Hoare stood in front of a shop. The st time he was here, he was very young, apanying his parents as they bought a wand for Bill, who had just bee a Prefect.

  The shop was small and shabby, its golden sign peeling, reading: "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC."

  In the window, a lone wand y on a faded purple cushion.

  "Ding."

  Dumbledore pushed open the door and led Hoare inside.

  The shop was small, with nothing but a ben the er, and a thin yer of dust covered everything.

  Hoare looked around, following the line of wand boxes stacked from floor to ceiling, so high he couldn't see the top.

  Ollivander said, "How curious, a student at this time, here to buy a wand."

  "Oh, it's Headmaster Dumbledore."

  Ollivander emerged from behind a curtain, revealing a glimpse of a workshop, likely where the wands were made.

  "Ollivander, I'm here to help my student choose a wand," Dumbledore said, stepping aside to reveal Hoare.

  Ollivander leaned forward over the ter, scrutinizing Hoare with wide eyes.

  "How curious, how curious," Ollivander muttered.

  Hoare didn't respond, his heart nearly in his throat, almost fetting how accurately Ollivander could read people, which was why he made sutuitive wands.

  Fortunately, Dumbledore didn't question Ollivander's musings.

  Ollivander, seeing their ck of curiosity, didn't mind. He withdrew, muttering to himself as if debating.

  He tentatively pulled out a wand and ha to Hoare. "11 inches, holly, uni hair cive it a try..."

  Hoare took it and gave it a casual flick.

  "Boom!" The sofa in the er burst into fmes. Ollivander skillfully extinguished the fire with a flick of his wand and took the wand back from Hoare. "Oh no, not this one."

  He handed over another. "Try this one..."

  Hoare took it as well.

  "11.5 inches, made of ebony, with a thunderbird tail feather core, excellent for Transfiguration. I think it might suit you well." Ollivander's words carried a hint of meaning, and Hoare uood; he had probably seen through him.

  Perhaps this one was really suitable for him? Hoare held up the wand and attempted a spell.

  "Transfiguration!" Hoare shouted at the carpet in the er.

  He imagiurning the carpet into a vase.

  As soon as Hoare finished speaking, the entire room began to shake and tremble, as if it had e alive. The floorboards visibly transformed into an uifiable mass, starting to writhe.

  Dumbledore quickly waved his wand, "Finite!"

  The twisting, transf room returo normal, and the three of them let out a sigh of relief. The se just now had been quite uling.

  "Oh, not this oher, what a pity," Ollivander said, though his expression was one of relief.

  "It's the wand that chooses the wizard, not the wizard who chooses the wand," Ollivander remarked, tinuing to poher wand binations.

  "Holly? No. Ebony? No. Bckthorn, yes! Bight work."

  "That wand!!!"

  Ollivander seemed to remember something and began searg frantically.

  He turhe pce upside down, dust flying everywhere, many wand boxes colpsing, making Hoare frown.

  Hoare had a slight, just a slight, touch of OCD.

  He noticed that when Ollivander mentioned bckthorn, Headmaster Dumbledore's brow furrowed slightly but quickly rexed.

  Hoare uzzled. Was there something special about this material?

  "Found it!" Ollivander shouted.

  He pulled out a cobweb-covered, dusty wooden box from the bottom, wiped it off casually, and ope to reveal a wand lying on a red velvet cushion.

  Ollivaurhe box towards Hoare, his tone very excited. "This was made by my grandfather, very a. I always thought it would remain lonely forever. But now, child, perhaps you are its destined owner."

  Hoare took the wand from the box.

  It looked very ordinary, with a bck, slightly shorter-than-average appearance.

  Seeing Hoare pick up the wand, Ollivander was thrilled. "It has a bit of a temper, doesn't easily allow others to touch it. My judgment was right; it suits you perfectly."

  "Go ahead, child, give it a try..."

  This time, Hoare ko test it gently with a light flick.

  He felt that this wand was pletely different from the previous ones, even from his old sed-hand wand.

  It felt as if it was naturally ected to him, fully uanding his iions.

  A gentle breeze blew over everyone in the shop, warm and f, a sensation everyo.

  "This is it! 8.8 inches, bckthorn, with a dragostring core. This wand only aowledges the powerful. Child..." Ollivander leaned forward, eyes fixed on Hoare, "You must be a powerful wizard."

  Hoare replied, "Thank you for the pliment."

  "Bckthorn is a very unusual wand wood, suited for a warrior. And dragostring produce the most powerful wands. Their bination is one of loyalty and strength."

  Hoare clearly saw that after Ollivander said this, Dumbledore's brow rexed, as if all his worries had vanished.

  He found it amusing, as if Ollivander was being used as his personal psychologist to analyze his character.

  Ollivander withdrew with a smile, "7 Galleons, thank you for your patronage."

  Dumbledore stepped forward to pay, satisfied.

  Then, following their previous agreement, they went to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, eajoying a rge sundae.

  Afterward, they returo Hogsmeade in the same manner.

  Fortunately, Hoare had prepared in advahis time, with a sour dy in his mouth, which helped him suppress the nausea upon nding.

  After thanking Dumbledain, Hoare returo the empty Slytherin on Room.

  He had been out for just over half a day, and the school had already been redecorated by the house-elves.

  he firep the on Room stood a giant Christmas tree.

  Uhe tree was a box and a letter.

  Hoare picked it up, puzzled. The gift was quite heavy, and it wasn't even Christmas yet. Why was someone giving him a present?

  He wasn't worried about taking the wrong one, as he was the only oaying at Slytherihe holidays.

  The sender—Lucius Malfoy? Draco's father? What did he want with him?

  Hoare uned the hefty gift, having a vague idea of what it might be.

  Sure enough, it was a ste pouch.

  0Niffler0