After buying everything on the list, all that was left was a wand, which Ollivander's wand shop is the go-to shop in all of the British magical community. So they went to their destination.
"Uncle, do I really need to buy a wand? I already have my ring as a conduit. Isn't that enough?" Arnit asked while playing with his pet Meghdoot. His uncle has also bought some expensive snacks for the bird, which he was feeding to it.
"Hmm, a ring is perfectly normal as a medium for magic, which is common in the east and some parts of Africa. Here, in Britain and basically the whole western part of the world, wands are used as a common magic conduit. But I will highly advise you to increase your proficiency in chantless magic without the use of any conduit; only then can you call yourself a powerful wizard."
Arnit continued feeding his pet while his ears were in full attention to his uncle's words.
'I can already do a few normal spells chantless without this ring' arnit thought, his fingers caressing an old silver ring in his index finger. It has several runes inscribed all around the outer surface of it.
"Aah, this is the famous Ollivander's wand shop." Suddenly, Vedant exclaimed, looking towards a slightly crooked establishment that seems to have endured vicissitudes of a lifetime.
The shopfront is made of dark, weathered wood, with gold lettering across the top reading, Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
"Arnit, remember a few months ago your grandfather sent you some magical woods and a few body parts of some magical animals?" Vedant suddenly asked, looking towards his nephew.
It took Arnit a few seconds to register his uncle's words. He slowly turned his head, facing his uncle, and said, "Yeah, if I remember correctly, it was around 10 months ago when you suddenly interrupted my sleep and made me stand in front of a bunch of things and asked me to select from them according to my instincts or feelings. Later you told me those things were sent by grandfather for my gift…" Arnit recalled the event, trailing at the end, realising the significance of the event.
"Those bunch of things were for my wand!!" Arnit exclaimed loudly, garnering a few stares from his surroundings.
He looked around, the corners of his ears turning red from embarrassment.
He lowered his voice and asked his uncle in a whisper, "You knew I would take admission in Hogwarts?"
"Well, I was 95 percent sure that I would convince you to join Hogwarts. And I wasn't wrong about that." Vedant said with a cheeky smile.
"Now go, your wand must be ready. This should be your special moment, so I'll wait outside." Vedant, said Arnit, urging him to go inside. Arnit turned and went towards the shop.
As Arnit stepped into Ollivander's Wand Shop, the bell above the door chimed softly, its sound lost in the overwhelming hush of the room. The air was thick with the scent of old wood, parchment, and a hint of something electric, as if raw magic itself lingered in the atmosphere.
The shop was narrow and dimly lit, with dusty shelves stacked to the ceiling, each crammed with hundreds—perhaps thousands—of slender wand boxes. The shelves seemed to sway slightly, almost as if they were alive, waiting, listening. A soft golden light flickered from a series of floating candles, their flames casting wavering shadows across the walls.
At the far end of the room stood a tall, spindly counter, polished smooth from centuries of use. Behind it, more rows of wand boxes climbed the walls, some looking as though they hadn't been disturbed in decades. The entire shop had an otherworldly quiet, broken only by the occasional creak of the wood and the faint rustle of parchment as a draft stirred loose notes scattered across the counter.
Arnit could feel it—the weight of history, the hum of magic woven into every fibre of this place. The moment he entered, a shiver ran down his spine, not out of fear but of something deeper—a recognition, as if the shop itself was aware of his presence.
Just as he took another step forward, there was a soft rustling sound, followed by a voice as ancient as the wood around him.
"Ah… another new student," came a whispery yet firm voice. From the shadows between the shelves, Mr. Ollivander emerged, his silver eyes gleaming as he peered at Arnit with unsettling intensity.
"I was wondering when I'd be seeing you, Mr. Shukla…" He continued, still looking towards Arnit with the same intensity.
"How do you know who I am when it's my first time meeting you?" arnit asked with some genuine curiosity, slightly perturbed under the shop owner's stare.
"How? Yes, yes… you see, I invested my last few making a custom wand for you, as per your uncle's wishes. He already gave me everything I need to make a wand. And right now I can feel in my bones the need for that wand to meet its lifelong companion, to make itself complete. Wait a moment!"
Ollivander said in a slow, whispery voice and walked up to a shelf. From there, he brought a box, which looked quite new compared to the other boxes.
He opened the box and showed it to Arnit.
Inside lay a deep, dark brown to black wand.
Even before opening the box, Arnit already felt a strong sense of connection to the wand. But after seeing it for the first time, he became sure that there was a resonance between his magic and this wand. Although he can feel a different level of resonance with the other wands on those shelves, the strongest one was definitely this one. It has the same level of connection with him as the ring on his finger has, which was specially made using Arnit's blood.
"12 and three-quarter inches—long enough for flexibility but not unwieldy. Mixture of Himalayan cedar wood and sandalwood combined with astral phoenix feather as its core. Cedar wands often choose those with strong destiny and protective instinct, symbolising eternal wisdom, endurance, and a strong will. Sandalwood, ideal for wizards with a strong moral compass and a pure heart. Astral phoenix feather as its core enhances all the magic related to the soul and is perfect for a wizard with a strong purpose and a path intertwined with fate." Ollivander said with a soft but firm voice.
He continued, "Before I hand over the wand to you, I must tell you that this was my first time working with an Astral Phoenix feather, which is rarer than a normal phoenix, which is already very rare in this part of the world. It is a rare Phoenix species said to appear only during cosmic alignments. So I must thank you for giving me this opportunity to work with such rare material. Here, take it and give it a swoosh."
He took the wand out of the box with care and handed it to Arnit, who took it with the same level of care.
The moment Arnit's left hand touched the base of the wand, it felt like the whole shop was bathed in some kind of holy light, which has a subtle warmth to it, like a mother's embrace.
"Aah… this is why I love making wands," the shop owner, Ollivander, let out a satisfied sigh and murmured to himself in a low voice.