“It is an absolute honor to have you grace my shop with your presence. May I ask what you require of me? I will spare no effort to assist you.”
Having composed himself somewhat, Mr.
Garrick Ollivander no longer seemed quite so flustered.
Yet the excitement of seeing his idol remained impossible to conceal.
He didn’t even dare get too close to Nicolas Flamel; after all, that was a living legend he could only look up to.
Especially when this legendary figure appeared so fragile.
“Modil Ollivander… I still remember him.”
Old Nicolas thought for a moment, then spoke to Garrick Ollivander.
“He was a remarkably talented wandmaker. His insights into the intangible bond between wand materials and their wielder proved immensely inspiring to me.”
A heartfelt smile broke across Garrick’s face.
Was this merely verbal praise?
This was recognition from a legendary alchemist for the Ollivander family!
As far as he knew, among Europe’s three major wandmakers, none had ever received such praise from the old master.
This was family honor.
The polite small talk over, Raven stated the purpose of their visit.
“Mr. Ollivander, I am a new student enrolling this year. My master and I came here to select a wand.”
Only then did Garrick shift his gaze from his idol, studying Raven closely for a moment before displaying a look of surprise.
“As you know, we Ollivanders have always maintained that the wand chooses the wizard. Therefore, we always seek to learn a bit about and assess the buyer. Could it be… you are a Weasley?”
Raven tugged lightly at his face and said,
“Fred Weasley and George Weasley—we’re triplets. Due to some special reasons, I don’t look identical to them, but we’re quite similar, aren’t we?”
An awkward expression crossed Garrick’s face.
Clearly, the owners of those two names had left him with memories that weren’t entirely pleasant.
But out of politeness, he could only steer the conversation forward.
“Ah, yes. Not long ago, your parents brought Mr. Charlie Weasley here to buy a new wand as a gift for becoming a dragon keeper. A wand with a unicorn hair core… hard to persuade those several-ten-foot beasts with that, wouldn’t you say?”
The wandmaker mused, “Your triplet brothers purchased their wands a year ago. I still remember they were both dogwood and unicorn hair combinations. Perhaps you should give that a try.”
He turned and walked back into the rear room.
It seemed wizards favored by dogwood were rather rare, as none were kept at the front counter.
Sounds of things clattering down echoed from the back.
Before long, Garrick Ollivander emerged from the back room, looking slightly disheveled.
“Here you are.” With an expectant look, he handed Raven a wand that was nine and a quarter inches long with a spiral-shaped handle at the end.
Raven didn’t stand on ceremony, pointing the wand at an empty box in the corner.
“Leviosa.”
[Levitation Charm]
“A very impressive wandless casting! Ever since Hogwarts removed the Levitation Charm from the syllabus to teach the advanced Hover Charm (*Wingardium Leviosa*) directly, it’s been rare to see young wizards cast this spell. In my view, practicing the former helps deepen one’s understanding of the latter,” Mr.
Ollivander praised.
*My fists are clenching.
Is he mockingly passive-aggressive with me?*
*He’s definitely snarking at me!* Raven felt a sudden urge to punch someone right about now.
“I didn’t expect a wand made of the exact same materials as your brothers’ to resist you so fiercely. Though… for everyone else at school, perhaps that’s a good thing?” Mr.
Ollivander added the latter half almost in a whisper.
The rest of the wand testing went smoothly enough.
Since there were no shortcuts, he honestly followed the procedure.
Used to casting with his right hand—that had already been noted.
Then Raven’s physical measurements were taken.
Although none matched successfully at first, at least the wands showed reactions.
Twenty minutes later.
“This one will certainly do. I am confident this wand is the most perfect match for you.” Mr.
Ollivander solemnly handed Raven a box containing a wand.
Taking the box, Raven drew out the wand.
The moment his hand touched the handle, Raven had a hunch: this was the one.
Without rushing to wave it, Raven carefully inspected the wand in his hand.
Golden-brown in color, it was made of acacia, exactly ten inches long—a number highly satisfying to anyone with OCD.
The handle was carved into a perfect pentagonal shape.
This time Raven used no magic, simply waving it aimlessly.
Yet a trail of brilliant light followed where the wand tip sliced through the air.
Clusters of intersecting hexagonal crystal prisms seemed to condense in the air, weaving together in a display of seven-colored light.
Ollivander’s introduction sounded in his ear:
“Acacia wood remains loyal only to a gifted master, and dragon heartstring yields to those of great power. You will become a magnificent wizard in the future.”
Then, glancing at Nicolas Flamel, who wore a satisfied expression, he added,
“Indeed, that goes without saying.”
Refusing to bother refuting Mr.
Ollivander’s compliment, Old Nicolas offered his little admirer a piece of advice.
“I know the Ollivander family’s theory of wands choosing wizards carries elements of prophecy. However, even the seers of the Trelawney family wouldn’t dare guarantee they can correctly interpret their own prophecies, so it’s best not to be overly confident in your readings.”
Ollivander wasn’t surprised that Nicolas Flamel knew the magic secrets of his family.
After all, this was the alchemist who held the crown of alchemy, and wandmaking was merely a branch of that grand field.
Humbly accepting Nicolas Flamel’s advice, he also cheerfully accepted the ten Galleons given by his idol.
What a joke—offering a freebie to a billionaire like him would be an insult to his idol.
He would treasure them devoutly and pass those ten Galleons down as family heirlooms.
However, Raven was in no hurry to leave, as he still had two matters to settle.
“May I ask what your relation is to Gerbold Ollivander? A hundred years ago, he used to run a wand shop in Hogsmeade,” Raven asked.
Garrick Ollivander was greatly surprised and looked at the young wizard.
“He was my great-grandfather. How do you know that name?”
Raven naturally wouldn’t tell the truth—he couldn’t very well say *that old man custom-made a wand for me back then*, could he?
So he continued:
“I once came across records of the last Goblin rebellion mentioning a wand attuned specifically to ancient magic, crafted by Mr. Gerbold himself. If he happened to make a spare back then, please be sure to contact me by owl.”
Mr.
Ollivander didn’t find this odd either.
Alchemists, after all—it was completely understandable for them to research strange and bizarre things.
So he nodded.
“According to the wandmaking knowledge passed down through the Ollivander line, a wand attuned to ancient magic is extremely sensitive. It would hardly work with the everyday spells we cast. If there were a spare, it would undoubtedly have become completely inert due to the utter loss of ancient magic. I shall search thoroughly through my family’s wand vault.”
His main objective achieved, the second matter was a trifling detail.
“I intend to gift a wand to my younger brother, Ron Weasley. From what I know of him, willow and unicorn hair should suit him best. I’ll have my family bring him by to choose soon.”
Raven pulled another ten Galleons from his pocket and handed them to Ollivander.
“Any extra can go toward the ancient magic wand,” Raven said.
Seeing that everything was concluded, Raven and Nicolas Flamel didn’t linger any longer.
There were still plenty of items on the school shopping list waiting to be taken care of.