"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

"I'm Kodoli, Mr. Potter, and I can't believe I've finally met you."

"It's an honor, Mr. Potter, it's an honor."

"I've been looking forward to shaking your hand for a long time - my heart is pounding."

……

Ricardo crossed his hands over his chest and looked nonchalantly at the scene before him: everyone in the bar gathered in the hall and happily shook hands with a little wizard.

The little wizard looked a little excited, and of course the constant movement of holding the mirror made Ricardo see at a glance that he was still a little panicked in his heart.

Behind him, a man the size of half a giant stretched out his hands, intent protecting the little wizard in the center of the crowd.

Yes, this is Harry Potter, the savior, the boy who is said to have killed the second Dark Lord.

"It doesn't look like anything special," Fleur, who was standing on the sidelines, couldn't help but comment, "It's just an ordinary boy." ”

"Do you expect an eleven-year-old to really have Dumbledore's credentials?" Ricardo replied, "The Savior only comforted himself verbally with the wizards, and anyone with a brain would know that the Dark Lord died with his parents." ”

"Verbal comfort?" Fleur tilted her head, "What is this concept?" ”

"The death of the second Dark Lord was too hasty," Ricardo said in a sarcastic tone, "and if the hero who killed the Dark Lord is dead, who can stand in his way?" ”

Fleur immediately understood. They need a reliance, even if it's ridiculous.

This is indeed a ridiculous reliance, and Ricardo and Fleur thought at the same time that the adults had given the task of defeating the Dark Lord to an eleven-year-old child, just because he had witnessed the death of the Dark Lord and the heroic sacrifice of his parents.

used to rely on the centenarian Dumbledore, and now on the eleven-year-old Harry Potter, this kind of world...... Is it funny?

"Huh?"

Ricardo frowned as he saw a figure wearing a scarf approaching the boy.

Chino Quirinas?

Why did he come here and go to Harry Potter?

"What's wrong?"

"You wait at the door first, I have something to do."

Ricardo hurried downstairs, squeezed to Harry Potter's side, and silently took out his wand and hid it in his sleeve.

"Bo-Po-Potter," Professor Quirrell stammered, grabbing Harry's hand. Ricardo looked at him and waved his wand.

"It's nice to see you have something to say-unspeakable-high-."

"What kind of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"Anti-defensive techniques against black-black-black magic, and-and this one-sir." Professor Quirrell muttered, gesturing at Ricardo, who was staring at him.

Ricardo, who was named, smiled at Harry Potter and said nothing.

"You've learned, haven't you, have you, Mr. Bo-Po-Porter?"

Chino laughed nervously, causing Ricardo to clench his wand, "You're going to buy what you need, aren't you?" I'm also going to - I'm going to buy - a new - new book about vampires. ”

Finally, the people around him got impatient and pushed Chino aside, and Ricardo breathed a sigh of relief and slowly walked to the door, leaving the Leaky Cauldron with Fleur.

"What just happened, Ricardo?" Fleur asked curiously.

"It's nothing, let's go," Ricardo shook his head, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "It's just a profession, keeping students safe." ”

It was true that he didn't dare to mess with a dark wizard who could bounce under Dumbledore's eyelids, but as a teacher, he had a responsibility to keep his students safe.

But if you really have to make a move, Ricardo, who can produce a book on combat methods, is really worthwhile, plus the crowd next to him and Hagrid, he is sure to capture Chino alive.

It's just that he didn't see it, and a fierce light flashed in Chino's eyes.

……

Ollivanders Wand Shop.

"Jingle bells."

The shop was small, with nothing but a bench.

But there's a reason for that: Thousands of long, narrow cardboard boxes sit densely packed in the store, like a tightly managed library.

"Good afternoon." A soft voice said, and at the same time there was a loud clicking sound, which startled Fleur and quickly got up from the bench.

An old man stood in front of them, his large, light-colored eyes like two shining moons in the dim shop.

"Yes...... Came to buy a wand? ”

He stared at Fleur and Ricardo carefully, and finally said with certainty, "You definitely didn't buy your first wand here, right?" There is no memory of you being eleven years old in my barren brain. ”

"Yes, we are from France," Ricardo replied calmly, "my wand is damaged and needs to buy another one." ”

Fleur gave Ricciardo a strange look, she had just seen Ricardo take it out.

- Ricciardo is just in case, after all, the Savior is coming, Hogwarts will face an eventful time, and one more wand will be one more insurance.

He first went to the Ollivander store at the very back of Diagon Alley to make sure that his Golden Galleon could buy at least one wand.

"Well," said Mr. Ollivanders, glancing at him with a piercing gaze, "if I'm not mistaken, your last wand was made by Grigovich, and he's a good wandmaker. Although the styles he makes are never the same as mine......"

What kind of wand will I get? Ricardo thought as he pretended to echo the old man.

His current wand had indeed been bought from Grigovich, for which he had smuggled from France to Germany.

Fir wood, Thunderbird tail feathers, thirteen inches long, is said to give his master enough luck and an incomparable talent for transformation, which makes him a far lead in duels, and he fights all over Sparttons in his third year.

So now that seven years have passed, what kind of wand can he get?

"All right, sir, come on. Let me see," he said for a long moment before pausing, and pulling out a tape measure with silver graduations from his pocket, "which arm do you use to make your wand?" ”

"I'm used to using my right hand."

"Put your arms up. Good. ”

He measured Ricardo, first from the shoulders to the fingertips, then from the wrists to the elbows, shoulders to the floor, knees to the armpits, and finally the circumference of the head.

"Every Ollivanders wand has a super-powerful magical substance, which is the essence of it......"

Ricardo listened helplessly to the chatter of the old man, and Fleur couldn't help but snicker when she saw his loveless face.

I'm telling you you're done, Ollivander!

“…… Of course, if you use a wand that is supposed to belong to another wizard, you will never have such a good effect. ”

Mr. Ollivander was shuttling through the shelves, busily picking out some long boxes to move down.

"Alright." He said the tape measure slipped to the ground and rolled up in a ball. "Well, sir, try this one. Made of beech wood and snake nerves. Nine inches long. Yes, very flexible. You give it a try. ”

- and then just waved it and was snatched away by the old man.

"Maple, phoenix feathers. Seven inches long. Good elasticity, try it-"

- This time it was taken away before it could be lifted.

"No, no—try this, made of ebony and unicorn hair. Eight and a half inches long. Very resilient. Come on, come on, try this one. ”

"This one doesn't work......"

"Change this ......"

Ollivander made him try one after another. This is simply a copy of the background of his online courseware shopping: each one does not meet his mind, and he always feels that this one is suitable for setting off the lecture content, and that one does not meet his aesthetic taste.

So he understands it, but doesn't want to accept it.

The wands that had been tried were piled up on the benches, piling higher and higher. But the more Mr. Ollivander pulled his wand from the shelf, the happier he seemed to be.

"A discerning customer, huh? It doesn't matter. ”

Finally, when Riccardo got his hands on a purple-red wand, a wave of magic flowed from his arm, and he knew something was wrong, and hurriedly pointed the head of the wand to the outside of Ollivander's shop.

"Boom!"

A green light shot out from the wand's head, striking the ground outside the store, kicking up dust.

When the smoke cleared, I saw a small pothole outside the store.

Ricardo took a closer look, and the crater was still expanding, and the unfinished magic seemed to be still corroding the ground, dragging the dirt into the air.

"A combination of horror," the old man quickly recovered from the shock, but his face became serious, "Purple shirt wood, dragon heartstrings, thirteen inches long, eleven Galleons." You will have a powerful wand. ”

There is a basis for this, and Ricardo has also rummaged through the information to know how powerful the two are.

The yew wand is said to have the power to give life and death to its wielder, and the dragon's nerves are said to be unstable and accident-prone, but the wand it makes is said to be the most powerful and the spell is the most dazzling.

But......

Both are also associated with the dark arts, with yew having a particularly dark and intimidating reputation in the realm of duels and various evil spells, and wands that use dragons as raw materials are usually the easiest to bow to the dark arts.

Combined...... I'm afraid this is not a sign of the Demon King!

In addition, the purple shirt wood ...... Dragon's Heartstrings...... Ricardo couldn't help but think, can he call himself the purple-shirted dragon king in the future?

"Thank you very much." Ricardo nodded and delivered the corresponding gold galleons.

"In my experience, it's certain that a yew wand would never be subservient to mediocre or timid people," Ollivander stared at Ricardo, his eyes burning inexplicably, "the most famous of all is the mysterious man who can't be nominated." ”

Fleur gasped, clasped her hands to her chest, and looked at Ricardo in a wary manner.

Ricardo glared at her viciously, his eyes rolling wildly, just not looking at Ollivander.

"I remember every wand I sell, sir. Purple shirt wood, phoenix tail feathers. ”

"By the way, that tail feather has a brother who is still lying in my shop."

Oh, it turns out that Voldemort is the king of the purple shirts...... Looks like I'm a little taller than him? Ricardo thought shamelessly, avoiding Ollivanders' gaze.

"I think you're going to do great things, and anyway, the mystery guy I can't nominate has done great things—terrible albeit but still big."

Ollivanders' moony eyes kept staring at him, as if in a plea—or warning.

Years later, as Ricciardo stood in front of a dying Dumbledore, he would remember the distant morning when he went to buy his second wand.

At that time, he was a teenager who had just found a job, and he was looking forward to his future life as a professor, so he bought an extra wand for prudence.

Then he drew this existence that was so black from the body of the wand to the core of the wand, and thought that his mature thinking was enough to shatter the darkness and suppress the wand's preference.

At that time, he had no ambition to become the White Devil at all, and only wanted to succeed in surviving.

But Ricardo felt that this eye would be staring at him for a long, long time.