrick Ollivander, the famous wandmaker in the British wizarding world.

Ollivander continued his recollection. "From the very moment I laid eyes upon you, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had been graced with the presence of an extraordinary customer."

Ollivander's fingers gestured energetically as he spoke, painting an vivid picture of the scene that had unfolded all those years ago.

"It was immediately apparent to me that you were Muggle-born. However, unlike the vast majority of children raised in the non-magical world, when you crossed the threshold into my shop, your eyes conveyed a depth of caution that far outweighed any sense of curiosity or fear.

In general, this is a highly unusual trait to find in one so young; precious few children possess the emotional maturity and self-control to maintain such composure in the face of the unknown. In that instant, I realized that you must have had truly remarkable life experiences up to that point."

As the elderly Ollivander chattered on incessantly, his voice filled with barely contained excitement, Bryan maintained a polite smile and listened quietly.

Even Dumbledore himself seemed thoroughly engrossed in the tale, his normally twinkling blue eyes serious and focused as he listened intently to the recollections.

"Ebony, twelve inches in length, slightly rigid, with a dragon heartstring core. Am I correct in my assessment, Mr. Watson?" Ollivander asked, his bushy white eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Your memory is as sharp as ever, Mr. Ollivander," Bryan replied with a nod and a slight smile. "The price, if I recall correctly, was six Galleons and ten Sickles. And if memory serves, you even granted me a rather generous discount, citing my 'handsome appearance' as justification."

At this, the corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, as if suppressing a smile, but he remained silent.

Ollivander, for his part, seemed not to have heard Bryan's playful remark at all, so deeply immersed was he in his own memories of that day.

"I have a vivid recollection of the many attempts we made before finally selecting the wand for you, Mr. Watson. A truly remarkable wand, indeed. You see, I remember every single wand I've ever sold, every match I've ever made between wizard and wand.

The materials that went into crafting your wand were, on the surface, quite ordinary—a malnourished ebony tree that had the misfortune of growing in a magically and mundanely barren area, and a dragon that had been raised in captivity rather than roaming free in its natural habitat.

Yes, nothing particularly exceptional about either of those elements taken in isolation. At the time, I confess I thought the resulting wand would be a rather unremarkable one. But oh, how wrong I was!

When those seemingly ordinary components were combined, the result was nothing short of astonishing; an exquisitely crafted wand imbued with immense magical power—power just waiting to be unlocked by the right wizard."

Bryan leaned forward slightly in his chair, his curiosity piqued by Ollivander's words.

The ancient and complex art of wandmaking, a highly specialized branch of alchemy, had always been shrouded in mystery, its most secrets guarded by the Ollivander family for generations. For an outsider to attempt to study wandlore independently would be futile; one might read for a lifetime and still fail to grasp even the most basic underlying principles.

"Why do you believe that was the case, Mr. Ollivander? What is it about that particular combination of materials that resulted in such a uniquely powerful wand?" Bryan asked, his voice low and intent.

Ollivander paused for a long moment, his silver eyes distant as he pondered the question.

"In truth, Mr. Watson, it is difficult to say with any degree of certainty," He replied slowly, his each word carefully measured.

"The inner workings of wandlore are complex and often inscrutable, even to those of us who have dedicated our lives to unraveling its mysteries. No one, not even the most skilled and knowledgeable of wandmakers, can fully explain why certain combinations of wood, core, and craftsmanship produce the results they do.

But if you insist on an answer, the best I can offer is this:

Perhaps that malnourished ebony tree and that captive dragon, for all their apparent ordinariness, both possessed at their core a fierce and unyielding will to excel, to transcend the limitations imposed upon them by circumstance.

Perhaps, in some inexplicable way, they imbued the wand crafted from their essence with that same indomitable spirit, that same yearning to break free from the confines of the mundane and achieve true greatness. And when at last that wand chose its way into your hand, Mr. Watson, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the young boy who stood before me was destined to go on to accomplish extraordinary things—"

As he spoke, Ollivander's pale eyes seemed to blaze with an otherworldly intensity boring into Bryan as if seeking to pierce the very depths of his soul.

"But I must confess," And he continued, his voice tinged with something akin to awe, "that even I, with all my decades of experience, failed to anticipate the true scope of your potential, Mr. Watson. Your achievements have surpassed even my wildest expectations.

I confess that, at that time, I harbored a nagging suspicion that you were destined to walk the path of the dark arts, to become perhaps one of the most feared and renowned dark wizards the world had ever known.

No offense meant, of course, Mr. Watson. It was simply that I sensed in that wand a profound longing to serve a master who would be relentless in his pursuit of power, someone who would never rest in his quest to transcend all limitations and gain greater power—"

"Hehe—" Bryan laughed without any misgivings. "It would seem, then, that I was fortunate enough to receive the proper guidance and support along the way, to steer me away from that darker path?"

"Not entirely, Mr. Watson," Ollivander replied, shaking his head slowly. "While it is true that the influence of those around you no doubt played a role in shaping your destiny, in the end, it was your own fundamental nature that was decisive.

The purity of your spirit, the innate kindness and compassion that reside at your core—these are the qualities that allowed you to resist the siren song of power for its own sake. In choosing the path of light over the path of darkness, you demonstrated a strength of character that is all too rare in this world. And it was that strength, I believe, that ultimately earned you the true allegiance of your wand."

"I must admit, Bryan," Dumbledore interjected with a wry smile, "I doubt you ever imagined that a wandmaker you met only once, however briefly, would be able to see through you simply by virtue of the wand he crafted."

Seeing Ollivander now looking at him resentfully, Dumbledore glanced over at him and continued. "And as for you, Garrick, as I recall, you've made a point of expressing your regret over a certain matter during our last several meetings. I hardly think there's a need to dredge up the subject yet again—"

"Oh, but why ever not?" Bryan asked, his curiosity plainly piqued as he looked back and forth between the two. "What is this matter you speak of? If it's not too much trouble, Mr. Ollivander, I would be most interested in hearing more."

Dumbledore's expression immediately shifted to one of resignation, as if he knew that his own small secret was about to be laid bare.

"It pains me to say it, but Albus made the decision to give up the wand he originally obtained from my father," Ollivander said with a note of old resentment coloring his voice. "I feel I must tell you, Albus, that even on his deathbed, my father was still muttering about your decision—"

"Is that so?" Bryan said, unable to conceal his surprise at this revelation. "That is indeed a most unusual thing for a wizard to do. Under normal circumstances, one would never even consider such a thing."

"And I assure you, Bryan, it was not a decision I made lightly," Dumbledore replied, his voice calm and even. "Unfortunately, due to my own carelessness and misuse in my youth, my original wand sustained significant damage in those years. In the end, I was left with no choice but to seek out a replacement—"

"As I recall, it was in the aftermath of that world-shaking duel—" Ollivander interjected, a sly note entering his voice. At his words, the corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched once more, as if he were physically restraining himself from responding.

"Ah, I see," Bryan murmured, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. In the past, he had seen Dumbledore wield his current wand on numerous occasions, it was a peculiar elder wand.

It was also a peculiar choice of material for wands, one seldom seen in the hands of modern wizards. At the time, Bryan had thought little of it. However, after Ollivander's reminder and Dumbledore's reluctance to discuss it further, he vaguely sensed that the matter was not simple.

"This wand is—" Bryan stared thoughtfully at Dumbledore's sleeve, where he usually kept his wand.

"I'm afraid we have little time for further discussion on the matter, Bryan," Dumbledore interrupted, "The Triwizard champions will be arriving in the classroom downstairs at any moment, and it is necessary for us to be there to greet them."

He glanced over at Ollivander, a hint of regret entering his eyes. "Garrick, the reason I asked you here today was to consult with you regarding the two wands crafted from Fawkes' tail feathers. I trust you remember the ones to which I refer—"

"Ah yes, the wands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Harry Potter," Ollivander replied, his eyes gleaming with sudden intensity. "The only two wands in existence to share a core taken from the same phoenix. It's the stuff of wandlore legend, Albus. To think, the most terrible dark wizard our world has ever known, and the boy who against all odds managed to defeat him, both linked by a common thread. If that's not a clear sign that their fates are inextricably intertwined, I don't know what is!"

"Forgive me, Mr. Ollivander," Bryan interjected, "but would you mind clarifying your meaning a bit? If the two wands share cores taken from the same magical creature, what precisely would happen if they were ever to come into contact with one another?"

"Ah, Mr. Watson, that is the question, isn't it?" Ollivander replied, a cryptic smile appearing across his aged face. "You see, contrary to popular belief, it is the wand that chooses the wizard, and not the other way around. I've made a point of sharing that bit of wisdom with every young witch and wizard who's ever stepped through my door, but alas, precious few seem to grasp the true significance of it.

The fact of the matter is that wands are not mere tools to be wielded; they are living things in their own right, imbued with a form of sentience that cannot be easily explained. They have their own thoughts. Therefore, wands do not necessarily have to obey the commands of the wizard they belong to.

However, from the moment a wand first bonds with a witch or wizard, it becomes an inextricable part of them—an extension not just of their magic, but of their very being."

Bryan's thoughts flickered rapidly. He immediately understood the meaning of the first half of Ollivander's explanation. "So, what you're saying is that if two wizards whose wands share a common origin were ever to face one another in battle—"

"The wands themselves would loath to act against each other," Dumbledore finished. "And yet, if their masters were to try and force them to do so regardless, the result would be...unpredictable, to say the least. Based on my own research and consultations with Garrick, it seems likely that one of the wands would compel the other to spew up the spells it had most recently cast, but in reverse order. A phenomenon known as Priori Incantatem, the Reverse Spell effect."

"And I suppose simply switching to a different wand wouldn't be enough to circumvent this...complication?" Bryan asked, his eyes narrowed in thought.

"Hehe, oh no, Mr. Watson," Ollivander replied, shaking his head with a mysterious smile. "As I said, once a wand has chosen its master, the two become bound together on a fundamental level. It is a bond that transcends simple ownership; a wand is not a hat or a cloak to be discarded and replaced on a whim.

No, the only way to truly sever the connection between the wizard and his wand is for the two to develop a mutual loathing for one another so intense, that they both voluntarily choose to relinquish their allegiance."

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