Chapter 7: Simply Because I Took One More Glance at You in the Crowd

Ollivanders Wand Shop.

Sherlock tried wand after wand, but none seemed to suit him.

Despite this, Ollivander showed no impatience.

On the contrary, he grew increasingly excited.

Sherlock said nothing, passively cooperating as the shopkeeper selected wands, wearing an expression of great patience.

Mr. and Mrs. Holmes exchanged glances.

They mainly could not understand what kind of wand Ollivander considered the most fitting.

From their perspective, Sherlock had just received a wand—he hadn’t even had the chance to raise it, let alone wave it, before the peculiar old man snatched it away.

This had happened several times already.

At last, Mrs. Holmes couldn’t help but whisper a suggestion to her husband, “Tanan, shall we look elsewhere?”

Mr. Holmes hesitated, “But I heard this is the only place…”

“Ha?”

Unexpectedly, Ollivander’s hearing was unusually keen. Though his attention had been fixed on Sherlock, he now looked up:

“Madam, are you questioning the Ollivander family?”

Under the sharp gaze, Mrs. Holmes felt a bit nervous. “No, I just…”

“No need for such trouble. The Ollivander family has been making wands since 382 BCE. No matter how picky the customer, they will always find the wand that suits them here.”

“Including the one who just left?”

Sherlock suddenly interjected.

Ollivander paused, then laughed heartily. “What a perceptive little wizard you are—indeed, there was a particularly selective customer before, a very famous figure, ha…”

At this, Ollivander seemed to realize something and corrected himself, “It’s less that the wizard chooses the wand; in truth, the wand chooses its wizard!

Remember, no one leaves Ollivander’s disappointed, right!”

With that, he tapped his head, walked to the shelf from which a wand had just flown out, and took from the corner a plain black wand.

“Made of beech wood with a dragon heartstring core, twelve inches long, tough yet flexible. Give it a try.”

Sherlock naturally noticed Ollivander’s attempt to shift the topic.

He did not ask more but took the wand as offered.

The moment he gripped the wand, a sudden, profound sensation arose, as if something bound him intimately to the wand in his hand.

He gently waved it once, producing a single white smoke ring that slowly drifted away.

Not only that, but he seemed to hear the whistle of a steam engine and the laughter of sailors in his ears.

It was as if he and the wand had resonated in perfect harmony.

How marvelous!

Even without understanding magic, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes could tell this wand was suitable for Sherlock.

“Did this wand choose me?” Sherlock asked as Ollivander handed him the boxed wand.

“Yes. The wand chooses the wizard—that is the true answer.”

Having finally selected a wand for this picky customer, Ollivander looked pleased and added:

“For a beech wand’s true match, if the owner is an adult, they must be reasonable and experienced.

If a teenager…”

Ollivander glanced at Sherlock with a knowing look, “It means they possess wisdom beyond their years.”

Wisdom beyond years?

Sherlock pondered silently.

At this moment, Mrs. Holmes stepped forward to inquire about the self-measuring tape.

The answer was that it could only be used by wizards, not non-magical folk.

This left her somewhat disappointed.

After paying eight Galleons, Mr. Ollivander bowed them out.

“Two picky customers in one day—looks like Hogwarts will be lively this year…”

He murmured, watching the trio’s retreating backs.

Having purchased the wand, Sherlock and his parents finally concluded their day’s shopping in Diagon Alley.

With careful budgeting, the required items on the enrollment list cost nearly eighty Galleons.

After buying a few extra books, Sherlock had less than twenty Galleons left.

Mrs. Holmes felt that restricting the exchange of magical currency was a form of discrimination against non-magical families like theirs, and she harbored resentment for a while.

Yet, persuaded by Mr. Holmes, she gave up on lodging a complaint, and the family returned smoothly to the Leaky Cauldron.

As they were about to drive back, Sherlock suddenly stopped.

He noticed a pair of adults with a little girl, pacing between a bookstore and a record shop.

With a single glance, Sherlock judged them to be a couple with their daughter, with the same purpose as theirs had been not long ago.

Sherlock’s motion caught the attention of Mr. and Mrs. Holmes.

Following his gaze, they too saw the family lingering between the bookstore and record store.

The couple was neatly dressed and refined.

The little girl had thick brown hair and was chattering away.

Though lacking Sherlock’s keen observational skills, it was not hard to guess they were also searching for the Leaky Cauldron.

Mrs. Holmes, a warm-hearted woman, immediately grasped the similarity to their own recent experience and pulled her husband over.

Clearly, she intended to offer help.

Sherlock knew this.

With the young wizard present, this family would surely find the Leaky Cauldron.

But he did not expect that just from a glance in the crowd, his mother would take the initiative to intervene.

Watching his parents already engaged in conversation with the family, he could only join in.

“Of course! You’re here looking for Diagon Alley too, right?”

Mrs. Holmes, now full of confidence from today’s experience, quickly took the lead in the conversation from her “been-there-before” perspective:

“Oh, I’d bet the goblins at the bank have the worst attitude—just like Aunt Susan’s apple pie next door.”

“Saint Mary above, they only gave us an exchange limit of 128 Galleons! It’s foolish not to make a profit when you have the chance!”

“If I see them again, I swear I’ll kick their behinds with my boots.”

Mrs. Holmes’s words swiftly bridged the distance between them.

After exchanging introductions and learning that the couple named Granger were also non-magical folk, she excitedly pulled Sherlock forward:

“Sherlock, this is Miss Hermione Granger, also a new Hogwarts student. You can look out for each other.”