Chapter 5: Unicorn Hair and Godson
"Mom, what do you think, how can I become friends with Harry Potter?" In his previous life, young Draco closed the book "The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts" and looked at his mother expectantly, hoping to get her wise advice.
"Oh, little dragon, no one can refuse a hand of friendship extended by a Malfoy." Narcissa said to her son gently with a smile, "Just ask him to be your friend - just like you would with other children in the past."
"I thought he would be different from other boys, and perhaps need special treatment," 11-year-old Draco asked anxiously. "He's a hero."
"Oh, we don't need to be servile to anyone," Narcissa said proudly. "My little dragon is such a wonderful child, I can't imagine anyone needing special treatment from you. Just be yourself, be natural and don't be shy. That's how you make friends who truly appreciate you."
From the very beginning of his memory, Draco didn't dislike Potter. He was full of curiosity and yearning for Potter. After all, which wizarding child didn't grow up listening to the story of "The Boy Who Lived - Harry Potter"?
Father Lucius is also curious about Potter - although his original intention is not so pure.
"Harry Potter, who was able to defeat the Dark Lord, is very likely a gifted and even more powerful dark wizard," he said to his son. "I heard that he will be entering school in the same year as you. You must pay special attention to him. When necessary, show kindness, make friends with him, and win him over when the time is right."
Draco didn't take it seriously at the time - he was too excited about meeting Harry Potter - to nod eagerly.
The problem was, Narcissa always had a certain filter for her son—she ignored Draco's condescending and arrogant attitude at times.
When Draco subconsciously treated Potter with the same attitude he usually treated Crabbe, being forcefully rejected was almost a foregone conclusion.
He had never thought that he had any problems with his speech, but he was immediately embarrassed and humiliated by Potter's rejection.
Young Draco never imagined he would face such a tragic outcome. He had shown the proper demeanor of a child from a pure-blood wizarding family, extending his hand—the hand of a Malfoy who could not be refused—and deserved a positive response.
As for his way of expressing himself—recalling his experience of making friends in the wizarding family of his Slytherin origin—he always started like this. He would weigh each other's weight and show off his family's strength, and he thought he was quite sincere.
But how dare Potter—who had so rudely rejected his offered hand—be so arrogant?
Or, how could anyone be more arrogant than Draco Malfoy?
Looking back now, Draco realized how justified the rejection was, because he had made serious mistakes in his expression and wording.
At that time, he had not yet realized that there was more than one way of communication in the world, and the way of communication he was familiar with might not be welcomed by others.
Back then, he didn't know how to properly interact with his peers. Overindulged by his mother and influenced by his father's sharp tongue for years, his peers mostly tolerated and avoided him—he never had to worry about what others thought. As a result, he didn't realize one thing: his sharp, self-centered style of speech and behavior.
Potter, accustomed to being abused in the Muggle world, certainly wouldn't fall for it. His pitiful self-esteem must have been completely wounded by his words! Draco smacked his lips as he walked down the cobblestone pavement of Diagon Alley.
Looking back, although Draco's body developed very early and his height stood out among his peers, making him impossible to ignore, he matured mentally later than other children, was more numb, and was less considerate of other people's feelings.
Lucius and Narcissa never thought there was anything wrong with their education. They always believed that they had given their only son the best of everything, and they were always happy to instill certain "correct attitudes" in their beloved son early on.
Draco had originally believed so. He had complete trust and admiration for his parents. Until one day, he discovered that his spiritual world was barren—he was lacking something important.
But by the time he realized this, it was too late.
These ridiculous misunderstandings of "hurting each other's self-esteem" in their youth made the two boys inexplicably stand on opposite sides; in fact, they did not have any deep hatred.
When they were able to speak calmly, Draco found that they could communicate well.
This feeling wasn't unpleasant. Even if I couldn't be close friends with the Savior, I didn't have to be his enemy.
They didn't have to be so confrontational—they could at least be friendly nodding acquaintances. Draco sighed, a little regretful.
He was too eager to be in the spotlight. He was too unwilling to accept it. The sting of his pride was too fresh and too intense. As a result, he lost the rationality that a Malfoy should have. It was his mistake.
But now he is no longer that vain boy. He just wants to quietly accumulate strength and do something meaningful.
Today was a good start. He repeatedly recalled the conversation at Madam Malkin's clothing store, confirmed that he had not made any mistakes in his words, and then walked into Ollivander's small and shabby wand shop with satisfaction.
Ollivander's Wand Shop is arguably the oldest building in Diagon Alley, even more so than Gringotts, with its earliest traces dating back to the fourth century BC (382 BC).
Narcissa had been waiting in the store for a long time, with a hint of impatience on her proud face.
"Draco, come here," Narcissa called. The shop was dim, and Draco looked around the narrow shop, which was full of dust and silence.
Maybe there was something else, like a little brown-haired girl sitting on a bench in the corner with her back to him, looking bored, as if she was sizing up the store.
It looks like Ollivander's is doing good business today.
"Good afternoon." After a loud clicking sound, a white-haired old man stood in front of them. He had a pair of large, light-colored eyes and a soft voice.
This is Ollivander, a man Draco cannot underestimate, because the Dark Lord in his memory attaches great importance to him.
Draco's intuition told him that, besides Florin Fosco from the ice cream shop, this wand-making master was a more important entry point for information about the Elder Wand that could not be ignored.
Of course, with his mother around, he had to diligently act like a good boy and it was impossible for him to ask any bizarre questions; Ollivander himself would not casually reveal secrets to a little boy he met for the first time.
Ollivander's silver eyes were fixed on Draco, and he whispered softly, "Oh, another Malfoy came to me to buy a wand...Draco Malfoy...Your hair is platinum blonde like your father..."
He leaned forward, his head tilted. "Ah, the eyes are grey too... 18 inches, with a core of dragon nerve and elm wood. A favorite of pure-blood supremacists. A very powerful, very powerful wand."
He simply walked out from behind the counter, walked quietly to Draco, and said to himself, "I heard that he also ordered a silver snake head to be installed on the wand... I think it should be quite exquisite, right?"
Draco nodded cautiously, noting that Ollivander's cloudy eyes seemed to reveal a hint of disapproval.
"As for Mrs. Malfoy," Ollivander gestured towards Narcissa behind Draco, "14 inches, top-quality redwood, unicorn tail hair. A good wand that saved the day, a wise wizard." He seemed lost in some memory, and said with admiration, "Such fine redwood is hard to find these days."
Narcissa gave him a smirk. "Rare makes valuable. Good wand materials are naturally priceless. That is why I would like to ask you to find the best possible wand for my son. Price is not an issue."
"Mrs. Malfoy, I always say that wizards prefer certain wands, but that's not quite accurate. To be precise, it's the wand that chooses the wizard," said Ollivander.
"Every Ollivander wand contains extremely powerful magical substances. They have their own thoughts. This is the essence of it. If we randomly find a wand for your son that looks gorgeous and rare, but it originally belonged to another wizard, I'm afraid the effect of the spell will be greatly reduced." At this moment, Ollivander was getting closer and closer to Draco, with his nose almost touching Draco's face.
Draco heard Narcissa snort in disapproval from behind him, as if she was dissatisfied with such an answer.
"Okay, Mr. Malfoy, come here, let me see." Ollivander didn't pay attention to Narcissa's movements. He had probably served many willful and difficult customers like her.
He briskly picked up a measuring tape from the table and asked Draco, "Which arm do you use your wand with?"
"Right hand," Draco said briefly.
"Raise your arms." It would be more accurate to say that Ollivander was moving the silver-scaled tape measure on his own rather than skillfully moving it across Draco's body.
Ollivander was moving back and forth in front of the shelves, trying to pick out some long boxes from among the thousands of long and narrow boxes that were almost stacked to the ceiling. His movements were so agile that one could not tell that he was an old man.
"Young Mr. Malfoy, try this one, made of blackthorn wood and dragon heart nerve, nine inches long." He held out a wand with both hands and said solemnly. Draco already knew that this was not his wand, he picked it up and waved it nonchalantly.
Sure enough, there was no response.
"Try this one, rowan wood, dragon core, eleven inches." Ollivander held out another wand with great care.
Draco waved - the wand was silent, dead.
Next, Draco tried wands made of maple, spruce, and grapevine wood. Ollivander was a peculiar old man. Unlike ordinary shopkeepers, he was eager to make a fortune. His research on wands was obviously more important than making money. He was not afraid of trouble.
In fact, the more Draco tried, the more excited he became. He paced back and forth in front of the thousands of narrow boxes stacked to the ceiling, scratching his head and muttering to himself, "Quite challenging, isn't it?"
Draco just felt a little bored. He knew that these wands were meaningless to him, but he could only patiently try until Ollivander got the idea.
While trying out his wand, he looked back boredly and found that Narcissa was no longer in the store.
Draco guessed that she might be a little unhappy about Ollivander's rejection, so she went to buy some potion ingredients required by the list, just like in her previous life.
Only then did he notice that there was a thin, adult witch next to the little girl on the bench, whispering something to her. It seemed the girl was waiting for someone.
Draco breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, he thought his mother had just taken advantage of her privilege to bully the little girl, cutting in line or something... To be honest, that was a bit rude.
"Oh, sorry, I think I was totally mistaken before." Ollivander's words made Draco turn around and continue to focus on the wand.
The wand-loving old man took out another wand from the overflowing shelves.
"Why not try this one? Ten inches, hawthorn wood, unicorn tail hair. Pretty elastic too." He put his wrinkled face in front of Draco and looked at him carefully, as if trying to see into his soul, and said thoughtfully.
It's finally here! Draco felt a surge of joy in his heart.
His wand, his simple, elegant, flawless wand!
It has a tan front and a solid black tail, with two raised rings where your fingers touch it. It feels good to hold, as it's quite round and has a nice heft to it.
It was simple, not ornately decorated like his father's and his mother's wands, but it worked better than any wand in all the world with its intricate carvings and decorations.
As soon as he picked it up, a pale golden light emerged from the top of the wand.
"Strange and contradictory... Undoubtedly, this is a loyal wand, suitable for use in the hands of a talented wizard, otherwise the consequences may be disastrous. The unicorn tail hair is the core of the wand, a symbol of nobility and purity. But this also means..." Ollivander stared at Draco and whispered softly, "...it is difficult to cast dark magic."
"A Malfoy, actually..." He seemed confused by this result, but quickly blinked and muttered, "Yeah, it's not surprising that the wand core is the same as your mother's."
Draco didn't take Ollivander's reaction to heart. These memories, having experienced them once before, were boring. All his attention was on his destined wand.
Draco missed the wand dearly, and had wanted to get it back ever since Potter had taken it from him at Malfoy Manor.
No other wand was as easy to use as this one. That was why he went to the Room of Requirement to block Potter and hope that Potter would return his wand.
Draco generously paid a pile of gold Galleons and said goodbye to Ollivander, the wand master, politely.
He lowered his head and played with his "lost and found" wand, slowly walking out of the shop. His pale and cold face finally showed the first hint of joy after entering the wand shop.
He didn't notice that as the brown-haired girl passed by him, the vine wood wand behind her emitted a wonderful sight.
He didn't care. Ollivander exclaimed in surprise, "Merlin's beard! This has only happened once in the 2,000-year history of Ollivander's Wand Shop. This is the second time..."
He only noticed that Ollivander was nagging, "Miss Granger, there is no doubt that she has noble aspirations and far-sightedness, suitable for a wizard with amazing talent..."
Hermione Granger? He didn't expect they'd met here before, Draco thought doubtfully, wondering if he should turn around and look at her.
Was it the same in the previous life...?
He had an intersection with her so early, even though he didn't know it?
Was he the first person to meet her?
He and she actually "met" here?
This was something he had no memory of noticing - at the time, he had no idea of the meaning behind the name, and he had no interest in getting to know a strange little girl.
At that time, he was just a spoiled boy immersed in his parents' love, and he was completely unaware of what he was missing.
Now, this sudden "encounter" made Draco want to look back at her.
Even just a glance.
However, outside the door of Ollivander's shop, Lucius, carrying a pile of books and an eagle owl, was already looking at him impatiently with his gray eyes.
This was not a good time to meet a Muggle-born, Draco suddenly realized.
His father, who was entrenched in pure-blood prejudice, might hurt her.
He didn't want any such possibility to arise.
If getting close to her might hurt her, he would rather not get close to her.
See you at Hogwarts, then.
Draco sighed inaudibly, opened the door, and walked out without looking back.