After stepping out of the Three Broomsticks' fireplace, Pomona planned to have a Butterbeer before returning to school. Scotland was far colder than London, though the first snow had yet to fall.
"Maybe it'll snow next week."
As she approached the bar to order a drink, she happened to overhear someone beside her say that. Turning around, she found Ollivander.
"What are you doing here?" Pomona asked in delighted surprise.
"Collecting wand materials, of course." Ollivander smiled happily. "Thank you for treating the wand trees, Professor. Look."
Ollivander placed the wooden case he carried with him on the bar counter. "I found some very fine wood."
He opened the case, which contained several "branches" that were difficult to associate with wands.
"Is this hawthorn?" Pomona asked, looking at one of the branches. It was still covered in bright red berries.
"Of course. I took it from a wand tree afflicted by pests." Ollivander held the branch in his hand, squinting as he examined it. "Let me think. What core should I pair it with? How about Unicorn hair?"
"You're the master wandmaker," Pomona said. Her Butterbeer happened to arrive just then.
"How about today? You're already here, after all," said the person who had been speaking with Ollivander, raising his glass.
For one instant, Pomona nearly drew her wand, because he looked so much like Antony Dolohov.
But she quickly realized that Antony Dolohov ought to be in Azkaban...
"Don't mind it. You're not the first person to mistake me for him." The drinking man smiled at Pomona. "I look like Antony Dolohov, don't I? Even Aurors have mistaken me for him. But it's like hawthorn and blackthorn—people often confuse them, though they're easy enough to tell apart if you look carefully."
Indeed, blackthorn bloomed before it grew leaves, while