A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Felix stayed the night at the 'Future World' company. The next morning, he found himself at a small, shabby shop on the south side of Diagon Alley. The gold paint on the sign had worn off, but this shop was renowned in Diagon Alley—it was Ollivander's.

As the sign claimed — "Crafting fine wands since 382 B.C." — its long history and exceptional, consistent quality made it the go-to place for most British wizards. Notably, it was the only wand shop that collaborated with Hogwarts, offering discounts to all new students purchasing wands.

For many, the first wand became a lifelong companion. Ollivander, the shop owner, held a high position in the magical world, earning respect wherever he went.

Today, the owner of the wand shop received Felix.

"Thirteen inches, blackthorn, with a dragon heartstring core, a very robust combination—of course, I refer to the wand's character—suitable for various types of offensive magic and transfiguration. It's nearly the most versatile type of wand, my masterpiece from my younger days, always hoping someone would take it off my hands."

Mr. Ollivander's light-colored eyes seemed to gleam in the darkness.

"As it turns out, my judgment was correct, the wand's owner has excelled," he said. "What might you want to purchase? A wand maintenance kit? It includes exquisite velvet and beeswax, ensuring your wand leaves a lasting impression—"

He assessed Felix, trying to figure out where Felix had hidden his wand.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Ollivander, that wand was destroyed," Felix said.

"Destroyed?" Mr. Ollivander repeated, blinking disbelievingly with his light-colored, large eyes. "Do you mean damaged? If it's a minor issue, I can repair it—"

"No, it's not," Felix clarified. "It's completely gone, not a trace left."

The old man fell silent, seemingly merging with the dimly lit shop, only the nearly colorless pupils flickering.

"I see," he murmured softly. "I hope it fulfilled its duty."

"What?" Felix asked in surprise.

"I read the papers, Mr. Harp. In the final event of the championship—did you battle the mysterious figure? Was that when the wand was destroyed?"

"Yes, it protected me until the very end," Felix said.

Mr. Ollivander became more excited. "Indeed, just as I had hoped to rectify a mistake, it all feels like yesterday... that unnamed individual who came alone to buy a wand. I attended to him and was surprised by his wand choice, purpleheart with phoenix feather, very powerful... I praised it highly."

"He must have been ecstatic," Felix said with a deadpan expression, as if talking to a fraudster. "You said similar things to me back then, just repeated it now."

"Ahem! You're different, I could see pure affection and a longing for magic in your eyes! I could tell... but that unnamed individual was different. When I mentioned his extraordinary potential, he tried hard not to appear too excited," Ollivander gave a sly look. "I indeed say these things to many, like a lovely blessing that makes guests happy... and I'm not entirely lying. Wands select wizards, aid wizards; nobody can determine a person's future achievements."

"Besides, he did indeed achieve greatness, albeit through wrongful means."

He drifted into reminiscence, then snapped back. "Alright, Mr. Harp, so what brings you here?"

"To purchase a new wand."

"Ah, a new wand! Of course," the old man said confidently, turning towards the shelves. "But it might take a while, selecting a wand for an adult wizard is always trickier, more factors to consider."

"Mr. Ollivander—" Felix attempted to interrupt.

"... You might know Sirius Black? He tried an entire wall's worth of inventory..."

"Wait, Mr. Ollivander. If possible, I'd like an old wand," Felix hurriedly said.

Mr. Ollivander turned around, his eyes shining strangely.

"An old wand?" he murmured, partly questioning, partly talking to himself.

"Yes, I'd like to provide the core materials needed for making a wand by myself, following the standards of ancient times, to create a unique wand," Felix explained. Rather than chasing elusive legends, he preferred a wand that perfectly matched him.

"Surprising," Mr. Ollivander hesitated. "I rarely take on such tasks—custom-made wands—seems a bit unstable, time-consuming."

"But you can do it. When this idea came to mind, you were my first thought," Felix said slowly. "You understand what I mean, over two thousand years of ancient heritage, the fusion of wand families and brilliant minds..."

"You've found the right person, young man," Mr. Ollivander said cheerfully. "In the wandmaking trade, the Ollivander family is the finest in all of Britain!" he said, then added in a whisper, "Perhaps even in Europe."

"So, does that mean you agree?" Felix asked.

"I'm willing to try—" Mr. Ollivander said enthusiastically. "It'd be my honor, Mr. Harp, a First Class Merlin Medal holder." He gave a slight bow, then pointed to a cluttered table with a stack of papers, the Prophet lying underneath.

Felix pulled the paper out from under the books, showing yesterday's ceremony photos. In the picture were five people, Felix and Ms. Bones stood on either side, faintly smiling. In the middle, Harry kept fussing with his hair to make it neater; Ron had a serious expression, but in the next moment, he turned away to sneak a kiss on the medal, while Hermione beamed, repeatedly tracing the patterns on the medal.

The headline of the article read "Defeaters of the Dark Lord."

"Do you have any suggestions for wand core materials?" Mr. Ollivander asked.

"Of course," Felix replied, lifting his head from the paper. One of his hairs began rapidly growing, about a foot long, then snapped off from the root, floating towards the surprised old man.

"Hmm, it's hair..."

Mr. Ollivander caught the hair, reaching for a pair of glasses from a box. After putting them on, he examined it carefully, "Amazing... an incredibly potent magical substance... if I may, do you have any ancestry with non-human creatures?"

"I don't think so," Felix said with a dark expression.

Mr. Ollivander clicked his tongue, clearly skeptical. "Not a big deal, even though such unions defy conventional beliefs, the offspring sometimes possess enviable talents. Like the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, you must know him... and last year, a girl from Beauxbatons with Veela lineage... of course, I suspect even the headmistress of Beauxbatons might..." He closed his mouth, looking serious, gazing at Felix's hair.

"What's wrong?" Felix asked.

After a while, Mr. Ollivander raised his head, surprised, "I can't find traces of an anomaly. This suggests that even if your ancestors had mixed blood, it would be many generations back,

possibly before your family even settled in Britain."

"Mr. Ollivander," Felix interjected, "let's just focus on the wand."

"Right, right," he said, suddenly enthusiastic again. "It'll be a fascinating endeavor. I'll need some time to prepare; in the meantime, I'll study the materials and plan."

"Thank you," Felix said, then took a look around the shop. The sun had fully risen, casting a soft light into the room, illuminating the shelves of wands. He hoped the wand to be crafted would serve him well in the future battles he might face.

As he left the shop, he noticed Ms. Bones standing across the street, seemingly deep in thought. Felix waved at her, and she started walking towards him.

"Find anything interesting?" she asked.

"A wand, hopefully," Felix replied, then decided not to mention the uniqueness of the wand-to-be.

"Great, glad to hear it," Ms. Bones smiled. "Shall we head to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch?"

"Sure, let's go," Felix said, relieved that he wouldn't have to figure out where to eat.

>

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