Draco and Ollivander turned to look at the same time, their gazes landing on the doorway.
Two figures stood against the light, one young and one old, their temperaments utterly different yet somehow harmonious.
The girl wore Muggle clothes: a light gray, short-sleeved polo shirt with a small turned-down collar that lent it a refined, collegiate air, beneath a khaki knitted cardigan. Its soft fabric draped smoothly, hanging casually open.
Her sleeves were lightly rolled up to her forearms, outlining their slender shape. Below, she wore a dark blue pleated skirt, its hem flaring naturally and its folds neat and distinct, reaching just to her knees.
On her feet was a pair of white canvas shoes, classic and simple in style, their uppers spotless.
A dark blue backpack hung from her shoulders, its shape square and neat, its material sturdy and practical, and its color a perfect match for her pleated skirt.
Most striking was her hairstyle. Her thick, long, dark brown hair had been neatly tied into a high ponytail, falling smoothly behind her shoulders. Only a few wisps strayed casually across her brow, leaving her smooth forehead and the clear contours of her face fully exposed.
Though her outfit was completely different from the wizarding robes he remembered, Draco recognized her at a glance-it was none other than Hermione Granger.
She looked stunning dressed like this. Though she seemed somewhat unfamiliar, Draco still found himself staring, spellbound.
Hermione's face had soft, rounded lines without sharp angles. Her skin was fair and clear, glowing with a delicate, gentle luster beneath the shop's warm yellow oil lamps, like fine warm jade.
Her brows and eyes were delicate and graceful, her lashes long, the bridge of her nose straight and smoothly defined. Her lips were lightly pressed together, her expression serene.
She radiated a quiet, reserved air.
Had he never read the original and known nothing of the vivacity and sharpness within her, he might truly have been fooled by this calm, reserved appearance into thinking she was a gentle girl of few words.
The elderly woman beside Hermione, by contrast, was dressed entirely in wizarding attire.
Her clothing and appearance naturally left little need for guessing: she was Professor McGonagall.
The emerald-green wizarding robes were her signature attire, their fabric crisp and their lines orderly. The tightly fastened collar conveyed rigor, and she exuded a steady, imposing air.
Over her robes, she wore a dark cloak whose hem reached her ankles, lending her an added solemnity.
Her hair was immaculately combed and tightly pinned at the back of her head, without a strand out of place, perfectly complementing her exacting nature.
A pair of square glasses rested on the bridge of her nose. Behind the lenses, her eyes were sharp and bright, as though they could see into people's hearts. Even standing silently, she possessed an unquestionable authority that instinctively inspired awe.
Almost everyone at Hogwarts recognized that distinctive appearance.
Her presence here now presumably meant she had come specifically to accompany Hermione to Diagon Alley to buy the things she needed for school.
[Ding! Encountered Hermione and Professor McGonagall. Fortune Points increased by 20!]
Draco held the peachwood wand in his palm, his fingertips tightening slightly as complicated emotions surged within him.
He had never imagined that his first encounter with Hermione would take place like this, without the noisy clash of the original story, but instead with the quiet of an unexpected meeting.
She was still dressed in Muggle clothes, her eyes filled with bewilderment and curiosity about the magical world. She was a stark contrast to the brilliant, bold, sharp-edged witch she would become, yet all the more real and vivid for it.
Ollivander had clearly recognized Professor McGonagall as well. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes before he composed himself.
Then he slowly broke the silence, his tone more formal than before. "Professor McGonagall, what an honor. You're a rare visitor. I take it this young lady is one of this year's new Hogwarts students?"
Professor McGonagall gave a slight nod, her voice steady and gentle, with less of its usual sternness:
"Sorry for the intrusion, Mr. Ollivander. This is Hermione Granger, indeed one of this year's new students. I brought her here today specifically to choose a suitable wand."
At this, Hermione hastily drew her gaze back and looked at Ollivander, bowing slightly in a polite greeting. "Hello, Mr. Ollivander," she said in a clear voice.
After greeting him politely, her gaze happened to pass over the wand in Draco's hand. Curiosity flickered in her eyes, but she said nothing more, maintaining a proper reserve.
Something stirred in Draco's heart. He took the opportunity to put his peachwood wand safely away, then turned and strode toward Hermione.
His face was full of barely concealed enthusiasm and excitement as he reached out to greet her. "Miss Granger, this is Ollivander's Wand Shop, the most renowned in Diagon Alley. Might you need any help?"
His approach was far too rash and eager. Caught off guard, Hermione instinctively stepped half a pace back, alarm and bewilderment flashing in her eyes. "Er, who are you?"
Only upon hearing this did Draco abruptly realize he had overstepped.
He immediately composed himself, a polite, faint smile curving his lips as he explained calmly, "My apologies. I just finished choosing my own wand here. Seeing that you're a new student, I thought I'd lend a hand."
At his words, Hermione's tense expression eased slightly. Her gaze passed over the stacks of wand boxes in the shop, and she nodded lightly. "In that case, I haven't come to the wrong place after all."
Ollivander, standing nearby, took in every bit of Draco's unusual behavior. His previously calm expression suddenly changed dramatically, as though he had been struck by a thunderbolt.
His gaze locked firmly onto Draco. Gone was the indifference with which he regarded an ordinary customer; instead, he seemed to be staring at a living miracle, his eyes roiling with shock, doubt, and scrutiny, their complexity difficult to decipher.