Golden Legend

Golden Legend

"Hannah Abbott?"

Diagon Alley was even livelier at the end of July. Silvan, helping out in the shop, poked his head out and studied the little girl with two golden braids standing before the counter.

"I'm sorry, have we... met before?" Eleven-year-old Hannah instinctively looked up, trying hard to identify the young wizard who looked about her age.

He was a very handsome boy. His fair face still carried a little baby fat unique to his age. His black hair was slightly curly and messily draped over his forehead, as though he had just finished an intense Quidditch match.

Without a doubt, among all the children Hannah had met, this young shop assistant was the best-looking.

But she did not know him, nor did she have the slightest impression of him.

"We didn't know each other before, but we might become classmates afterward. I'm a new Hogwarts student this year too," Silvan said.

"As for why I know you..." He picked up a kraft-paper booklet from beside him and quickly flipped through several pages.

"Oh, found it. Abbott's appointment yesterday—coming to the shop at ten o'clock to pick out a new wand for his daughter. Am I right?"

"Yes." A tall, broad wizard stepped forward, facing Silvan with a slight frown.

"But I remember the owner here being Ollivander..."

"Ollivanders Wand Shop. My grandfather certainly hasn't sold the shop," Silvan said half-jokingly.

Hearing Silvan's words, the man nodded and let out a sigh of relief.

They had come to buy a wand for their daughter, who was about to attend Hogwarts. Yet when they entered the familiar wand shop, they found an unfamiliar wizard inside.

For a moment, the man had even suspected that the shop had been sold.

It was not that he was making a fuss. In his memory, Ollivander had never hired a single shop assistant. Whether making wands or selling them, he did everything personally.

It had been that way since the man was in school, and it had remained unchanged for decades.

But...

He recalled how that young wizard had referred to Ollivander just now.

"Did you say grandfather?" Curiosity appeared on the man's face.

"Silvan Ollivander." Silvan held out his hand.

"Ah... pleased to meet you."

The man did not find it strange despite Silvan's age and solemnly extended his hand as well.

"Judging by your age, Garrick should be your grandfather. Strange, how have I never seen you before?"

"Probably because few people visit a wand shop more than once." Silvan shrugged.

"Ah, that's true." The man suddenly understood.

Indeed, wand shops were different from other stores. He had not come here in more than a decade, and he was only here today because his daughter was going to Hogwarts this year and needed a wand of her own.

Bang!

At that moment, a fluffy, disheveled head suddenly popped out from behind the shelves in the back, nearly crashing into another shelf.

"Mr. Ollivander?" the man asked tentatively.

"Customer..." Ollivander looked up. "My deepest apologies. Please wait a moment; I'll be right there."

Holding a dusty old box, he hurried toward the counter while muttering under his breath.

"Found it. I knew I couldn't have remembered wrong. After all, it's only been ten years..."

"What did you say?" Silvan had not heard clearly, so he asked. At the same time, he looked at the opened box in Ollivander's hand. "Is that what you've been looking for for the past two days?"

[Holly, phoenix tail feather, eleven inches]

[Condition: Perfect]

[Traits: Courage of Justice: Dark magic -10%, Light magic +10%

Disarming: Disarming Charm +20%

Twins: Two entirely different wands were born from the same core. When they meet, they will produce some kind of wondrous change.]

Silvan could not help raising an eyebrow.

It had to be said, this wand was truly extravagant. Even brand-new and unused, it already had three different traits, utterly surpassing ninety-nine percent of the wands in the shop.

If it had a color rating, this holly wand would at least be legendary gold. High-end stuff indeed.

Silvan felt a little envious, but he also knew that only one person could use this wand. No one else could.

Out of sight, out of mind. Silvan turned away and stopped looking at it.

Ollivander blinked. Though he found Silvan's reaction rather baffling, he did not pay it much mind and simply slipped quickly into work mode.

"Oh, hawthorn, eleven inches, dragon heartstring. That's right. It all feels like yesterday..."

It was a transaction both sides were happy with. Ten minutes later, little witch Hannah skipped out of the wand shop with her new wand.

Ollivander carefully recorded her name and wand details in a notebook. It was a habit he had developed over many years.

Silvan, meanwhile, set his gaze on that box.

"That's a wand too?"

"Yes." Ollivander looked up.

"Is there anything special about it?" Silvan asked in confusion. "Special enough to dig it out of the storeroom."

"Special... I suppose you could say that." After pondering for a moment, Ollivander nodded. "I have a feeling its owner will be here soon."

He looked mysteriously secretive, with a trace of eager excitement in his eyes.

Silvan was just about to ask another question when he was interrupted by a crisp ringing sound.

It came from the bell hanging behind the door. Someone had entered.

"No, Ron. We don't have the money to buy you a new wand. I think Charlie's wand is perfectly fine."

"Fine?" A boy's voice rose sharply as he stretched out his hand excitedly. "Look, the unicorn hair is practically sticking out..."

A noisy family entered the shop. At the front was a plump witch, followed by a tall, thin red-haired man and six children.

With so many children, all of them red-haired, Silvan immediately identified them.

The Weasley family. Only they could not afford to buy a brand-new wand.

But with so many people entering at once, the already small shop was instantly packed tight.

"We seem to have a few too many people." The man who had come in with them looked around. "Fred, George, could I trouble you to go to the secondhand bookshop first and find Ron a set of first-year textbooks?"

"With pleasure, Dad." Identical voices came from two identical-looking twins.

They exchanged a glance, grinned slyly, and ran out.

As for whether they would honestly go to the secondhand shop, Silvan figured they probably would not.

The famous Weasley twins—how could they possibly obediently do something proper?

"Dad, I want to go somewhere else too," said another boy wearing horn-rimmed glasses.

"No problem, dear. Go on." The witch at the front turned around. "It'll give you time to think about what gift you want."

"I want a gift too..." the youngest boy muttered.

"If you become a prefect too, Ron, I'll buy you a gift as well."

As they spoke, the group had already reached the counter.

"Good morning." Ollivander gave them a standard professional smile.

"How wonderful to see you again, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley. Which meeting is this for us?"

"If I remember correctly, this is the sixth time." Mr. Weasley stepped forward. "And every time, you can accurately name Molly's and my wand materials. You haven't been wrong once so far."

Silvan noticed that his grandfather's mouth had just opened, only to close again, as though he had forcibly swallowed back something he wanted to say.