Chapter 12: "If You Can't Tame It, Break It"

Chapter 12: "If You Can't Tame It, Break It"

Unlike all the other wands he had tried, the moment this one was in his hand, Leon could clearly feel its temperament.

With a gentle wave, a brilliant ball of light erupted from the tip of the wand, exploding into a shower of dazzling, star-like sparks.

"A perfect reaction! An astonishing affinity! The two of you will work wonderfully together!" Ollivander exclaimed, letting out a long sigh of relief.

But no sooner had the words left his mouth than something rather awkward happened.

The wand in Leon's hand began to tremble and struggle violently, as if trying to leap out of his grasp.

Ollivander scratched his head in embarrassment. "Ah... well, as I said, this one is a proud villain. It will always try to fight its master."

He shook his head, a little deflated, seemingly resigned to the situation. "Although it is a perfect match for you, you must conquer it completely before it will serve you. That is a skill in itself, and a difficult one for a wizard of your age."

He began to look around again, racking his brains as he prepared to search for another option.

However, Leon had always preferred a spirited horse.

He tightened his grip on the wand and spoke politely. "There's no need to trouble yourself, Mr. Ollivander. I believe I have a way to handle this."

"Are you certain, Mr. Shelby?" Ollivander paused. "A wand is a wizard's life. You must choose carefully."

The wand in Leon's hand struggled even more fiercely, forcing him to tighten his grip further.

"It's no matter. I'll simply purchase several wands at once. If I cannot conquer this one, I will choose from the others."

Ollivander hesitated. Due to the unique and selective nature of wands, every customer left with only one. He had never encountered a situation or a request like Leon's before. It went against his entire philosophy.

After a long moment of consideration, he finally decided to concede. He was, after all, out of other options. If word got out that a young wizard had stumped Ollivander, the family's hard-earned reputation would surely suffer.

"You know, Mr. Shelby," Ollivander sighed, "even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named found a wand that suited him in my shop." He looked at Leon with a deep, weary respect. "You will do great things. I am certain of it. Absolutely certain..."

Finally, he waved a hand, gesturing for Leon to pick out three other wands to take with him, along with the black walnut one.

"That will be twenty-eight Galleons in total. Thank you for your custom, Mr. Shelby," Ollivander said, clearly exhausted, his voice thin and reedy.

Leon simply took out fifty Galleons and pressed them into the old man's hand. "I know my request was unorthodox, and you have worked very hard today. Please, accept the extra as a token of my appreciation."

Ollivander didn't even look at the gold. He just gave Leon a long, meaningful stare. He took the money without protest and said, "Mr. Shelby, I have served countless wizards, many of them great and powerful. I see shades of them in you. But not one of them was your equal at this age."

"It is getting late. I look forward to our next meeting, should the opportunity arise."

Leon gathered the wands, gave a final nod of farewell, and strode out of the shop. Moody fell into step beside him, limping along as they exited.

Even though it was now in its box, Leon could still feel the stubborn black walnut wand vibrating with defiance.

His eyes turned cold. After a few steps, he made a sharp turn into a small, dark alleyway.

"Dead end. Wrong way," Moody said from behind him, but then he stopped. He watched as Leon took out all the newly purchased wands and laid them on the ground.

Leon placed the black walnut wand on the far right, then picked up the wand on the far left.

Without any hesitation, he snapped it in two.

Moody stared, his face a mask of disbelief. He opened his mouth to ask what he was doing, but after seeing the grim, serious expression on Leon's face, the words died in his throat.

Also stunned, it seemed, was the disobedient black walnut wand. The frequency of its trembling seemed to lessen.

Leon didn't pause. He picked up the second wand.

As Moody watched with a pained expression, Leon cleanly snapped it over his knee.

The black walnut wand now seemed completely dumbfounded. It had almost stopped shaking entirely.

With a cold snort and a silent curse for the stubborn thing, Leon snapped the third wand.

Now, there was only one intact wand left on the ground in front of him.

If you can't hold sand in your hand, you scatter it to the wind. If a wand won't obey, you break it. Leon was fully prepared to snap the black walnut wand as well if it dared to show any more defiance.

He paused, staring down at the wand for a long moment, giving it time to comprehend the situation. Then, he picked it up.

A curious thing happened. The once-defiant wand was now perfectly docile. It lay still and warm in Leon's hand, showing no sign of resistance. As if to prove its newfound loyalty, a tiny, eager spark of light bloomed at its tip in a clear gesture of goodwill.

Moody's brain had temporarily ceased to function. He just stared, watching the wand with the same sense of surrealism one might feel watching a feral wolf suddenly behave like a well-trained puppy.

Leon gave another cold snort, slid the wand into his pocket, and turned to walk out of the alley.

A tool is, and always will be, just a tool. Leon deeply admired the methods of the great historical leaders when it came to taming an unruly instrument.

Moody watched Leon's retreating back, then looked at the three broken wands discarded on the ground. A complex mix of emotions washed over him.

Decisive, ruthless, calm, and intelligent.

This Shelby boy would undoubtedly become a great wizard. But wherever he went, peace would not follow.

Moody suddenly remembered the words Dumbledore had said when he'd asked for his help, and a wry, mischievous grin spread across his scarred face. He was suddenly very excited to see what trouble Leon would cause at Hogwarts. He wondered how the always-composed, always-in-control Albus Dumbledore would react.

A loud, booming laugh escaped his lips. Moody quickened his pace, striding after Leon's retreating figure.

"We've spent the whole afternoon just getting a wand. We'll have to come back for the rest tomorrow."

"Thank you for your trouble, Mr. Moody. The textbooks should be simple enough, but I'd like to buy the best owl available. I know nothing about them, so I'll need your expertise."

"Haha! Don't you worry about that, lad. Leave it to me. I'll help you pick out a fine one!"

"My thanks, Mr. Moody."

The sun set, and the moon began to rise.

This was usually the busiest time of night at the Leaky Cauldron, but today, the pub was nearly empty. Word of the afternoon's "disagreement" had spread, and people were staying away.

Tom, the owner and landlord, sat alone at the bar, the very picture of misery, muttering to himself.

"Trashes my establishment... attacks my customers... ruins my business..."

"And after all that, he says he'll be back later to pay his tab, but where is he..."

"Wizards these days," he sighed. "No sense of decency at all..."