Ollivanders Wand Shop — Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
Lynn followed Dumbledore to the entrance of this legendary shop, and then he fell silent.
The shop before him… was simply too dilapidated.
The dust accumulated on the windows felt like enough to build a new shop at the entrance if scraped off.
The gold-lettered sign on the door was also peeling badly; one could barely make out the name "Ollivander."
"Does the Wizarding World really care this much about a 'vintage feel'?"
Lynn couldn't help but complain inwardly. "Look at Gringotts; it's also a monopoly, and those marble pillars are polished enough to show reflections!
Look at the broom shop over there—bright and clean. Why does your place look like a condemned building?"
His undisguised look of disdain (¬_¬)ﾉ caught the eye of Dumbledore beside him.
The old Principal smiled somewhat awkwardly and could only shrug, trying to salvage the impression.
"Mr. Ollivander's craftsmanship is top-notch, without a doubt."
Well, in the end, the desire to own a wand overcame the dissatisfaction with the shop's appearance.
Lynn reluctantly pushed open the creaking door and walked inside.
The inside looked… well, a tiny bit better than the outside.
At least the mountain-like piles of wand boxes were stacked quite neatly, though they were similarly covered in a layer of dust.
There were many people in the shop, so Lynn and Dumbledore had to wait in a corner.
He watched with interest as the young Wizards ahead chose their wands; the scene was practically a preview of a disaster movie. Either a stack of parchment in the corner was set on fire, or a wand was waved without even a spark appearing, making Lynn's eyelids twitch.
Finally, the people ahead all left with their wands.
"Good afternoon, child."
A soft voice seemed to drift out from the dust itself.
Mr. Ollivander, with his large, pale eyes shining like two moons in the dim shop, stared straight at Lynn.
"Are you here alone?" he asked.
Lynn felt a bit puzzled but answered anyway. "Yes, sir. Is there a problem?"
Ollivander shook his head, his gaze still locked on Lynn.
"No, of course not. Child, what is your name?"
"Lynn."
Ollivander nodded, deducing in his mind that this was likely a child from a Muggle family.
"Which hand do you usually use?"
Lynn found this question even stranger and answered honestly, "Either hand is fine."
The mysterious smile at the corner of Ollivander's mouth froze for a moment. "…You must choose one."
"Right hand, then." Lynn followed the suggestion readily.
As soon as he spoke, Ollivander's magical tape measure flew over automatically and began measuring Lynn's arm length, height, and even the distance from his shoulder to the tip of his middle finger.
Fortunately, the tape measure didn't try to measure "little Lynn's" dimensions; otherwise, Lynn couldn't guarantee he wouldn't punch this frail-looking old man.
He really looks quite punchable. Lynn continued his dangerous inner monologue.
After the measurements were finished, Ollivander turned and vanished into the labyrinth-like shelves, muttering under his breath.
Soon, he returned holding a long box.
"Here, try this. Vine wood, Dragon Heartstring core, thirteen and a half inches, reasonably springy."
The wand was placed in Lynn's hand, and a warm sensation came over him.
He gave it a gentle wave as instructed—the tip of the wand immediately lit up with a soft and steady light.
"Oh?" Lynn thought it was quite interesting; the feeling wasn't bad.
But Ollivander frowned deeply and shook his head vigorously. "No, no, not this one! The light is bright, but… it's too submissive. It doesn't feel like it's found a master; it feels more like… a polite response?"
He snatched the wand away from Lynn with startling speed.
He brought another one. "Ash wood, Phoenix Feather, twelve and a third inches, very resilient."
Lynn waved it again, and another glow appeared, seemingly brighter than the previous one.
Ollivander refused to believe it.
"Walnut, Unicorn Hair, eleven inches!"
— Glow.
"Apple wood, Dragon Heartstring, fourteen inches!"
— Still a glow.
"Holly, Phoenix Feather, thirteen inches!"
— Yet another glow!
Each and every one of them was quite polite.
Wand after wand was brought before Lynn. He was like a universal adapter; no matter what wood or core, a glow—large or small, bright or dim—would light up in his hand. No explosions, no rejection, but also none of that earth-shattering resonance that supposedly happens when "the wand chooses the Wizard."
The more Ollivander searched, the more alarmed he became; fine beads of sweat even broke out on his forehead.
The look he gave Lynn was full of unbelievable confusion, and he kept muttering, "Strange… so strange! I have never seen such a… child."
He looked at Lynn, who appeared innocent and even a bit bored, then glanced at the long line that had formed outside the shop again, and let out a deep, desperate sigh.
The conviction of his wand-making career seemed to be under severe challenge.
Finally, Ollivander seemed to give up, feebly pointing at the rows of shelves and saying in a voice near exhaustion:
"You… you go pick one that you think looks good yourself."
After saying this, he seemed drained of all strength, leaning against the counter and murmuring with empty eyes:
"The wand chooses the Wizard… the Ollivander family motto… today is just an accident, yes, it must be an accident…"
Lynn blinked, and although he didn't quite understand why the old man was so devastated, he still wandered around the shop as told.
His gaze swept over the dust-covered boxes, finally stopping on a wand in the corner.
Its material wasn't particularly rare, but the shape was exceptionally smooth and elegant. The wood grain shimmered with a warm luster in the dim light, making him like it at first sight.
"I like this one." Lynn picked it up.
Ollivander glanced at it and feebly recited the information.
"Laurel, Dragon Heartstring, thirteen and a half inches… that will be seven Galleons."
When he said "that will be," he seemed to have used up his last bit of strength; this completely contradicted his lifelong creed.
Lynn thought he had upset the old craftsman badly, so he quickly counted out seven Galleons, placed them on the counter, and like a startled rabbit, grabbed the wand box and the cage containing his Northeast Snowy Owl and dashed out of the wand shop (╯°□°）╯.
Leaving Ollivander alone in the shop, questioning his life in front of a room full of wands.
The shopping was complete, and Dumbledore's task was finished. After saying goodbye to Lynn, he performed an Apparition and left.
[Engraving successful, acquired Apparition]. Having obtained his first magic, Lynn was overjoyed.
Following the path he came by, Lynn walked to the intersection where the trash can was placed.
His leg suddenly felt a bit itchy, and he kicked the trash can to the side.
Then, humming even more happily, he left, planning to go home and try out the first magic he had acquired.
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Read my second novel: Naruto: Multiverse Adventures.