Ollivander was genuinely startled by Herman's novel idea. In a thousand years of wandmaking history, no one had ever dared entertain such a bold notion. If someone actually did it, that really would be "making a stick."
Although he thought Herman's idea was far too naive and childish, Ollivander worried that he could not let a child suffer an explosion during a dangerous experiment at such a young age, so he patiently explained:
"First, you have to consider whether the vessel carrying the magic can withstand such a powerful magical impact. Second, the magical compatibility of different materials is crucial too. They must complement one another to coexist harmoniously. Only after countless studies and attempts did we finally settle on these types of wood for making wands and determine the precise proportions. Even adding just one extra core would be very likely to cause an explosion."
Herman tentatively gestured to indicate a wand taller than himself, like Gandalf's staff, and asked, "Then could we make the wand a little bigger? Would that work?"
Ollivander smiled helplessly, took out his own wand, and demonstrated a graceful flick and swish for Herman. "How do you intend to wave a wand that big? The size you're talking about might be suitable for a giant. However, a giant would probably have a hard time gaining a wand's recognition. After all, their brain capacity..."
Ollivander stopped there. As a well-mannered man, he felt that openly mocking giants was rather beneath him.
Only then did Herman realize that casting magic also required waving a wand. An oversized wand would indeed be very inconvenient. Even if he could just about swing it, he would struggle to wield it freely and nimbly. Unless he could train to reach Yang Guo's level of "a heavy sword needs no edge, wielding great weight as though it were light." But at that level, simply hacking away with a sword might break through armor faster than magic.
"Sorry, I think I was being silly," Herman hastily apologized. "It's all right. In fact, I asked similar questions when I was young. Daring to imagine is the source of progress. It is precisely through constant imagination and exploration that the Ollivander Family has continued to advance."
Actually, "daring to imagine" had a second half: "daring to act." But Ollivander did not dare say it aloud. Children these days were getting bolder and bolder. If Herman really took it to heart, tried those dangerous ideas, and ended up causing an accident, the Hogwarts professors would certainly come to settle the score with him.
"Sorry for the trouble, then. Oh, can I only buy one wand?" Herman asked his final question. Ollivander said with a serious expression, "Under Ministry of Magic regulations, a wizard may possess only one wand, and every wand sold must be registered in detail."
Seeing Ollivander's solemn expression and recalling his meticulous attitude toward wandmaking, Herman understood that he certainly would not point him toward ways of acquiring a second wand, unlike those goblins dealing in illegal foreign exchange.
So Herman left Ollivander's Wand Shop without further ado.
After leaving the wand shop, Herman had no definite shopping plans, so he went into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions next door.
The robe shop employed no other staff. Only Madam Malkin was busy at work. When Herman entered, he saw her plump figure in front of a full-length mirror, directing a measuring tape as it took someone's measurements.
After a while, presumably having finished measuring, Madam Malkin stepped aside, and only then did Herman see a pretty little girl standing before the mirror. Her long, pale blond hair fell smoothly over her slender shoulders, its ends curling slightly like waves. Her fair, rosy face bore a faint blush, like peach blossoms blooming in spring. Two crescent-shaped eyebrows sat just right above her smooth forehead. Beneath them, her large, lively eyes, close in color to Herman's, blinked like twinkling stars in the night sky as she curiously surveyed everything around her.
Madam Malkin had just finished recording the measurements. Turning to see Herman, she said warmly, "A new Hogwarts student? Here to have your clothes made, I suppose? Just a moment. I'll go into the back and adjust the measurements."
Before Herman could respond, Madam Malkin had already hurried toward the back of the shop, leaving only Herman and the little girl inside.
The little girl broke the silence first. Tilting her head up slightly, a barely perceptible hint of disdain at the corners of her mouth, she asked, "Are you a new Hogwarts student too? Are you also here to order these budget clothes?"
Herman was taken aback by her words. This little girl looks quite cute. Why is she so abrasive? Still, he did not take it too much to heart and answered, "Yes. Aren't you here to order clothes too? My Hogwarts acceptance letter recommended this place for school uniforms."
Although the little girl was not particularly polite, perhaps she had been waiting here too long and had bottled up a bellyful of words. Now she started chattering like a machine gun. "Of course. Why else would I come here if not to order clothes? Hmph, I heard Madam Malkin and Professor McGonagall were classmates. After Professor McGonagall became deputy headmistress, she started recommending that everyone have their clothes made here. Acceptance letters never used to recommend anywhere. My father said he had all his school uniforms made at Gladrags Wizardwear. That shop has been around for a hundred years. Now their clothes are truly exquisite, unlike this place..."
"Gladrags? Is it like Ollivander's? Professional tailoring for a hundred years, since some year BC?" Herman imitated Ollivander's tone, deliberately putting on a pompous, elderly manner.
Clearly, Herman's imitation immediately reminded the little girl of Ollivander. She could not help bursting into a giggle, then immediately straightened her face again and said haughtily, "Hmph, more or less. The same sort of manner as that thousand-year wandmaking business."
From the girl's words, Herman judged that she was probably from a wizarding family, with a completely different upbringing from an orphan like himself. He looked around and saw no adults accompanying her, so he asked curiously, "Where are your parents? Didn't they come with you?"
"What difference does it make if they did? My mother said she was preparing a surprise for me. I bet it's just more boring magical jewelry, or she's opening a little vault for me at Gringotts. So unimaginative. My father ran into his friends and went off to chat. He never lets me meet those friends of his and always tells me to stay away from them. I really don't understand him."
Frowning, her face full of distaste, the little girl poured it all out in one go. She really did answer every question, without the slightest wariness.
In the Muggle world, a pretty, innocent little girl like this might run into some creepy uncle with bad intentions, Herman thought.
Having finished talking about herself, the little girl seemed to remember something suddenly. She turned her head and asked Herman with a touch of arrogance, "What about you? Why didn't your parents come?"
"My parents died. I grew up in an orphanage," Herman answered truthfully.
A flicker of discomfort crossed the little girl's face when she heard this, but she soon regained her haughty manner. Giving a light cough, she said, "Ahem, sorry. I didn't know that beforehand."
"It's all right." Naturally, Herman did not mind. After all, his soul was that of an adult, and he had suffered no psychological trauma from being an orphan, so he did not take it to heart at all.
Seeing that Herman had not taken offense, the girl's curiosity resurfaced. She tilted her head up, her tone carrying a measure of inquiry. "By the way, what is an orphanage? Is it a new institution set up by the Ministry of Magic? The sort that asks people like my father for sponsorship every year?"
"Uh, no. I'm not from the wizarding world. I grew up in Muggle society. An orphanage is an institution in Muggle society."
"Muggle?" The little girl's eyes widened, her face full of puzzlement. Then she said with complete confidence, "What about your parents' wizard relatives? Didn't anyone adopt you?"
"I think my parents were probably Muggles." "How is that possible!" The little girl raised her voice and folded her arms. "My father said wizardry is passed down through bloodlines. Your parents, or the generation before them, must have been wizards, or at least Squibs."
"Maybe." Listening to the little girl, Herman could not help pondering it. Perhaps she had a point. It seemed he would have to find an opportunity to investigate his origins properly. There might actually be a vault at Gringotts waiting for him to inherit it.
"Hmph, consider yourself lucky. Even though you grew up in the Muggle world, you met me today. I'll have your back at Hogwarts from now on!"
The little girl lifted her chin, her nostrils practically pointing at the sky, and spoke with utter confidence. Looking at the girl brimming with self-confidence, Herman smiled helplessly and nodded. "All right."
Having successfully "recruited" a "little brother," the little girl's mind raced as she tried to think of things she could tell Herman that he did not know, eager to show off her knowledge.
She leaned closer to Herman and said mysteriously, "Do you know how we'll be sorted into houses? I have exclusive information!"