"Bang!"
The process of Harry Potter selecting a wand took quite a while. Only after the wands he had tried were piled up on the bench like a small hill did he find a suitable one. In the middle of it all, Harry even broke a light-colored vase because the wand went out of control.
MacLean watched the golden sparks shooting from the tip of the wand in Harry's hand, as bright as fireworks, with flickering spots of light projected on the wall.
Hagrid clapped and cheered, and Mr. Ollivander exclaimed, "Oh, excellent! Oh, really, very good. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear... How wonderful, it's truly wonderful..."
He put Harry's wand into a box and wrapped it in a brown oil paper, still muttering "wonderful."
"I'm sorry," Harry said, "What exactly do you find so wonderful?"
Mr. Ollivander stared at Harry with his pale, colorless eyes.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single one. As a matter of fact – two phoenix tail feathers. One for this wand, and the other for another."
Ollivander paused, then continued, "You were destined to use this wand, and its brother… well, its brother gave you that scar."
Harry gasped.
"Yes, thirteen and a half inches, yew. How very curious. Remember, the wand chooses the wizard! I expect you will do great things, Mr. Potter… the one I cannot name did great things, though terrible, still great."
Harry felt a chill. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander, but he paid the seven Gold Galleons for the wand that seemed to have such a profound connection to him.
"Yes, very good," Ollivander nodded, turning his sharp eyes to MacLean. "Mr. MacLean, it's your turn now, please, come forward and let me see."
"I'm right-handed." MacLean, having watched the process once, immediately cooperated with Ollivander and began the measurements.
The tape measure automatically extended, floating over MacLean, measuring from shoulder to fingertip, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and finally, head circumference.
Even after seeing it once, MacLean still couldn't figure out what these measuring steps were for.
The tape measure was measuring, and Ollivander continued to drone on, "Yes, yes, as I said before, every Ollivander wand is unique. If you use another wizard's wand, the effect will certainly be discounted! Always remember—it is the wand that chooses the wizard."
In the end, when the tape measure floated in front of MacLean to measure the distance between his nostrils, he felt like he hadn't experienced such a ridiculous scene in a long time.
"Alright," Ollivander said, and before he could finish, the tape measure slipped to the ground and rolled up. "Then, Mr. MacLean, try this one! Maple and dragon ear nerve. Ten inches long, sensitive, delicate, and yet powerful. Try waving it."
MacLean took it and waved it casually, and a soft red light flashed at the tip of the wand.
"Oh! Not bad, I didn't expect it to be so smooth..." Ollivander stopped abruptly mid-sentence, "Wait, try this one. Boxwood, unicorn hair, nine and three-quarters inches, equally sensitive but more resolute."
MacLean was stunned for a moment, then put down the wand in his hand and took the other one he was handed.
He didn't know if it was because of a different waving posture or something else, but this time, a little golden light appeared on the tip of the wand, and a trace of sacred aura spread out.
"W-what's going on?" Ollivander looked as if he'd seen something unbelievable, his sharp eyes filled with confusion. "Perhaps, try this one?"
He pulled another box from the shelves behind him. "Rosewood, dragon heartstring core, fourteen and a quarter inches, rigid, powerful, and exceedingly potent."
This choice seemed completely different from the previous two, making MacLean even more bewildered.
MacLean took the wand, which was a slightly purplish-red color, and waved it again. A streak of fiery red light shot from the tip, instantly knocking over the entire shelf behind Ollivander with a loud crash.
All four people present jumped in surprise, but after the initial shock, Ollivander fell into thought once more.
MacLean, Hagrid, and Harry looked at each other, not knowing what was happening. Seeing Mr. Ollivander lost in thought, they wisely stayed where they were, trying not to disturb him.
In the wizarding world, wandlore was always a complex and research-intensive subject, and very few people could actually make wands. At this moment, besides Mr. Ollivander, you probably couldn't find another person in Diagon Alley with such a deep understanding of wands.
"I don't understand, I really don't," Ollivander suddenly raised his head and said loudly to MacLean, "Pick up all the wands on the bench and give them a wave, quickly!"
玛卡 looked at the wand he'd been trying out, the one he'd left there after Harry's turn, then glanced back at the shelves behind Ollivander.
"But, sir, that shelf..."
"It's alright, don't worry about that. Just try waving them."
Seeing that the owner didn't care about the consequences, 玛卡 felt no further reservations. He picked up wands one by one and started waving them. For a while, lights, smoke, wand boxes, and even the shelves were sent careening around the shop with each wave of 玛卡's wand, turning Ollivander's wand shop into a complete mess.
"Alright, that's enough." Ollivander hurried 玛卡 to stop, then stared at his hand, a look of bewilderment on his face. "I don't understand. It makes no sense. Every wand is a perfect fit? How is that possible?"
If even Ollivander couldn't understand it, 玛卡 was naturally baffled. Eventually, under Mr. Ollivander's extremely reluctant gaze, 玛卡 chose the wand that had caused the biggest commotion. He then left the wand shop, which had almost become a junkyard, with Hagrid and Harry.
After leaving Ollivander's, the three of them checked their lists together and bought everything one by one. When they reached the end of the road, 玛卡 suddenly remembered something as he looked at Potage's Cauldron Shop.
"Oh, no! I arranged to meet Mrs. Weasley at the cauldron shop. This is terrible."
"Mrs. Weasley?" Hagrid looked towards the cauldron shop. "Don't worry, I see her. You haven't missed her."
MacLean looked at Hagrid, silently repeating "Good heavens, you're tall" to himself. Then, he bid them farewell and squeezed toward the cauldron shop.
It was almost noon, and Diagon Alley was even more crowded than in the morning, making it almost impossible to breathe.
"Mrs. Weasley, hello…"
MacLean finally managed to reach Mrs. Weasley and Ron. Before he could finish speaking, he was interrupted.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I thought you'd already left!" Mrs. Weasley didn't seem angry; instead, she apologized first. "Ron's rat ran into a hole in the garden, and the goblins chased him all over. That's why we're late…"
Ron took over, his face glum. "And then Mum scolded me, saying I didn't look after Scabbers properly, but you know…"
"That's enough! It's clearly your fault, don't make excuses!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed angrily.
Seeing that Mrs. Weasley seemed about to start lecturing again, MacLean had to change the subject. "Oh, Mrs. Weasley, I don't think it's anything. Actually, I met Hagrid when I went to Gringotts to get some money, and, oh, Harry Potter too."
Mrs. Weasley perked up immediately at the name, which MacLean had anticipated.
After buying a cauldron here, MacLean's shopping trip finally came to an end. Frankly, he was a bit exhausted, but he still had to carry a bunch of things, even though Ron had already helped him carry quite a bit.
"MacLean, let me take some, too. I'll help you carry some," said Mrs. Weasley.
"No, absolutely not! How can I let a lady carry things!" MacLean insisted.
Mrs. Weasley was overjoyed by this statement, and she snatched the owl cage from MacLean's hand, her face full of smiles. "Oh! MacLean, you really know how to talk. I'm sure you'll be able to charm a lot of girls in the future."
Real unmarried young women are much harder to please than you, MacLean muttered inwardly.
It was mid-July, and the weather in Britain was as mild as ever, but the perpetually overcast skies still left one feeling drained.
To be honest, MacLean didn't want to stay at the Weasleys', but he ended up living at The Burrow for a few days.
Eventually, he left there the following month and rented a room above the Leaky Cauldron, staying there until the date Hogwarts was to open.
During this time, MacLean devoted his time to studying the magical textbooks in advance. He found that he was quite interested in this fascinating knowledge, although he still thought the content of the book Magical Theory was a bit ambiguous until the very end.
"...So, how exactly did this formula come about?" MacLean stared at a magical formula in the book, saying it with some annoyance.
In the process of reading and memorizing, he found that many of the key magical theories in this book had an obvious characteristic: the author never explained the source of the formulas, which was really a heartbreaking discovery for MacLean.
"Knowing what it is, but not why it is, is Magical Theory actually just the accumulation of experience from every generation of wizards since ancient times?" He let out a painful groan, looking exhausted.
However, in the last month or so, besides the boring magical knowledge, there was actually a small interlude. Of course, in my opinion, this is not suitable to be mentioned now, because today is the last day of August, and tomorrow is September 1st—Hogwarts is about to open!