"When you have enough Galleons, goblins are your most loyal allies."
This is what Oswald Beamish, a pioneering goblin advocate, once said.
Ryan didn't believe the word 'goblin' could be equated with 'loyalty'. But he did acknowledge that when you have enough Galleons, goblins' service is indeed of guaranteed quality.
"Here's your new vault key, number 692 — it's inlaid with a ruby from the Egyptian pyramids. Oops... please walk slowly, the ground is slippery."
"And this, this magical contract guarantees that I won't tell anyone about what happened today. Of course, it belongs to you, Mr. Elias."
For example, Neil, who was following him closely and holding the key, was proof of this. Ryan was certain that Vault 000, left to him by his teachers, held a special place within Gringotts. After he opened the vault and took the treasure, Neil, in charge of this large order, would likely reap many benefits within the goblin community. Not to mention, he'd also used some of his Galleons to open a new vault in Gringotts—another big deal.
So, why did Ryan choose to open a new vault?
The reason was simple — until he found out the cause of his four teachers' mysterious disappearance, he felt his identity shouldn't be known to too many people. Therefore, to keep his lie alive today, he needed to actually own a vault in Gringotts. It was a necessary precaution.
"Ryan!" As Ryan accepted the key from Neil and returned to the Gringotts lobby, Flitwick, who had been waiting for him, immediately called him over. After a thorough inspection, the professor seemed relieved. "Everything seems to be going smoothly? So there really is a vault in Gringotts belonging to your family, Elias... perhaps an ancient family that has long since died out," he muttered, then saw the ornate vault key in Ryan's hand.
"Oh, it seems your family was once very wealthy."
"There are indeed some treasures in the vault," Ryan nodded.
"Excellent." Flitwick looked very happy for him. Afterward, Ryan and Flitwick left Gringotts together. Since they had spent longer than expected inside, it looked late. So, rather than wander around with Ryan, Flitwick grabbed him and Disapparated.
When they reappeared, Ryan saw the sign before him.
Olivander's Wand Shop - Crafting Fine Wands Since 382 BC.
The shop, with such a prestigious sign, looked shabby; Ryan could see the thick dust and cobwebs on the windows. He had a vague recollection of the Ollivander family — he seemed to have heard of them while traveling with his four teachers. However, he had never used an Ollivander wand, and neither had his teachers. Each of them crafted their own wand, perfectly suited to their needs.
"Oh, Filius — it seems this is the young wizard you're mentoring." The old man at the counter had clearly noticed them. The old man had silver eyes and a mop of unkempt, shaggy hair. A display case sat beside the counter, revealing a wand resting on a purple cushion.
"That's right, Garrick," Flitwick said, not forgetting to introduce him to Ryan. "Ollivander's is England's finest wandmaker. All newly enrolled young wizards receive a wand from him to last them a lifetime."
Uh, actually... Ryan was a little embarrassed. From Apparating to entering the shop, he hadn't found a chance to speak. "Professor Flitwick, I already have a wand."
"Huh?" The moment he said that, the two old men's gazes darted over. "The vault? Did your ancestors leave behind wands among their wealth?" Flitwick realized immediately.
"Yes," Ryan nodded. "So perhaps we could buy something else..."
"No, Son." He hadn't finished his words when Mr. Ollivander looked at him. "A wand inherited from your ancestors holds meaning — of course, that's true. "But it's not, at least not always, the best wand for you... Wands and wizards choose each other. You should perhaps reconsider this... Oh!" He exclaimed at the end.
For at that moment, Ryan had already pulled his own wand from his sleeve — or at least, it seemed so. "Mr. Ollivander, thank you for the reminder, but I'm sure..." He stroked the four-colored wand in his hand.
He had no intention of hiding his wand; it was a gift from his mentors, and he should use it. As for whether this wand was right for him, Ryan had never doubted it.
"It will be the perfect wand for me," he said confidently.
"What a beautiful one..." Flitwick, looking at the four-colored wand in Ryan's hand, exclaimed in admiration. But before he could finish, Ollivander almost roughly pushed him away. "Oh, Garrick — you're a bit..."
But before Flitwick could complain, he saw it.
Mr. Garrick Ollivander, one of the three greatest wandmakers in all of Europe and the arms monopolist of the British wizarding world, trembled as he approached Ryan. Due to his height, he had to half-crouch in front of Ryan to look at the wand at eye level.
"Merlin's beard — it's exquisite! Yes, exquisite!" His eyes were fixed on the wand, and his voice was like a dream. "Guardian tree... snakewood... no, not only that... I can't even tell the main material — incredible craftsmanship! What a pity there's only one step left to make it... but why?"
He was completely mesmerized, even kneeling before Ryan, as if wanting to see the wand more clearly.
Ryan was not surprised to see him like this. It's normal for brilliant wizards to be fanatically obsessed with something — he'd seen even crazier ones a thousand years before. But Flitwick, assuming Ryan was frightened, quickly approached him and pulled him away.
"Garrick?!" He coughed twice, cautioning Garrick not to frighten the child, a murmur rising within him. Ryan's Diagon Alley adventures were full of surprises. The mishaps at Gringotts were one thing, but even the usually cautious Ollivander had stumbled.
"Oh..." Ollivander almost let out a goose-like hoot after Ryan was pulled away. But upon seeing Flitwick's serious expression, he quickly recovered. "Oh, boy... that wand in your hand, it's... unusual." His breath was still rapid, his eyes filled with enthusiasm as he gazed at the wand.
"Unusual? Mr. Ollivander — perhaps you could explain," Ryan asked. Coincidentally, he was also curious about the wand left behind by his teacher.
"Yes, it's quite unusual... I've never seen a wand like it!" Ollivander said, as if he had discovered a treasure, his voice tinged with excitement. "This wand is made from at least ten different precious materials, each crafted using different methods by various makers... I can't identify the main material; its extraordinary coloring may come from some extinct magical plant. But I can see that its crafting involved bloodline magic, which makes it truly suitable for you."
He clearly believed this wand was passed down from Ryan's ancestors.
"This is a wand-making method I've never heard of. If I'm not mistaken... this wand may have come from an ancient era, thousands of years ago — a time when most wizards made their own wands, and the truly powerful ones had their own unique methods."
Garrick Ollivander, inheriting the skills of generations of wandmakers from the Ollivander family, was also a master. But precisely because he was so skilled, he knew best. Ollivander's wandmaking techniques are time-honored and of exceptional quality. But in those ancient times, the truly supreme wizards, possessing extraordinary magical powers, would not purchase wands crafted by the Ollivander family.
Instead, they crafted their own wands, each tailored to their own magical path — a unique method for each.
Over time, however, these specialized wandmaking techniques have largely been lost. And undoubtedly...
"Each of the craftsmen who crafted this wand possessed incredibly powerful magical abilities!" He said regretfully. "Unfortunately, this wand is missing one final step — otherwise, it might be enough to rival..." He shook his head, leaving the rest of his sentence unfinished.
"The final step?" Ryan couldn't help but ask, "What final step?" Why was Mr. Ollivander, like Mr. Salazar, always speaking half-sentences?
"A core, child," Ollivander said regretfully. "This wand has no core."
"That's the most incredible thing — it has no core, but I can feel it still functioning. But without a core, the powerful magic within this wand cannot be fully unleashed, which limits its power..."
At this point, Ollivander shook his head. An imperfection is an imperfection. This wand might once have possessed incredible power, but now...
"It's just an excellent wand, nothing more."
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Author's note
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