Led by McGonagall, the two walked through Diagon Alley and soon reached their destination.
If Gringotts was the most luxurious building in all of Diagon Alley, Ollivanders Wand Shop was definitely one of the three most rundown shops.
The dust on the windows had solidified into grime, making it impossible to see what was inside. A crooked wooden sign hung askew.
【Ollivanders; Wandmakers since 382 BC.】
Seeing the words, Wayne scoffed in disbelief.
Over three hundred years BC, this land wasn't even under the Anglo-Saxons, even the Roman legions hadn't arrived yet.
The concept of Britain didn't even exist at that time. There were just Celtic tribes everywhere. What was he even making wands for back then?
But, as the only arms dealer in all of Britain.
Ollivanders shouldn't need to do this to build up his reputation, right?
Seeing Wayne hesitate, McGonagall thought he was scared off by the battle-damaged style of the shop. She walked forward to push open the wooden door, comforting him with her words.
"Ollivanders is just...a bit untidy. His wand making skills are definitely master level...Bang!"
Before McGonagall could finish her sentence, perhaps because she was distracted by explaining things to Wayne, she used a bit too much force. The door of the wand shop was pushed entirely off its hinges.
A large cloud of dust billowed out, even some of the grime on the windows fell to the ground, turning into dust.
Wayne quickly used his backpack to shield himself, preventing himself from getting dusty.
"Professor, are you okay? Pfft! Sorry, I didn't mean to."
After the dust settled slightly, Wayne moved away, looking at McGonagall whose emerald green robes had turned a light gray. He couldn't help but burst out laughing.
【Laughing at the professor in person, points +10.】
Damn system.
This is laughing at you?
This is sympathy, alright.
Wayne grumbled to himself, McGonagall's face was extremely gloomy. Fortunately, an old voice broke the awkwardness.
"Didn't I put a sign up saying 'Please open the door gently'? Why...Minerva, it's you."
An old man with white hair and beard poked his head out from behind the shelves.
He started with a reprimand, but when he saw it was Professor McGonagall, a smile instantly spread across his face.
His speed in changing his expression was truly unmatched.
"Garrick, your shop really needs a makeover."
McGonagall said with a slightly darkened face, but Ollivanders just laughed it off and changed the subject.
"Minerva, you know, every summer, seeing you is the happiest moment for me. When you, Filius, or Pomona appear, it means a wand is going to meet its owner."
He finished his words, his deep blue eyes fixed on Wayne.
"Young wizard, can you tell me your name?"
"Wayne Lawrence," Wayne answered, subtly moving further away from a shelf.
He had just seen that one of the legs of the shelf was broken. He didn't know when it might collapse.
"Ah, Mr. Lawrence, a rare surname. Are your ancestors Roman or French?"
"French, I guess. But we've been in Britain for many years."
The Lawrence family was indeed old-era nobility who came with William the Conqueror from Normandy. The surname Lawrence is more common in French.
"It seems your ancestors made the right choice. The French are dog-like."
Ollivanders chatted with Wayne while a measuring tape automatically flew towards the young wizard.
Wayne twitched the corner of his mouth. The conflict between England and France had even infected the wizarding world, seizing every opportunity to humiliate each other.
It was truly ridiculous.
"Your dominant hand is?"
"Left."
"Alright, then try this one."
Ollivanders glanced at the measurements on the tape. He didn't disappear for long, then returned with a stack of wooden boxes.
"Child, you have to remember, the wand chooses the wizard. When the wizard and the wand have a magical reaction, it can then display its full potential."
"Let's try it first. Some young wizards are quite picky. Like Minerva back then..."
Professor McGonagall's helpless voice sounded, "Rowan, nine inches, dragon heartstring core, suitable for Transfiguration."
"Garrick, you always bring this up whenever you see me."
"Forgive an old man who must use this method to remember things." Ollivanders smiled and handed Wayne a wand.
Holding it in his hand, Wayne wanted to shoot something.
Then, he followed his heart.
Bang!
A beam of white light burst from the tip of the wand towards the ceiling, directly creating a large hole.
Ollivanders was not only not angry that his ancestral home was being destroyed, but his face was filled with joy.
"Amazing, amazing."
"This wand is a bit unworthy of your future achievements, Mr. Lawrence. While Rowan wood is suitable for intelligent people, it's ultimately too gentle. How about trying this one."
"Dragon heartstring and yew wood combination."
The wand in his hand was snatched away and a new one was immediately thrust into his hand. This time, a fiery ball of fire emerged.
Wayne frowned.
He didn't like the out-of-control display of magic. The next second, the fireball dissipated into thin air.
Clap, clap, clap!
Ollivanders was even more delighted. "Mr. Lawrence, your talent is truly remarkable. It's rare for young wizards to control their magic when they first come into contact with a wand."
"But I beg you, don't do that. Just let things flow naturally, and you'll find the most suitable wand."
Wayne could only nod helplessly, agreeing that he wouldn't interfere anymore.
Even Professor McGonagall showed a hint of a smile.
It seemed Hogwarts had welcomed another young genius. It would be even better if he could be sorted into Gryffindor.
After all, Slytherin had won the House Cup six times in a row, which had been bothering her for a long time.
Boxes on the table were opened one after another, and Wayne tried various wand combinations.
From Rowan to walnut, from dragon heartstring to Thestral tail feather.
Ollivanders was completely in the zone, constantly muttering to himself.
He enjoyed such picky customers.
The pickier, the more it proved the wizard was extraordinary.
In the wizarding world, being ordinary meant blending in. Only wizards with distinct characteristics and personalities could reach the summit.
Then when Wayne achieved success, he would mention the wand, and he would have face too.
His grandfather had been bragging for decades about selling a wand to Dumbledore. It had also successfully suppressed the other two wand-making families.
Ollivanders wanted that day too.
Then, the three great wand-making families would be no more. People would only remember him, Ollivanders!
This trial lasted for half an hour, nearly a hundred wands.
Wayne was quite calm.
So what if a time traveler is special? He's just tried a few more wands.
"So, try this one," Ollivanders brought out another box.
"Ash, unicorn hair, eleven and a quarter inches."
Wayne took the wand indifferently. The next second, a sense of serendipity surged through him.