People came and went in Diagon Alley, a shifting tide of robes and pointed hats. The air was thick with a chaotic blend of scents—sulfur from fireworks, the earthy aroma of dried herbs, and the sweet, buttery smell of pastries.
Inside Ollivander's Wand Shop, however, the air was still and filled with dust motes dancing in shafts of weak light.
Hermione gestured for Harry Potter to choose his wand first. Mr. Ollivander, with his pale, moon-like eyes, moved with a reverence that suggested he valued the wooden sticks more than the people buying them. He first retrieved a simple black box from a high shelf, carefully removed a wand, and handed it to Harry.
It was clear that Mr. Ollivander had a deep affection for his craft.
Harry glanced nervously at Hermione beside him, seeking reassurance, before reaching out to take it.
"Give it a try," the owner encouraged softly.
Harry swallowed hard, obeying obediently. He raised his arm and gave the wand a tentative wave.
Whoosh!
The reaction was instantaneous and violent. A magical force, like an invisible hurricane, erupted from the tip. Around the shop, drawers slammed open with a cacophony of banging wood, and their contents—parchment, quills, and measuring tapes—were scattered all over the floor in a whirlwind of disorder.
"Oh, definitely not this one!" Mr. Ollivander exclaimed, snatching the wand back, seemingly more surprised by the wand's temper than the mess.
Harry was startled, shrinking back slightly.
Mr. Ollivander didn't blame Harry, though. He merely hummed and disappeared into the stacks to find a second candidate.
At this time, Hermione felt a strange pull. She looked at the wand Mr. Ollivander had just discarded on the counter. Her intuition told her that what was poison for Harry might be meat for her.
While Ollivander was distracted, she picked up the wand Harry had just waved. Of course, wands had strengths and weaknesses. Mr. Ollivander was full of expectations for Harry's future, so the wands he recommended were naturally of high quality.
In order not to make the same mistake as Harry and destroy the shop, Hermione quietly slipped outside the door. She looked up at the patch of blue sky between the crooked rooftops and waved the wand.
Wands are the conduits of the soul for magicians. On the train, when Hermione had held Ron's wand, the feeling of repulsion had been obvious, like holding a dead branch.
But this wand… it had not yet recognized a master.
The moment Hermione channeled her intent, it was as if a sluice gate within her body had been thrown open. Her magical energy rushed out, surging through the wood and shooting toward the sky.
Whoosh!
A gust of wind, concentrated and powerful, appeared out of thin air. It spiraled upward like a miniature hurricane, punching a hole through the white clouds above, scattering them instantly.
Very handsome! Hermione thought, a thrill running down her spine.
She was satisfied. Unlike Harry Potter, she didn't need to try a few times; it just fit the first time. She mentally christened the wand: Windmourne.
Hermione slipped back into the store just as Mr. Ollivander was recommending a second wand to Harry. The shape of this one was slightly different, the wood darker. The owner looked at the boy expectantly again.
"Mr. Harry, try this one."
Harry pursed his lips, his green eyes darting to Hermione for moral support. He picked it up and waved it downward with a sharp flick.
BANG!
A crystal ball on a nearby shelf exploded directly, the loud noise echoing in the cramped space. Shards of glass flew everywhere, chiming as they hit the floor.
Harry flinched so hard his glasses almost fell off his nose.
"Not this one either!" Mr. Ollivander announced, snatching it away.
The owner turned around and went to the innermost part of the aisle. In the dim light of the shop's recesses, Mr. Ollivander seemed to carry a heavy mystery. He hesitated, his hand hovering over a faded box.
The first two were not ordinary wands; he had thought they would suit Harry Potter. But this third one...
In the end, Mr. Ollivander made his choice.
"Mr. Harry, try this one again."
When this third wand was taken out, the atmosphere in the whole store shifted. The air grew heavy and charged with static.
Hermione, standing to the side, saw immediately that the third wand was a treasure. Part of her wanted to keep it for herself, but she remembered her strategy: keep a low profile. She let the thought go.
Instead, while Harry was distracted by the new wand, Hermione quietly picked up the second wand Harry had just caused an explosion with. She stepped outside again.
She aimed the wand at the sky and waved.
Once again, the wand that rejected Harry connected instantly with Hermione.
This second wand, however, was hungry. It required more magic. If the magical reserve in Hermione's body was a whole cake, then when this wand was swung, a large slice of that cake vanished instantly.
BOOM!
The effect was terrifyingly powerful. A remaining white cloud in the sky was blasted apart, and the sound of thunder—a dry, cracking peal on a sunny day—rolled down to the ground. Rumble…
Pedestrians in Diagon Alley stopped dead, looking up in alarm, trying to find the source of the storm.
Hermione, the perpetrator, hurriedly tucked the wand into her sleeve and slipped back into the store. Her heart beat faster, thumping against her ribs, and her beautiful face was flushed as red as blood.
She was a little excited. She wanted both wands.
In fact, watching Ollivander, she wanted to try a third, or a fourth, just like Harry did. But she patted her pocket and felt the weight of the coins. She had to give up that greedy thought. Although she had picked up a large bag of money as soon as she got off the train, it wasn't infinite. It couldn't buy the whole inventory.
She could borrow money from Harry—he was loaded—but Hermione didn't want to establish too much of a causal relationship with him. If it wasn't for the System option task, she wouldn't even want to be standing this close to the center of all future trouble.
Inside the store, the moment Harry Potter wrapped his fingers around the third wand, a sudden wind whipped through the room. It blew Harry's messy black hair back, revealing the mysterious Z-shaped scar on his forehead.
A warm, golden glow surrounded him. The atmosphere in the shop settled into something profound.
Mr. Ollivander looked at the boy with cloudy, unblinking eyes. His expression was a mix of tension and excitement.
"Mr. Harry Potter," he whispered, his voice raspy. "You are indeed someone who is going to do great things. This may be your destiny."
He leaned in closer. "This wand belongs to the same phoenix feather as the wand of another man, whom we do not wish to be named. Obviously, Mr. Harry, you are all destined to do great things."
Harry sensed that the owner had something more to say, a weight behind his words. But as they were meeting for the first time, he didn't dare ask too many questions.
He paid for the wand.
Then, Mr. Ollivander turned his gaze to the girl. "This beautiful lady, which wand do you fancy?"
When Hermione had taken Harry's two inappropriate wands and run outside to test them, Mr. Ollivander had naturally noticed. Nothing happened in his shop without him knowing.
Usually, a wizard would pick one wand.
Hermione hesitated, clutching both pieces of wood. "Can I buy these two wands?"
In her mind, she had already named the second one: Bouncing Bomb.
Mr. Ollivander was taken aback for a moment. He didn't seem to expect that Miss Hermione would want to buy two.
"Miss Hermione," he said, puzzled. "Usually the magician is chosen by the wand..."
Hermione smiled happily, her eyes bright. "I think these two wands chose me at the same time."
"..."
Mr. Ollivander was speechless.
However, he glanced at Harry Potter. It was destined that Mr. Harry would be the only person who could fight against the One-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the future. Perhaps his companions were equally unusual. He decided to make an exception today.
"Well, Miss Hermione can have these two wands at the same time. However, Miss Hermione, wands have feelings. I hope you can treat them like pets."
Hermione smiled. Mr. Ollivander likely thought that Hermione, like ordinary girls, liked cute pets. That was not the case. But she didn't explain.
She nodded, paid the galleons, and left Ollivander's wand shop with Harry.
As they stepped back into the bustle of the alley, Harry asked curiously, "Hermione, why did you buy two wands?"
Hermione adjusted her bag, replying effortlessly. "Didn't I say it on the train? I'm a careless person. If I forget this one in the dormitory, then I can still take this one to class."
Harry Potter was dumbfounded by the logic.
"Add the one you left at home," Harry calculated, "and you now have three wands."
Hermione joked, a playful glint in her eyes, "If I had enough money, I'd buy the whole wand shop."
Harry Potter cast a look of pure admiration at Hermione. She was simply a heroine in the making.
At this moment, the blue light of the system flashed in Hermione's vision:
[Congratulations on completing the task. Reward: A Magical Space Ring.]
Hermione touched her hand. She was happier now.