"Sherlock…"
Overcome with emotion, Ron couldn't help sniffing.
He quickly turned his head to the side.
There was no way he could let Sherlock or Harry see him like this.
And then he saw Sherlock's father—Mr. Holmes—standing by the doorway, smiling gently at him.
Ron: (／▽＼)
Okay… this was embarrassing.
"Young Weasley, hurry and hand over your wand. Don't keep this old gentleman waiting."
When it came to dealing with people, Mr. Holmes was clearly far more tactful than Sherlock.
Sensing Ron's discomfort, he spoke up immediately to help him out of it.
"Oh… ah? R-right!"
Ron gave Mr. Holmes a grateful look as he fumbled to take out his battered, worn-out wand.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold," Ollivander said softly, taking the wand and running his fingers along its scuffed and dulled surface, his eyes filled with a distant, nostalgic light.
"White ash, twelve inches, unicorn hair core… originally quite springy…"
His tone suddenly sharpened: "Tell me, when you use this wand, do you often feel a strange sluggishness? Like something resisting you?"
"That's exactly what it feels like! You're right!"
Ron nodded vigorously.
Ollivander, starved of conversation from the lack of recent customers, took this chance to open up.
"Just as I thought. People always think it's the wizard who chooses the wand—but in truth, the wand is also choosing the wizard.
Unicorn hair is one of the most loyal wand cores, and white ash is one of the most faithful woods. When you combine the two…"
"Loyal?" Ron repeated, confused.
"Loyal," Ollivander affirmed firmly.
"In cases like this, even if the wand passes to a relative of the original owner, it won't perform well.
If you're not the younger brother of the wand's first master, you may not even be able to cast basic spells."
Ron's eyes widened in astonishment.
So that was it!
"It's a good thing Mr. Holmes caught it in time," Ollivander said. "Otherwise, it would've hindered your learning and spellcasting for a long time."
Ron's eyes welled up again.
But when he turned to look at Sherlock—he was already gone.
Ron couldn't help but smile.
Yeah… that was just like him.
---
There wasn't much more to say after that.
After a bit of trial and error, a fourteen-inch wand made of willow chose Ron.
Interestingly, the core was still unicorn hair.
According to Ollivander, unicorn hair cores helped produce consistent and stable spellcasting, while willow wood suited wizards with deep, untapped potential.
In short?
Loyalty.
Ollivander had just finished wrapping Ron's new wand when Sherlock returned.
"Sherlock, what's all that?" Harry asked curiously, eyeing the bundle in his arms.
"Just some materials I'll need later."
Harry: |(*′口`) …That told me nothing.
Still, Harry understood well enough: if Sherlock gave an evasive answer, it meant the time wasn't right yet.
When the moment came, Sherlock would tell them everything.
Harry had known him long enough to trust that.
As for Ron—having just received a new wand—he couldn't wait to try it out.
The result?
Smooth. Silky. Perfect.
The Levitation Charm that had never worked properly in class?
Nailed it on the first try.
Ron was absolutely thrilled.
Even after they returned from Diagon Alley to Sherlock's house, he was itching to test more spells.
Unfortunately, as per the Ministry of Magic's rules, underage wizards weren't allowed to cast spells outside school.
"But there's no such restriction at home…"
"Section Three of the 'Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery'—deliberately casting magic in a Muggle-inhabited area in front of Muggles constitutes a criminal offense," Sherlock recited flawlessly.
"This is a Muggle neighborhood. Any magic cast here would be instantly traced back to this house."
Harry and Ron exchanged looks. What kind of law? They'd never heard of that.
But neither of them doubted Sherlock's accuracy.
After all, it was Sherlock Holmes.
"Well, that's kind of a downer," Ron sighed. "If only I'd brought my wizard chess set… Actually, even if I had, Sherlock wouldn't have—"
"I have one."
As he spoke, Sherlock produced two sets of wizard chess.
Harry & Ron: Σ(っ°Д°;)っ
"Sherlock, when did you…?"
"I picked them up in Diagon Alley today."
"Sherlock, you're amazing!"
Ron immediately jumped up and gave Sherlock a big hug before challenging Harry to a match.
As for whether playing wizard chess in the Muggle world counted as breaking any rules?
Well… they didn't know, and Sherlock didn't say—so it must be fine.
In reality, Sherlock knew he was toeing the line.
Technically, Hogwarts only added tracking enchantments to students' wands during summer vacation, when they signed the Underage Magic Agreement.
But as he'd explained earlier—this was a Muggle neighborhood.
A game of wizard chess? Harmless. The Ministry probably already knew Harry Potter was here—best not to cause trouble over something trivial.
But if actual magic were used? That would be a different story.
Sure enough, several games passed without incident.
It confirmed Sherlock's judgment and helped shape his plans going forward.
Wizard chess followed the same rules as Muggle chess—except the pieces were alive.
When one piece captured another, it would physically knock it over and drag it off the board.
Playing felt more like commanding an army than playing a board game.
Even with a brand-new set, Ron quickly became adept at controlling his pieces. They followed his commands without hesitation.
Harry, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky.
His pieces didn't trust him at all—and worse, they wouldn't stop talking:
"Don't send me over there! Can't you see his knight?"
"Send him instead. He's expendable."
"DON'T YOU DARE KILL MY KNIGHT!"
Harry already wasn't as good at chess as Ron, and the nonstop chatter left him frazzled and confused.
The result?
Total defeat. Again and again. Crushed beyond recognition.
Thankfully, Mr. Holmes stepped in to help.
At first, when he took over Harry's black pieces, they didn't take him seriously and even questioned his orders.
But as the game progressed, those unruly pieces grew more obedient.
By the end of the match, they were as responsive as Ron's—acting almost like extensions of Mr. Holmes himself.
With Mr. Holmes playing, the matches grew more balanced.
Watching Ron and his father clash enthusiastically over the board, Sherlock was completely unsurprised.
He'd expected this outcome all along.
Then he turned to Harry and said, "Harry, in a few days, we're going to Number 4 Privet Drive."
"What?" Harry blinked, then glanced at Ron and Mr. Holmes still engrossed in their match.
He lowered his voice, "Just the two of us?"
"My mother will drive us there."
As for why not his father…
Well, Sherlock figured Mr. Holmes had finally found a worthy chess rival—best to let them enjoy their battle uninterrupted.
---
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