The Secret Behind the Wooden Wall

"Reparo!" Mr. Ollivander waved the wand he had retrieved from behind his ear.

As his words fell, Brian's gaze followed the unfortunate, bisected pieces of his glasses on the counter as they danced through the air.

Before long, the fragments re-adhered to the frame-the gaps between them gradually melting away until no trace remained.

Mr. Glasses was successfully resurrected in under seven seconds.

"Magic is fascinating," Brian exclaimed in admiration.

After seeing the Mending Charm in action with his own eyes, he looked forward even more to the moment he would fix his drum himself-

He bet he wouldn't be able to hold back his tears, and when that time came, he would be the first to grab his drumsticks and bang the drum until it made a booming sound.

He also realized something-wizards definitely wouldn't use shattered mirrors to describe a dead love.

Brian asked curiously, "Sir, what would you use to describe a dead love?"

"That depends on the circumstances. Even if an inch of love between people is left, it can be brought back from the dead through a small amount of Love Potion. A large amount of Love Potion can keep love forever youthful."

Mr. Ollivander placed the spotless glasses back onto the bridge of his nose,

"But the love between a person and a wand is entirely different. A wand never fails the wizard it chooses, remaining steadfast even if that wizard goes astray.

"What about your wand? Take it out-let me see whether you failed the wand, or the wand failed you."

"Sir, I've never owned a wand of my own yet," Brian said, shaking his head.

Ollivander's expression changed. He began to look at Brian with a gaze of pity, his voice raspy as he said:

"Ah... you're at this age... and yet... oh, you poor child... your parents... ah, don't be sad, don't worry, Ollivander's Wand Shop won't let you down. Let's take action immediately!"

Brian didn't know what kind of scenario Mr. Ollivander had imagined, but he suddenly seemed to have acquired an unfortunate childhood.

That wasn't the case at all.

His parents had disappeared before he could remember, and he had lived with his maternal grandfather since he was a little boy.

His grandfather treated him very well, taught him many principles, and had a sturdy constitution, living to a natural, illness-free old age until Brian was in college, leaving him a house and a large sum of savings.

"Don't you need to measure my arm first?" Brian asked Ollivander, who had already climbed to the top of the wooden ladder.

"My child, my eyes are a ruler. How many years do you think I've been selling wands? Trust the judgment of this old man."

Ollivander's eyes swept across countless boxes in a certain cubby before suddenly pulling one out.

"Try this one!"

The moment Brian took the box and opened it, Ollivander rushed over, snatched the box right out of his hand, and muttered:

"No, no, I really am getting old!"

"This must be it!" Ollivander pulled another box from the cabinet beside him.

This time, Brian successfully grasped the straight wand inside the box in the palm of his hand.

At first, nothing happened. A few seconds later, he watched the tip of the wand gradually bend downward-only becoming upright again after it was stuffed back into the box.

"You're so smart, why don't you just start talking?" Brian teased with the wand.

Mr. Ollivander, meanwhile, initiated a new round of indoor parkour.

"I've thought of it, I know-it should be this one!"

"No, no!"

"Right, it's him!"

"Right, no..."

"Right, is it?"

"No, completely wrong!"

Brian tried wand after wand, feeling in a daze the illusion that Mr. Ollivander was doing parkour while solving multiple-choice questions on a difficult exam paper.

Time ticked by second by second. Ollivander climbed down the wooden stairs for the forty-second time, panting heavily.

With great difficulty, he retrieved a box buried in the corner of a high storage cabinet, its surface covered in a layer of dust.

The wand inside the box was plain and unadorned. Brian could tell at a glance that something was wrong, and sure enough, three seconds later, he bestowed upon this wand the honorary title of "Smoky Number Eight."

"Wands are afraid of you, sir. Even the bravest wand here couldn't muster the courage to choose you."

Ollivander put that wand away, his silvery-white eyes gazing at Brian as he said mournfully,

"I'm terribly sorry, child. I'm afraid you won't be able to find a perfect love here with me."

Brian blinked and asked, "Well... what about an imperfect love?"

When the first few wands he tried completely refused to cooperate with him, Brian had felt a bit disheartened.

By the time the wands in the middle were smoking and fizzling recklessly, he had managed to maintain an ordinary state of mind.

The final result was also within his expectations, so his heart remained calm.

From a very young age, Brian had understood that imperfection was the norm in real life.

And he didn't mind enjoying a flawed life.

Seeing that Mr. Ollivander didn't react, Brian explained:

"Sir, what I mean is, any wand that doesn't completely despise me will do-it just needs to be willing to cooperate with me when I cast spells, and I swear I'll treat it well."

"I'm sorry, sir. That won't do... Not here. I cannot hand my child over to someone it doesn't love."

Ollivander stepped forward and gave Brian a strong hug,

"But I believe one thing, sir. There is always a wand that loves you waiting for you somewhere."

On the north side of Diagon Alley, in front of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, Brian stopped in his tracks.

Through the transparent glass, he failed to find any trace of Hagrid.

He had no choice but to push the door open and ask the green-eyed male clerk:

"Sir, have you seen a giant man over three meters tall with very lush facial hair?"

This green-eyed clerk looked very exhausted, but he still greeted Brian with a gentle smile.

"I suppose the giant you're talking about is Hagrid. That means you must be Mr. Brian."

"It's me, yes. Where did Hagrid go?"

"He's in Knockturn Alley buying Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent-'If Brian comes and I'm not back yet, please have him sit in the shop for a bit.'" The clerk imitated Hagrid's mannerisms to perfection.

"Haha, thank you very much, sir. Regarding flesh-eating slugs... what kind of meat do they like to eat?"

A soft, extremely salt-phobic creature that was easily pecked to death by birds floated across Brian's mind.

Could it be that in the Wizarding World, their roles were reversed, and slugs preyed on birds instead?

"They eat any meat, or rather, they're omnivores. But their favorite food isn't meat-it's cabbage. We have cabbage-flavored ice cream right here in the shop. Would you like to try some?"

"Of course, but definitely not cabbage flavor. Let me see..." Brian readily accepted a part of the clerk's suggestion.

It was currently daytime in winter, so the number of customers in the ice cream shop was predictably small.

Yet at this moment, there were still five customers sitting inside the ice cream shop, intently enjoying their treats-which meant the ice cream here really tasted quite good.

Brian looked at the wooden signboard listing the colorful flavors of ice cream, finding himself a bit spoiled for choice.

Aside from regular chocolate and vanilla flavors, there were special ones like Thundercloud, Dewdrop, Unicorn Tail Hair flavor...

Well over twenty lines, far too many... This shop was extremely unfriendly to people with decision-making difficulties, though thankfully he wasn't one.

Just as Brian was about to order a Thundercloud and fig double scoop, he suddenly saw a lonely line written in the corner of the sign: "Fortescue's Special Classic Wand Flavored Cone."

A thought instantly popped into Brian's mind-

If I can't buy a suitable wand, surely I can at least try wand-flavored ice cream?

"I'll take a Fortescue's Special Classic Wand Flavored Cone," Brian resolutely said to the clerk.

"What?" The clerk looked at him in confusion.

"Fortescue's Special Classic Wand Flavored Cone." Brian pointed to the corner of the sign. "Uh, no way, don't tell me the shop is out of ingredients. I'll be very sad."

"No... it's not that..." The clerk blinked, hesitating to speak.

Brian let out a breath: "Ah... that's great. I thought I truly was destined to have nothing to do with the word 'wand'."

The clerk couldn't help but say the second half of his sentence:

"Sir, I like your humor, but perhaps you could have something else?

"You see, there is no such option as Fortescue's Special Classic Wand Flavored Cone on the sign at all, or...

"Are you looking for a cone personally made by Mr. Fosco with a wand?"

"What? It's right there... uh, wait, let me think..." Brian found himself seemingly treated like a customer looking for trouble.

This deja vu scene made him pause in a daze.

He walked around to the side of the counter, pointed his finger precisely at the "Fortescue's Special Classic Wand Flavored Cone," and asked earnestly:

"Sir, from your perspective, is there nothing written here?"

"Yes, sir," the clerk said firmly.

Brian could tell from the clerk's gaze that he wasn't lying.

Yet he could indeed see this line of text right before his eyes. With no other choice, he touched left and right in wordless silence-nothing special, just like touching a smooth wooden board-and still full of doubt, he tried pressing down on it firmly.

Then, a strange thing happened.

Brian suddenly lost his weight entirely, lurching forward!

He opened his eyes wide in disbelief!

His fingers sank right into that line of text!

Without a single hint of warning, as natural as breathing!

The clerk leaned his head over, and after seeing the situation clearly, he was startled:

"Impressive! But breaking the shop's facilities still requires compensation for the corresponding losses."

At this moment, however, Brian could no longer hear a single word the clerk was saying.

There was an alluring suction force coming from the wooden sign, compelling him to shove his entire hand inside-he couldn't resist.

Brian didn't hesitate. His hand moved forward slowly-closer, closer, even closer-

When his palm was completely embedded in the wooden sign, the feedback from his fingertips told him there was a cool, stick-like object ahead... much like a... wand?

Brian didn't hesitate to reach out and grip it tightly!

An unprecedented wave of comfort swept over him like lightning.

Uncontrollably, Brian let out a groan of pleasure-at this instant, he felt as though he were soaking in a natural hot spring in the wild during winter, or as if countless tiny house-elves were synchronously massaging every single one of his cells.

Every pore all over his body was breathing in fresh air greedily, all of his bones had been thoroughly warmed by some strange force, and his blood cheered once more-just like that morning on the Quidditch Pitch.

There was no mistake; he had found it!

Brian was filled with joy, yet his movements were exceptionally careful.

He slowly withdrew his hand from the wooden sign, and in his hand, he was indeed gripping a wand radiating a glow of fireflies all over-

Just over thirteen inches, of unknown material, with excellent flexibility-a one-of-a-kind wand that belonged only to him!

"Thank you for choosing me," Brian looked at the wand in his hand, saying with tender affection, "I'm sure we'll become inseparable."

He had originally thought he would have to go through a lot of trouble to check if there were any other wand shops in Diagon Alley. Just now, he had walked all the way from the south side of Diagon Alley to the north without running into a second one.

At that moment, Brian heard the sound of wind chimes ringing behind him, signaling that the door had been opened, followed by heavy footsteps-the newcomer was definitely not small in stature, perhaps Hagrid?

Brian turned around, wanting to share his joy with Hagrid, only to find that the person who came in was an unfamiliar middle-aged man-

This man was a size larger than ordinary people, the flesh on his face slightly chubby, and oversized wizard robes looked somewhat restrictive on him. His footsteps came down heavily, and the moment he stepped through the door, his gaze locked firmly onto the wand in Brian's hand.

Finally, Brian met his eyes.

"Mr. Fosco, you've returned at just the right time." The clerk behind Brian breathed a sigh of relief.

Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour closed early today, the clerk got half a day of paid leave, and the customers got their treats free of charge.

There were currently only two people left in the shop.

Florean Fortescue sized up the young man before him, his heart pounding, but he still feigned calm as he said:

"You cannot take it away just yet, Mr. Brian."

Thanks to his extraordinary senses, Brian perceived that Mr. Fosco currently looked calm on the surface, but was actually extremely excited.

He guessed that there was most likely some secret behind the wand, related to the line of text only he could see—and that line of text featured Mr. Fosco.

The other party clearly knew something. Brian understood that he couldn't get into a conflict with Mr. Fosco, but he also absolutely could not give up this wand.

"I understand, sir. It is your property. But it has chosen me now. And I cannot give it up."

Brian stroked the wand in his hand affectionately and asked tentatively,

"Sir, if I'm not mistaken, you probably have no way of taking it out of the wooden wall yourself? Oh, it seems I guessed right."

Brian heard Mr. Fosco's heartbeat accelerate drastically while he asked the question. This proved he had guessed correctly.

Right from the start, he had noticed that Mr. Fosco's entire state was tense.

It was as if he found it hard to believe that someone could pull the wand out of the wall.

Yet if that was the case, the logic didn't hold up... unless... Brian formed a guess in his mind.

Brian continued:

"I won't take it away for nothing; I'm willing to pay a hefty price to buy it. The market price for a normal wand is about ten galleons.

"And I am willing to pay ten times that price for it. Sir, one hundred galleons, or even more." Brian didn't care about negotiation tactics; he needed to show his sincerity right now.

The galleons on his person were certainly not enough, but Gringotts supported exchanging British pounds for galleons-after all, he had a residence in Britain under his name and a large bank deposit.

That wasn't the point, however. The point was Fortescue's reaction.

The result of the probing didn't disappoint Brian. After falling silent for a moment, Fortescue looked much calmer overall.

"You are very perceptive, and very sincere, Mr. Brian. I don't want to lie to you. What you said is correct; I cannot retrieve this wand myself. But you've misunderstood me. I'm not trying to ask you for money."

Fortescue continued:

"I need you to do me a favor. A small favor, but only you can help me... Regardless of whether it succeeds or fails, after that, this wand will belong entirely to you."

"Please tell me about it," Brian said cautiously.

Honestly, he really wanted to readily agree right now, but what if Mr. Fosco asked him to go solo against the Ministry of Magic?

"Good, caution is right. I need to confirm something once more, too."

Fortescue stood up, walked over to the wooden sign,

"Please tell me what is written on it."

"Fortescue's Special Classic Wand Flavored Cone," Brian said word for word, extremely clearly.

The raised shoulders of Mr. Fosco finally dropped:

"Ah... completely correct. Mr. Brian, before making my request, I will tell you everything I know.

"Perhaps you've already guessed-the Fortescue in that line of text on the wooden sign is not me, but my father."

"When I was seven, he suddenly abandoned my mother and me. He left without warning and never came back, leaving only a diary behind.

"In his diary, he said he had hidden a wand inside this Wooden Sign and carved a line of text right where the wand was hidden—yes, even back then, this Wooden Sign was already the sign for Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

"My father also predicted in his diary that one day, someone would come to retrieve the wand and succeed in bringing an erased piece of history to light."

Mr. Fosco sighed and looked at Brian.

"I never believed any of it. I simply thought my father had gone mad, until today... you really did pull a wand out of the Wooden Sign."