Pure-Blood Descendant!

Silver light intertwined for a moment.

Finally, it slowly returned to the wand.

Only a faint silver glow remained, shimmering as it gradually dissipated.

"I never imagined it would truly wait for its master. Merlin above, I am clearly witnessing the beginning of history; you will undoubtedly achieve glorious feats destined to be recorded in the annals of time." Ollivander's cloudy eyes stared fixedly at Ian, his hunched frame appearing even more bent than before.

It was as if he were bowing slightly.

"Is this the Elder Wand?"

Ian looked down at the wand, which felt as though it were perfectly in tune with his own heart. He didn't know if this was a characteristic of the Elder Wand, but he felt his magic was exceptionally active and surging.

"Elder is the rarest wand wood, more difficult to master than any other. Few would choose to craft a wand from it, for it will only choose a master with a unique destiny."

"Every owner of an Elder wand is destined to be a figure of global attention in the torrent of history... therefore, you will certainly become an incomparable personage in the future."

Ollivander looked extremely happy.

Perhaps.

It was the compatibility between Ian and this wand that proved his attempt years ago had not been a failure; this was a wand that could be used normally and was perfectly suited to a wizard.

"Thank you for your blessing. I also hope to achieve something great when I grow up."

Ian was very satisfied with his wand.

He couldn't put it down.

"This is no blessing, Mr. Prince; this is the destiny revealed by the wand. When I sought to prove myself back then, I even chose unicorn tail hair for the core of this wand."

"Such a combination is inherently contrary to common sense and completely against the rules of wandmaking." Ollivander was very old, yet the look in his eyes as he watched Ian was incredibly fervent.

It was filled with a... vitality that perhaps only a young person might possess?

A puzzled Ian found it truly difficult to describe Ollivander's state at this moment.

"Hm?"

Ian tilted his head.

Ollivander, however, was smiling very happily.

"You may not understand it now, but the characteristics this wand possesses will guide you toward the future it has indicated..." In the practice of being a riddle-maker, Ollivander was perhaps even far superior to Dumbledore.

"I do not have the ability to reveal the elusive future to you, but you will certainly overturn and change many things." Ollivander's gaze returned to the wand in Ian's hand.

"Uh, the thing I most want to overturn right now is the high price of wands. Considering it's been gathering dust for so long, sir, could you give me a little discount?"

Ian blinked his eyes and began to haggle in a childlike voice.

He had assumed that with all of Ollivander's praise and exclamations, combined with his own practiced bargaining skills, he would surely be able to get a fair price.

However.

"Seven Galleons. That is the regulation."

A businessman is a businessman.

When it came to price, Ollivander's previous humble attitude vanished without a trace.

"Can you take off just one Galleon?"

"If I really do become a great person in the future, I will definitely appoint you as the President of the Hogwarts Wand Protection Association, allowing you to levy an annual wand-use tax on all students at Hogwarts."

With the most innocent and naive face, Ian painted the most shameless picture of a grand future.

"..."

Even the well-traveled Ollivander was left speechless.

"Seven Galleons. This is a regulation of the Ministry of Magic."

Ollivander helplessly rejected Ian's capitalistic pie-in-the-sky.

"The Ministry of Magic has such a regulation?"

Ian felt that Ollivander was definitely trying to swindle him.

Just like that so-called guidance of destiny.

He couldn't even bear to part with a single Galleon.

And you say I will become an incomparable personage?

"Yes, that is correct. In fact, this is already a discounted price for young wizards. If you wanted to purchase a second wand, even if Dumbledore himself came, he would have to pay me twenty Galleons."

Ollivander fully demonstrated what it meant to value money over people.

"Then what if Dumbledore promised you that you could levy a wand-use tax every year?" Ian asked curiously, his mind wandering down a novel path.

"Well, now..."

Unexpectedly.

Ollivander actually seemed to consider it with a hint of temptation.

Fine!

Understood!

As expected, one's words carry no weight when one is insignificant!

All that talk about destiny is just a load of horse-shit!

Ian curled his lip in silent complaint and began to honestly fish out the money. Snape had only given him seven Galleons in total, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep even a single Knut.

"I wish you a pleasant education."

After receiving the money, a smile returned to Ollivander's face. He bowed slightly, watching as Ian left his little shop.

Cling-clang~

Just as Ian opened the door to step out, a little girl and her guardian were just about to push their way in.

"Move aside, boy."

The old woman, possessing an aged face and a touch of aristocratic air, wore a tilted hat with a thin veil draped over her features. She stood outside and issued her command to Ian with a condescending tone.

Not wanting to invite trouble, Ian hurriedly stepped to the side.

However, he also took the opportunity to let go of the door handle.

The old woman had no choice but to push the door open herself, leading the little girl with white-blonde hair inside. She didn't even spare a single glance at Ian, who was standing to the side.

The little girl, on the other hand, stared at Ian for a long time. Whether she was dissatisfied with Ian's little maneuver or not, it was impossible to discern any of her inner thoughts from her expression alone.

She has the same dead-fish face as Professor Snape; this mother and daughter would be a perfect match for the old bat, Ian grumbled inwardly, his gaze lingering on the little girl's delicate face for only a moment.

A high bridge of the nose.

Defined cheekbones.

And lips that were slightly thin and perfectly symmetrical.

Even among the Germanic people, who were known for their many handsome men and beautiful women, this little girl's appearance was absolutely outstanding. Yet, that was not what caught Ian's attention.

He noticed the little girl's eyes; they were of two distinct colors—one blue, one white. It was a case of heterochromia, even rarer than her exquisite beauty.

A pure-blood aristocrat, then...

Ian didn't linger to look any further.

After the two of them entered, he merely cast a curious glance before stepping forward to pull the door open and walk out.

As the door swung shut behind him, the voices from inside remained perfectly audible.

"Madam Rosier, it has been a long time. I never expected you to come to London."

"And you've brought a young witch with you... let me see, good heavens... Merlin preserve us, she is... yes, yes, I must not bring any unnecessary trouble upon you."

"I truly never imagined... that this family still had descendants, and that she has inherited such extraordinary and remarkable talent. I believe she is destined for a truly glorious future."

The tone and the voice were both all too familiar.

Good grief!

He praises everyone he meets!

Is everyone who walks through that door "extraordinary" and "glorious"?

The Seria of the wizarding world—this is officially confirmed!