Chapter 13: The World Tree and Wand Materials
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Hearing this, I became incredibly excited. Ollivander is known as one of the most skilled wandmakers in the entire world. But it's not just about skill—he also carries the legacy of over a thousand years of wand-making history, passed down through generations.
And now, he had decided to make a custom wand specifically for me—something he had stopped doing a long time ago. The idea alone left me thrilled.
After a short wait, he called us into the next room. As we stepped inside, I saw all sorts of materials: various types of enchanted woods, magical creature parts, aged parchments, finely crafted quills, and shelves filled with bottles of potions. It became clear to me that all of these items were used as wand-making materials.
"Mr. Willson," Ollivander said, "this is my family's workshop. Every generation of wandmakers in my lineage has contributed to this place. They've traveled the world collecting rare and powerful treasures, many of which are now lost to time. You won't find some of these materials anywhere else on Earth."
He continued, "Over time, I stopped using most of these ancient materials. They were powerful, yes, but also unpredictable. I switched to more stable cores like phoenix feathers, unicorn hair, and dragon heartstrings. These are safer and ensure that the wands don't behave erratically when channeling magic."
"But," he added with a gleam in his eyes, "since none of my usual wands suit you, we'll have to create an extraordinary one."
Suddenly, he opened a large suitcase filled with different types of magical wood.
"Pick one," he said, "and feel its essence. Let me know which one connects with you. These woods will react to a wizard's magic when there's resonance. You'll know it when it happens."
I looked at the woods through my golden magical eyes. I studied each piece carefully. While many had unique magical signatures, none of them stood out to me. I even picked up a few to test them, but they didn't feel right. Though powerful, they couldn't handle the full scope of my magic. They wouldn't be able to unleash my full potential.
Just then, a particular piece caught my eye—a piece of black wood unlike anything else. Its magical aura was strange, almost void-like, as if it absorbed energy from its surroundings. The moment I touched it, the flame-shaped mark on my hand lit up.
"Aha! That's it! It reacted!" Ollivander exclaimed. He took a closer look at the wood in my hand and continued with growing excitement. "Oh, Mr. Willson… this piece of wood is incredibly rare. It might very well be the only one of its kind left in the entire world."
Hearing this, I asked curiously, "Why is it the only one?"
Ollivander replied, "This was found by one of my ancestors. Legend has it that this is the last remaining fragment of the World Tree. The World Tree was said to be a divine entity—an ancient tree capable of absorbing the world's natural energies. With all the energy it accumulated, it is said to have given birth to divine beings.
"But when those divine beings became self-aware, some of them turned corrupt. Fearing that the World Tree would continue to birth others who could surpass them—or even enslave them—they destroyed it while it was at its weakest. That's how the divine World Tree was lost."
He paused and added, "Of course, it's just a legend. Even I cannot confirm its truth."
"Many of my ancestors attempted to create a wand from this wood," he continued, "but all of them failed to bond a core to it. Even I cannot guarantee that I'll succeed."
Hearing this, I fell into deep thought. What kind of core could match this extraordinary wood? What could possibly handle and support my unique magic?
Then a thought struck me—Nemo, my phoenix.
As soon as I thought of him, a swirl of blue and golden flames appeared in the air. From within the flames, Nemo emerged gracefully and perched on my shoulder.
Ollivander gasped in disbelief. "Is… is that a phoenix?! But why is it blue and golden? I've never seen one like that!"
My father was equally stunned. He hadn't known that his own son was hiding a legendary creature like this.
Once the shock wore off, Ollivander couldn't take his eyes off Nemo. There was a gleam of both fascination and hunger in his gaze.
"This is my friend Nemo," I explained calmly. "We share a special bond. I can feel him through our connection. The first time I accidentally used magic, he appeared out of nowhere."
Ollivander nodded slowly. "A phoenix is an incredible creature. It has many abilities—teleportation, healing tears that can cure any wound or poison, and feathers that can serve as powerful wand cores. But phoenixes are extremely rare. Fewer than five are known to exist. It's even rarer for one to willingly bond with a wizard."
"The only known wizard to possess a phoenix is Albus Dumbledore," he continued. "Before him, only Aurelius Dumbledore and Merlin himself were believed to have had such a bond. Normally, we can only harvest feathers from phoenix nesting sites."
My father, a doctor, was already amazed—but now he was practically drooling at the thought of phoenix tears.
I interrupted their fantasies. "We should use Nemo's tail feather as the wand's core," I suggested.
Ollivander lit up with joy. "Yes! Yes, we absolutely can. There's a high chance it will successfully merge with the World Tree wood."
Nemo, understanding my intentions, sent me a message in my mind. I was momentarily surprised but smiled warmly.
Gently, I pulled the longest feather from his tail. It was already glowing faintly with his own blood. Then I made a small cut on my finger and let a drop of my own blood fall onto the feather. As soon as our blood touched, the feather pulsed with light and absorbed both our essences.
Both Ollivander and my father looked stunned.
"What did you just do?" they asked in unison.
"It was Nemo who asked me to do this," I said, just as Ollivander cut in.
"You can talk to a phoenix?!"
I tried to play it off casually. "Why not? I'm sure there are other wizards out there who can talk to a phoenix."
Ollivander stared at me, eyes wide. "No… they can't. That's even rarer than Parseltongue. As far as I know, no one has ever been able to speak with a phoenix."
I just shrugged and handed him the feather. "Here, Mr. Ollivander. This should be enough for the wand."
Still eyeing me curiously, he nodded. "Yes… yes, it will do."
"If all goes well," he added, "your wand will be ready by the end of the month—on July 31st."
"Alright. I'll come then," I said. My father, standing beside me, asked, "And what will the cost be?"
Ollivander shook his head. "I will do this for free. It's not every day that a young wizard leaves my shop empty-handed. Think of it as my way of apologizing for the earlier misunderstanding."
With that, we exchanged goodbyes and left the shop.
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