Vernon had bought all of the required equipment on the list so far, except for a wand. Hagrid was leading him to a place called 'Ollivander's', which was the best wandmaker in the world, according to Hagrid's opinion.
If you were to ask Mr. Dursley, he'd say that wands were utterly ridiculous and inefficient. Tools, he thought to himself, should have a fine grip, like his pistol and many of the drills he used to sell.
With these thoughts in mind, Vernon entered Ollivander's.
"Hello?" Vernon called out. "Anyone there?"
A ladder slid into view, an old man on it. "Oh, hello! How may I help you?"
"I was told to come here for a wand, but-" Vernon began.
"Oh! You want a wand? Let's get you fitted then. Ever had one before?"
Vernon was angered by this man cutting him off and responded in a strained tone. "No, it's my first year at Hogwarts, but I do not want a wand."
Ollivander was shocked. Of which part shocked him, there was no way to know. "Then why are you here, if you do not want a wand? All wizards need wands to channel their magic."
"Yeah, about that. Your wands are preposterous! What if someone were to knock it out of your hand?"
"Preposterous?! How dare you insinuate such a thing! You are insulting the progress of my family line-"
Vernon cut him off by pulling out his pistol and shooting it into the air. Ollivander froze.
"Do you see this?" Vernon began. "It is a fine piece of work. Sturdy, good grip, and reliable. From what I've heard, your wands are not."
He sat the gun in front of Ollivander and pulled out a handful of Galleons.
"I wish to commission a weapon like this with the properties of a wizard's wand."
Ollivander, afraid of the man in front of him, accepted the Galleons and nodded.
"Okay. Let's... find a core that works for your... intimidating manner."
They had tried almost every wand core that Ollivander had, and none of them were compatible. It seemed that none of the cores could match Vernon's rotten personality, Ollivander had told him.
"Rotten? I have just the thing for that." Vernon said, pulling out his shoe and taking off one of his wooly socks.
He handed it to Ollivander, who took it and took a big whiff. He was repulsed by the stench, and almost vomited from a single sniff.
"Okay," Ollivander began disdainfully, "This could work, but it needs something... more."
Suddenly, a cloaked dementor had flown past Ollivanders. An idea striking Vernon, he dashed out and grappled the dementor by the neck.
Dragging it into Ollivanders, he tossed it down at Ollivander's feet.
"Will that work? I'd say it's pretty rotten, considering I've been diagnosed with Athlete's Foot." Vernon asked.
Ollivander sighed and accepted that this man did not follow any of the conventional wizarding laws. Staring at him, he was reminded of a man from legend. A man who shaped the current wizarding society.
Vernon Dursley reminded Ollivander of no one other than the legendary Merlin. Whether that was good or bad, no one would know.
Author's Note: Recommended Music - Skype Theme Extended