At Ollivander’s wand shop.
Sherlock tried one wand after another, but not a single one suited him.
Faced with this situation, Ollivander showed not the slightest bit of impatience.
On the contrary, he grew increasingly excited.
Sherlock said nothing, passively cooperating with the shopkeeper’s selections, maintaining an air of quiet patience.
Mr.
and Mrs.
Holmes exchanged bewildered glances.
Mainly, neither of them understood what kind of wand Ollivander considered the right fit.
To them, Sherlock had barely taken hold of a wand—let alone waved it, before he even had time to raise it—when the eccentric old man snatched it back.
This had already happened several times.
Finally, Mrs.
Holmes could not help speaking up, whispering a suggestion to her husband: “Taran, why don’t we try somewhere else?” Mr.
Holmes hesitated as well.
“But I heard this is the only shop…” “Ha?” Unexpectedly, Ollivander possessed remarkably sharp hearing.
Though his attention had been fixed on Sherlock, he raised his head.
“Is this lady doubting the Ollivander family?” Under his sharp gaze, Mrs.
Holmes could not help feeling a little nervous.
“No, I was just…” “There is no need for such trouble.
The Ollivander family has been making wands since 382 BC.
No matter how particular the customer, they will always find the right one here.” “Including the one who left earlier?” Sherlock suddenly interjected.
Ollivander froze for a moment, then burst out laughing.
“What a sharp young wizard—indeed, before you, there was a particular customer, a very famous personage at that, ha…” At this point, as if realizing something, Ollivander changed the subject.
“Rather than the wizard choosing the wand, it is actually the wand that chooses its wizard!
Remember, no one leaves Ollivander’s disappointed.
Ah, of course!” With that, he slapped his forehead, walked over to the shelf where the goods had previously flown out from, and retrieved an unpretentious black wand from a corner.
“Beechwood and dragon heartstring, twelve inches, supple and resilient.
Give it a try.” Sherlock naturally noticed that Ollivander was changing the subject.
He did not press further, but accepted the wand as instructed.
The moment he gripped it, his heart gave a slight jolt.
A profound, indescribable feeling suddenly arose, as if something had connected him to the wand in his hand.
He gave it a gentle wave, and a single white smoke ring emerged, drifting slowly outward.
Not only that, but the sound of a steam whistle and sailors’ laughter seemed to echo in his ears.
It was as though he had resonated with the wand itself.
Truly marvelous!
Even without understanding magic, Mr.
and Mrs.
Holmes could tell this wand was right for Sherlock.
“This wand chose me?” Sherlock asked as Ollivander handed over the boxed wand.
“Yes, the wand chooses the wizard—that is the proper answer.” Having finally fitted this particular customer with a wand, Ollivander appeared delighted and added an explanation: “A true match for a beechwood wand, if an adult, will invariably be wise and experienced beyond measure.
If a young person…” Ollivander glanced at Sherlock, a subtle look in his eyes, “…then it means they possess wisdom beyond their years.” Wisdom beyond his years?
Sherlock pondered this.
Just then, Mrs.
Holmes stepped forward to ask about the self-measuring tape measure, only to learn that non-wizards could not use it.
This left her somewhat disappointed.
After paying eight Galleons, Mr.
Ollivander bowed and ushered them out the door.
“Meeting two particular customers in a single day…
it seems Hogwarts will be very lively this year…” Watching the family of three walk away, he muttered to himself.
*** After purchasing the wand, Sherlock and his parents finally concluded their shopping trip in Diagon Alley for the day.
Even with frugal spending, the items on the school list had cost nearly eighty Galleons in total.
Adding the extra books he bought, Sherlock had less than twenty Galleons left.
Mrs.
Holmes felt that restricting currency exchange for magic money was a form of discrimination against non-wizard families like theirs, and she brooded over it for quite a while.
However, persuaded by Mr.
Holmes, she ultimately abandoned the idea of filing a complaint, and the family returned smoothly from Diagon Alley to The Leaky Cauldron.
Just as they were preparing to drive back, Sherlock paused.
He noticed a man and woman accompanied by a young girl, pacing indecisively between a bookstore and a record shop.
With a single glance, Sherlock deduced that this was a couple with their daughter, and their goal was identical to what his family’s had been not long ago.
Sherlock’s pause caught the attention of the Holmeses.
Following his gaze, they naturally spotted the family of three hovering between the bookstore and the record shop.
The couple was neatly dressed and cultured.
The young girl had thick, bushy brown hair and was babbling away.
Even without Sherlock’s powers of observation and deduction, it was not hard to guess that they, too, were looking for The Leaky Cauldron.
Mrs.
Holmes was a warm-hearted person.
Thinking of what her own family had just gone through, she immediately pulled her husband over, clearly intending to offer her assistance.
Sherlock knew in his heart that with a young witch present, this family would eventually find The Leaky Cauldron on their own.
Yet he had not expected that simply because he spared an extra glance in the crowd, his mother would voluntarily step in.
Seeing his parents already chatting with the family, he had no choice but to walk over as well.
“I knew it!
You’re looking for Diagon Alley too, aren’t you?” Her experiences today had filled Mrs.
Holmes with confidence, and she quickly took control of the conversation as a veteran guide: “Oh, I’d bet you money that the goblins at the bank have an absolutely atrocious attitude, just like Aunt Susan’s apple pie next door.
Sweet Mother Mary, they actually set our exchange limit at only 128 Galleons!
Turning down good money—it’s utterly stupid!
If I ever see them again, I swear I’ll give them a good kick in the rear with my boot.” Mrs.
Holmes’s words quickly broke the ice.
After introductions were made, and learning that the couple, named Granger, were non-wizards just like them, she excitedly pulled Sherlock to the front: “Sherlock, Miss Hermione Granger here is also a new student at Hogwarts.
You two can look out for each other when the time comes.”