Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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*Boom!* A deafening explosion rang out!

Ollivander ducked instinctively, while Harry fell backwards, hitting the ground hard. A sharp, searing pain shot through his forehead, making him curl up and twitch in agony, as if his skin were being torn apart, accompanied by a sickening stickiness. His eyes barely managed to stay open.

"Are you alright, child?"

Ollivander hurried over, pulling out a shiny Smith & Wesson M629 revolver from inside his robe. The 11.176mm barrel was aimed directly at Harry's forehead.

"Restore."

He pulled the trigger with a soft click, barely audible, but clear in the shop's silence.

Harry felt something cold touch his forehead, and the excruciating pain rapidly subsided.

"I'm truly sorry, my boy. I never expected that wand would backfire like that."

Ollivander's face was full of regret and guilt. He pulled the trigger again, and shards from various parts of the shop flew back toward the counter.

The holly wood, basilisk fang, and phoenix feather flintlock Harry had been holding was now reduced to dozens of pieces, scattered in bits and fragments—completely beyond repair.

"What... what just happened?"

Harry clutched his throbbing forehead, while Ollivander summoned fresh water, towels, and a mirror.

Harry stared at his reflection. His face was smeared with blood, and a fresh scar ran across his forehead, healing at an astonishing pace.

He wiped the blood away from his face.

"A backfire," Ollivander repeated. "It's an extremely rare incident. Normally, there are only two reasons it occurs: one, the wand vehemently rejects a wizard—more than just hatred, a deep, visceral rejection. And two... I don't know."

"Don't know?" Harry turned his head, looking at Ollivander in confusion.

"Yes, I don't know," Ollivander said, shaking his head. "Throughout history, only two backfires have been recorded, and one of those wasn't even officially documented."

"The recorded case involved a dark wizard who had slaughtered an entire family—135 people—before trying to kill the last surviving member with their wand. But the wand, loyal and defiant to its master, self-destructed in a backfire."

"Did the dark wizard die?" Harry asked.

"No, he injured his hand. He used his other hand to strangle the last survivor, wiping out the entire family."

"Eventually, before the dark wizard died, he wrote a deranged autobiography, and that's how the incident became known."

Ollivander shook his head, falling back into deep thought.

"This wand won't work either... What should we do?"

He paced back and forth, troubled, a deep frown on his face.

"Perhaps..."

Ollivander drew out the word, turning slowly to look at Harry, his gaze fixed intently on Harry's hand.

"Give me your hand."

Ollivander carefully examined Harry's hand, meticulously remeasuring every detail.

"I've got it! I've figured it out!"

A sudden realization lit up Ollivander's face, and he clapped his hands in excitement before diving into the stacks of wands behind him.

Within half a minute, Ollivander returned, holding two boxes. Sweeping the other wand boxes off the counter, he carefully and reverently opened these two new boxes.

Two identical flintlock pistols were laid out together.

"These are brothers," Ollivander said. "Yew wood, basilisk fang, phoenix feather, and holly wood, basilisk fang, phoenix feather. These two wands are sisters because the phoenix tail feathers used as their cores come from the same female phoenix."

He then gestured to the pistols. "And these two: ebony, ivory, and the heartstring of a Grand Sovereign."

"A Grand Sovereign?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"You'll understand once you get to Hogwarts," Ollivander replied, placing the twin pistols before Harry.

Though still somewhat confused, Harry set his questions aside for the moment and reached for the two identical flintlock pistols.

The moment he touched them, a strong sense of affinity washed over him. The twin guns began to glow softly, and as they did, they transformed—his right-hand pistol morphed into a gleaming Glock 18, while the left became a matte black M1911. One gleamed silver, the other a sleek, muted black.

"Yes! Exactly!" Ollivander clapped his hands, his eyes brimming with excitement.

"You might not know this, but all wands, at their core, start from a similar template. While they may look different, their basic structure is nearly identical. However, if a wand truly bonds with its wizard and their compatibility is exceptionally high, the wand will begin to change. And these changes won't stop there. As the wizard grows in skill, the wand continues to evolve."

"Just like this."

Ollivander pulled out his own wand. The revolver Harry had seen earlier shifted into a double-barreled flintlock, which then morphed into a double-action pistol with two hammers that could load two bullets at once. Then, it reverted to the revolver Harry had first seen. Finally, it transformed into a long-barreled .50-caliber silenced revolver, complete with a front grip, shoulder stock, and high-powered scope.

"Usually, when a wizard first acquires a wand, it doesn't change immediately. It takes time to bond—sometimes months, sometimes years. Only a few wizards—about four or five out of a hundred—see their wand change the moment they acquire it. But you've done something I've never seen before: both of your wands changed, and in completely different ways."

"Congratulations, Harry," Ollivander smiled, clearly pleased. "Congratulations on finding the wands that are perfectly suited to you!"

He began to applaud Harry, his expression one of genuine happiness. "From today onward, you've officially entered the magical world. From now on, you're a wizard, and I hope you achieve great things."

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Harry nodded, grateful. "How much do I owe you for these wands?"

"I don't think you owe anything, Harry."

Ollivander shook his head. "That earlier wand exploding in your hands was my mistake. For a wandmaker, it's a serious failure. But fortunately, you're unharmed, and you've found your perfect wands."

"I should be thanking you for the surprises you've brought me— even the accident was a valuable learning experience."

"There's no need to pay. The wands are yours, as long as you use them well. That's the best outcome for me."

"Take them," Ollivander insisted, pulling out a pair of dragon-leather holsters and fastening them to Harry's waist. "Fits perfectly, doesn't it?"

"They're fantastic, sir," Harry replied, spinning one of the pistols in a flashy display before holstering them.

"Remember to take good care of them. Maintaining your wands is crucial for proper spellcasting."

Ollivander then handed Harry a two-finger-thick book and a case resembling a medical kit. "I'll grab a backpack for you. Just wait a moment."

Harry's evident interest in wandcraft had left a positive impression on Ollivander. These extra items, which he also sold in the shop, weren't a big deal to give away. As the owner of a business that dominated the wand market in England and claimed a third of Europe's market, Ollivander certainly wasn't short on money.

Finally, Harry, now wearing a black dragon-leather backpack, was escorted out of the shop by Ollivander. They waved farewell to each other as Harry stepped into his new future.

(End of chapter)