“Good afternoon,” Ollivander immediately switched to business mode.
Xilun noticed that when Ollivander saw who had entered, his eyes instantly lit up, like two bright moons in the dim shop.
“You, hello,” the boy seemed a little reserved, shrinking his body after entering, trying not to touch anything around him, and occasionally looking back at the Giant.
“Oh, yes, I knew I would see you soon, Harry Potter, your eyes are just like your mother’s, back when she came here to buy her first wand…”, Ollivander fell into a reverie; he rarely spoke so much before listing wand data.
But the more he spoke, the more nervous Harry Potter became.
As the two interacted, Xilun’s gaze remained on Hagrid; he noticed half of a pink umbrella faintly visible from under the other’s open coat.
And when Ollivander mentioned Hagrid’s broken wand, he tightly gripped that umbrella.
This disguise was meaningless, especially in front of Xilun.
Willow (oak), Phoenix feather, sixteen inches
Status: ???
Characteristic: Indestructible; after some kind of alteration, this wand seems to have undergone a slight change; no one would want to be poked by it.
The status line was blank, likely due to it being broken and then repaired.
Perhaps Xilun’s gaze was too obvious; Hagrid seemed a little guilty, tightened his coat to hide the umbrella, and slowly shuffled towards the door.
“It’s just… just an ordinary umbrella… nothing to see…”, “I can help you fix it.”
“What?” Hagrid’s steps halted, his legs, as thick as pillars, instinctively shivered.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying… this is just… an old umbrella, it doesn’t need fixing… right, that’s it.”
“I don’t think so,” Xilun shook his head and said thoughtfully, “Everyone thinks the most important part of a wand is the core, but the opposite is true; the seemingly common wand body is the most crucial component and conceals the wand’s true secrets.”
Hagrid’s expression grew more serious, while Ollivander, listening beside them, paid no mind, simply assuming Xilun was explaining the mysteries of wands.
“Repairing the core isn’t difficult, but the wand body is different. Even if it’s repaired with incredibly powerful magic, it won’t be the same as before. Over time, it might even crack again. At that point, you’d need to wrap it with magical tape, or cover it with another layer of wood for reinforcement, such as… an umbrella handle.”
“Then what should I do…?” Hagrid blurted out, then, realizing his mistake, covered his chest again.
“I… I’m just curious.”
“Completely repairing a wand is very simple,” Xilun pretended not to notice his actions and continued, “You just need to find a highly skilled wandmaker, like Ollivander.”
Hagrid grew increasingly attentive, but at that moment, Xilun suddenly turned around and returned behind the counter.
“You must also be a Professor at Hogwarts, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Xilun stopped there, not continuing further.
Even when Hagrid looked over, he merely raised his head, revealing the bright, sunny smile typical of an eleven-year-old child.
But Hagrid was different.
Xilun was absolutely right; after several decades, his repaired wand was already covered in cracks, and he had to wrap another layer of willow wood around it for reinforcement.
Although Dumbledore was highly skilled, and the cracks didn’t affect the casting of magic, it was still a minor inconvenience.
Hagrid had always wanted to fix it.
Unexpectedly, Xilun gave him an unexpected surprise, but then stopped at the most crucial part and said no more.
He froze there, staring at Xilun, his expression incredibly distressed, and this expression lasted until they left the shop.
The shop door opened and closed, and Harry left, filled with yearning for the magical world.
Ollivander looked through the dusty glass at the two increasingly blurred figures, sighing.
“Is this fate? He still took that wand after all.”
Xilun shrugged, noncommittal.
A few days ago, Ollivander had rummaged through his belongings and found a wand from ten years ago… the one he had defined as a legendary golden high-grade item.
It seemed Ollivander knew Harry Potter would be coming to Diagon Alley soon and had been preparing since then?
Tsk, a cunning wandmaker.
Fortunately, Ollivander didn’t know what filial thoughts Xilun had in mind and continued:
“I also considered giving him other options to try.”
“Other options?”
Ollivander didn’t explain, he just pointed to the large pile of wands on the table that Harry Potter had tried.
None of these were suitable.
Xilun scanned them, narrowing his eyes.
Beech wood, symbolizing wisdom, and the heartstring of a powerful Dragon; only a Wizard with both wisdom and courage could earn its favor.
Maple wood, Phoenix feather… continuous growth and hope.
Ebony, Unicorn tail hair… pursuing power while not forgetting loyalty.
In the wand lore passed down through generations in the Ollivander family, these combinations were almost all tailored to the savior’s character, but none of them were suitable.
Harry still chose the wand intertwined with his destiny.
holly: purity, rebirth.
Phoenix feather: hope, rebirth.
Only after studying wandlore did Xilun realize that these two materials shouldn't actually be combined, because there was an overlap.
Only by dying once can one be reborn.
And purity, is it the purity of the soul? Lord Voldemort’s soul fragment?
Xilun suddenly regretted it; he shouldn’t have kept staring at Hagrid, his future material supplier, just now.
He should have looked at Harry more.
“What are you thinking about?”
Ollivander’s voice brought Xilun back to his senses.
“Nothing,” he shook his head, “Just thinking about the sorting, I wonder which house I’ll be sorted into.”
“They are all good, as long as it’s in Hogwarts,” Ollivander blurted out, “I almost forgot, you haven’t chosen a wand for yourself yet.”
As he spoke, he immediately became excited.
“How about it, do you need me to help you pick one?”
“A new wand?” Xilun blinked.
“Do I need one?” Before Ollivander could speak, he pulled out a handful of… well, let’s call them wands… from his pocket.
Unlike traditional straight wands, the ones Xilun pulled out were all somewhat unconventional.
Curved, semi-circular, perfectly round, right-angled, Z-shaped, lightning-shaped… a whole handful, probably seven or eight of them.
But it wasn’t just seven or eight; Xilun’s hands were too small to hold more.
Looking at those oddly shaped wands, several veins instantly popped out on Ollivander’s forehead, throbbing.
“At least it’s passed down, it’s passed down…”
Ollivander took a deep breath, trying hard to convince himself to try and accept new things.
After all, he had tried those wands, and they all worked.
Whether they worked well was another matter, at least they worked, they were real wands, and that was enough.
Besides, when he was eleven, he was still carving wood, while Xilun, at eleven, could already make real wands, and more than one.
Such talent, let alone him, even if you looked back several centuries in the Ollivander family tree, you wouldn’t find anyone comparable.
So what if he likes to bend wands into circles? It’s no big deal, just swing them around.
Before the next customer arrived, Ollivander finally convinced himself… well, probably.
However, in the time that followed, he never brought up the subject of a new wand again, as if he had never mentioned it.