Narcissa's breathing had grown heavy and uneven.Draco, the target of her reprimand, still had no idea what was going on. Never once in his life had he seen his mother speak to him with such harshness.
"What's wrong, Mother?" he asked cautiously.
"I—I believe you should show proper respect to your professors," Narcissa said, her voice trembling slightly. She shot Draco a sharp glare that instantly silenced him. "Even your father would agree that Mr. Gold is a remarkably powerful wizard."
Then she turned toward Charles Gold, offering a polite, if strained, smile."I didn't expect to see you here, Mr. Gold. Please don't take what Draco said to heart. He's… spoiled at home."
Charles slipped comfortably into his role as a teacher. As an educator, it was only natural to show concern for his students' home lives."Mrs. Malfoy, may I ask—how is Mr. Malfoy doing these days?"
For a moment, Narcissa found the question almost absurd. How do you think he's doing? You're the one who beat him half to death!Of course, she didn't dare say that aloud—especially not in front of her son.
"Lucius—he's doing quite well. Recovering nicely," she managed.
"That's good to hear." Charles nodded. "On another note, about Draco… I'd advise against spoiling him too much. If possible, I hope you and Mr. Malfoy will place more emphasis on shaping his values."
"Yes… I'll discuss it with Lucius," Narcissa replied tightly.
Just as the atmosphere grew thick with awkward tension, Madam Malkin emerged from the back room, holding up a finished robe."All done! Harry's set."
"Excellent," Charles said lightly. "I'll take him to get his wand next, then. We'll be off."
Narcissa could hardly hide her relief—she'd been hoping for a chance to escape this walking disaster of a man. She nodded quickly.But Draco had other ideas.
"Wait—you're called Harry? Harry Potter?" His eyes lit up. Someone as famous as him—that was exactly the sort of friend Draco Malfoy wanted.
The moment Harry nodded, Draco seized his chance. "Mother, I haven't bought my wand yet. Let's go to Ollivander's too!"
Narcissa drew in a deep breath, feeling a sharp pang in her chest.Oh, my foolish son… Can't you see I'm trying to get as far away from that man as possible? And you're practically running into his arms! Do you not remember who nearly flattened your father?…Well, no, he didn't.
"No, Draco," she said, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace. "We'll buy your cauldron first."She inclined her head toward Charles. "Mr. Gold, if you'll excuse us."
"Of course," he replied.
When Charles and Harry arrived at Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C., Hagrid still hadn't shown up. Perhaps Harry felt too relaxed in Charles's company.
Harry looked up at the small, shabby shop before them. The sign above the faded door creaked faintly in the wind.
"Let's go in, Harry."
They stepped through the door together. The shop was tiny—save for a single long bench, there was almost no furniture at all. But the walls were lined floor-to-ceiling with shelves, each packed with narrow wand boxes. The air held an indescribable, almost sacred stillness.Harry found himself instinctively holding his breath.
A soft voice broke the silence."Good afternoon," said an old man, stepping out from the shadows—making Harry jump.
"Good afternoon, Ollivander," Charles greeted calmly. "I've brought Harry Potter to choose his wand."
"Charles! Charles Gold! How wonderful to see you again," Ollivander said, his pale eyes lighting up. "Oak, dragon heartstring, twelve inches—am I right?"
He was referring to Charles's previous wand. Ollivander never forgot one he had sold.
"Yes," Charles confirmed.
"A fine wand… though I heard it was snapped in two. A pity," Ollivander murmured, a note of regret in his tone. "But I also hear you've crafted a new one for yourself. Gregorovitch mentioned you studied wandmaking under him for a time. May I see it?"
"I experimented with some unusual materials," Charles replied, drawing his wand.
Ollivander examined it, his interest immediately piqued. "Sixteen inches… I've made one that long before. Hmm? When did you start using your left hand?"
He could tell at a glance—the balance of the wand favored left-handed casting.
Charles didn't answer. It wasn't exactly something he could explain—that for him, it made no difference which hand held a wand… but when it came to throwing a Dynamic Punch, the right hand definitely packed more power.
"Yew wood… and the core—I've never seen anything quite like it," Ollivander whispered. With a flick, he felt a surge of energy—vital, untamed, and overwhelming. It was power beyond his ability to command.
"A remarkable wand indeed," he said, returning it with reverence. "Only a wizard it deems worthy could truly master it. Of course, that is as it should be—the wand chooses the wizard."
Then his gaze fell upon Harry.
"Yes… I knew I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter," Ollivander said softly. "You have your mother's eyes. I remember the day she came here to buy her first wand—ten and a quarter inches, willow, swishy, excellent for charmwork."
"Your father's was different—mahogany, eleven inches, pliable, with a core better suited for Transfiguration."
He drew closer as he spoke, and the intensity of his stare made Harry uneasy. Harry wanted to back away, but one glance at Charles's calm expression kept him still. He didn't dare risk offending the man.
Ollivander's long fingers reached up, brushing lightly against Harry's lightning-shaped scar.
"Oh… so this is it," he murmured. "I'm sorry to say—the wand that did this was one of mine. Thirteen and a half inches, yew. Powerful—terribly powerful. It fell into the hands of one who sought only darkness… If only I had known what that wand would one day do…"
He trailed off, then turned to his shelves, beginning the process of finding Harry's match.
And just as fate would have it, Harry's hand finally closed around a wand that shared a phoenix core with that very same dark wizard's wand.But his was holly—bright and living, the perfect counterbalance to yew.
"How curious," Ollivander whispered, his pale eyes gleaming. "Yew… and holly. Two wands, twin cores, yet polar opposites. Of course, you and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could never wield the same wand."
After Harry paid for it, Ollivander smiled faintly. "I believe you will achieve great things, Mr. Potter."
When they stepped out of the shop, the afternoon light spilled across Diagon Alley. In the distance, they spotted Hagrid—waving, with a large cage in hand. Inside was a beautiful snowy owl.
"Hagrid," Charles called out, "is that for Harry?"
"Aye!" Hagrid boomed cheerfully. "Got it for him as a birthday present!"
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Hagrid didn't give him the chance.
(End of Chapter)