Casto stared directly at Dumbledore from his hospital bed. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 info He looked down at himself with a serious expression.

"Nicol. Lemay? "Kasto was a little bit incredulous.

"You've heard of it too?" Dumbledore stroked his beard with some relief, "It seems that his reputation has not diminished for hundreds of years." ”

"Of course." Casto replied sincerely, but secretly added a few words in his heart.

Nicol, who Harry couldn't find when he looked around the school. Lemay?

The old bastard who made Harry want to stay at school for Christmas?

Although he had given Harry advice to leave him alone, he really didn't care about himself - Harry was still thanking himself for his forbearance and keeping him from being counted out by Hermione. Castor had always been frustrated by Harry's carelessness and sluggishness - but he had found the culprit today, so he wouldn't be polite.

Who caused him to spend Christmas alone! Well, it's definitely him. It's become the tears of the times, so don't come out and harm others again.

Moreover, he had to study with the undead of the old times, which made him feel very strange.

You must know that his previous teacher has always been unashamed to call himself a "good young man in the new era". Although he also died suddenly.

However, he still understands the truth that "people have to bow their heads under the eaves".

"Do you want to go now? But I'm still a little weak, and I'm afraid I won't be able to see him right away. Castor asked eagerly.

Dumbledore stared at him with a smirk, as if he had seen his complex mental activity for a moment.

"No," he said, "you first need a wand, which is essential for wizards." ”

"Also," he drew his wand and winked at Casto, "you have to trust the wizard's abilities. ”

Castor had a bad feeling.

But it was too late.

.

Castor is back in Diagon Alley.

He had already accepted his fate today and wanted to spend Christmas alone.

But first, an honest werewolf girl crashes into him, and they go shopping together. In the end, he thought that he would always maintain this warm atmosphere, but he fell under her forgetting spell.

If you think about it, you can understand her intentions, but since she has not forgotten - if you can see her again, you must find a way to teach her a lesson.

However, it seems that he can't take revenge on the second person who accompanied him for Christmas.

"How does it feel, Casto?"

"Very well, sir," Casto smiled, stiffly, "this is the shop." ”

In front of him was a small, dilapidated store. Unlike other bustling shops, there are only two figures, one tall and one short, standing in front of it, which is very deserted.

Casto took a serious look at the shop for the first time - knowing that he couldn't cast spells, he wasn't very interested in all things spell-related. On the door is a peeling gold sign that reads: "Ollivanders: A Wand Made Since 382 BC". In the dusty window, a wand sits alone on a faded purple cushion.

In the darkness behind the glass, he also saw a faint candlelight.

"Let's go inside." The old man said. Castor obediently pushed the door open.

The shop is small and has nothing but a bench. If you had to count it, the old man with a candlestick and a wand was scrutinizing a wand was one of the facilities.

There was a jingling bell from somewhere behind the shop, but the old man waved his wand—and the sound died down instantly.

"Hello, Headmaster Dumbledore, and, my special guest, Mr. Black, you have kept me waiting for a long time," said the old man in a soft voice, "and I have to rush back to the Christmas dinner." Of course, my old man, whose grandchildren are all grown, still remembers your father's wand......"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ollivander," Dumbledore said as he took off the flower hat he had used to hide his identity, "we're all in a hurry—and I've noticed that Casto is a little uncomfortable with my spell, and he might want to get to the teacher's house for a good rest." ”

Castor said "Hello" affectionately, and then met a pair of silver-white eyes with a blank expression. In the dark, they are like two moons.

He appeared to be standing on the ground, his feet dangling half an inch above the ground, his whole body stiff like a marionette.

This is how he was directed by Dumbledore and floated to Diagon Alley - although it appeared to outsiders that he was walking, but only swinging his limbs and pretending.

Although it is very labor-saving, it is too uncomfortable, both physical and psychological.

"Well, Mr. Black, which arm do you use to make your wand?" He then pulled out a long tape measure with silver scales from his pocket.

"Left hand."

Castor imagined himself brandishing a wand in his left hand to buff himself and duel a wizard with a sword in his right hand.

The rest of the process was tedious, but Casto was so immersed in his imagination that he didn't feel impatient at all.

He let Dumbledore command his arm to be lifted and let the tape measure measure of his size.

But when Mr. Ollivander actually picked out some of the long boxes, he was still uneasy.

He felt strange fluctuations all around him—from thousands of narrow cartons almost yardyard to ceiling, some silent, some lively.

They seem to be discussing something, some positive, some silent.

This made Casto, who was being watched, very uncomfortable. It's like a proud person being judged.

I don't want to admit it, but I can only feel the magic - and only the magic of a spell or a magic object, but I can't use it. Can you really find the right wand?

"Remember, wands choose wizards." Ollivander comforted him, "But without a wand to choose you, that's another matter." ”

Castor rolled his eyes. He found that the people he met today were all particularly eccentric.

But he also relaxed.

"Please put me down, sir," he said, "and I must greet them myself." ”

He's almost recovered along the way, at least as Ollivander instructs, and with a wave of his wand, there's no problem.

Dumbledore naturally disenchanted the spell. Casto felt the invisible thread break, and his feet stepped on the solid earth again.

"Come on," he exhaled, as if to go to war, as Ollivander suddenly reminded him that the process could be a long one—that wands can be very fussy if their master wasn't suitable. Only the combination that is absolutely compatible will have a wonderful reaction happening.

Casto picked up the first wand, but he didn't seem to react, and the magic in the stick didn't move. He sighed.

"It's amazing!" Ollivander exclaimed, "It didn't respond!" ”

Castor's face was expressionless.

"Please explain."

"You know, it's made of European pear," Ollivander is very enthusiastic about his field of expertise, "this wooden wand has never been owned by a dark wizard, and it's always very reliable in casting defensive magic - and with its unicorn fur, it's kinder in its own right - and it's always reluctant to disappoint." ”

"So every time someone tries, it reacts?"

"Yes.

"Then why isn't it too lazy to react?"

"You feel it again." Ollivander felt that he was being questioned and said with some dissatisfaction.

Castor stared at the wand in his hand. He felt as if his spirit had formed a tentacle, slowly reaching into the wand, which was only seven inches long.

"It's shy?" He said incredulously. The wand seemed to respond to him, flashing weakly.

"Yes," Ollivander looked at him approvingly, "the wand maker can only feel the wand's feelings because of a long period of perception. There is no doubt that you are its master - but you don't have magic yet, according to Headmaster Dumbledore, it means you can't feel the wonderful feeling of being connected by blood yet - but I believe it's temporary. Plus, it often performs better than other wands in duels, which you might consider as one of the reasons for choosing you. ”

Casto was still staring at his wand, but now he held it in the palm of his hand.

"Thank you." He said solemnly, and then felt it tremble.

He felt like he had found another reason on his way to becoming a wizard, even if it came from a short wand.

"Okay, I should be mentally prepared." "It doesn't matter if it's an old bastard who knows alchemy," he thought. ”

"I'm coming, dear teacher."