Narcissa’s breath hitched, turning heavy and strained.
Draco, whom she had just scolded, was still completely clueless about what was going on.
It seemed he had never imagined his mother would ever speak to him so harshly.
“What’s wrong, Mum?” “I—I think you should show proper respect to your professor,” Narcissa said in a trembling voice, shooting Draco a sharp look that forced him to quiet down.
“Even your father would agree that Mr.
Gold is a formidable wizard.” She then turned to address Charlen with utmost caution.
“I didn’t expect to meet you here, Mr.
Gold.
Please don’t pay any mind to what Draco said—he’s terribly spoiled at home.” Charlen had already embraced his role as a teacher.
As an educator, wasn’t it perfectly reasonable to check on a student’s family situation?
“Mrs.
Malfoy, how is Mr.
Malfoy doing these days?” Narcissa felt a surge of absurdity.
*Don’t you know bloody well how my husband is doing?
You speak as if you weren’t the one who beat him up.* But she wouldn’t dare speak so recklessly to Charlen, especially not with her son present.
“Lucius…
he’s fine.
He’s recovering quite well.” “That’s good to hear.
As for Draco, I wanted to tell you that doting too much on a child is never a good thing.
If possible, I hope you and Mr.
Malfoy will place greater emphasis on his character education.” “Yes, I’ll discuss it thoroughly with Lucius.” Just as the atmosphere was growing visibly more awkward, Madam Malkin finished fitting Harry for his robes.
“Well then, I’m taking Harry to get his wand.
We’ll take our leave now,” Charlen said.
Narcissa was practically dying to say goodbye to this plague god as fast as possible and nodded hurriedly.
Draco, however, had ideas of his own.
“Wait, your name is Harry?
Harry Potter?” His eyes lit up.
Someone as famous as Harry was precisely the sort of person he wanted to align himself with.
So, seeing Harry nod, he immediately turned to his mother.
“Mum, I haven’t bought my wand yet either.
Let’s go buy our wands too!” Narcissa took a deep breath, feeling a dull throb in her chest.
*My silly son, can’t you see your mother wishes she had wings to fly us away right now?
Why are you trying so hard to shove yourself next to that man?
Don’t you know who beat your father up?* *Right…
you actually don’t.* “No, Draco.
We need to buy your cauldron first,” she said, forcing as pleasant a smile as she could manage.
“Mr.
Gold, I’ll take Draco and be on our way.” “After you.” By the time Charlen led Harry to Ollivander’s wand shop, Hagrid had still not shown up.
It seemed Charlen’s presence had made the half-giant overly relaxed.
Harry looked up at the tiny, dilapidated shop.
The peeling golden letters over the door read: *Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.* “Let’s go inside, Harry.” The two stepped inside.
The shop was small and bare, containing nothing except a single long bench, though thousands of narrow boxes were stacked neatly up to the ceiling on the shelves.
An indescribable air of mystery hung in the room.
Harry suddenly found himself treading lightly, even holding his breath.
“Good afternoon,” a soft voice greeted them.
An old man stepped out, startling Harry.
“Good afternoon, Ollivander,” Charlen replied calmly.
“I’ve brought Harry Potter to choose a wand.” “Charlen!
Charlen Gold!
What a pleasure to see you again.
English oak, dragon heartstring, twelve inches—am I right?” Ollivander rattled off as if reading from a ledger.
He was referring to Charlen’s original wand.
Every single wand he had ever sold was etched vividly in his memory.
“That’s right.” “A powerful wand.
Pity it was snapped,” Ollivander said with a touch of regret.
But he quickly perked up and added, “I heard you have a new wand now?
Gregorovitch mentioned you spent some time learning the craft under him.
May I see it?” “I used a few unusual materials,” Charlen said, presenting his wand.
“Haha, sixteen inches!
I once made a wand of that length myself.
Hmm?
Since when do you favor your left hand?” Ollivander examined it closely, discerning at a glance that Charlen’s wand was designed for left-handed casting.
Charlen remained silent.
He could hardly bring himself to admit that it made no difference to him which hand held the wand, but when delivering a Mega Punch, his right hand was definitely stronger.
“Yew…
though I’ve never seen a core like this.” He gave it a casual swish, immediately feeling a surge of majestic, vital magic within the wand—a power far beyond his ability to command.
“A formidable wand.
I suspect only a wizard it deems worthy can truly master it—which stands to reason, of course, for the wand chooses the wizard.” After returning the wand to Charlen, Ollivander finally turned his attention to Harry.
“Yes, I knew I’d be seeing you soon, Harry Potter.
You have your mother’s eyes.
It seems like only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand.
Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow—an excellent wand for charm work.” “Your father, on the other hand, favored mahogany.
Eleven inches long.
Pliant, a bit more power, and particularly suited for Transfiguration.” As Ollivander spoke, he stepped closer to Harry, putting a great deal of pressure on the boy.
Harry felt an impulse to back away, but seeing Charlen standing calmly beside him, he didn’t dare make any sudden moves for fear of being rude.
Ollivander touched a gentle finger to the scar on Harry’s forehead.
“Ah, so this is where…” “I’m sorry to say it, but a wand I sold did that,” he murmured softly.
“Thirteen and a half inches.
Yew.
Powerful, immensely powerful, but in the wrong hands…
If I had known what that wand would go on to do once it left my shop…” He quieted, dropping the subject, and began selecting wands for Harry to try.
As if guided by fate, Harry ended up with the wand containing a feather from the exact same phoenix as Voldemort’s.
Harry’s wand, however, was made of holly.
“Curious indeed, isn’t it?” Ollivander looked at Charlen, then back at Harry.
“Yew wood and phoenix feather…
And of course, your wand cannot possibly be made of the same piece of yew as the one used by You-Know-Who.” Afterward, Harry paid for his wand, and Ollivander expressed his conviction that Harry Potter was destined for great things.
Once the two walked out of the wand shop, they spotted Hagrid in the distance down the street, carrying a cage containing a snow-white owl.
“Hagrid, did you buy that for Harry?” Charlen asked right away.
“Aye, a birthday present for him!” Hagrid boomed.
Harry wanted to politely decline, but Hagrid didn’t give him the chance.