"Good morning!" An old man with pale eyes gazed at Harry. "I've been wondering when I'd see you, Mr. Potter. Your eyes are just as beautiful as your mother's. It feels like only yesterday she came here to buy her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, made of willow—it swished wonderfully."
"Your father was different. He preferred mahogany—eleven inches, pliable, and powerful. In fact, the wand chose him." Ollivander suddenly scanned Harry from head to toe with a strange intensity. His expression turned peculiar as he leaned in, his nose nearly touching Harry's face. Harry could see his own reflection in the cloudy depths of the old man's eyes.
"Hello, Mr. Ollivander. I think Harry is eager to get his wand," Brian interjected, unable to bear the awkward silence, gently helping Harry step back.
Harry shot Brian a grateful look. He had to admit, Ollivander's passion for wandlore far exceeded his expectations. Caught off guard by Brian's interruption, Ollivander blinked, then said after a pause, "Of course, of course. But remember—the wand chooses the wizard."
As he spoke, Ollivander continued to stare at Harry—more precisely, at the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.
"All right, let's get started!" Ollivander finally broke eye contact and pulled out a long, silver-marked measuring tape. "Which arm do you use to wield your wand?"
"Oh—I usually use my right."
"Raise your arm, please." Ollivander proceeded to measure him: shoulder to fingertip, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, even his head circumference.
As he measured, he explained, "Each Ollivander wand contains a powerful magical core. The three most common are unicorn hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring. Every wand is unique, because no two cores—or woods—are exactly the same. And if you use a wand that belongs to someone else, it will never work as well for you."
It was no exaggeration to say Mr. Ollivander was the best wandmaker in the world. Rumor had it that even foreign wizards traveled to London just to buy one of his creations. Yet even Ollivander's craft seemed wrapped in mystery—some wandmaking secrets had been passed down from ancient times, involving rare materials and forgotten formulas. Those wands were few and meant for the chosen few.
Harry nodded, half-understanding, and asked, "Mr. Ollivander... are you over two thousand years old?"
Brian's face twitched. Hagrid, on the other hand, burst out laughing, his booming voice echoing like thunder and drawing curious glances from outside.
Ollivander's lips curled into a faint smile. A rare warmth entered his pale eyes. "Of course not. Why would you ask that, Mr. Potter?"
"I saw the wooden sign at the door."
At this, Hagrid shook his head, muttering. Ollivander, looking proud, explained, "I come from the Ollivander family. All wandmakers in our line adopt the name Ollivander once they establish their craft."
He vanished into the towering shelves. Harry's face turned crimson. "That's... that's very impressive." He wanted to say more, but Ollivander soon returned with a wand box.
"Mr. Potter, try this one. Beechwood, dragon heartstring, nine inches. Very flexible—excellent wand. Give it a wave."
Harry took it nervously and gave it a flick. Ollivander instantly took it back.
"No, no. Try this—alder, phoenix feather, seven inches. Quite flexible."
Harry tried wand after wand. The pile grew higher on the bench. Finally, he grasped a wand of holly and phoenix feather—the one meant for him. Harry's face lit up, though his joy was short-lived; Ollivander's next words left him unnerved. Harry quickly paid seven Galleons and scurried back to Hagrid's side.
Ollivander wasn't bothered. He turned to Brian. "Sir, I believe it's your turn."
Like Harry, Brian said he was right-handed. Ollivander repeated the process: measurements, observations, and wand trials.
Soon, he pulled several boxes from the shelves.
"Between ten and fourteen inches, I'd say," Ollivander mused, eyeing Brian. He opened a box. "Try this—willow, fourteen inches, unicorn hair."
Brian waved it gently. Nothing happened. He handed it back without waiting.
"Vine wood, dragon heartstring, fourteen inches, rigid… no, not quite right either." Ollivander thought for a moment, then reached beneath the counter. "Mr. Potter was a rare case. Let's see… Try this—purple sandalwood, Thestral tail feather, fourteen inches."
Brian took the wand and brushed his hand along it. A flash of deep black light flickered across the wand's surface, and faint wails echoed in his ears.
Is this the one? the thought passed through Brian's mind just as Ollivander snatched it back.
"No, not quite. It suits you, yes, but it's not the right match."
Then, from the very top shelf, Ollivander retrieved a worn, dust-covered gray box.
"This wand follows an ancient formula. Material—unknown. Core—unknown. But its magical conductivity is extraordinarily strong. Extremely hard, too. I heard a wand react just now… I believe it was this one."
Cough, cough! As Ollivander opened the box, a thick cloud of dust exploded into the air. Everyone started coughing. Brian, standing closest, was coated in dust, his face twisted in discomfort.
Inside was a wand of pure silver-white, etched with strange patterns. Despite the dust-filled box, the wand itself was pristine, untouched by grime—almost as if it defied dirt. Brian found it oddly enchanting.
And then—he saw it tremble.
Yes, tremble.
Ever so slightly, the wand quivered. A sudden impulse surged through Brian—a powerful desire to take it.
Ollivander smiled, his pale face glowing faintly. "Excellent. Excellent. That's the one. Give it a wave."
The wand felt ice-cold, like it had just been pulled from a freezer. A warm current surged through Brian's fingers, and a silver light burst from the wand tip, casting sacred, shimmering patterns across the walls.
"Congratulations, Host, on acquiring your own wand. The system panel is now open. You've taken your first step toward becoming the most powerful Wizard in the Wizarding World. Next stop—conquest."
Brian's expression darkened. A translucent parchment unfolded in front of him. Text appeared rapidly:
Host: BrianProfession: WizardMagic Spells: NoneMagical Items: Sealed Wand (Material Unknown)Magic Power: 5Upgrade Points: 0Novice Quest Completion: 50%
Brian stared at the "Magical Items" section, a storm of question marks flashing in his mind.
"Boss... change it. I don't want a sealed one!"
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