The goblin employee respectfully saw Lucien and Professor McGonagall out.
His attitude toward Lucien was even more enthusiastic and fawning.
There was nothing he could do; the amount of Galleons Lucien exchanged with gold directly helped this goblin meet his entire year's work quota.
The goblin's smile was as bright as could be, with wrinkles piling up like a blooming chrysanthemum.
Moreover, this was only the first transaction, and he believed there would certainly be larger orders to follow.
Lucien waved his hand and took the bag the goblin was holding, which only contained 300 Galleons.
The remaining Galleons were deposited into the Gringotts vault.
Professor McGonagall led Lucien to Ollivanders Wand Shop; she had also never seen a young wizard exchange so many Galleons before.
"You seemed quite knowledgeable about finance when you were discussing currency exchange with the goblin just now?"
Lucien nodded.
"It's alright, Professor. Knowledge knows no bounds; I believe the more, the better."
"Very true, Lucien. You possess a maturity beyond your years."
Professor McGonagall was known for her strict teaching at school, and she particularly liked students who took knowledge seriously and loved to learn.
Soon, a dilapidated shop appeared before Lucien's eyes.
He looked up at the sign, covered in dust and the marks of time.
Ollivanders
Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
What an antique—over two thousand years old.
Entering the shop, Lucien felt dust falling from above.
From the outside, the shop already looked old; walking inside, it appeared even more dilapidated.
Well, it seemed Ollivander's wands were truly guaranteed in quality.
Otherwise, the shop would have closed down long ago.
It couldn't be that they were the only ones in the entire British wizarding world who could make wands, could it?
Lucien comforted himself with this thought.
"Oh, Minerva, we meet again. Fir, nine and a half inches, dragon heartstring."
An old man with white hair and silver-white eyes emerged from behind the counter.
He smiled and greeted Professor McGonagall, accurately stating the characteristics of her wand.
As an old man, Ollivander's memory for wands was astonishing; he could remember every wand he had ever sold.
Lucien looked at the old man with messy hair and noticed that he was also observing him.
Garrick Ollivander was accustomed to such scenes; every year, Hogwarts professors brought newly admitted young wizards to him to choose suitable wands.
"A young wizard in need of a wand. What is your name?"
"Lucien Grafton."
"What is your dominant hand?"
"Right hand."
Ollivander pulled a tape measure from his pocket, and it automatically flew to Lucien, beginning to measure the length of his arm.
Once the tape measure flew back, Ollivander glanced at the markings on it and walked directly to a row of cabinets.
He gently pulled out a box, dusting off the accumulated grime.
"Chestnut, twelve inches, unicorn tail hair."
Ollivander handed it to Lucien.
Lucien took the wand and felt his magic become more active.
He naturally guided the magic to flow into the wand in his hand and released it.
A soft white light emanated from the tip of the wand, making all three present feel warmth and comfort.
But Lucien felt that the process of releasing magic was still blocked, not smooth enough, as if this wand couldn't perfectly handle his magic.
He glanced at his panel.
The magic talent section was indeed still in an "unlocked" state.
Without Lucien having to say anything, Ollivander had already seen the problem.
He took back the wand, muttering, "Don't worry, the wand chooses the wizard. I'm sure I have a wand for you here!"
"More powerful magic than his peers, let me see…"
He pulled out another wand.
"Ebony, fourteen inches, dragon heartstring."
"Resilient, powerful—try it."
Lucien took it and released his magic again.
Boom!
Deep green flames erupted, shooting straight toward the ceiling.
But Lucien was prepared and immediately restrained the magic within him.
The green fire snake immediately contracted, changed direction, and spiraled away into the air.
Ollivander was not angry that his shop had almost been burned down; instead, he marveled.
"Excellent control!"
"Perhaps this wand is too impetuous, not suitable for a young wizard like you."
The cycle repeated: Ollivander searched for a wand, Lucien tried the wand, and if it wasn't suitable, they swapped again.
"Dogwood—ah, too lively."
"Spruce—no, too rigid."
"Thunderbird feather—a bit too volatile."
...
Ollivander went back and forth dozens of times but still couldn't find a suitable wand for Lucien.
But he remained patient, even enjoying it.
Because wizards who were more difficult to match with wands often had distinct characteristics.
Such wizards often shone brightly in one or even several fields, and Ollivander enjoyed finding them their suitable wands.
Can someone who is not extraordinary be called a genius?
Handing the most suitable wand to each young wizard, guiding them as they took their first step into the magical world—this was something that gave Ollivander a great sense of accomplishment.
Professor McGonagall waited patiently nearby; she was also curious about what wand Lucien would receive.
Or rather, what kind of wand could match Lucien's talent.
Just as Ollivander was rummaging through cabinets, busily searching for a wand.. In the deepest part of the shop, in a dusty corner of an old cabinet, Swoosh!
Suddenly, a large amount of dust stirred up, and a yellowed, ancient box was flung open.
A shadow flew out from it, shooting directly toward Lucien.
The quick-reacting Professor McGonagall raised her wand, about to cast a spell to block it.
But she saw the object had already stopped, floating steadily in front of Lucien's chest.
It was a wand entirely silver-black in color.
Although solid, it gave the illusion of constantly flowing and changing.
Startled and almost falling off the ladder, Ollivander—disregarding the dust on him—hurried over.
His eyes fixed on the wand in front of Lucien.
He examined it carefully for more than ten seconds.
Ollivander, with his extraordinary memory, actually looked bewildered, mumbling with some uncertainty: "Wicked Branch, twelve and a half inches, Sphinx spinal feather."
Lucien was also observing this wand that had come to him on its own.
Semi-illusory symbols would occasionally appear on the wand's surface, some coalescing into complex patterns before quickly retracting back into the wand.
At this moment, Lucien, being the closest to it, heard intermittent snickering sounds.
It conveyed a sense of mockery and superiority.
Sphinx, also known as the lion-bodied beast—I remember it as a creature from Egyptian mythology.
It likes to capture people and make them solve riddles.
Do such magical creatures exist in the Harry Potter world?
But what is a Wicked Branch?
"Mr. Ollivander, what is a Wicked Branch?"
The next second, the word Ollivander answered left Lucien both familiar and astonished.
"Loki fir wood."