Chapter 291
The wand Dumbledore currently used was the Elder Wand he had taken from Gellert Grindelwald.
One of the legendary Deathly Hallows.
A wand possessing terrifying magical power.
But at the same time—
Its existence also proved that the legend of the Grim Reaper was merely a legend.
If the master of the Elder Wand were truly invincible, then the current state of the British wizarding world would likely be completely different.
"Elder wood… tsk, tsk."
The wandmaker looked at the sleeping wand inside the box and sighed emotionally.
"My father once told me this wand belonged to a dark wizard."
"It granted him immense power."
The man's voice echoed softly through the cluttered shop.
"Let me tell you a little secret."
He winked mysteriously.
"Almost every owner of an elder wand is naturally attracted to rowan wood."
"That's what my father taught me."
"That sounds rather romantic."
Fleur gazed at the wand with bright eyes.
In her mind, she had already imagined some romantic story where two people met because of their wands and remained together forever.
"Rowan wood is indeed exceptional."
The shopkeeper nodded approvingly.
"It's incredibly durable and possesses perhaps the strongest defensive affinity among all wand woods."
He casually withdrew his own wand and waved it proudly before them.
"My own wand is rowan."
"And interestingly enough…"
"There has never been a true dark wizard among rowan wand owners."
"They tend to be naturally kind-hearted people."
The man smiled warmly.
"Well…"
"I think I know the answer now."
The corner of Draco's mouth twitched slightly.
Some things had suddenly become painfully obvious.
The material of a certain old bee's first wand was practically self-evident now.
"Is your current wand unsuitable?"
"I remember Ollivander saying it was extremely compatible with you."
Fleur lightly tugged Draco's sleeve while asking quietly.
"It isn't for me."
Draco shook his head calmly.
"Do you require any additional proof?"
He turned toward the shopkeeper.
"No need."
"I can already tell."
The man picked up the feather duster again and resumed cleaning.
"Then what about this wand?"
Draco gestured toward Grindelwald's old wand.
"Please take it."
The shopkeeper answered without hesitation.
"My father always said we were merely temporary keepers."
"If we greedily pursue things that don't belong to us, we'll eventually suffer punishment."
"That lesson came from my grandfather."
"Thank you very much."
Draco nodded politely.
"You're welcome."
"Oh, right."
"Please pass along my regards to the gentleman who sent you."
"According to my father, our family once owed him a favor."
"Understood, sir."
Draco nodded again.
Soon afterward, the two left the wand shop together.
Despite being located within Deceiver's Bazaar, the wandmaker himself had been unexpectedly honest and sincere.
The entire process had gone far more smoothly than Draco anticipated.
Originally, he had expected at least some complications.
Instead—
He had merely listened to an overly talkative wandmaker lecture passionately about wandlore.
As they stepped outside, the slightly drunken afternoon sunlight spilled warmly across them.
"How about getting something to drink?"
"You didn't finish your cappuccino earlier."
Draco's tone carried a rare trace of relaxation.
Apparently, successfully completing the task had improved his mood considerably.
"Really?"
Fleur looked pleasantly surprised.
Then hesitation appeared on her face again.
"I thought you still had something important to do."
"Is it alright?"
"I simply don't want to be accused of abusing a hostage after I'm eventually caught."
"Relax. It isn't urgent."
Draco casually recalled the short conversation he had shared with Dumbledore earlier through the two-way mirror inside the café restroom.
That conversation had relieved quite a bit of pressure.
At least now—
He knew the British wizarding world remained temporarily stable.
And he also knew Voldemort had successfully broken into Azkaban.
"I'm rather curious what exactly you did."
Dumbledore's voice had emerged from the mirror.
By the time the old man hurried from the courtroom to Azkaban, he had found only ruins.
The massive black fortress had completely collapsed.
Dark stone blocks were scattered across the island.
The terrain itself had changed violently.
Some places had become towering cliffs.
Others had transformed into muddy swamps.
Waves constantly battered shattered rock formations nearby.
This was the destructive power of the enraged Dark Lord.
Even amid the ruins, Dumbledore could still sense lingering traces of Voldemort's fury and violent dark magic.
His intuition immediately told him that Draco was somehow connected to all of this.
"I merely did something you probably lacked the heart to do."
Draco's voice had remained calm.
"After consuming the same delicacy every day, Dementors eventually become tired of it."
"So I allowed them to sample the taste of living humans."
"They should know how to return home now."
He spoke as though discussing something entirely insignificant.
Inside the mirror, Dumbledore's silver eyebrows twitched violently for a brief moment before settling again.
"Of course…"
"According to them, even the Dementor's Kiss wasn't especially delicious."
Draco even joked lightly afterward.
The conversation sounded disturbingly casual.
"You're right."
Dumbledore eventually sighed tiredly.
That was all he could say.
Rather than saying Draco was correct—
It was more accurate to say the Ministry of Magic had always been wrong.
A life for a life.
Muggle society often abolished the death penalty in the name of humanitarian ideals.
But such mercy existed only because powerful state systems ensured criminals could no longer threaten society.
The wizarding world was entirely different.
Individual magical strength varied far too drastically.
Treating dangerous dark wizards lightly was practically laughable.
Those prisoners were merely ticking time bombs.
And in the original timeline—
Many of those terrifying dark wizards escaped from Azkaban repeatedly and returned to Voldemort's side.
Had they been dealt with properly earlier, Voldemort's influence would never have expanded so far.
There was also another important matter worth mentioning.
Reality had now proven that Rubeus Hagrid truly possessed extraordinary talent when supported properly.
He was far more suited to handling magical creatures independently than teaching inside classrooms.
The monstrous hybrid creatures he bred had multiplied wildly throughout Azkaban Island.
Under the terrifying numbers of those magical beasts, ordinary escape attempts had become nearly impossible.
Only Voldemort himself possessed enough strength to force his way through.
Of course—
The Dark Lord had practically exterminated most of the island's creatures during the assault.
Hagrid would probably be heartbroken when he learned about it.