After wandering around for an entire afternoon, Tom finally finished buying everything he needed. While the girls were resting, he slipped away to visit Ollivander.
First, he expressed his thanks for the help he had received before. Then the conversation shifted naturally to wands.
Tom had recently run into a rather troubling problem.
His wand was still compatible with him, but it could no longer keep up with his growth. It was beginning to limit his full performance.
He had only discovered this not long ago while "cleansing" that group of pure blood families. The wand still worked, but he had to be careful, deliberately holding back to avoid damaging it with excessive force.
Especially when casting ice magic. After being enhanced by the magical circuit of the Frost Crown, the quality of his magic had risen to a far higher tier. If he cast several spells in succession, the wand might very well be ruined entirely.
When Ollivander first heard Tom's description, his instinctive reaction was disbelief.
Was this not a direct challenge to his craftsmanship and the quality of his products?
If Albus Dumbledore had said such a thing, Ollivander could accept it. But you, Riddle, a student not yet in your third year, claiming that my wand cannot match you?
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
Very quickly, he was proven wrong.
Tom did not even unleash his full power. He merely raised his wand and released a continuous surge of silvery white mist, maintaining the output without pause. Within moments, Ollivander's expression changed. He heard it. He truly heard it.
"Stop."
His face was filled with shock.
"I could almost hear the wand wailing... Mr. Riddle, I was mistaken. Your magic is vast beyond my imagination. And this terrifying vitality..." He stared at Tom as though beholding something unprecedented. "You are practically a child of magic."
Tom's lips twitched.
What nonsense about a child of magic.
It was his own hard work. And perhaps a tiny, insignificant amount of talent.
As for how vast his magic reserves had become?
Even he did not know.
No battle had ever forced him to exhaustion. That was why many ancient magical monarchs never cared about the total volume of their magic. They simply could not use it all.
But the "vitality" Ollivander mentioned was indeed crucial. It could also be described as the quality grade of magical output.
Many factors influenced vitality: a wizard's will and emotions, control over one's own power, familiarity with spells, even one's understanding and insight into magic itself.
In short, the more active the magic, the more terrifying the spells it produced.
Naturally, that also meant greater demands on the wand.
"Mr. Ollivander, is there any solution?" Tom asked frankly. "I can feel that my wand is cooperating with me with great difficulty. Aside from ordinary spells, I hardly dare focus too deeply and allow my magic to grow too active."
Ollivander nodded slowly. "It is like this. The wand chooses the wizard, but that does not mean it will suit him forever. Perhaps the wand has reached its own limits. Perhaps the wizard has changed during his growth. Though rare, wand replacements do occur every year."
He studied Tom intently.
"But your situation is rather unique. In theory, a wand grows alongside its wizard until it reaches its inherent limit. However, your growth has been far too rapid. The wand cannot keep pace."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting I replace it entirely? Can we not upgrade the core or reinforce the wood?"
"Upgrade?" Ollivander nearly shouted. "Merlin's beard, Mr. Riddle, how could you even think of such a thing?"
He grew uncharacteristically earnest.
"Each wand is like my child. When I craft them, I pour in my entire heart. There is no cutting corners, no negligence. Once completed, they become independent beings. What happens afterward is beyond my control. If a person replaces his heart, replaces his body, is he still himself?"
Tom felt he had considerable authority to speak on that subject.
"Is he not?" he replied calmly. "What matters most in a person is the soul and the memory. As long as those remain, changing the body is not such a strange thing."
"If a dead man's soul were given a newly created body to anchor itself and revived, would you say he was no longer himself?"
Ollivander opened his mouth.
No words came out.
Tom spoke as though he had done such things before. The wandmaker found himself unable to refute the logic.
"Very well," Ollivander conceded at last. "Perhaps that was not the best example. But upgrading a wand is impossible. The only solution I can offer is... purchase a spare."
He brought over several boxes.
"Fourteen and a half inches. Yew wood. Dragon heartstring. You favor powerful, dramatic spells. Among these, there should be one suited to you."
Tom strongly suspected the old man was merely looking to make a profit by pushing a backup wand on him. Still, he did not refuse. If he was going to buy one sooner or later, better now than when his current wand finally failed him mid battle.
What happened next, however, left Ollivander far more excited than any sale could justify.
None of the wands he initially selected were compatible with Tom.
That could only mean one thing.
Tom had undergone a drastic transformation, so significant that Ollivander's original assessment of his traits was no longer accurate.
Just as when Tom first came to the shop two years ago, Ollivander once again remeasured him, tested more than a hundred wands, and struggled immensely before narrowing it down to three.
It shook even his worldview.
The wand chooses the wizard.
Yet when a multitude of wands all attempt to choose the same wizard, perhaps the wizard must also evaluate which ones are worthy.
The three final wands, by virtue of their materials, possessed higher ceilings than ordinary wands. In terms of compatibility, they were nearly identical.
"Mr. Riddle, which will you take?"
Tom smiled faintly.
"The incompetent choose. I will take all of them."
Carrying three wands, Tom left the shop.
Without any Ministry subsidy this time, the total came to one hundred and sixty eight Galleons.
Now that felt more in line with the standards of Diagon Alley's most enterprising merchant.