wand of chaos
"Harry, come here for a moment," said Wanda, her voice soft but filled with seriousness.
The boy looked up from his workbench, where the small golem he had been carefully polishing lay motionless. All around him, in what had once been his playroom, stood shelves crammed with alchemy books, tools brought from the old Potter Manor, and dozens of golem prototypes—some incomplete, others destroyed—each with tiny notes at their base where Harry had written down his mistakes and what he had learned.
He wore special goggles he had modified himself to better see the inner runes of his creations. Carefully, he set them down next to his tools and walked curiously to the door.
"What is it?" he asked, a faint ink smudge on his cheek.
Wanda watched him in silence for a moment. Her gaze was filled with pride, love, and a touch of nostalgia. Then, from behind her back, she brought out a long, dark red box—like blood under moonlight—adorned with delicate golden filigree that seemed to shimmer and shift under the light.
"There's still a year before you go to Hogwarts, I know. It might seem a bit early… but I feel you're ready," she said, offering the box with both hands as if she were handing him a sacred relic. "And more than that… I trust that you'll know how to use it wisely."
Harry accepted the box with care. The material felt warm to the touch, almost as if it were breathing. He opened it slowly… and there it was.
A wand of deep red, the same shade as his mother's magic when she was angry. Its surface was smooth, but certain areas bore barely visible engravings—living runes that pulsed with energy. Harry recognized it instantly. Not because he had ever seen it in use, but because he had felt it. It was the wand Wanda had crafted years ago… and used only once, before locking it away and forgetting it.
"This was your wand…?" Harry murmured, raising his eyes in confusion.
"It was," Wanda replied with a calm smile, though something deeper shimmered behind her eyes. "Now it's yours."
"But… what about you?" Harry asked, genuinely puzzled.
Wanda leaned down slightly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I don't need it, and you know that. I only made it to understand the differences between my magic and the magic of this world. But I never relied on it. We're not ordinary wizards, Harry. We're chaos witches," she said seriously, as her red aura shimmered softly around the room. "A wand can help channel your power, shape it without needing so much focus. But it will never control your magic. It's just a tool—not the source."
Harry nodded slowly, understanding the weight of the gift he'd just received.
"I'll use it carefully," he said with a sincere smile and bright, excited eyes.
"I know," Wanda whispered, ruffling his hair with affection. "And she knows too."
For a moment, Harry could have sworn the wand pulsed gently in his hand, as if greeting him.
The wand accepted him instantly.
After all, his magic and his mother's weren't just compatible—they were the same. Chaotic, red like liquid fire, alive like an untamed emotion. It wasn't about control—it was about connection. About resonance.
…
"What are we doing, Harry?" asked Hermione as she followed him down the hill, her eyes sharp and her braids bouncing with each step.
Daphne walked just behind, frowning with a mix of suspicion and barely contained excitement. Draco trailed a little farther back, hands in his pockets, wearing the expression of someone pretending not to care… while actually very interested.
Gris, the old house-elf of the Potter Estate, had brought them. Now, he walked several steps behind, his burgundy cloak fluttering in the wind. When they reached the clearing, he stopped, gave a deep, respectful bow to the children… and disappeared with a soft pop, leaving behind a faint blue shimmer.
"I'm going to show you something awesome!" Harry declared with a mysterious grin, striding enthusiastically toward the center of the clearing.
There, like a forgotten titan, stood a massive boulder, as tall as a two-story house. Half-buried in the earth, it looked as though it had fallen from the sky centuries ago. Its surface was jagged, cracked, covered in moss and lichen. Unmovable—at least for any normal child.
But Harry was not a normal child.
He rubbed his hands together, stepped forward, and raised both palms toward the rock. His fingers trembled slightly as he summoned his power. A thick, crimson aura, like molten stormfire, bloomed from his hands and pulsed in the air around him. This was no ordinary magic. This was chaos in its purest form, beating like a heart out of control.
His expression turned serious, his eyes glowing with power.
The boulder trembled.
A deep crack rumbled beneath the earth, and the ground vibrated slightly. The colossal rock shifted, leaning a few inches to one side, breaking roots that had grown around its base.
And then… it stopped. That was all.
Harry lowered his hands, slightly out of breath, as the aura slowly faded from the air.
Draco blinked. His eyebrows were so furrowed they practically touched.
"Did you just… use magic? Without a wand?" he asked, stunned.
"Yeah," Harry replied with a calm smile. "Didn't you know?"
"But how—? That— We haven't even started Hogwarts yet!" Draco stammered, so bewildered he looked like he was about to crash.
"We've been training with Mum since we were four," Harry said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Hermione nodded proudly.
"Ugh, that's so unfair!" Daphne grumbled, a hint of jealousy in her voice. "My mum only teaches me etiquette… and how to match hats to magical events."
"And it seems you still haven't learned," Harry teased, crossing his arms.
"You little rat!" Daphne huffed, while Draco chuckled under his breath.
"Can you move huge rocks too?" Draco asked Hermione, now clearly wondering if anyone here was normal.
"No. Harry's magic is special. Mine's more stable," Hermione replied evenly, though a small, proud smile tugged at her lips. "But I can lift several bowling balls at once."
And though she said it modestly… she was absolutely proud of it.
"Cool," Draco muttered, clearly impressed.
"Now watch this!" Harry exclaimed triumphantly.
With a dramatic flair, he rolled up his sleeve, and from it emerged his wand: slender, deep red with dark veins and a faint scarlet glow that seemed to breathe. The moment he held it, the chaos magic flared back to life, bursting from his fingers like the wand itself was recognizing and enhancing his power.
"A wand!? That's cheating!" exclaimed Daphne, rushing closer. "We're not supposed to have one until we get our Hogwarts letters!"
"She's right, Harry," said Hermione seriously. "If someone sees you with that, they'll take it away and report it to your mother."
"Relax," Harry said with a half-smile. "Mum gave it to me. She said I'm ready."
The three of them looked at the wand, then at Harry, then at each other.
"So… why did we come here, then?" asked Daphne, her curiosity growing by the second.
"To witness… the awakening of my ultimate power!" Harry declared, placing his hands on his hips like a cartoon villain. He even spun on his heels and let out a deep, dramatic laugh, as if he were acting in a magical play.
Hermione sighed.
"Be careful, Harry," she warned with a hint of concern.
"I'm fine," he said confidently. "I've been practicing since I was four."
He turned toward the massive rock and raised his wand. This time, he didn't speak a single word—just channeled the energy.
A red spark crackled down the wand. The air trembled. And then…
B O O M!
The boulder exploded in a colossal burst of stone and magical fire. The ground shook. A rain of rocky fragments shot into the sky like upside-down fireworks. Dust and crimson energy filled the air.
The four kids froze in place, eyes wide as saucers, as little pebbles rained down around them.
Harry still had his wand pointed forward. Rigid. The "great wizard in control" pose was intact… but his face told another story entirely.
He blinked. Twice.
"...I-I think I should learn to control it first," he muttered, not moving a muscle.
Hermione, Daphne, and Draco nodded simultaneously, their faces screaming "Yes. Please."
"W-What was that?!" shouted a voice not far away.
The group of kids turned almost in unison, their ears still ringing from the blast. They saw a red-haired man approaching quickly, his expression hovering between worry and confusion, his eyes fixed on the still-smoking crater in front of them.
He was thin, with a kind face and messy hair that looked like it had been in a fight with the wind. His worn robes were patched in several places, and a satchel hung over one shoulder.
"What happened? Are you alright? Did you kids do… this?" he asked, stopping just short of the crater, clearly unsure whether to be amazed or horrified. "What happened here?" he repeated, eyes locked on the children.
Harry, seeing the man approaching, quickly slipped the wand back up his sleeve in a swift, discreet motion.
Thankfully, Daphne reacted instantly. Her diplomacy-trained mind found the perfect excuse on the spot.
"We're so sorry!" she said with a worried look and a sweet voice. "We were testing some alchemy tools we bought… but I think they were defective. Pretty sure we were scammed."
The others nodded quickly, like they had rehearsed the lie all week.
"An alchemy tool did… this?" the man asked, pointing at the giant crater, with smoke still curling from broken stones.
His eyes lingered on Harry a moment longer. He frowned slightly, as if trying to match a face to a memory.
"Wait… you're Harry Potter," he muttered, remembering something important.
"Yes… I am," Harry replied calmly, though inside he tensed. His face wasn't famous yet—he didn't have the telltale scar to make him instantly recognizable. The fact that this man identified him so quickly was, at the very least, suspicious.
"I'm Arthur Weasley," the red-haired man said with a broad smile. "I sent you a birthday letter a few days ago. I'm glad we finally get to meet."
Before anyone could reply, more voices came from the trees. Several people began emerging from the nearby forest, all red-haired and full of cheerful chatter. Apparently, Arthur had brought the entire family… and that meant a lot of people.
"Molly, it's Harry Potter," Arthur called out to a short, round woman who was scolding a pair of identical twins for throwing grass at the youngest of the group.
The moment she heard the name, she stopped mid-scold, her face lit up, and she hurried over with a glowing smile.
"Harry Potter! Hello, dear!" exclaimed Molly Weasley as she threw her arms around him in a crushing hug, leaving Harry stiffer than a soaked broomstick. Behind her, Draco, Hermione, and Daphne were quietly laughing with teasing grins and looks that said "You don't see this every day."
"We were out for a walk and brought a picnic. Why don't you join us?" Molly offered enthusiastically, releasing Harry at last and looking at the rest of the children.
Her gaze passed quickly over Hermione, but when it landed on Draco and Daphne, her brow furrowed ever so slightly—just for a heartbeat.
Only trained eyes would have noticed. Fortunately (or not), Draco and Daphne were trained, taught since they were toddlers to read even the smallest expressions. Hermione caught it too—she was far too observant to miss that. And Harry, ever wary, had his eyes wide open, taking in every detail of these people.
"Thank you for the invitation, but we can't stay," Harry answered politely. "We just came to try something. Mum's waiting for us… she was cooking for us."
He spoke kindly, but he could feel a gaze fixed on him. Everyone was looking, sure—but one pair of eyes felt different: intense, focused.
He searched for it, and finally locked eyes with a small red-haired boy, the one who had been getting teased by the twins. The boy looked away quickly, glancing at Draco and Daphne with a strange expression.
Beside him stood a smaller girl with long, flowing hair and big, curious eyes. She watched Harry nervously, smiling faintly when their gazes met before looking down.
Farther back, two older teens stood quietly. One had wild, untamable hair like he had just leapt off a broomstick at full speed; the other smiled gently. The twins looked mischievous, clearly brimming with ideas, but were being held back by the collar by a tall, serious young man who seemed to have inherited all the family's common sense.
"What a shame," said Molly kindly, though there was a hint of disappointment in her voice. "Then maybe… another day? We don't live far from here."
Harry didn't answer directly. He simply smiled calmly and nodded.
Then, in a soft, clear voice, he said:
"Gris… take us."
In an instant, the four kids touched each other's shoulders, and with a quiet pop, the Potter family's house-elf appeared, grabbed Harry's arm, and without a word, vanished with them from the clearing.
For a moment, silence hung in the air.
Arthur broke it with a serious tone, eyes lifting toward the sky.
"Dumbledore was right. If Harry keeps this up… he'll end up in Slytherin," he said grimly.
"They didn't seem like bad kids… but their parents…," Molly murmured carefully.
"He must've had a hard childhood. No parents. We can't let his path go astray… he needs to be happy," she added with genuine sadness. As if, in her mind, Harry was still a broken child in need of saving.
Was the story true? Or had someone told it… wrong?
That, we'll find out later.
…
Next chapter: A Day in the Shoes of Red, the Dragon of Chaos.