Chaos and Order - A Multiverse Fanfic

Next afternoon, Darcie ended her page duties at the bookshop, which she had stubbornly refused to let go of when even Madam Villanelle had advised her to give up on it.

With the strap of her purse flung around her shoulder, and wearing a plain blue frock, she headed toward Ollivander's shop.

Lilith had tied herself as a band of black kerchief on her right wrist.

Darcie felt a surge of heat bubbling inside her with every step.

She was going to do it. Finally.

She was going to learn the Wandlore from Mr. Ollivander himself.

The shopkeepers smiled at her as she rushed by them, not forgetting to smile back.

If it was before, she would have stopped at each shop, chatting with the shopkeepers about some new product or topic.

They were all much more experienced than her and she had learned to not think little of anyone in this world.

Greatness she desired… just not at the expense of others.

But today, she had to disappoint the expectant smiles. Mr. Ollivander must be waiting for her.

She hopped into the coldness of the dim shop and found him standing behind the counter.

Mr. Ollivander smiled. "Right on time, you are," he commented. "Now, come on. Let's get on with it, eh?"

They passed through the lanes between the bookshelves.

Darcie took a deep breath, taking in the smell of old boxes full of magic.

Mr. Ollivander took her to the back of the shop, beyond the small room where he stayed.

A small door here took them to the Workshop-cum-Warehouse, which was adjacent to the main shop, but inaccessible from the Diagon Alley.

Darcie eyed the piles of logs neatly lined in the enlarged workshop.

A fire blazed in the hearth on the opposite wall.

There were dozens of shelves with glass doors, containing boxes and jars of magical items and, what Darcie guessed, raw wand cores.

"How's your Herbology?" Mr. Ollivander asked. "And what about your basics of magical creatures? You must have learned enough of basic spells and their applications, right? What about Transfiguration?"

Darcie looked up at the old man and noticed the faintest hint of doubt in his eyes. She nodded.

What followed next was the strictest exam a 9-year-old girl could have seated, facing the harshest professor.

Mr. Ollivander had undergone a strange, but understandable transformation, not giving any leeway to Darcie.

From all fields, some basic and some more advanced, he asked and reconfirmed the concepts of various fields.

Darcie, of course, answered all.

By now, she had learned enough to pass Hogwarts' 3rd-year exams with flying marks.

She wouldn't claim that she knew everything, as she had never limited her area of research to any subject or curriculum.

Still, when it came to improvisation with magic, she had confidence enough to leave many behind.

After half an hour, Mr. Ollivander's smile had broadened enough that one could have mistaken it for a grin.

"Excellent!" he smacked his lips. "Good. Good."

He brought Darcie to the middle of the workshop and made her sit on a stool.

"Now, before we begin, tell me, what do you think a wand is?"

Darcie had come far into the magical world since her first meeting with Mr. Ollivander that evening.

Still, not much had changed in her views regarding a wand.

Others might call it underwhelming, for her to stick with accuracy and precision with something so magical.

Yet, the scholar within her screamed rationality and common sense over wild dreams.

Wands were magical, true enough.

But they were not beyond the powers of wizards.

"I still stand on my theory, Mr. Ollivander," Darcie said. "A wand is something that eliminates the need of being Specific and having Belief when it comes to casting a spell for a wizard.

"However, I will add that it does so along with leaving ample space to hold a wizard's Intention."

Mr. Ollivander looked at her for a moment and nodded.

"A very crude and bookish definition," he said, not unkindly. "Not wrong, though. Precise, I would say, yes."

The old wizard stood up and began pacing left and right as if collecting his thoughts. He paused and looked into the fire.

"A Wand is a channel that must be formed, bonded, and cultivated, my dear," he told her, his voice sharp. "Without formation, a Wand will not exist. Without the bonding, a Wand will not think. And without Cultivation, a Wand will not grow."

Darcie frowned at those words, brooding over their meaning.

"If the Wand is a channel, Mr. Ollivander," she asked, "then what does it connect?"

Mr. Ollivander's face lit up at her question. "Well, of course, the wizard and the Nature."

Darcie's frown deepened.

"But aren't they already connected?" she asked. "I can do magic, both Non-Verbal and Wandless, you know this, Mr. Ollivander. Aren't I connected with nature?"

Mr. Ollivander gave a deep look at Darcie and shook his head. He returned to his seat opposite her and sat down.

"The Nature I am talking about here is not the same nature you are thinking, Darcie," he said solemnly. "It is much vaster than one can imagine. It knows us. It sees us. It lives.

"It is the magic of this world and beyond, and we are nothing but Its children. You. I. The Dark Lord. Professor Dumbledore. All of us.

"How can we even comprehend to connect with the Nature? No. What we do is but wash our feet, forgetting the ocean."

Darcie fell silent.

Mr. Ollivander continued, appreciating her calmness and silence.

"You see, when a wizard or witch takes birth, they are closest to the Nature. This closeness to the Nature depends both on inheritance from the parents and the changes caused by the Nature itself to the newborn.

"These two factors dictate if a newborn will be a squib or a wizard. And in almost all cases, the factor related to the Nature overpowers and overwhelms the inherited part."

"You mean…"

Mr. Ollivander nodded.

"The innate powers of wizard children to cast Wandless and Non-Verbal magic comes from the changes caused by the Nature, Darcie," he told her. "It was because of this they are prone to lose control over their magical powers, as they are much closer to the Nature — Source of Magic. However, this does not remain so forever.."

Darcie felt as if she could feel the reason lingering in her mind. She asked it anyway. "Why?"

"We are poor both in quality and quantity, Darcie," Mr. Ollivander said, sighing. "We are just a husk, who has been formed, and bonded, but cannot be cultivated."

Darcie felt horrified and troubled by the implication. "You say that as if…"

Mr. Ollivander smiled wryly.

"Wands have remained the greatest friends of wizards, but it was not always so," he said. "Before Wand, there was Scepter, powerful, but much more developed than a Wand, leaving many holes in the Cultivation part.

"Before Scepter, there was Staff. Some still prefer it, but only choose it in a later part of their lives, when they do not need Cultivation anymore.

"Before Staff, there was Mage Tower, which used not only Formation, Bondings, and Cultivation but also ancient enchantments using specific locations, magical gems and herbs, and uncountable relics to amplify the channel itself. The knowledge of Mage Towers is lost. A shame!"

"And… before Mage Tower…" Darcie asked, gaping.

Mr. Ollivander smiled as if he dared not believe that she had not arrived at the solution herself.

"Man. The Saying goes something like this in our family, Darcie.

"First came the Man, stealing from the Nature. Then he built the Tower, falling to the Staff. He held himself up with the Scepter but was prudent enough to wield a Wand.

"This is the story of Wand, Darcie.

"This is our Ollivander's Wandlore."

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