Wands held an undeniable allure, especially after witnessing the cloaked figure's devastating magic. Harry and Dudley burned with eagerness to claim their own.
Dudley was particularly curious about wands' mechanics. His extraordinary abilities, cast through spiritual languages like Hermes, required no wand, but perhaps one could let him use English, masking his unique powers and reducing the risk of exposure.
In the eerie world he'd survived, caution was his shield. His abilities gave him an edge over wizards, but only an edge. Carelessness could spell disaster, especially against curses like the one that killed instantly, which had chilled him to the core.
Hiding his true nature was paramount, though his gaze drifted to the scrawny boy beside him. Harry's fame complicated Dudley's desire for anonymity.
As time passes, Harry's fame should fade, right? Dudley hoped, dreading the spotlight.
"Hahaha!" Hagrid's booming laugh broke his thoughts. "Knew you'd pick wands!"
He led the boys toward the wand shop. "Ollivander's has been around forever. You'll find the perfect wand there, I guarantee it," Hagrid said as they walked.
"If you've got questions, ask me," he added, turning to Dudley. "I… wasn't kind to you before. Hope you'll let it go."
Dudley, lost in thought, blinked at Hagrid's unexpected apology. "It's fine, I don't mind," he said, catching up.
Hagrid's face flushed beneath his beard, clearly unpracticed at apologies. "Right, let's go."
"Thanks for earlier," Harry said quietly to Dudley, emboldened by Hagrid's words. He'd meant to say it sooner but hadn't found the courage.
"You're welcome," Dudley replied with a smile. "You're my brother, after all."
They referred to the underground incident. Dudley's warning had likely saved their lives, and he'd pulled Harry to safety during the chaos—a debt worth acknowledging.
Hagrid's initial disdain for Dudley stemmed from hearing how poorly Harry was treated at the Dursleys', with Dudley as the chief bully. But Dudley's actions underground had shifted Hagrid's view; he wasn't the villain rumors painted.
"Here we are," Hagrid announced.
The shop was small and shabby, its sign's gold lettering flaking: Ollivander: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
"Some history," Dudley remarked, impressed. A wand shop enduring over two millennia must possess unmatched expertise, or it wouldn't have lasted.
"Wizards come from abroad just to buy at Ollivander's," Hagrid said, pushing open the door.
Harry followed, with Dudley trailing, his eyes catching the wands in the window. Through his spiritual vision, he saw a faint glow at their cores.
Spiritual materials, he noted.
A bell tinkled as they entered, like a Muggle shop's chime. The cramped interior held only a long bench, but thousands of narrow boxes stacked to the ceiling dominated the space—wands, undoubtedly.
Swish. A ladder slid from the back.
"Good afternoon," a soft voice called.
"Hello," Harry, nearest the front, replied.
An old man with silver hair and pale, moonlike eyes emerged, glowing faintly in the dim shop. His attention locked onto Harry, ignoring Hagrid and Dudley.
"Oh, yes," he said. "I knew I'd see you soon, Harry Potter."
"You've come at last," Ollivander continued, his voice wistful. "Your eyes—they're your mother's. I remember when she bought her wand, like it was yesterday."
He recited details of Lily's wand—its size, its materials—as if cataloging a treasure, then spoke of James's wand with equal precision. He knew every wand he'd sold, even noting Hagrid's.
"Pity they snapped it when you were expelled," Ollivander said regretfully.
"Aye," Hagrid muttered, shifting awkwardly.
Dudley's eyes sharpened, glancing at the tattered umbrella in Hagrid's pocket, a suspicion forming.
Ollivander's focus returned to Harry, lingering on his scar. "I'm sorry—that was done by a wand I sold," he said softly. "It was powerful, but fell into the wrong hands. Had I known what it would do…"
He shook his head, then noticed Dudley. "And you are…?"
"Dudley, Harry's cousin," Dudley said simply.
"Oh, I recall Lily's sister wasn't a witch—she came alone," Ollivander said, surprised. "Marvelous that you've awakened magical talent."
"Let's find your wands," he said, turning serious. "Understand this: the wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around. That's vital."
"My brother first," Dudley offered.
Ollivander produced a tape measure and began taking Harry's measurements.
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