“This wand is not for sale.” An old man stepped out of the shop and approached them. His footsteps were light, nearly silent, but his pale, large eyes shone brightly, like two moons.

Les glanced at the old man; his aged face bore a striking resemblance to the wand maker from a thousand years ago, as if he had walked out of Les's memory.

“You must be Mr. Ollivander.”

Without needing to introduce himself, Les was certain that the man before him was a descendant of the Ollivander family. This indicated they had at least a thousand years of wand-making history, and the words on the sign were perhaps not an exaggeration.

“Of course,” Garrick Ollivander was not surprised; after all, this was the entrance to Ollivander’s Wand Shop, and it was not hard to guess his identity.

He reiterated to Les that the wand in the window was not for sale; if he wanted to buy a wand, there were thousands of completed wands in the shop for him to choose from—except for this one.

Les pointed to the wand in the window and asked, “Apple wood, dragon brain nerve?”

“Yes, twelve and a quarter inches, apple wood with dragon brain nerve—a very rare choice,” Ollivander said, his tone filled with surprise and admiration.

Mr. Ollivander was genuinely taken aback; this boy could identify the wand's material and core even through the window, which was truly an enviable talent. Who was he a descendant of among the wand makers?

Recognizing Les's exceptional talent in wandlore, Mr. Ollivander explained the backstory of this wand: it was custom-made by a customer in Ollivander's ancestor's shop a thousand years ago, but on the day of delivery, the girl never came to collect it. The ancestor waited for her, but she never appeared until he passed away. Before his death, the ancestor established a rule that this wand could only be sold to someone who could state the remaining balance and pay with the correct currency.

From Mr. Ollivander's perspective, this was an impossible condition; just the requirement to use a currency from a thousand years ago was extremely difficult, let alone the fact that no one outside the Ollivander family knew the remaining balance of this wand.

This wand would remain in the window of Ollivander's Wand Shop, a symbol of their family's historical legacy.

“The remaining balance is 37 Ethelstane silver pennies; please take this. I will take this wand.” Les pulled a small pouch filled with coins from his waist and handed it to Ollivander.

Contrary to the stereotype, an Ethelstane silver penny weighs less than two grams; thirty-seven silver pennies, along with the pouch, did not weigh even three ounces, so Mr. Ollivander could easily handle it. When the pouch landed in his palm, his arm didn’t even tremble.

Ollivander stood there dumbfounded; he couldn't fathom how this boy knew the price of the wand and had specifically prepared coins that had only circulated a thousand years ago. Could it be that he was the descendant of that previous girl? But if their family knew about this, why had they waited a full thousand years to collect this wand?

Garrick Ollivander fell into confusion.

“Why?” he instinctively asked.

“Because I have a connection with this wand,” a faint smile appeared on Les's face.

Who could have imagined that he had witnessed this event back then and coincidentally kept a batch of coins from that era?

Garrick Ollivander's thin cheeks quivered twice, but he ultimately put the pouch of coins into his pocket.

“The core of this wand is the brain nerve of a fire dragon; while this material is also an excellent core, it is not as stable as heart nerve, requiring higher magical control abilities from the user. More importantly, it was made a thousand years ago, and I cannot guarantee its quality,” Ollivander reminded Les out of professional ethics.

“Hmm, so I still want to buy a wand for myself—the one just now was for a friend,” Les said. Buying this wand was merely a thought; he still wanted to find a wand that suited him better.

“Oh, that's wonderful!” Mr. Ollivander immediately became happy and hurriedly invited Les and Lupet into the shop.

The interior of Ollivander's Wand Shop was small, with only a long bench and countless narrow boxes stacked almost to the ceiling. Upon entering, Les felt a surge of excitement, and the hair on his arms stood on end.

He knew this was a magical resonance created by the gathering of many powerful magical materials. In this small room, the flow of magic became chaotic under the influence of thousands of wands; even the barely visible dust moved with the rhythm of magic.

He glanced at Lupet and found that she seemed completely unfazed, as if she hadn’t noticed anything.

Sometimes, being a little dull didn’t seem like such a bad thing, Les thought to himself.

Putting these distracting thoughts aside, Les looked at Mr. Ollivander, ready to buy a wand he desired.

“Do you have any wands with serpent king horn as the core?”

If given a choice, Les would definitely choose a wand made with serpent king horn and snakewood as he had before, but the old man before him said something shocking.

“Serpent king? This evil magical creature has not been seen for hundreds of years; the so-called ‘basilisk horns’ on the market are all made from the horns of other animals. Due to their scarcity, no one uses this core material to make wands.”

Evil?

Les's brow furrowed immediately.

“Your misunderstanding of the serpent king is profound; the history of wizards cultivating serpent kings can be traced back to ancient Greece. This creature is not associated with evil; it is like a weapon, without distinction between justice and evil.”

Les's defense was dismissed by Ollivander as mere childish talk; he was an extremely stubborn craftsman, and a child's words could not sway his heart.

He took out a measuring tape to measure Les's various body dimensions: shoulders, fingertips, wrists, elbows, and even head circumference was not left out.

While measuring, he promoted his philosophy to Les: “I only use powerful magical materials like unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon nerves to make wands. Every Ollivander wand is unique; my job is to help you find the wand that recognizes and chooses you.”

“Oh?” Les raised an eyebrow, “Wands choose wizards?”

“Of course!” Ollivander replied without a second thought.

Les couldn't suppress the upward curve of his lips; he turned around to face the wall made of wands and said, “In my opinion, it is the wizard who chooses the wand. If you don’t believe me, you can see for yourself—”

A sense of foreboding inexplicably rose in Mr. Ollivander’s heart, and he quickly asked, “What are you going to do?”

“No wand would refuse a great wizard; I choose the wand, not the wand choosing me.”

Les spread his hands.

With his motion, the wall of wands trembled, and every wand seemed to come alive, vibrating incessantly in their boxes.

During this process, Les could clearly sense the emotions of the wands: fear, submission, defiance, anger... and joy.

He could choose any wand among these thousands, just as he said, no wand would refuse him.

Sensing that hint of joy, he directly reached out his hand, and a wooden box flew out from the wall of wands, landing steadily in his palm.

“Thirteen inches, elder, heart nerve of a fire dragon.” Upon seeing the shape of the box, Ollivander instinctively reported the wand’s attributes.

“A rather nice wand, how much?”

This wand caught Les’s interest.

“Seven galleons.”

“Let me have another one.” Les waved again, summoning a twelve-inch wand made of laurel wood with a unicorn tail hair core into his hand.

This one was for Lupet.

Les paid, and as he was about to leave, Mr. Ollivander spoke, his voice even trembling.

“Who, who are you?”

The boy left Ollivander's Wand Shop with the now stunned Lupet without looking back, leaving only his voice echoing in the small shop—

“I am the greatest wizard of this era.”

“The greatest wizard,” this statement was so arrogant, but for a moment, Mr. Ollivander felt that the boy, who hadn’t even reached his chest, was not boasting or lying, because the scene just now was deeply etched in his mind, refusing to fade.

Was it the wand that chose the wizard, or the wizard who chose the wand?

Ollivander did not notice that the belief he held as firm as iron had developed a crack, and all of this was because a boy walked into his wand shop and chose a wand for himself.