'I've faced gods, brought them to their knees, and here I am—shopping.'
Eldrin's last words echoed in my mind as I watched him disappear into the crowd, his imposing figure vanishing among the bustling witches and wizards of Diagon Alley. It was almost laughable how out of place I felt. Remember who you are, Aldrich. Keep your eyes open, trust your instincts, and never forget who you are. As if I needed the reminder.
'Never forget who I am? As if I could, even if I wanted to,' I thought with a hint of sarcasm.
The truth was, I didn't need anyone to tell me what I already knew. I was keenly aware of who I was, of what I could do—something this world seemed woefully ignorant of. These wizards, with their quaint spells and charms, had no idea what true power looked like. I'd spent lifetimes mastering abilities they couldn't even begin to comprehend, and yet, here I was, forced to play the part of some mundane student. If not for the system mission, I would not bother to attend.
I sighed inwardly, letting the crowd swallow me as I made my way through the alley. The noise, the colors, the chaotic energy—it all felt so… trivial. People were bustling about, bartering over spell ingredients and magical trinkets The shops on either side of me blurred together as I walked, their displays failing to catch my interest.
'School supplies,' I thought with a smirk. 'Let's buy them fast.'
Eldrin had made it clear this trip was more than just about stocking up on necessities. It was a declaration, a subtle but firm reminder to those who had forgotten that I was not just another person becoming a wizard. And while I understood the importance of making a statement, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of boredom gnawing at me. it felt more like a tedious errand buying all of the stuff.
I found myself veering off the main path, drawn by a sudden impulse. There was a shop nearby that piqued my interest—not because I needed anything from it, but because I was curious about how these wizards viewed power. Garrick Ollivander's wand shop was legendary, or so they said. Wands, according to them, chose their wizards, as if these flimsy sticks of wood held any real sway over one's magical ability.
'Wands,' I thought dismissively. 'As if I need one of those.'
Still, the idea intrigued me. What would Ollivander think when he realized that no wand could truly "choose" me? I doubted he'd ever encountered someone who could control magic as I did. If nothing else, it would be amusing to watch the old man try to fit me into one of his neat little categories.
The bell above the door chimed softly as I entered the shop. The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of aged wood and something else—magic, perhaps, though it was faint. Shelves upon shelves of wands lined the walls, each one neatly boxed and labeled. I could feel the magic humming around me, a low vibration that would have gone unnoticed by most. To me, it was almost deafening.
Before I could take another step, a soft voice greeted me from the shadows.
"Ah, another new student, I presume?" Ollivander's voice was smooth, but there was a sharpness to it, a keen edge that hinted at the man's true nature. He stepped into the light, his silver eyes gleaming with curiosity as they settled on me. "I've been expecting you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Indeed. I've matched wands to every young witch and wizard in these parts for generations. And you, my boy, are no exception."
'Exception,' I thought with an inward chuckle. 'If only he knew.'
Ollivander approached, his gaze scrutinizing me with the intensity of someone who had spent a lifetime studying the minutiae of magical beings. "Yes… I can see it now. There's something… different about you." He said it as if he was trying to puzzle out a particularly challenging riddle.
"I've been told that before," I replied, my tone flat.
Ollivander didn't seem to notice—or care. He was already reaching for one of the many boxes on the shelves, his movements swift and practiced. "Let's see… how about this one? Aspen wood, dragon heartstring core, twelve inches, unyielding."
He handed me the wand, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. I took it, feeling the magic thrumming within it. It was strong, for what it was, but there was nothing particularly special about it. With a flick of my wrist, I cast a simple spell—Lumos. The tip of the wand lit up, a soft glow that illuminated the dim shop.
Ollivander's smile widened. "Ah, yes, that seems—"
The wand exploded in my hand, the light flaring too bright before it shattered into splinters. I remained unfazed, dropping the remnants to the floor as Ollivander's smile faltered.
"I'll take another," I said, my voice steady.
Ollivander blinked, clearly thrown off by what had just happened. He recovered quickly, though, reaching for another box. "Yes, of course. Perhaps… oak, with a phoenix feather core. Ten and a half inches, flexible."
I took the wand, repeating the process. This time, I didn't even bother casting a spell. I could feel the wood straining under the pressure of my magic, the phoenix feather core barely able to contain it. A slight twitch of my fingers, and the wand snapped in two.
Ollivander stared at the broken pieces in my hand, his expression now one of genuine surprise. "This… this is most unusual."
Unusual? That was an understatement. I had known from the start that no wand in this shop could handle my magic, but seeing the old man's reaction was almost worth the inconvenience. Still, I wasn't here to show off.
"It's not the wands," I said, tossing the broken pieces onto the counter. "It's me."
Ollivander looked up at me, his eyes narrowing. "You… you're not like the others, are you?"
'Finally, he catches on,' I thought, a smirk tugging at my lips.
"No," I said simply. "I'm not."
The silence that followed was heavy, charged with unspoken questions. I could see the gears turning in Ollivander's mind as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. But I had no interest in explaining myself. Let him wonder.
"I won't be needing a wand after all," I said, turning to leave.
"But—" Ollivander started, but I cut him off with a glance.
"None of these wands can handle my power. They'd break the moment I tried to cast anything substantial." I paused, letting that sink in. "Perhaps it's time you reconsider your methods, Mr. Ollivander."
With that, I stepped out of the shop, the bell chiming softly behind me. The cool air of Diagon Alley greeted me, a welcome change from the stifling atmosphere inside. I had known this trip would be pointless, but the encounter had been more disappointing than I'd expected.
As I walked, the system chimed in my mind, a notification appearing before me.
[New Mission: Investigate the Mysterious Sword]
[Description: A sword of unknown origin was obtained three years ago in the ancient temple. Uncover its secrets to unlock its true potential.
Reward: Power of the Abyss (Sealed Skill)
Failure: The sword remains dormant.]
'Interesting,' I thought, my interest piqued. 'The system rarely gives missions without good reason.'