Let Go of That Wand

This snow-white kitten was the cutest. As for the price, well, you only needed to know it came with the word "most"!

Chapter 8: I Want That Wand

After walking around for half the day, it was already noon.

The blazing sun made his vision blur, and sweat began to bead on his body.

Harry had no choice but to buy two more ice creams to cool down.

At that moment, Harry really envied Hagrid. Just look at him: Hagrid was wearing thick clothes and still looked completely calm.

"Let's hurry up and buy a wand. I'm about to turn into jerky," Harry said weakly.

The kitten lay lazily in the cardboard box, purring. Harry dabbed a little ice cream on its head to cool it down, but it wiped it off with its paw and licked it, seeming quite pleased. It meowed twice.

Then he remembered the eagle in Hagrid's hand. It was so hot, and it had been covered with black cloth in such a cramped space. It probably wasn't feeling very good.

"Hagrid, let's let the eagle out."

"Oh, sure." Hagrid seemed to have only just remembered. He hurriedly opened the copper cage.

With a whoosh, a black shadow shot out and flew into the sky. Its wings spread wide as it circled above Diagon Alley.

Several eagle cries rang through the sky.

Hearing such piercing cries, many wizards couldn't help looking up at the eagle soaring overhead.

Young Wizard A: "What's that? An owl?"

Young Wizard B: "Are you stupid? That's an eagle."

Young Wizard A: "That's so cool! I want one too!"

Young Wizard B: "Then keep dreaming."

Young Wizard A: "..."

Young Wizard B: "I've seen that eagle before. It costs eighty Galleons."

Young Wizard A: "That expensive? Which filthy rich bastard bought it?"

Young Wizard A: "Let's find him and become friends with him!"

Young Wizard B: "Okay..."

Harry listened to the two children's conversation. It had been fine at first, but the longer he listened, the more speechless he became.

Still, when he saw the envious and astonished looks on the faces of wizards who recognized the eagle, his pride had already gone through the roof.

I spent all that money precisely for this effect!

Once he was sure the eagle wouldn't abandon its owner and fly away, Harry stopped worrying about it.

He followed Hagrid into a wand shop. There was only one wand shop in Diagon Alley. Throughout the wizarding world, this wand shop was incredibly famous. Who knew how many famous figures in history had used wands made here!

The shop itself was utterly ordinary—run-down and tiny.

But the words on the old, dirty wooden sign hanging above the entrance revealed the shop's glory.

It read:

Ollivander: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.

Harry didn't know how much glory that represented, but he rarely felt such reverence.

Then he couldn't help complaining, "What is with this? Don't wizards care about presentation? Look at the shabby, dark Leaky Cauldron, the messy bookstore, the potion shop, and now this tiny, decrepit wand shop."

His heart was tired. He felt like he would never love again!

A wand shop over two thousand years old! Was there anything more badass than that? If it were his shop, he would rebuild it in solid gold at once, then run ads throughout the magical world: "Ollivanders Wand Shop—not a century-old brand, not a five-hundred-year-old brand, but a two-thousand-three-hundred-year-old brand! Worthy of your trust, worthy of your choice, worthy of your ownership. Everyone says it's good after using it..."

That ad copy would be unbeatable!

Perhaps mortals simply couldn't understand the world of gods, even if he was the chosen one!

The moment he entered the shop, a serene, mysterious atmosphere washed over him.

An old man suddenly emerged from behind a rack of wands. His cloudy eyes stared at Harry as he said softly, "Welcome, Potter. Your eyes are just like your mother's—so bright. It feels like only yesterday that she came here to buy her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, willow."

Now that was professional work!

Mr. Ollivander ran a finger over Harry's forehead. "I'm truly sorry. That was done by a wand I sold."

"It's all right," Harry said politely.

"Then let's see which wand will choose you today. Which hand do you use?"

"My right."

"Raise your arm. Good." He began taking Harry's measurements: from shoulder to fingertip, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and finally around his head.

As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivanders wand contains powerful magical substances. That is the essence of them, Mr. Potter. We use Unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon nerve. Every Ollivanders wand is unique, because no two Unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are exactly alike. Of course, if you use a wand that was meant for another wizard, you will never achieve such good results."

Mr. Ollivander pulled a box from the shelf. "Give it a try."

Harry had barely opened it and taken the wand in hand when Mr. Ollivander snatched it away. "Doesn't seem suitable."

Then he switched to another wand.

"Wait," Harry said.

Mr. Ollivander asked in confusion, "What is it?"

I don't want to stupidly spend half the day trying wands like in the original story.

"I'd like to try a wand made with a feather from the same phoenix as Voldemort's wand," Harry said seriously.

Both Mr. Ollivander and Hagrid were stunned.

As Mr. Ollivander searched, he said, "I remember. Holly wood, phoenix feather, eleven inches long."

Harry gripped the wand, and suddenly a beam of light shot from its tip, illuminating the dim little shop.

"Oh, yes, that's it. Is it fate, after all?" Mr. Ollivander wrapped the wand in its box.

Harry paid no attention to the old man. What a lunatic!

Then the two of them walked out of the shop.

"Hagrid, I don't want to go back and live at Aunt Petunia's house. I can stay at the Leaky Cauldron," Harry said.

"I think that family is absolutely dreadful too. I don't want you going back there either. I thought you might not be used to wizards, but since you're willing, then stay at the Leaky Cauldron. Over the next month or so, I can use Floo Powder to come visit you."

"Then it's happily decided." This place was so interesting. Only an idiot would go back.

Amid the crowd, Harry suddenly heard a faint voice: "...Hermione... bookstore..."

Harry immediately turned around, but only vaguely saw a brown-haired girl slip into the crowd and disappear.

"Was that her? One of the Crystal Palace members."

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"Ah, nothing. Let's go eat."

The two of them had lunch together. Hagrid booked Harry a guest room at the Leaky Cauldron. As for the money, one only had to see how excited Old Tom was upon hearing that Harry would be staying at his pub to understand.

Harry watched Hagrid ride away on his motorcycle, but he did not immediately return to the pub. Instead, he spent the afternoon exploring the Muggle world of London and bought a few things.

When the sky had grown a little dark, Harry returned to the Leaky Cauldron.

As he went upstairs, the wooden stairs creaked beneath his feet. The second floor held the guest rooms. The corridor was quite wide, with rooms on both sides—about ten in total.

Harry entered his room. Everything was made of wood: the floor was pieced together from wide yellow planks, and there was a wooden cabinet, wooden bed, and wooden walls. The room was not tall, so the bed was low as well, but Harry was quite satisfied.

The moment he took out a small fish he had bought, Little White Cat climbed up from the bed. It sniffed the fish, then opened its mouth excitedly with a "meow" and began eating.

As for the eagle, who knew where it had flown off to.

He moved the things he had bought from the bed to the floor beside it, threw himself onto the blankets, closed his eyes, and hummed comfortably. "Today was such an interesting day."

(Kuang Kuang: That was supposed to be my line.)

He slowly fell asleep, while only the kitten continued munching away.

Outside the window, the moon rose, bright and clear.

Luo Bei: Do you like this kitten and the eagle?