Mr. Olivander opened his mouth, clearly not expecting Harry to say something like that.
To avoid an awkward silence, Mr. Olivander decided to change the topic.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter," he said, turning back and walking behind the counter, pulling out a measuring tape, then asking, "Which arm do you normally use for the magic wand?"
"Right hand, sir," Harry maintained a courteous smile on his face.
"Raise your arm, oh good," Olivander began taking Harry's measurements, from shoulder to fingertip, then from wrist to elbow, and even from shoulder to floor.
Harry never understood why buying a magic wand was like buying clothes, needing even the waist measurement.
While measuring, Mr. Olivander kept explaining — yet, to Harry, Olivander was just explaining dragon heartstrings, phoenix feathers, and unicorn hair, without really explaining why he was doing this.
After a good while, the measuring procedure finally ended, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
"Alright," Mr. Olivander said, the measuring tape dropping to the floor, curling into a ball, "Now, Mr. Potter, try this one - maple wood, phoenix feather, seven inches long, quite flexible, give it a try?"
Harry took the magic wand, barely waved it, and was swiftly taken back by Mr. Olivander.
"No, this one doesn't suit you, try this one, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches long, very strong flexibility," Mr. Olivander handed Harry another magic wand.
Harry obediently took the magic wand, but before he could wave it, Mr. Olivander snatched it back.
"No, no, try this one—" Mr. Olivander said to himself: "Poplar wood, dragon heartstring, eleven and three-quarter inches."
This time, Harry did not take the magic wand.
"Mr. Potter? Please, try it," Mr. Olivander assumed Harry was distracted and reminded him to try it.
"Are you sure this one suits me?" Harry said, "I feel there's no need to wait until I wave it to know you'll think it's unsuitable for me."
"Looks like you indeed aren't compatible with it," Mr. Olivander seemingly ignored Harry's sarcastic tone, and this time buried his head in the counter for quite a while.
"Got it," he said, pulling out a box from the bottom of the counter, carefully opening it: "Beech wood, dragon heartstring, eleven inches—"
Harry didn't take it but looked at Mr. Olivander.
"Try it," Olivander wasn't angry, nudging the wand toward him.
Harry then took the magic wand, as soon as it was in his hand, he felt a warm stream flowing through it, and the wand's tip burst into a beam of light, sending sparks like fireworks, even splashing onto the surrounding walls.
"That's it, that's it, exactly that feeling!" Mr. Olivander said, touched, covering his mouth: "Beech wood, I knew it was beech—did you know? The true match for a beech wood magic wand should be like this. If they're a teenager, then he or she possesses wisdom beyond their age; if adults, then they must be understanding, experienced."
Harry pressed his lips down slightly, providing his assessment.
"Not bad."
He cheerfully pulled out Galleons and, at Mr. Olivander's price reminder, lined up seven Galleons on the counter to buy the wand, and Mr. Olivander bowed to send him out of the magic wand shop.
Outside the shop, Hagrid was standing there holding a large cake.
Seeing Harry came out, Hagrid stepped forward, handing over the cake.
"I know, in a few days it'll be your birthday, but we're soon parting, you're returning to the Dursley family, so let this be an early birthday celebration," Hagrid said.
Harry looked down at the cake, on it spelled "HAPPEE BIRTHDAE HARRY."
Two out of the three words were misspelled, yet his name wasn't among those mistakes.
"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry returned a big smile to Hagrid: "I like this cake, if you don't mind, shall we go back to the Broken Cauldron Bar to enjoy it together before we part?"
"Oh, Harry," Hagrid's big hand ruffled Harry's messy hair.
The two returned to the Broken Cauldron Bar, with plenty bought from Diagon Alley this time, not just books, but also the snowy owl as a birthday gift from Hagrid, which Harry named Hedwig.
That snowy owl smiled sweetly, looking lovely.
"If you're staying with the Dursleys and if they treat you poorly, write me a letter using this owl," Hagrid said to Harry, eating cake at the bar: "Don't worry, this owl will find me."
"Alright, Hagrid," Harry didn't say much, just nodded in agreement.
While eating cake, he was still distracted.
To be honest, having left the Dursley family for almost a day now, he truly did miss Dudley a bit.
After finishing the cake, Hagrid led Harry out of the Broken Cauldron Bar.
The combination of the two was really eye-catching; not to mention Hagrid, the big strong man himself, just carrying large and small packages and a snowy owl would be enough to draw attention.
Fortunately, it's legal in England to keep snowy owls, so no one reported them, but the attention along the way was inevitable.
"Well, actually, I regret it," Hagrid said: "I should've called the Knight Bus."
"Knight Bus?" Harry asked knowingly.
If Hagrid hadn't mentioned it, he might have really forgotten about the Knight Bus.
He had the opportunity to ride it several times back when he attended school a hundred years ago, even hearing it was suggested by the Minister of Magic Dugard MacFay over twenty years ago.
"The Knight Bus always helps wizards in need, it can transport people anywhere on land," Hagrid said to Harry: "So, you take out your magic wand, and stretch it into the air—"
Harry did as he was told, taking out the magic wand and stretching it into the air.
"Whoosh—"
Almost as soon as he raised his hand, a double-decker bus appeared in front of him.
At the same time, Harry noticed that the pedestrians who had been eyeing him and Hagrid's peculiar combination had suddenly stopped looking their way.
Muggle Confusion Spell, Harry muttered in his heart, it's magic fixed in the Knight Bus.
"Hey, are you two getting in or not?"
The conductor leaned back against the door, loudly asking.
Hagrid immediately carried the large and small packages, leading Harry onto the bus.
"Please, to Little Whinging District, 4 Privet Drive," Hagrid said.
While Hagrid was conversing with the conductor, Harry was still thinking.
Imagining putting motion-sick Dudley on the Knight Bus, and the expression on that chubby face would certainly be spectacular.