Haven't You Asked the Teacher in the Office?

At seven that evening, He Shenyan was in his office grading the students' new assignments.

He was fairly satisfied with this batch. He had covered most of the basic theory of meditation, and the assignments most of them had submitted showed good results.

It seemed he could begin guiding them through their first meditation. Lost in thought, he listened to the logs crackling in the fireplace beside him.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in."

A red-haired boy poked his head around the door. He looked extremely nervous.

He Shenyan stood and gestured for the boy to enter. He recognized him as Ron Weasley, one of the new students. The boy had some talent, but he was far too inattentive in class.

Ron grew increasingly terrified at his expressionless face, thinking he had interrupted some important work. He was just about to make an excuse and leave when He Shenyan pressed him down into a soft chair before the desk.

"Mr. Weasley, what can I do for you?"

He sat back down, his black eyes fixed on Ron.

Ron swallowed and nervously began, "Um, Professor, I just... No, I'm very sorry if I disturbed you, but could I ask you some questions?"

He Shenyan raised an eyebrow, and that ambiguous expression made Ron break out in a cold sweat.

He simply could not act normally around this professor. He always felt an inexplicable sense of awe.

But He Shenyan suddenly smiled. "Very good. You're the second student this term brave enough to come to me with questions. Go on, Mr. Weasley. What would you like to ask?"

Ron was no less nervous. "It's like this, Professor. In that class four days ago, I zoned out. I didn't hear any of the basics of using mental power, and I can't understand anyone else's notes either."

He kept his eyes down, afraid to look at He Shenyan's face, terrified he would see disappointment there. But all he heard was a calm voice. "Write down every word I say next, Mr. Weasley."

"Do you remember the essence of spellcasting?"

"Using willpower to influence Reality?"

"Correct. But how do you influence it? If human will could truly alter the powerful laws of Reality so easily, then the world would not be as we see it. That depends on mental power. Once you succeed in meditating for the first time, you'll be able to wield Magic Power comfortably. And what you need to wield Magic Power is mental power."

The warm flames in the fireplace crackled. The red-haired boy, still too afraid to raise his head, bent over the professor's desk and scribbled furiously while his professor explained a lesson he had taught long ago.

Without the slightest trace of impatience.

"So this is where you've always bought wands?"

He Shenyan looked curiously at the shabby little shop before him.

The shop was tiny and run-down. The gilded lettering on its sign had peeled away, but it still read: "Ollivander: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."

In the display window, a single wand lay on a faded purple cushion, looking pitifully shabby.

The shop itself was also very small. Aside from a bench in the corner, there was nothing else. Thousands upon thousands of long, narrow wand boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling, and a thin layer of dust covered everything.

Dumbledore led him inside with a smile and greeted a silver-haired, silver-eyed old man who looked slightly mad. "Ollivander!"

The old man looked up from the broken wand before him. A delighted smile appeared on his face as he rubbed his hands repeatedly on his clothes before shaking Dumbledore's hand. "Ah, hello! Mr. Dumbledore, have you brought this gentleman here to buy a wand?"

"No." He Shenyan shook his head.

He said bluntly, "Actually, I'm here to try making a wand."

The warm smile on Ollivander's face turned awkward. He looked to Dumbledore, but Dumbledore merely gestured calmly for him to keep listening. The old man had no choice but to comply.

He Shenyan waved at a box on the nearest shelf. The dust-covered box opened on its own, and a plain black wand flew out.

He examined it in his hand. "Ebony, nine and a half inches, Dragon Heart sinew. Am I right?"

He suddenly sighed and actually apologized. "I'm sorry for my rude tone just now. I simply can't bear to see these materials wasted like this. They could have taken on far grander, more exceptional forms."

"Like this."

Light suddenly flared in his hand. Ollivander watched in shock as the wand he had personally made softened and deformed in an instant, its Dragon Heart sinew extracted without the slightest damage.

The tough sinew he had soaked in his family's secret potion was scorched by flames summoned from nowhere by the young man, and it actually began to shine with a silver glow.

He then summoned green flames. That brief glimpse made Ollivander's heart tremble with fear. The green fire vanished in the blink of an eye, and the Dragon Heart sinew lost all its radiance, floating in the air like the materials Ollivander had failed to process—utterly lifeless.

He Shenyan twitched his fingers, and a green magic circle appeared from thin air. It imprinted itself on the ebony, becoming mysterious and beautiful patterns. Then, within white light, it was reshaped, defying the conservation of matter as it became a cane.

The Dragon Heart sinew became a streak of light and flew into the cane. Its head twisted, transforming into the head of a dragon with closed eyes.

That was not all. He even formed a sharp carving knife from Magic Power around his fingers and began carving the dragon's eyes bit by bit, with meticulous precision.

What was more, Ollivander discovered that as he worked, the wooden dragon head actually opened its eyes, allowing him to carve two tiny magic circles into each pupil, both shimmering with powerful magical radiance.

The old man had no idea what he was doing, but he was utterly shaken.

He Shenyan handed him the cane. "Try my work. Thirty-one and a quarter inches, same materials, but with some special enchantments and a few minor alterations."

Ollivander was speechless by then. Trembling, he accepted the cane with both hands. It felt warm and smooth at first, then began to radiate scorching heat. When he grasped the dragon head, he could actually feel the cane trembling faintly, as though it were breathing.

The old man who had made wands his entire life cast everything else aside. He could not help but smile. Magic Power flowed from his hand into the cane, and the spellcasting experience was even smoother than with his own wand. In that instant, he seemed to have returned to his youth. He shouted, "Lumos!"

That day, the sky above Diagon Alley remained lit for half the night.