Unlike the shocked Professor McGonagall, Draco now understood what Ollivander was saying. Wasn't he just certifying Draco as a good person?
He couldn't help marveling inwardly. Being part of the Malfoy family really was great: lay down your butcher's knife, and you could become a Buddha.
Amid her shock, Professor McGonagall stared fixedly into Ollivander's silvery eyes.
Her gaze seemed intent on piercing that calm exterior, searching for any trace of uncertainty or deliberate exaggeration, trying to overturn this assertion that upended everything she knew.
Yet in the end, she found nothing. All she saw was a scholar who had devoted years to wandlore, utterly certain of and candid about magical truth, with a purity that left no room for doubt.
Beside them, Hermione had long since been left bewildered by this succession of staggering statements, her clear eyes filled with confusion and curiosity.
Looking at Ollivander, then Draco, then Professor McGonagall's grave expression, Hermione momentarily had no idea how to process everything before her. She merely committed these assertions about souls and wands to memory.
Seeing this, Draco hurried to break the stagnant atmosphere, speaking gently to Hermione. "Hang on, Miss Granger is still waiting to choose her wand!"
He paid no heed at all to McGonagall's or Ollivander's reactions. His heart and eyes were entirely occupied by the girl before him, and he only hoped to grow a little closer to her and help her embark smoothly on her magical journey.
Seeing Draco like this, Ollivander's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, and he found himself addressing Hermione. "Miss Granger, this lad is a temporary assistant I hired. He helps with the shop's day-to-day odds and ends and is quite familiar with the characteristics of various wands. If you'd like to know more about the finer details of wands, feel free to have him explain them to you. He'll certainly save you some unnecessary trouble."
At this, Hermione turned to Draco, then nodded politely and said softly, "Sorry for the trouble, then."
Draco nodded gently to Hermione, then turned to Professor McGonagall beside them and said respectfully, "Hello, Professor McGonagall. There's a sofa to one side of the shop where you can rest. You must be a little tired after accompanying Miss Granger all this way. Why not take a short rest over there?"
Professor McGonagall nodded slowly. Her gaze still swept over Draco with a measure of scrutiny, but she said nothing more and walked straight toward the sofa.
Seeing this, Draco quickly stepped aside to clear the way, then gestured for Hermione to follow and led her toward the shelves deeper inside the shop.
As they walked, Draco gradually slowed his pace and struck up a conversation quite naturally. "My name is Draco Malfoy. I'll be starting at Hogwarts before long. I take it you're a new student preparing to enroll as well?"
Not having expected to run into a future classmate here, Hermione's eyes instantly lit with a flicker of delight.
After briefly pausing, she looked up at Draco, her tone growing genuinely warmer. "You're starting at Hogwarts too? What a coincidence."
Draco's smile deepened at this, and he answered readily, "That's right. We'll be schoolmates from now on. If there's anything you need help with at school, just ask."
At his words, Hermione held out her hand with easy confidence, her eyes bright and sincere. "Hello, my name is Hermione Granger."
A surge of excitement rose within Draco. He hurriedly reached out to take her hand, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible tremor. "Hello, Miss Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you."
The instant their palms touched, a firm, warm sensation reached him, dispelling some of the nervousness in his heart.
Her hand was nothing like the soft, delicate hands of ordinary girls. Instead, it possessed a brisk, decisive strength.
Her fingers gripped Draco's firmly. With their palms pressed together, he could clearly feel the thin calluses on her fingers and palm from years of holding pens and turning pages, rough yet solid.
These were by no means the hands of someone pampered and ignorant of the world, but the hands of a doer and a seeker of knowledge, holding her passion for learning and her tenacious character.
After their brief handshake, Draco's attention was involuntarily drawn entirely to her large hazel eyes.
Those eyes were gazing intently at me, bright and clear, like gems immersed in cool spring water, gleaming with a pure luster.
There was not the slightest evasion or shyness in that gaze, only curiosity toward a stranger and the careful assessment born of a rapidly working mind. Lively and sharp, it made her exceptional intelligence apparent at a glance.
Once they had introduced themselves, Draco gathered his thoughts and began earnestly explaining the many intricacies of wands to Hermione.
Draco spoke in a steady, meticulous tone. "You must have heard what Mr. Ollivander said earlier. A wizard choosing a wand is never a one-sided choice. It's really a mutual reaching out between wizard and wand, and the wand is quietly choosing a master suited to it as well. So the key to finding the wand that suits you best lies in the spiritual connection between wizard and wand. If a wand is incompatible with you, it will only feel cold and dull in your hand. It may even deliberately resist, making it difficult to channel even the slightest magic. Only when a true match occurs-perhaps a tiny spark flashes at the tip, perhaps a gentle warmth flows into your palm, or perhaps a strange resonance arises deep within you-is that a sign that the wand has accepted you."
No sooner had he finished than an unprecedented, fiery light suddenly blazed in the eyes of Ollivander, who was preparing wands for Hermione nearby.
"Ah...!" A short gasp of wonder escaped his lips, carrying excitement he could barely contain.
Ollivander's voice trembled slightly, but his praise was utterly certain. "Exactly! Very well said! You've truly felt the connection between wand and wizard. You've finally understood this silent conversation! This is by no means knowledge memorized from books, lad. It's an experience that comes from the depths of the soul, the truest sensation of magic. It's the wand whispering to you, speaking of how well you suit one another, and now you're listening to its voice with your heart."
With that, he abruptly turned to Professor McGonagall, his gaze blazing, his eyes full of excitement and conviction, as though showing her a living miracle.
"Minerva, did you hear that? Those words are no theory I taught him, but true testimony from the depths of his soul! A wand's coldness and warmth, resistance and resonance-what he described was never a cold magical tool, but a lifelong companion, a bond of equality and respect! The peach wood is silently testing the purity of his soul, and the lion's mane hair is secretly testing the courage in his heart. And now he's answering that test with his heart. He has already understood the wand's wishes!"
Listening to Ollivander's wildly exaggerated words, Draco felt utterly helpless and grumbled inwardly, Old man Ollivander, there's really no need to get so excited. I was only telling the truth.
After addressing Professor McGonagall, Ollivander slowly turned back, gazed deeply at Draco, and solemnly urged him in an almost reverent tone, "Remember this feeling, Mr. Malfoy. In the long years ahead, when the world's clamor and prejudices try to drown out your true heart, when worldly shackles try to bind your soul, take a moment to quiet your heart and listen to the whispers of the wood in your hand. It knows who you are better than any illustrious surname and can guide your course better than any judgment from the outside world."
These words were like a precisely aimed Stunning Spell, striking directly at the very heart of the fortress of reason within Professor McGonagall.
She had been sitting quietly on the sofa, but now she rose instinctively, her figure swaying slightly, the square glasses perched on her nose nearly slipping off.