Chapter -8 Old man’s riddle.

Chapter -8.

Ollivanders, a store that probably holds more importance in a wizard's life than Gringotts does, but at the moment it has nothing to offer except mess that the sho owner had created.

"Sorry for the sight, but we just had an interesting customer drop by."

The old man saw us walked in, noticed the slightly disgruntled looks on the Grangers' faces, and quickly explained why the shop was in such a mess.

"It's okay, Mr. Ollivander. We just came to get wands for our kids. That's all that matters."

Mum suddenly said, walking me and Hermione over to the table in front of the old man.

"Yes, that's right."

The old man nodded in agreement, put his old-looking wand on the table, and looked at us curiously, as if searching for something.

"Hermione, why don't you go first?"

I suddenly took a step back, trying to stop the old man's old habit of making everything seem mysterious.

"Really?"

Hermione asked, a little surprised. But what she didn't know was that I wanted to skip an annoyaning cut scene. For some bad reason, I still remember it, and it was something I never wanted to watch again.

However, even though I wasn't sitting in the front seat, I had to watch the scene yet again as the old man started explaining about wands while working on measuring hermione's dominant arm at the same time.

Well if you consider this scene as a cut scene where the old man wants to impart his knowledge about wands and let the wizard who only sees wands as tools know that wands are quasi-sentient objects with their own perspectives, its a quite good background work.

"Okay, let's see. This is a 10¾-long vine wood's wand with a dragon's heartstring at its core."

The old man continued speaking as he placed the long wand in front of Hermione. Hermione responded by staring at it, not knowing what to do.

"Hermione, pick it up and give it a swirl."

I urged hermione, as the old man did not look interested in explanating anything further.

Hermione turned her head, nodded timidly to me, and picked up her wand. For a moment, the wand didn't react as I expected. But the moment she tried to give it a wave, her long hair suddenly started to flutter, and when she did wave her wand, the flower in the glass pot placed on th ecorner of the table instantly grew.

"That's good, that's good. This wand looks very good for you, Miss Granger."

The old man smiled as he said this, took the wand from Hermione's hand, leaving her stunned for a moment.

"It's alright Hermione, you'll get it back."

I said with a smile, knowing very well what was going through the little witch's mind.

Hearing that Hermione expression returned back to normal and then nodding her head she walked back to her parents; since it was now my turn to get a new wand.

Mr. Ollivander placed the wand in a small box with his slow hands, wrapped it in paper, placed it on the table, and turned his attention to me and asked. "What is your name, young man?"

"Adem Baker," I replied.

"Then Mr. Baker, put your dominant hand forward."

The old man asked, and I did so without wasting any time. The old man took the measurements, wrote them down in a book, walked back between the shelves, and returned a few minutes later with several small boxes in his hands.

"Hmm... a 10-inch yew wand with a unicorn hair core."

Old Ollivander opened the most old-looking box, brushed off the dust, and pulled out a unique wand.

'Okay, let's try it out. I hope mission getting a new wand won't be too difficult.'

With that thought in mind, I reached out and grabbed the wand from the old man's hand. I didn't know much about the properties of wands and their cores, but legend has it that some cores have preferences. Some accept black magic easily, while others are so determined that they cannot let even the slightest glimmer of black magic through.

As I held the wand in my hands, a warm sensation suddenly started to run through my entire body. I didn't know how to put this feeling into words, but I was sure of one thing: this wand was perfect for me.

"Hoho, young man, this wand suits you well. You don't have to break my flowerpot."

As I was about to give it go with the wand, the old man suddenly stepped in and extended his hand forward, asking it back to pack it up in the same way.

"Are you sure, Mr. Ollivander? What if it doesn't work?"

I asked a little annoyed, as I really wanted to smack some of the things that were on the table.

"Don't worry, lad. It'll work. And if one day it really doesn't work, I don't think you'll come for a new wand in my shop"

"What? What do you mean?" I asked, a little curious.

"You don't need to know that now. What is meant to happen will happen Anyway."

The old man spoke in an enigmatic tone: Subsequently walking to the other side of the table and placing the two wand boxes on it, he said, "They're 7 Galleons each."

"Hun, do you want a wand holster?" mother asked, stepping forward and placing seven galleons on the table.

"Sure, Mom," I replied quickly, my mind still lost in with what the old man had said. Though the old man sometimes spoke nonsense. But sometimes, there was something hidden behind what the old man said, and what he had said to me a few seconds earlier didn't sound like nonsense.

"Mr. Ollivander, we'll need two wand holsters too."

Hearing that the old man took fourteen galleons from the table and placed them in the magical auto-drawer, then went to the left side of the shop, which looked a little less dirty, then picked up a bunch of leather holsters from the shelf and returned to the table.

"Which one do you like, Hermione dear?"

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