Chapter Twenty-Four: A Top Student Was No Joke / Chapter Twenty-Five: A Wand Could Be Shared

That's right, they were talking about the Weasley family.

Because there were so many children in the Weasley family, the younger ones often had to use secondhand things. As a result, their textbooks were always kept in excellent condition, and Scamander had managed to get his hands on two sets.

According to Scamander, Bill Weasley and Charlie Weasley weren't exactly top-of-the-class geniuses, but they were certainly excellent students.

As for the other textbooks, they probably only needed to buy the ones for Defense Against the Dark Arts Class... There was no helping it. The textbooks for that class depended on the teacher, and if the professor didn't last long, the books changed often too.

Oh, right. There was another set of elective textbooks that changed often: the frequently revised Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. But Harry and Hermione could get their hands on a brand-new edition signed by the original author in no time~

Once they had the textbooks sorted out, Harry had no intention of buying the other four pieces of experimental equipment: cauldrons, potion bottles, telescopes, and scales.

As someone who'd studied in a specialized medical field, Harry really couldn't bring himself to take the precision and quality of the Wizarding World's experimental equipment seriously.

Take Pewter Cauldrons, for example. Scamander had explained to Harry why first-year students had to buy this worst-performing cauldron, no matter how rich they were.

Pewter Cauldrons were the slowest at brewing Potions. First-year students had little experience, and the low precision of their equipment left them very little room for error when preparing Potions... So the slow brewing time at least gave them a chance to run farther away before an experiment went wrong and exploded.

Then there was the fact that they were cheap. You wouldn't feel bad if one blew up~

In any case, Scamander had been very serious when explaining the issue of cauldrons. He'd even specifically told Harry that he knew of quite a few wizards who'd managed to blow themselves up during Potions experiments...

For fuck's sake~

In short, Scamander meant that the weights and measures produced by the Wizarding World might not be very precise. If wizards wanted to accurately determine the quantities and proportions of different potions, there was only one way: practice until they got it right...

But wasn't that just the sort of thing someone said when they weren't the one taking the risk?!

What if something went wrong before he got the hang of it, and blew him and Hermione to bits?

He'd wanted to drag Hermione into dropping out with him, sure, but he couldn't have them dropping out because they'd been maimed!

Pewter Cauldrons could go play by themselves. He'd just get a multipurpose Graphite Cauldron later: stable, durable, and safe.

Same went for the telescopes. If you had an eight-power scope, who would use an old-fashioned one? You might as well keep it as an antique.

As for the crystal potion bottles, once they'd confirmed the specifications, they could have Mr. and Mrs. Granger contact the Precision Chemical Instrument Factory and have them custom-made.

And finally, the brass scales... Come on, what era was this? A balance scale wasn't sensitive enough at all, was it?

Apparently, Hogwarts blocked electronic signals, so an ultra-precision electronic balance might not work. But surely he could get a high-precision Mechanical Analytical Balance~

In short, Harry waved a hand and crossed all four pieces of experimental equipment off the shopping list.

Now he was even more certain that Scamander might really be a transmigrator. After all, so many of his ideas were so... in sync with Harry's. Ahem! They were of like mind~

And so Harry and Hermione spent the whole time wandering around and griping. In the end, aside from an orange Persian cat with a broad, flat face that Hermione bought—Crookshanks—they didn't buy anything at all.

Eventually, Hermione could only return to the matter at hand, though her interest had waned. They had to buy things they couldn't get in the real world, such as wands.

The two of them arrived at Ollivander's, an old wand shop named after the family that owned it. According to the sign outside, the shop had been "making fine wands" since 382 BC.

Goodness, that was really ancient—back in the Warring States period of my Great Celestial Empire~

"Wow! They have so many wands here?!" Ollivander's wand shop looked shabby and plain from the outside, but it held a whole world within. The moment they stepped inside, Hermione's jaw dropped at the sight.

Shelves that nearly reached the ceiling filled the room, and they were packed with rectangular boxes. If every one of those boxes held a wand, there must have been thousands of them!

"This place..." Looking around at the dimly lit room, Harry frowned without realizing it.

It was much like Gringotts earlier. He could hear voices here too, only they weren't as uniform as the ones in Gringotts. They were complex and varied, yet each one was crystal clear!

Gradually, Harry realized that the voices he heard seemed to be coming from the wands.

"Good afternoon... Oh, it's you. I knew it. I knew I'd see you soon, Harry Potter."

Just as Harry focused on trying to make out the voices, a white-haired old man appeared in front of him and Hermione.

The old gentleman was none other than Ollivander, the wand shop's owner. His voice was soft and his body trembled slightly, as if he were very moved.

"Your eyes are just like your mother's... Lily. It seems like only yesterday that she came here and bought her first wand..."

"Sir, please allow me to interrupt," Harry said, stopping Ollivander's reminiscences. "First of all, you just got my name wrong. My name is Harry Granger now. Also, it's getting late, and we'd like to find suitable wands as soon as possible."

This somewhat eccentric Mr. Ollivander seemed a little too fixated on Harry Potter, so Harry felt he ought to remind him...

Just sell the wands. Don't get carried away~

Chapter Twenty-Four: A Top Student Was No Joke

"Oh, right. I'll prepare wands for the two of you now."

Reminded by Harry, Ollivander came to his senses. He still had a proper business to attend to, after all, so he hurriedly picked up the measuring tape beside him.

"Ladies first, then. Miss..."

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said politely by way of introduction.

"Granger... Well then, Miss Granger, please raise your arms."

Hearing the same surname as Harry's current one, Ollivander paused briefly, but soon regained his focus and began measuring Hermione's arms.

At the same time, he started lecturing Harry and Hermione about all sorts of things related to wands.

Harry didn't pay much attention to Ollivander's words, because all that preamble was really meant to emphasize the final sentence.

"Always remember this: the wand chooses the wizard!"

Ollivander's expression was very solemn as he said this, and there was a hint of pride in it too.

After that, he began searching through the densely packed shelves, pulling out one wand after another for Hermione to try.

"Beech, Unicorn Tail Hair, seven inches long, you..."

"No, no! Try this one. Walnut Wood with a Phoenix Feather, eight and a half inches, quite springy..."

"Let's try this one! No, this one isn't quite right either..."

At last, after Ollivander took back yet another wand with a vine-wood shaft, a Dragon Heartstring core, and a length of ten and three-quarter inches, he looked distinctly hesitant.

"So... what exactly have I been doing this whole time?"

She'd tried so many wands, but every time she picked one up, someone snatched it away. Hermione had no idea what had been going on.

Besides, she'd actually liked the last wand she'd tried quite a lot, but Ollivander still didn't think it suited her.

Unlike Hermione, who was confused, Ollivander wore an expression of excitement that bordered on fanaticism.

"Miss Granger is a very discerning customer, but that's all right. I'm certain there's a perfect wand here, the ideal one for you!"

"Mr. Ollivander, if you don't mind, could I choose a wand for Hermione?" Harry suddenly asked. It seemed he'd had a realization.

He'd been listening to the different voices coming from the wands all along, and now he thought he'd finally figured out a little of what they meant.

"You want to choose one?" Ollivander's expression was noncommittal. "Mr. Potter, I think..."

"My surname is Granger!"

"All right, all right, Mr. Granger. Do you remember what I just said? It's the wand that chooses the wizard!" When it came to disagreements about wand lore, Ollivander was adamant. "It's a fact—yes, an indisputable fact! So there's no need to rush. I promise, on my family's name as a wandmaker, that I'll find Miss Granger the wand that suits her best!"

Well... Ollivander was certainly imposing, but Harry couldn't help thinking that "wandmaker"—or, put another way, "maker of wands"—sounded pretty lame~

"No, Mr. Ollivander, you've misunderstood me," Harry said, shaking his head. "I'm not questioning whether the wand or the wizard chooses the other. I just think... that your cautious deductions and tests aren't going to help you find the right wand for Hermione!"

"Mr. Granger... Are you questioning my expertise as a wandmaker?" Ollivander's face reddened with anger at Harry's doubts about his abilities. "You must understand, this shop has been here since 382 BC! My ancestors came to Britain with the Romans and began selling fine wands to the local wizards, who could only use wands made from inferior materials... And we've carried on ever since!"

"So, Mr. Granger, I'd like you to take back what you just said! My expertise is as ancient and reliable as my family history!!"

"Harry..." Hermione tugged worriedly at Harry's sleeve. Ollivander had clearly been angered by Harry's words, and she was genuinely afraid that the two of them might come to blows.

"Fine! Mr. Ollivander, if you insist on putting it that way, then I'll have to set you straight!"

Harry gently took Hermione's hand, though, signaling for her not to worry.

He was really eager to help Hermione find the wand he'd already picked out, and to test his theory while he was at it.

But the old man Ollivander just wouldn't let it go. Well, then, Harry couldn't be blamed for giving him a piece of his mind!

When a common man got angry, blood was spilled five paces away; when a top student got angry, his words blossomed like a lotus... Did Ollivander think this was a joke?!

Next up, a history lesson!!

"Mr. Ollivander, I don't know if you're familiar with the Celts—the people you called the native Britons who used inferior wands. In 385 BC—that is, three years before your shop opened—they sacked the entire city of Rome!"

Ollivander's mouth twitched. He instinctively felt that what Harry had brought up was unpleasant, but didn't know how to interrupt, since he'd never learned about this piece of "Muggle history."

"Also, from 500 BC onward, Rome and many of the countries around the Mediterranean were at a distinct disadvantage against the Celts! That situation continued until around 60 BC, when Caesar the Great appeared on the scene and things finally began to improve!"

"So... if your shop really was established in Britain in 382 BC, and your ancestors came to Britain with the Romans, then those ancestors of yours, whom you just described as having such an ancient and reliable history, might not have been merchants..."

Harry didn't say the rest. Ollivander was an old man, after all, and Harry had to leave him some dignity.

After all, if his ancestors hadn't been merchants, then whether they'd been prisoners of war, slaves, or refugees probably wouldn't sound very flattering to him~

Of course, Harry had no idea what the true history of the Ollivander family was. That didn't stop him from using it as an excuse to take the old man down a peg for his baffling self-confidence.

Honestly, just step aside and let me pick out a wand. What are you standing in the way for~

"Mr. Granger... I don't understand..." Ollivander's mouth trembled, and his body seemed to stoop. But his eyes remained fixed on Harry, clearly struggling to suppress his anger!

"Why are you telling me all this Muggle history? You must understand, this is deeply disrespectful to my ancestors..."

"Mr. Ollivander, I don't mean any disrespect to your ancestors!" Harry met Ollivander's gaze without flinching. "I just want to tell you that false history can be overturned, and blind confidence can too! If your confidence and expertise can't help you pick the right wand for Hermione, then why not let me try?!"

With that, Harry no longer paid attention to Ollivander, who stood stunned where he was. Instead, he led Hermione to a certain shelf and picked out the wand he'd had his eye on.

"Hermione, give it a wave and see~"

"Okay... What is this?" Hermione took the wand Harry handed her without thinking, but felt an inexplicable warmth at her fingertips.

She gave it a light wave. A flash of red light streaked through the air, and a large cloud of beautiful sparks burst from the tip of the wand.

For a moment, the whole shop was filled with sparkling fireworks!

Chapter Twenty-Five: A Wand Could Be Shared

"Is this... my wand?"

Hermione was overjoyed as she looked closely at the wand in her hand.

She'd thought the wand she'd tried earlier was already good, but she hadn't expected Harry to find one that suited her even better!

The wand bounced in her palm as if it were alive, joyfully leaping and dancing.

Seeing how happy Hermione was, Harry nodded with satisfaction too.

He'd guessed correctly. The voices he'd heard earlier really had been calls from the wands.

Each wand's call was different, and each seemed to contain a very particular meaning. At first, Harry hadn't known what those meanings were, but as Hermione tried one wand after another, he'd gradually begun to figure it out.

When Hermione held a wand, the sound of its core calling out changed.

Some fell silent, while others cheered and danced. And some, like the one in Hermione's hand, practically shouted!

It seemed that the wands were actively communicating with the magic inside Hermione, trying again and again to establish some kind of resonance with her.

Harry figured that this was probably what Ollivander meant when he said the wand chose the wizard.

As Harry heard it, the Dragon Heartstring wand she'd tried before had already resonated quite strongly with Hermione's magic.

The reason it ultimately hadn't chosen Hermione wasn't that it hadn't taken a liking to her. It was that another wand had called out far more strongly, forcibly interrupting the Dragon Heartstring wand's choice!

That's right—the very wand Hermione was holding now!

But when Hermione took the wand in her hand, Ollivander, standing nearby, was completely stunned!

"This... Holly, Phoenix Feather, eleven inches, and quite supple... It's certainly an extraordinary combination, but... this is impossible!"

He paced about the room in confusion, then abruptly stopped and studied Hermione's face closely, as if he wanted to know what made this Muggle-born girl different.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see anything special about Hermione.

"Remarkable... No, I should say, inconceivable!" Ollivander exclaimed, his face pale. "Miss Granger, why on earth would a wand like this choose you?"

"Is there something special about this wand?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss Granger. Every single one. I once used two tail feathers from the same Phoenix to make two wands, and one of them is in your hand right now."

Ollivander glanced at Harry before continuing, as if he needed to steel himself to say it. "And the other one, the twin of your wand... was the one that left that scar on Mr. Granger's forehead."