There was something special about the Ollivanders: they remembered every wand they ever sold and its owner.
Because of this, although pure-blood families continued to buy wands from Ollivander, they also held on to ancient family wands passed down through generations—they didn't completely trust outside sources.
"Yes, I need a wand," said Phineas.
Ollivander's eyes lit up.
"Oh, yes, every young witch or wizard who comes here needs a wand. According to the Ministry of Magic's regulations, I cannot sell wands to those who haven't received their Hogwarts acceptance letter. However, I believe I can make an exception for the heir of the Black family. So, young Mr. Black, which is your dominant hand?"
Phineas raised his right hand. "Right hand, sir. Also, you may call me Phineas—there's no need for 'Mr. Black.'"
Ollivander nodded thoughtfully. "Very well. The Black family often favors wands with dragon heartstring cores... Let's try this one. You know, it's not the wizard who chooses the wand—it's the wand that chooses the wizard."
He handed Phineas a wand. "Walnut, thirteen inches."
But the moment Phineas touched it, Ollivander snatched it back, shaking his head.
"No, no, that's not it. Close, but not quite. Let's try this—blackthorn, dragon heartstring, fourteen and a half inches."
Phineas gave it a try, but after a few awkward swings, he knew it wasn't right either.
"Oh, definitely not. You are a picky one," Ollivander chuckled. "What about this? Hornbeam wood with a dragon heartstring core. Thirteen inches. Quite flexible."
Phineas reached out, and the moment his fingers closed around the wand, he felt a distinct resonance—as if it wasn't just a wand, but a part of himself.
Ollivander's eyes sparkled. "Ah! Yes, that's the one. Congratulations, Phineas. A wand like this is highly attuned to its owner—it won't work well for anyone else. It has strong principles and a sense of identity. The dragon heartstring core will allow it to master spells quickly and with brilliance, though it's known to change allegiance more easily than others. Fortunately, the hornbeam wood balances this tendency, keeping the wand loyal and steady. You're bound to become a great wizard—just like your ancestors."
Phineas nodded and asked, "Thank you. So… how much is it?"
Ollivander smiled more broadly. "First-year Hogwarts students typically receive a school subsidy and a discount on their first wand. But Mr. Black, I doubt someone of your status would care for such discounts—and at your age, you're not eligible anyway. Thirty-five Galleons."
Phineas gave a small nod, and Kreacher stepped forward to hand over the coins.
Only then did Ollivander truly notice Kreacher—dressed in a tailored suit bearing the Black family crest, like the butler of a noble house. The sight startled him.
After all, giving a house-elf clothing usually signified releasing them from servitude. Yet Kreacher, despite his clothing, remained loyal and obedient. It was... peculiar.
Just then, a chime rang in Phineas's mind.
Ding~ The host has obtained a wand. Some system permissions have been activated. Magic Book interface unlocked.
The voice in his head made Phineas instantly change his plan. Rather than visiting the bookstore, he told Kreacher to take him straight back to 12 Grimmauld Place.
Phineas understood well—the system was more important than books. Even with his exceptional talent—rare, even among magical prodigies—he knew one thing: only living geniuses become legends.
Now that he was alone, the sole heir to the entire Black fortune, he had become a target. In the eyes of many dark wizards, Phineas Black was the ripest prey.
His only real ally was the System—and perhaps a few old families still loyal to House Black.
Many wizarding families were connected to the Blacks by blood or marriage. But in today's world, those bonds meant little.
Take the Malfoys, for instance: Narcissa Malfoy was his cousin. And yet, given the chance, they'd likely betray him to take his inheritance.
So who could he really trust?
There was Dumbledore, perhaps—but Phineas didn't fully trust him either. That old schemer manipulated those closest to him with terrifying precision. He even used his own death to further a plan.
Still, Dumbledore's influence could help protect him... for now.
Other than him, there were only a few remaining families that might be trusted.
The Weasleys were one. Arthur Weasley, head of the family, was the great-grandson of Phineas's great-uncle. His wife, Molly, was related to Phineas by marriage. Kind-hearted and lacking ambition, the Weasleys were blood-traitors in the eyes of many pure-bloods—but to Phineas, that made them safer.
Then there were the Longbottoms . Phineas didn't want to approach them. His cousin—Bellatrix—had driven Frank and Alice Longbottom mad with the Cruciatus Curse. Despite the blood ties, Frank Longbottom, now damaged beyond repair, was also his cousin.
But enough about the others.
Phineas arrived home, dismissed Kreacher, and locked himself in his room to study the Magic Book interface the system had unlocked.
It resembled a card collection book from his previous life—empty slots waiting to be filled. There were no spell names yet, just blank grids.
Phineas knew the purpose of this interface. It was the true strength of his system.
Any spell that appeared in the Magic Book could be instantly mastered.
There were two ways to make spells appear in the book:
First, he could use the gems earned from earlier tasks. Once the mall interface was unlocked, he could exchange them for library passes that would allow him to extract spells.