Chapter 2. Outcomes

In the evening of the same fateful day in July, dad had called me aside after dinner for my first lesson in mental defense. He chose my bedroom as our place of study, because, he said, we needed a secluded place and my own room should be the best for my peace of mind.

We were both found sitting against each other on my bed, with our legs crossed. I was feeling a bit nervous, even though this whole day was brimming with anticipation.

He coughed, drawing my attention. "Alright. Occlumency is a magical art of closing one's mind. It's usually used to repel mental intrusions, such as from Legilimency, but I'm pretty sure it could help in your case as well." I nodded.

"It's considered an obscure subject by most and sadly they don't teach it at Hogwarts. You could find a few books here and there, but they are not very useful. There's not much theory in Occlumency, it's mostly a lot of willpower as well as focus and keeping your emotions in check." "Is it very difficult to learn?" I asked tentatively.

He paused for a second, choosing his words. "I wouldn't say it's very difficult, per se. It just takes a great deal of patience and discipline."

I grimaced at the prospect, making my dad smile at my face in amusement. "Yeah, well, there's a reason it's learnt in much older years." 'Which I do not have' instantly came a sobering thought.

"Usually," dad continued, "when you want to learn faster how to defend yourself against something, you need to experience that something. Get a feel of it, so to say," he added, looking uneasy.

'Which meant–'

"Fortunately, I don't have to mentally attack my son," he said, making me slump in relief. But still– "Why?" I asked.

Dad just looked at me pointedly, making me suddenly feel like I said something stupid. "Because you're already under attack, Ron," he said softly. "Every second thousands of futures rush into your mind".

I blinked dumbfounded. "But– but I don't see anything." Dad nodded to himself. "I believe it's because you learnt to ignore them throughout the years. You used to complain about flashes of things that didn't make sense, didn't you?" "Well, yeah. They were too distracting, so I just… brushed them away, and later I didn't even notice them anymore." I shrugged.

"Exactly! So you have a tiny bit of control, at least subconscious. The problem is that you didn't solve the problem, you just hid it, even from yourself. The visions of futures still flow into your brain, overloading it, thus the headaches. Understand?" "I think so… So what do I need to do?"

"As I said before, to defend against it, you need to experience it. So first I want you to watch some vision instead of driving it away." dad said.

"Okay, and how do I do it?" I asked, radiating the impatience. The prospect of consciously looking into the future excited me as never before.

"I'll show you in a second. But first," he put on his serious face again," you need to understand. It will be dangerous, there are too many of them – they can easily overload your mind. But don't worry, I'll be here to get you back into reality." All of a sudden I wasn't so sure about this venture.

"Well, as a last resort, I could always stun you. But I'm not sure it's a good idea," he pointed towards his wand lying on the bedsheet on his right.

Funnily enough, his last option seemed to calm down my nerves more than it probably should have.

"Try to focus only on one single future and hold onto it tight, alright? And then you'll have to push it away, to block it, will it away. Questions?" I desperately wanted to ask a lot, but all of them came down to 'Are you sure?' or 'Maybe we shouldn't–' but through all this anxiety broke a squeaky voice of reason telling me that it was now or never. I couldn't postpone it more than it'd already been.

I sat up straighter and said with a totally fake confidence, "No. I got it. How do we do this?" Dad smiled at me proudly but with a hint of worry.

"Alright, first, spine straight, shoulders slightly behind– yes, good. Now close your eyes and try to relax– not so much! Close your eyes." he waited until I did so. "Now try to get rid of all slight tensions in your muscles. You won't topple, don't worry. You need to relax your body first." I thought that I did but still felt like an idiot. "Now try to get used to the position." The sensation was very strange at first, but as seconds passed by I found myself thinking that it was actually quite comfortable.

"Great! Now clear your head." My dad instructed further. "Try not to think about anything, or feel anything. All you feel is peace and quiet." His measured voice lulled me to some unknown tranquil state, almost weightless. Like you're floating in zero gravity without a care in the world. Just me and void.

I had no idea how much time passed, while I was drifting around, until the very distant sound of my dad's voice reached me. "You're doing great, well done. Now I need you to find where your visions come from. Find them." 'What is he talking about?' I thought. 'There's nothing here.' But I tried anyway, focusing as hard as I could, but all in vain – I couldn't catch a glimpse of anything. I looked and searched but all I could see was the same black void.

I started to feel desperate and some unwanted thoughts broke through: 'What if they were wrong again? What if it's something else completely?' As a glimmer of hope from the morning started to wane, I found myself back on my bed, sitting against patiently waiting dad and my eyes suspiciously wet. I hurried to rub them away.

I shook my head. "I–"

"Great job, son!" he interrupted me, leaving me gape with my mouth still open. "I didn't really expect you to dive into a trance right away, y'know. It took me several frustrating days to manage it, and I was twice your age," he praised me. I didn't know what to say.

"But I didn't–" I mumbled.

"Well, I did say it would take a great deal of patience, didn't I?" I reluctantly nodded. "So don't be disappointed. You'll get there, just wait. Now let's try once more for today – it's getting late already." Only now I noticed that it was much darker outside the window – dusk but rapidly coming closer to dark night. 'Was I out of it for so long?' I wondered with no real need for an answer and looked back at my father who just nodded encouragingly. I took a deep breath and with a whispered "Alright" closed my eyes again.

This time the weightless state settled in faster, but I seemed to already run out of luck, as I had no more success in accessing the futures than I had earlier. With a commendable deal of stubbornness I couldn't see anything and kept thinking it was a waste of time.

My patience was quickly coming to the logical end and I barely made a decision to get back, when I heard dad's muffled voice. "Ron, listen to me. I know you're scared," I froze, "I'm here, Ron. I'll help you if you go too far." He paused. "Trust me on this. You'll be fine." After a few moments of indecision I steeled myself and shifted my attention to the ever-present buzzing at the back of my head. For years I brushed these things off and did everything to ignore them. And now I actually dared to take a look.

Almost immediately countless futures started flaring up in my mind's eye. Like a limitless bunch of overeager puppies hungry for my attention, they tried to force themselves into the front of my mind. Multiply it by thousands, and you'll get what I'm sensing right now – an utter chaos of flashes of colors mostly orange, sounds of footsteps, dad's voice, someone shaking me and other sensations I couldn't hope to comprehend. Excruciating pain was rising fast till it became worse than I'd ever felt in my life. Maybe I was screaming, but I wasn't sure.

I couldn't even hope to tame all these visions, so out of sheer desperation I did the opposite – I picked one and held on to it for dear life. And then everything became deafeningly still. I can't remember when my head was so completely silent.

In this vision I was still sitting on the bed, I was gasping for breath. As I lifted my eyes the first thing I saw was dad's wand pointing right at me. Eyes wide I frantically waved my hands and spoke, "No!" I coughed, "dad, it's okay!". My throat was very hoarse and sore. I must have been really screaming, then. I winced guiltily at the thought.

Suddenly the vision shifted, and dad was now pacing around the room still clasping his wand. I followed his steps with my eyes for a short while, when suddenly the bedroom door sprung open with a loud bang. An instant later my mom was inside, looking absolutely wild in panic. I winced again at the sight, feeling even more guilty. "Mom! Sorry, I–" I needed to get out of here, I realized.

As the vision started shifting again, I summoned every ounce of willpower and tried to pull back myself from it. It was similar to consciously trying to wake up while inside an especially unpleasant dream. It proved to be harder than I anticipated though, but I did it anyway.

As I came to my senses, I found myself drenched in sweat, my throat sore and head pulsating sharply. Now that I finally acknowledged their presence, it wasn't so easy to dismiss the visions. Slowly opening my eyes I saw dad standing on his feet, extremely tensed and stressed, looking older than I'd ever seen him, eyes intensely fixed on my form. I grabbed my head and groaned.

"Ron?" Dad called me cautiously.

"I did it!" Even though I felt horrible, I wanted to laugh in hysterics, I couldn't help it.

I was actually very proud of myself. I saw dad slump in relief, now assured that whatever he had witnessed was finally over. In an instant I was wrapped in a tight hug, "Don't ever scare me like that! You were screaming as if under Cruciatus!" "Sorry," I murmured, but was still too giddy. "Dad, it was awesome! I saw you wanted to stun me, and then it all changed and you were walking in circles in my room, and then–" I fell silent suddenly unsure if it was true or not.

"And then what?" he asked in concern.

I opened my mouth but before I could say anything, mom barged in the room, just as I had seen in the vision: a frightened face, slightly out of breath, with tightly gripped wand in one hand and potions kit in another.

"–that. I saw that." I pointed at mom dumbly.

The only thing that saved me from the massive dressing down mom had been surely about to deliver, was the fact that I was under enough strain as it was, so I was merely furiously examined, given a few potions to soothe my throat and head and sent immediately to sleep. I didn't even think about complaining and fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow.

Dad wasn't so lucky.

The following months proved that the first lesson was the easiest part, because that time was by far the worst of my life. It was hell.

No matter how mom wished so, we restarted our lessons several days later – when dad stopped flinching at every sound. After the first disaster of a lesson, dad had me try to block a future without plunging in it. The task itself was very easy, to be honest, but turned out to to be quite useless. It's like stopping a drop of water in a leak – the futures close enough instantly took its place and it didn't make any difference.

It actually became a challenge for dad very fast. An Occlumens isn't supposed to defend against many intrusions at the same time, not at first at least. On the other hand, unlike the mental attacks the futures were, in fact, not aggressive at all, they just wanted to show me themselves and tried their best to do just that.

Therefore, I attempted next to push multiple futures at once. Recklessly I took a shot at grasping the whole flow, but was swiped away into turbulence again. I practiced everyday in blocking more and more futures. It was hard and I was pulled into the visions more times than I could count, but it was working.

Also with each training session, it was getting easier to reach the trance until suddenly I didn't even need one.

It had a nasty drawback, though – I couldn't ignore the futures anymore. I couldn't just brush them off into the back of my mind. Now they were always at the front, in full view.

It was bad, like really bad.

To the point where I couldn't even tell the difference between reality and the visions anymore. I suspect it was somewhat funny from the outside perspective, when I reacted to something that hadn't happened yet or replied to something they only wanted to say.

If I did speak at all. I was exhausted mentally, I was extremely moody and either snapped at everyone or hid somewhere.

Now I understood why all those diviners went into seclusion. In isolation it was much more bearable in fact. It was like every person carried something that broke my divination magic and made futures split and shift relentlessly. After I noticed that the twins were the worst in that regard, I didn't hesitate to call this factor 'chaos'.

Speaking of them, thank Merlin, the devils actually quietened down on their mischief. No matter what I said sometimes they were good brothers after all. Deep down.

In such a manner the end of August approached. I hoped Percy and Ginny forgave me, I certainly wasn't best for their birthdays.

Fortunately soon Hogwarts took a good half of residents away, and dealing with all this became slightly easier.

Only in October things started to change for the better. I actually managed to block all the visions, although it took too much focus and mental power to do so. For the time being, it was less draining to block only part of it and deal with the rest.

Eventually the day had come, the moment I finally reached through the long months of blood, sweat, tears, mental breakdowns, exhaustion and Merlin knew what else. It was the beginning of December already, when I succeeded in holding a full mental block all day long.

There was no end to my happiness. I was able to breathe freely without any visions getting in the way. I was ready to dance in joy or bounce around, yelling. I might actually have done some of those, but I don't really remember. Mom even organized a table full of my favorite foods to celebrate my success.

Speaking of, I was not the only one in immense relief. These months had been a dark time for my parents as well, and to see their son, who had been in such a horrible state, slowly withering away and losing connection with reality, suddenly able to laugh, to run, to breathe and fully live, was like a massive weight off their shoulders. Needless to say, there were loads of tears involved.

The rest of the time till the elder brothers' arrival from Hogwarts, I completely lazed around, mostly doing manual labor or having fun, or getting pranked by Fred and George. I will never tell them this, but I absolutely missed it, it brought the sense of normality I so desperately needed. Although now when I didn't have an advantage of subconscious precognition, they went crazy on me.

When Hogwarts Express finally came to a stop and students poured out of the carriages in a full flow, I was frantically looking for the same notorious hair color all Weasleys possessed. Bill barely made it on the platform, when I almost knocked him down squeezing him in a hug for what it was worth. He, along with Charlie and Percy, was pleasantly shocked by the contrast in my behavior, as I was so bad last time we saw each other, that I didn't even come to see them off to school. I peeled off them only after a very thorough hugging treatment.

It was the best Christmas I ever had: the most delicious foods mom could cook, playing snowballs – I was even allowed to join a Quidditch match – and overall having fun. Even an ever-present Weasley sweater seemed somehow fluffier and warmer than usual.

It was amazing. I loved every second of it.

Eventually even the holidays came to an end, and with a happy grin on my face I vigorously waved to my brothers while the scarlet steam engine moved Bill and others away for the next term.

The same evening I finally opened a book my dad gave me for Christmas. It was supposed to be the book – more of a journal really – written by my great great great uncle, or whatever, who was a diviner, like me. Dad did actually ask around numerous Weasleys about him and was given this book, but apparently decided that I had enough on my plate already and withheld for better times, which coincidentally appeared just before Christmas.

It was a great present, truly, but you can't fault me for being a bit sick of this magic. I couldn't help feeling some resentment towards it – no matter how useful it seemed, it made months of my life a living hell. I just wanted a break. Luckily I had a perfect excuse in the form of having a great time with my brothers while they were still here.

But now I actually found myself wanting to know more about what I was able to do.

The book itself didn't look much. It looked fairly simple, slightly worn with a few scrapes and stains of what looked like coffee – overall quite well-preserved for an over a century old journal. It had a stiff black cover with its title "Encyclopaedia Arcana" made in a fancy orange lettering.

The book consisted of my ancestor's notes on various types of magic: fire, earth, ice, life, death, mind, chance – you name it, even some of the less common elemental types like mom's sound magic. The entries were pretty short, but to the point.

But the primary focus of the 'Encyclopedia' was what was most valuable to me – divination magic. It described in great detail how diviners' magic worked and what it could be used for. Unfortunately it didn't have any instructions or tips on how to train it.

Anyway, the more I read, the more that long-forgotten childish wonder and glee of being able to see the future had resurfaced in me.

Here was what it said in introduction chapter for divination magic:

How Divination Works

A regular person introduced to a new situation doesn't know what's going to happen. When you're faced with a machine you don't know how to use, you don't know what pressing any of the buttons does. Over time, you start to learn how the thing works. Eventually, you might even learn why it works. And once you know the how and the why, you can figure out what's going to happen whenever you mess with the thing, subject to the vagaries of chance and a certain amount of legwork.

A diviner gets to shortcut that. When he looks at a situation, he sees possible outcomes: he knows the what without understanding the how or the why. Every diviner develops his own sensory code for this, but most do it visually, 'seeing' the potential futures unfold. In general a diviner's visions are limited to his own senses: he can only see the outcomes that he would be able to perceive were he to actually live through them.

It seemed like a very powerful and useful tool, however it came with two major limitations of what divination can't predict, which I had already somewhat discovered in one form or another.

The first stumbling stone is pure chance. My magic can't predict things that are random. However, apparently truly random events are much rarer than people think. I didn't fully understand it at the time, but the book said that more often millions of tiny events add up to something chaotic enough to render divination useless. That's why any long-term divination is impossible. I won't be able to tell what will happen in a few days, because so much can change at any time.

The second limitation that turned me into a withdrawn recluse in August was something called free will. If someone hadn't genuinely made a choice, divination won't be able to see beyond that – only more likely choices and their direct outcomes. Most of the time a diviner can still somewhat accurately predict what another person will do, but they can suddenly change their mind completely and choose a different strategy or they felt under the weather and just didn't think clearly. And the further a diviner will try to look, the less accurate the predictions will be.

Even with all these drawbacks divination magic looked extremely cool, and I wasn't ashamed to admit that right there right then I started daydreaming about how I would master my magic and become a very tough opponent for anyone.

Further reading quickly brought me down to earth. And it wasn't about hard training I would have to undergo to learn more advanced techniques like precognition, which was a sobering call enough.

Unfortunately, as far as I could tell, the disadvantages didn't end there. Turned out that diviners were extremely weak at any other magic. So I was bound to remain the weakest and the worst in class at wand work.

It was actually a hard pill to swallow. It was like my old insecurities resurfaced and I started to think that I won't get accepted into Hogwarts anyway, even though I had magic, because what was the point? I moped around for a while until mom confronted me and told me that no matter how good or bad I thought I would be, I still needed to get my education.

That calmed me down a bit and additionally made me more determined to train further my skill with divination.

Thereby almost a month after the last vision I had, small occasional things leaking through notwithstanding, I was trying to intentionally access my power once again. I had taken a bunch of Chocolate Frog cards from my collection, tossed them on my bed, took one of them at random and placed it on my bed face down. And now I needed to find out whose card it was without actually flipping it.

The next part already had me hesitant. I needed to make a small gap in my mental barrier to let a specific future in to see. It proved to be harder for me than I thought: either I applied too little pressure that didn't do anything to my shield or closed it instantly on reflex. It was frustrating me to no end, now when I actually tried to see, they didn't want to show up? I was too scared, I finally admitted to myself after about a week. I was afraid of experiencing the same agonizing hell again. But it didn't make sense! My defense was strong enough now, and I barely spent any focus on it. Still… However it was the only magic I was going to be any good at, and I needed it.

I grit my teeth, spat on everything and just punched a hole very hard. I resisted the urge to block it with all my might and before I changed my mind, plunged inside. Funny enough, I had forgotten to focus on choosing the right future, so I got something useless, but it was a start.

Over the next few days I learnt that choosing a future was actually pretty easy, it was like I instinctively knew which one I needed or maybe it was my magic responding, not sure.

All in all I finally managed to turn the card in my mind only. It was taking too much time and too fast peeks in a row were tiring the barrier too much, but I was still very proud. It was only a matter of practice to get better.

And oh, practice I did.

More than two years have passed since then, and I had progressed well during that time. I hadn't really learnt much more, however I improved what little I could do. My mental shield was more sturdy and got tired less, but better yet, I could 'take a peek' into the future really fast, in less than a second. I had a lot of help with the last one, mostly from the twins, Percy and dad.

The twins provided a very convenient training ground for divination with their pranking habits. Years ago I replaced my daily booby traps checking routine with testing through the futures: instead of wasting time sniffing out a door for any signs of a trap, I just looked into the future where I opened the door and saw what would happen – it greatly saved time.

You would think that Fred and George would get the memo, but failed attempts never disheartened them, no they rather instigated them to try harder. Which made their tricks more frequent and unpredictable, therefore making me use divination more.

Percy surprised me one summer day by offering to play chess. I was hesitant at first, wasn't he worried I would cheat? But he, to my great shock and befuddlement, instead insisted on me cheating. He said it would be good practice for both of us. And thus, me and Percy, and occasionally dad, resumed our regular chess games.

As an additional bonus, I could finally join my brothers playing Quidditch, when I wasn't at risk of falling off due to a sudden headache or chewing someone's head off anymore.

All in all, those were great years of my life, especially in contrast.

Our lives went back mostly to how we'd been before that fateful day three years ago, only saddened by Bill moving away after graduation and now Charlie as well. The house felt more empty without them, when you knew they weren't just at Hogwarts.

Speaking of which, I didn't really have time to miss my brothers, when the long-awaited day finally came.

Mr R. Weasley
The kitchen
The Burrow
Ottery St. Catchpole
Devon

My own acceptance letter had arrived earlier in the morning, and mom as always handed them out at the end of the breakfast. And now it was sitting here mockingly and staring at me. I stared back, unmoving.

I'd long ago come to the terms that I was as much a wizard as everyone in my family – just a bit different. But still I couldn't help it. I was suddenly reminded of all my self-doubts and uncertainties at that single moment and I couldn't dare to hope that it was actually real.

I was going to Hogwarts. So this was how it felt.

Here it was, my acceptance letter, sitting right in front of me. It won't even explode if I pick it up, I'd already checked.

"You're gonna open it or not?" Ginny's voice tore through my doubts. She must have been waiting for me for a while.

"Sorry," I replied absentmindedly.

No one tried to interrupt the moment anymore, only mom gave me an encouraging nod.

I was momentarily tempted to look at the future where I open the letter, but I quickly brushed it off. I wanted to do it myself. I sighed and tentatively picked it up. Slowly unfolding the envelope, I pulled out the piece of parchment and read it:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Weasley,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress

And just like that, the moment was gone. What felt like the most turning point in my life became a regular list of school supplies in a blink of an eye. Without realizing it, my mouth stretched out into a wide grin.

"I'm going to Hogwarts!" I yelled in joy, as I couldn't contain myself.

"Of course, you are. Was there any doubt?" The way dad said it so matter-of-factly made me feel extremely stupid.

"Anyway, when are we going for supplies?" I asked, trying to hide my embarrassment, but from the smile on my mom's face I got that I hadn't succeeded.

"Just after breakfast, dear, to avoid rush hour. Everyone will go shopping for Hogwarts, after all," mom replied.

"Well, let's hope there won't be many people who think the same," I mumbled.

"Don't worry, as if it's the first time I send my kids to school".

It was certainly true, but I didn't notice much of a difference, to be honest.

Three hours later our family, sans Bill and Charlie, of course, left a fireplace in Diagon Alley.

In annoyance I was rubbing off the last traces of some glitter dust on my arm, that I hadn't quite managed to wash away. While being able to glimpse into the future was very useful, it didn't help if I hadn't paid attention to begin with. I could still be surprised as easily as everyone else, and twins gleefully exploited it. But that was fine, I'll learn how to avoid these things as well.

As soon as we arrived, Percy wished to go separately. Dad decided to go with him, as they were supposed to go to "Eeylops Owl Emporium" to choose an owl as a present. The third Weasley to become a prefect – I threw a skeptical sideway glance at the twins, who still wore satisfied grins, despite all berating they had to suffer from – and likely the last. Percy, steadily ignoring spots of glitter on his neck and face, nodded and then they were gone.

I sighed, it was promising to be a long trip.

My mom was well versed at herding a bunch of unruly teenagers, so you would think that when there were three less people to look after, it would get easier. Unfortunately the twins were just as well trained at sneaking away, that even mom's enhanced hearing didn't help much: Fred must have learnt some way to suppress sound waves. Or they were just that good – you never know with them.

Thanks Merlin, dad finished soon with Percy's owl and found us, before the twins had managed to slip away again.

And now I stand along with dad under the golden sign "Ollivander's: Makers of Fine wands since 382 B.C.", getting ready for what every kid dreams as a kid. I was getting my own wand.

I did not have much to buy for me anyway: clothes and books were mostly hand-me-downs from my older brothers. Even Scabbers, my pet rat, and that had been Percy's. I was used to it and I didn't really mind usually, but when they tried to give me Charlie's old wand I vehemently refused and argued for quite a while. I frankly didn't want to know what he had been doing with it, but it was so terribly worn-out, that you could see the unicorn's hair sticking out from the tip. It wasn't safe for him to use around dragons, he said. But it was safe for an untrained wizard to use in a confined space with other children, it seemed like. They thought what, if I was going to be terrible with a wand anyway, it wasn't worth buying it for me?! After long arguing I managed to win by some miracle and maybe a tiny bit of manipulation of the futures.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the shop as we stepped inside. It was very crumpled indoors with only a shabby chair in the corner and neat piles of thousands of narrow boxes, reaching as high as an eye can see. The gloomy interior did nothing to calm my nerves.

"Good afternoon," called a soft voice somewhere from the right. "Oh, Arthur Weasley! Here with another son, I see," it wasn't a question. "Well, young man, let's see– which is your wand arm?" "Er– right," I said.

"Hold out your arm, please. Yes, yes, that's nice." What followed next was measuring every possible little nook in my body: shoulder to shoulder, wrist to tip of the middle finger, chin to forehead and so on. It started feeling awkward very soon, and dad, traitor that he is, had already sat on the chair and was watching in clear amusement. I ended up silently accepting whatever quirks the old man had. To each their own entertainment, I figured.

While the levitating measuring tape was recording sizes I frankly didn't want anyone to know, the old man was already fussing over the shelves, talking down some boxes along the way.

"That's enough, thank you," he commanded, making the tape fall down the floor lifelessly. "Alright. Try this one, Mr. Weasley. Cypress wood and phoenix feather. Nine inches, very supple." I took a weary look at the fancy-looking reddish wand and reflexively glanced at what'd happen if I touched it. I started. Weird. I tried again with the same results. I could tell that it would study me somehow, but beyond that — nothing. It didn't make any sense, unless– "Is it alive?!" I blurted out, startled.

Ollivander raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh no, I wouldn't call it alive. But wands do possess a sort of self-awareness. It's the wand that chooses the wizard, of course," he explained with the knowing glint in the eyes.

Choice, that's what it was. It seems the free will rule can apply to magical items as well. Good to know.

I finally took the wand but before I could do anything, it was swiftly snatched away.

"No, no. Try this one, very nice. Blackthorn and unicorn hair. Thirteen and a half inches, whippy." When I picked that one, it nearly burned half a shelf.

And then went a whirlwind of various wands. The best one so far had been a willow wand with unicorn hair, but the old man took it away as well.

I was becoming more disheartened with every failed wand, as they formed a nice neat pile on the counter, but Ollivander seemed to be more excited than ever.

"Oh, tricky customers are always so wonderful, no worries." Well, at least one of us was having fun.

"Here it is," he said breathily, "I'm sure it is the one. Redwood and dragon heartstring. Eleven and half inches. Slightly yielding." As soon as I gripped this one, I knew it was different. Every thread of my being was vibrating, every instinct told me one single thing. It's mine. I stared in awe.

"Excellent, yes, indeed. Very curious this one… very curious. Do you know anything about redwood wands?" he asked me.

"Er– no," said I.

"No, I wouldn't imagine so. Redwood wands have the reputation of bringing good fortune," started he. "But as often it is with wandlore, people have it quite backwards: wands themselves are not lucky charms, they don't bring good luck, no, oh no. But what they do is strongly attach themselves to wizards with an admirable ability to always fall on their feet. It's the kind of people who snatch the smallest advantage in a seemingly hopeless situation." I listened to the lecture with rapt attention.

"So I can safely assume I'll hear a lot about your exploits in the future, Mr Weasley. And let's hope you'll make the right choice, indeed." I was quite pleased with the description but the last part left me baffled a bit. It sounded somewhat ominous. Dad finally paid seven galleons and we safely left the wandmaker.

Stopping right outside, I stared down at the wand in my wands mulling over what I heard. I jumped when dad's hand clapped on my shoulder.

"You alright there? Let's find the others." he turned and started walking away, but not before tossing a soft, "You'll do great, son." Smiling to myself, I followed after.

For those who wondered, no wand component mentioned in the chapter is pure random. I actually got them from Wands & Wizards: A Harry Potter 5e Adaptation

A cutting "How Divination Works" was taken directly from Benedict Jacka's official site.