[Ollivander's Wand Shop, crafting fine wands since the year 382.]
Ian stood at the shop's entrance.
His heart filled with indescribable excitement.
"If you get as distracted while brewing potions, you'll need Merlin himself to focus solely on protecting you to avoid being blown sky-high."
Snape's sarcastic tongue may arrive late, but it never fails to appear. Watching Ian, lost in his thoughts, Snape mockingly jibed with his unique sarcastic tone.
"Professor, I just thought of something interesting."
Ian replied with an awkward smile.
"It seems Mr. Prince, like those foolish Hufflepuffs, has a brain like that of a Giant." Snape sneered and made another jibe at Ian.
Then.
He reached into his money bag and tossed seven shiny Galleons to Ian.
"Take your money and buy your wand, I'll wait here for you." Snape seemed unwilling to enter, simply providing the money for Ian to purchase his wand on his own.
Compared to the cost of other wizards replacing their wands, the price of Hogwarts freshmen's wands is very fixed; everyone shares this number with significant meaning in the magical world.
"Won't the professor come with me?"
Ian looked at Snape with clear eyes.
"Are you a big baby?"
Snape mocked, casting a sidelong glance at Ian.
"Alright then..."
Ian took the Galleons from Snape's hand, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door that represented the start of dreams both in the original work and in fanfiction.
"Ding-dong~"
The door was linked to a crisp copper bell, which rang unmistakably as Ian entered, as if reminding the shop owner that a guest had arrived.
This was a shop of limited size, somewhat cramped and small. The shabbiness of its facade was far from matching its esteemed status in the hearts of many Hogwarts enthusiasts.
Tens of thousands of wands were stacked on the cheap shelves; no one could imagine this as the starting point for all wizards, the ordinary and featureless storefront looked very shabby.
"Good afternoon, a... special face."
The old voice came from a hunched old man. Though his head was full of white, messy, and brittle hair, those bright, lively eyes were hard to ignore.
"Hello, sir."
Ian, slightly reserved, greeted the shop owner, the current Ollivanders Wandmaker, his gaze lingering on the myriad kinds of wands.
"Yes, yes, another school season, Hogwarts' Little Wizard... are you here by yourself?" Ollivander eyed the small figure from top to bottom.
"The Hogwarts professor brought me here, is there a problem?"
Ian answered the question honestly.
"Of course not, it's just... consider it an old man's muddle-headedness." Ollivander chuckled lightly, glancing out the window.
"I should have realized, only he would bring you, yes, birch wood, Phoenix Tail Feather, I remember, it seems like just yesterday." Ollivander murmured mysteriously.
Is this a "prophecy" about Snape's situation?
If Ian remembered correctly, this Death Eater professor's wand was indeed made of birch wood—didn't expect this wand-selling wizard to indeed have a knack.
"Do you have prophetic abilities?"
Ian, relying on his young age, spoke without fear.
"It's just experience, just a feeling, child." Ollivander laughed happily, grabbing a measuring tape, and started measuring Ian's height and arm span.
"Every wand chooses the most suitable owner; this is the most magical characteristic of a wand..." Ollivander brainwashed Ian while measuring his body data, and did not forget to ask the age-old question, "Mr. Prince, which hand do you usually use?"
Indeed, it's something!
Ian hadn't introduced himself, yet Ollivander called out his surname!
"You know my name?"
Ian couldn't help but curiously inquire.
"That's not a question I should answer for you, Mr. Prince, I just sell my wands." Ollivander chuckled and replied.
"Left hand, I'm used to using my left hand."
Ian helplessly answered Ollivander's initial question.
"That's indeed an unusual habit."
Ollivander put away the tape, heading towards the shelf with the wands.
"Many people think it's the wizard picking the wand, but it's actually the wand choosing the owner, maintaining a humble attitude is a virtue every wizard should possess."
Ollivander commenced his customary brainwashing of Ian.
"Uh, do you give every young wizard this kind of indoctrination?" Ian felt a strong sense of déjà vu at this moment from Ollivander.
Just like the plot from the original book.
Also like the clichéd scenes worn out in fanfictions.
"Rude child, I'm merely imparting the correct understanding... how can a merchant's action be called indoctrination?" Ollivander glanced disapprovingly at Ian.
Then.
He selected a wand from the shelf and handed it to Ian.
"Rosewood, Fire Dragon's Nerve..."
Almost as soon as he placed the wand in Ian's hand, Ollivander snatched it back sharply, yes, snatched it back, the force was hard to imagine coming from a person in their seventies or eighties.
"No, no, try this one, Birch Wood, 17 inches, from..." This time, Ollivander took back the wand even before he finished introducing it.
"This one isn't right either."
Ollivander went back to the shelves to search again.
"Black Ebony Wood, ten inches, Dragon's Nerve."
"Cedar Wood, twelve inches, Thunderbird's Head Feather."
"No, no, perhaps it's this Fir Wood, fifteen inches, Phoenix Tail Feather."
"Truly a picky customer, then try this special combination, Albizia Wood, fourteen inches, Enchanting Woman's Hair."
...
It must be said.
The process of selecting a Magic Wand was far more complicated than Ian expected.
He didn't know if every Little Wizard would go through such a grueling selection process. In any case, Ian couldn't help but speak up when his hand was already numb from holding the wands.
"Sir, perhaps I should try a wand made by your grandfather, or your grandfather's grandfather?" Ian felt a sense of déjà vu about everything happening.
Using his years of experience as a bookworm, he gave his suggestion.
However.
"Are you a kid who likes old things?"
Ollivander looked at Ian, full of confusion.
"Yes, yes, that's the kind of person I am."
Ian tried to make his gaze seem more serious; he really felt the process of trying various wands was too torturous, and perhaps this was the only solution in this situation.
After all.
In many fan novels, the protagonist in the end receives a wand from Ollivander's grandfather, maybe he also shares the same traits as those transmigrator predecessors?
"Mr. Prince, I'm sorry, every generation of Ollivander only sells the wands they make, this is a matter of pride, and also a respect for their ancestors."
Ollivander's response shattered Ian's hopes.
Ian couldn't help but show a bitter face.
He had no choice but to continue trying out the various wands Ollivander handed him. It was a tedious process, as almost every wand Ollivander found seemed unmatched for Ian.
After testing dozens more wands.
"Truly rare."
"I've never seen a customer so picky."
"Perhaps... you possess some rare qualities."
Ollivander's expression was the complete opposite of Ian's; the more difficult it was to find a suitable wand, the brighter Ollivander's cloudy eyes became.
"Little Wizard who likes ancient artifacts, perhaps, perhaps you should try that wand." Ollivander seemed to remember something, and rushed to his back room excitedly.
A moment later.
He came out holding a dust-covered box.
"Is this your grandfather's wand?"
Ian couldn't help but ask.
"No, this is my work, an arrogant creation from my early years... I read a story in that fairy tale, and it sparked a determination not to be outdone."
"You might not know the legend of the Elder Wand, actually, this is an attempt of mine to create a wand comparable to that legendary wand, a naive and ignorant effort."
Ollivander's eyes and expression were full of nostalgia.
"I failed many times, by the last attempt, I had grown numb to the failure, perhaps, Elder Wood and symbolically beautiful wand cores could never match?"
"My belief wavered, though, perhaps with Merlin's help, on the last attempt, on a stormy day, I thought I would fail as usual."
"1980, yes, 1980, July 7... that lightning strike, I don't know if it succeeded, all these years, I haven't found a suitable Wizard for it."
Ollivander looked at Ian with a fiery gaze.
"I have a feeling, you are the Wizard it's been waiting for." Ollivander used a formal address, which seemed inappropriate, looking at Ian with a sort of excited expectation.
"Give it a try."
Ollivander handed over the wand.
"Uh... July 7... this date..."
Ian took the wand from Ollivander with a rather odd expression.
Almost at the moment the wand touched his palm.
He felt as if he had become one with the wand, unable to describe the sensation with any sophisticated words, the surging magic power within him flowed clearly into the wand.
"Whew~"
Silver-white threads erupted from the tip of the wand, rolling and floating like clouds, instantly filling the entire shop, countless dreamlike illusions swirling within!
There were silhouettes flickering.
It also seemed like there were beasts roaring.
"It actually works! It really works!"
"This is... a truly destined miracle!"
Ollivander's exclamations echoed for a long time in the simple little room.
Carrying a kind of... reverent fanaticism.