Bang!
Harry Potter's wand selection took quite a while. By the time he found a suitable one, discarded wands had formed a small mountain on the bench beside him. At one point, a misfired wand even shattered a pale-colored vase.
Maca watched as golden sparks burst from the tip of the wand in Harry's hand, glowing like fireworks and casting flickering patterns on the walls.
Hagrid clapped in delight, and Mr. Ollivander exclaimed loudly,
"Oh, splendid! Yes, truly marvelous. My word, my word… how extraordinary, truly extraordinary…"
He boxed the wand and wrapped it in brown parchment paper, still muttering "extraordinary" under his breath.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, "what exactly is so extraordinary?"
Mr. Ollivander fixed his pale, colorless eyes on Harry.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single one. And as it happens—yes, it's quite unusual—this wand contains a feather from a very special phoenix. In fact, only two feathers were ever given. One made this wand... the other made its brother."
He paused, then added quietly,
"And that brother wand… is the one that gave you that scar."
Harry sucked in a sharp breath.
"Yes. Thirteen and a half inches, yew. Curious, isn't it? Such powerful magic. Remember, it is the wand that chooses the wizard. I believe you are destined for greatness, Mr. Potter… after all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes—but great."
A chill ran down Harry's spine. He wasn't sure if he liked Mr. Ollivander very much anymore, but he still paid seven gold Galleons for the wand that, somehow, felt like it belonged to him.
"Well then," Mr. Ollivander nodded and turned his sharp gaze to Maca. "Mr. Maclean, your turn. Step forward, please."
"I'm right-handed," Maca said, already familiar with the process. He stepped up, cooperating as Mr. Ollivander began his measurements.
The silver-tipped measuring tape sprang to life, floating around Maca—measuring from shoulder to fingertip, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and finally, the circumference of his head.
Even after watching it happen once, Maca still had no idea what purpose these measurements actually served.
While the tape danced, Mr. Ollivander rambled on,
"Yes, yes… as I was saying—every Ollivander wand is unique. Using someone else's wand? Hah! You'd never get the same results. Always remember: the wand chooses the wizard."
Finally, the tape hovered in front of Maca to measure the distance between his nostrils. At that point, he honestly couldn't remember the last time he felt this ridiculous.
"All right," said Mr. Ollivander just as the tape collapsed to the floor in a coil. "Let's try this one. Maple and dragon heartstring. Ten inches. Sensitive, refined, yet powerful. Give it a wave."
Maca accepted the wand and gave it a casual flick. A soft red glow shimmered at the tip.
"Oh! Not bad—not bad at all," Mr. Ollivander muttered, then suddenly paused.
"Wait… Try this one too. Boxwood, unicorn hair, nine and three-quarter inches. Sensitive as well, but more steadfast."
Maca paused for a moment, then set down the wand in his hand and took the new one offered to him.
Whether it was due to a difference in how he wielded it, or something else entirely, this time the tip of the wand glowed faintly with a golden light, a subtle aura of divinity spreading from it.
"W-what's going on?" Ollivander looked as if he had just witnessed something utterly incomprehensible. His sharp eyes narrowed in confusion. "Here, try this one," he said, pulling another box from the shelves behind him. "Padauk wood, dragon heartstring core, fourteen and a quarter inches—rigid, powerful, exceptionally forceful."
This choice seemed completely opposite from the previous two, making Maca even more baffled.
He took the wand, which had a slight reddish-purple hue, and gave it a swing. A bolt of fiery red light shot from the tip, blasting apart a shelf behind Ollivander with a loud crash.
All four people in the room jumped in surprise, but Ollivander, after his initial shock, fell into deep thought again.
Maca, Hagrid, and Harry exchanged bewildered glances. Seeing Ollivander lost in thought, they wisely stayed silent, careful not to disturb him.
Wandlore was known to be one of the most complex branches of magical study, and true wandmakers were exceedingly rare. At this moment, aside from Mr. Ollivander himself, one would be hard-pressed to find another person in all of Diagon Alley with such deep knowledge of wands.
"I don't understand... I really don't understand," Ollivander suddenly muttered, then looked up and spoke loudly to Maca. "The wands on that bench—try them all. Wave each one. Quickly!"
Maca glanced over at the pile of wands Harry had tested earlier, then looked back at the wreckage of the shelves behind Ollivander.
"But, sir… what about the shelf?"
"Don't worry about that," Ollivander waved it off. "It doesn't matter. Just try them!"
Seeing how unconcerned the man was about the mess, Maca felt much less guilty and started waving the wands one by one.
In an instant, lights, smoke, wand boxes, and even more shelves went flying around the shop, as if the wands were trying to outdo each other in chaos. Ollivander's Wand Shop quickly descended into a full-blown disaster zone.
"Alright, stop! That's enough!" Ollivander finally called out, rushing forward. His gaze locked on Maca's hand, filled with disbelief. "It doesn't make sense. Every wand—each one—responds perfectly? How is that even possible?"
Even Ollivander was baffled, and Maca, naturally, was completely at a loss. In the end, with Ollivander watching him with extreme reluctance, Maca chose the wand that had caused the biggest commotion earlier. Then he, Hagrid, and Harry left what now looked like the ruins of a once-respectable wand shop.
Once outside, the three of them continued checking off the items on their school supply list and bought everything they needed. When they reached the end of the street, Maca suddenly remembered something.
"Oh no! I was supposed to meet Mrs. Weasley at the cauldron shop! This is bad…"
"Mrs. Weasley?" Hagrid looked toward the shop and said, "Don't worry, I see her in there. You haven't missed her."
Maca looked up at Hagrid and once again thought to himself, Merlin, he's tall, before bidding the others goodbye and squeezing his way toward the cauldron shop.
By now, it was almost noon, and Diagon Alley had become even more crowded than in the morning. It was hard to breathe in the throng of shoppers.
"Mrs. Weasley! Hello—"
Maca finally reached Mrs. Weasley and Ron, but didn't even get to finish his greeting before being cut off.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I thought you'd already gone back!" Mrs. Weasley apologized before Maca could say a word. "Ron's rat got into a gnome hole in the garden and ended up being chased all over the place. We got here a bit late…"
Ron took over with a sheepish expression. "And then Mum scolded me again for not watching Scabbers closely—but you know how he is—"
"That's enough! This was clearly your fault, don't make excuses!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, fuming.
Sensing she might go on another tirade, Maca quickly changed the subject. "Oh, it's fine, really. Actually, when I went to Gringotts earlier, I ran into Hagrid. And Harry Potter, too."
At the mention of that name, Mrs. Weasley immediately lit up—as Maca had expected. After finishing their purchase at the cauldron shop, Maca's shopping trip finally came to an end. Truth be told, he was completely exhausted, though Ron had already helped him carry quite a few things.
"Maca, give me some of that too—I can help," Mrs. Weasley offered.
"No, I couldn't possibly let a lady carry anything," Maca said firmly.
That made Mrs. Weasley beam with delight. She promptly snatched the owl cage from his hands with a smile full of warmth. "My, my! Maca, you are such a charmer. I daresay you'll have girls falling for you left and right when you grow up."
If only charming grown women were as hard to impress as the young ones… Maca thought privately.
It was mid-July, and while the weather in England remained mild, the fickle sky with its constant shifting between sunshine and clouds left one feeling drained.
To be honest, Maca hadn't wanted to stay with the Weasleys, but in the end, he spent a few days at the Burrow.
By the following month, he had moved out and rented a room upstairs at the Leaky Cauldron, where he stayed until the Hogwarts term began.
During that time, Maca poured himself into reading and preparing for his magic lessons. He discovered that he was genuinely interested in this strange and fascinating knowledge—though he still thought the book Magical Theory was more confusing than enlightening.
"…So how exactly is this formula derived?" Maca muttered, frowning at one particularly vague explanation in the book.
As he read and tried to memorize, he realized that many of the key theories in this textbook had a frustrating trait in common: the author never explained where the formulas came from. It was a heartbreaking discovery.
"To know what it is but not why it is… Is magical theory really just the accumulated trial and error of generations of wizards?" he groaned in frustration.
Still, aside from the dry study of magical academics, something else did happen during that final month. But—well, I wouldn't want to spoil things by telling you about it now.
After all, today is August 31st.
And tomorrow… September 1st—Hogwarts begins.