Everyone Was Actually Half-Blood

Everyone Was Actually Half-Blood

Twenty minutes later, Hermione finally found out what Silvan had meant by transportation.

She had never dreamed that the first-years would have to take boats to school. At the same time, she saw the magnificent castle towering at the far end of the lake.

Its windows shimmered beneath the starry sky, mysterious and beautiful.

Most of the other first-years were captivated by the sight as well, standing there in a daze.

"Come on, first-years! If you want to sit in a warm castle and enjoy a hearty dinner, get on the boats!"

"But be careful—no more than four people to a boat!"

"Harry, come over here. The rest of you, follow behind." Hagrid guided the first-years in an orderly fashion.

"Hey, I know you."

Silvan looked up at the boy speaking across from him.

He had platinum-blond hair, a pale face, and an arrogant, somewhat mean-looking expression.

He seemed to be sulking over an argument with someone, as though he had come out worse for it. There was a bite to his voice.

"I remember you," he said again. "You were at the wand shop, right?"

"Yes." Silvan glanced at the two other boys beside him. They were broad and stocky, like two wooden stumps.

"Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle." The boy said, "I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. I suppose you're one of our kind too..."

Silvan raised an eyebrow. "If you mean pure-blood, then yes."

"Then you must know who I am, right?" Malfoy continued. "Or are you as stupid and ignorant as certain people?"

His voice suddenly grew much louder, as if he were deliberately speaking for someone else to hear.

Silvan guessed he meant the boat beside theirs—more specifically, Harry Potter, the boy seated on the left with the scar on his forehead.

Still, was he so angry that he had gone stupid, showing off his family's prestige here?

"Allow me to introduce myself. Silvan Ollivander." Silvan looked at the faintly smug Malfoy and could not help smiling. "In fact, when the first Malfoy rose to prominence, the Ollivander Family had already existed on this land for eighteen hundred years. Do you understand what I mean?"

The boat instantly fell silent.

Then a burst of unmistakable, undisguised snickering came from the boat next to them.

Malfoy's pale face immediately turned bright red.

His face had not turned this red even when Harry Potter humiliated him on the train. He had not expected to be "humiliated" here, but upon thinking it over, there was not a single thing wrong with what Silvan had said.

Silvan wanted to laugh too, but he held it in.

All he could say was that Malfoy had brought this upon himself.

In terms of gold, the Ollivander Family might rank near the bottom among all pure-blood families.

But when it came to heritage and family history, sorry, not a single pure-blood family in all of Britain could compare—not Hogwarts, not even Merlin.

Hogwarts had been founded a thousand years ago, in the tenth century.

The legends of Merlin and King Arthur dated back to the sixth century.

But Ollivander... it said so right on the sign: 382 BC, more than nine hundred years before Merlin.

Silvan looked at Malfoy's flushed face and spread his hands. "Tsk. You saw me at the wand shop. Why make things difficult for yourself...?"

Perhaps it was an illusion, but the air around them seemed to grow a little warmer.

Still, Silvan had not intended to embarrass Malfoy too badly. He took the initiative and held out his hand.

"Let me introduce myself properly. Silvan Ollivander. And I do know you... hawthorn wood, unicorn hair, ten inches, right?"

Silvan's offered way out came at just the right time. The color in Malfoy's face visibly returned to normal.

He dearly wanted to slap that hand away, but after only a moment's hesitation, he abandoned the thought and reached out as well.

"Draco Malfoy."

"You already said that once."

"You'll definitely be sorted into Slytherin," Malfoy immediately changed the subject.

"Perhaps." Silvan said.

As he had said, did Malfoy even understand the weight of 382 BC?

The Ollivanders simply had never cared about anything beyond wands. Otherwise, if they really wanted to argue over so-called pure blood, even Salazar Slytherin himself would have had to stand behind them.

But that sort of thing was meaningless. Go back a few more generations, and everyone was half-blood.

After the two made peace, though, the people in the neighboring boat were much more disappointed.

"I thought Malfoy was going to get taught a lesson." Ron sighed, but quickly broke into a grin. "Still, this is good too. Did you see that? Malfoy's face was redder than the train."

"Yeah, I saw it." Harry Potter nodded.

"Wait." Hermione, who was seated across from them, suddenly spoke. "Did that Ollivander Family really have eighteen hundred years of history?"

"M-maybe." Ron scratched his head.

To be honest, he was not sure either.

He only knew that the Ollivander name was famous. Every wand his family used had been made by Ollivander, including his grandfather's and his great-grandfather's.

As for exactly how many years the Ollivanders had existed?

Who would go out of their way to learn about that?

The four people in the boat fell silent together... no one knew what the others were thinking. Meanwhile, Silvan and Malfoy were getting along fairly well.

In that short span of time, Malfoy had already asked three times whether Silvan could really turn a wand silver and green.

In response, Silvan, who had "accidentally" let it slip, merely shrugged. He said he was still researching it, the technique was not mature yet, and Malfoy would have to wait patiently.

"I'll pay extra! No matter how many Galleons it takes!" Malfoy thumped his chest loudly.

Silver with green patterns—the same colors as the Slytherin emblem. He had to have it. A Slytherin who did not want it was no Slytherin!

The boat passed the center of the lake, and bright moonlight illuminated the blush on Malfoy's face. This time, though, it was from excitement.

Silvan looked at the thirty-Galleon deposit in his hand, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly.

Sure enough, his earlier idea would work. Coming to Hogwarts had been the right choice—this money was so easy to scam... earn.

Amid this strange atmosphere, the boats finally reached the opposite shore.

Hagrid walked at the front, climbed the stone steps, raised a massive fist, and knocked on the castle doors three times.

The doors opened, and the stern-faced McGonagall appeared before them, ready to lead the first-years into the Great Hall.

Silvan was still at the back. As he entered the castle, Hagrid, who was about to leave, suddenly stopped.

"Were the things you said at the wand shop true?" he asked in a deliberately lowered voice. At the same time, he nervously glanced inside the castle, as though afraid McGonagall might overhear him.

But McGonagall had already entered the Great Hall, so naturally she could not hear him.

"What?"

"About... my umbrella..." Hagrid looked even more nervous, instinctively touching the pocket of his overcoat.

"Oh, of course they were true," Silvan said. "If you need it."

"I live near the Forbidden Forest." Hagrid seemed to let out a huge sigh of relief as he spoke quickly.