Ten minutes later.
Thorne and Harry sat side by side on chairs at the entrance of the wand shop, momentarily at a loss for what to do.
Thorne felt a strange sense of déjà vu for some reason.
He felt as if he had become a parent called in for a "talk," while the slender, busy termite wandmaker in front of him was like a teacher, looking down to check homework.
Ollivander was circling that giant Dragon tooth incessantly.
He tapped it occasionally, leaned in close, and stroked it every now and then, his movements focused and obsessed.
To an outsider, it might look like this "termite" had found a new, exceptionally hard piece of food.
Worse still, he kept muttering exclamations under his breath.
That tone made Thorne involuntarily recall two days ago.
The expression on Professor McGonagall's face when he had just handed her the blueprints for the "Soul-Storing Statue."
Anyway... it was that kind of "I've found something really fun" look.
Thorne tilted his head slightly toward Harry and said casually.
"Son—oh, no, Harry, did you get your new wand?"
Harry nodded with a smile and carefully pulled a long, thin wooden rod from his waist.
"Holly," he said earnestly and excitedly.
"The core is Phoenix feather, eleven inches long. Mr. Ollivander said it's very supple and has a very... close connection with me."
Thorne raised an eyebrow.
Uh...
He really couldn't see what connection there could be between these materials and a Stag Beetle.
Harry clearly cherished it, stroking the wand gently before looking up at Ollivander, who was still immersed in his research, and the Dragon tooth receiving his full attention.
"Professor, I didn't expect the place across the street to be a wand shop too..."
He hesitated, his voice filled with sincere admiration. "Your wand is truly special; what is its structure?"
Thorne pressed his hand to his forehead.
"Uh... Dragon, the tooth of a Ukrainian Ironbelly," he said.
"It's about forty-five inches long. As for the core... I wouldn't know."
As soon as he finished speaking.
Harry's eyes lit up instantly.
"Wow!"
He couldn't help but exclaim, "Then the wands from that shop across the street... are way cooler than this one!"
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he asked seriously, "Can a Wizard... have two wands?"
Thorne rolled his eyes and tapped the little Stag Beetle's head.
"Hey, listen to your Professor."
"This isn't a wand at all; it has its own specific name."
"This IS a wand!"
Suddenly, a faint but exceptionally firm voice rang out again.
Thorne looked up to see the "termite" Ollivander standing before them, struggling to hold the massive Dragon tooth.
His two pincers were trembling uncontrollably, and the whole insect looked like it was about to collapse.
Thorne stood up immediately and hurried to take the Dragon tooth.
"Uh... Termite—oh, no, Mr. Ollivander, you could have just told me."
Ollivander leaned against a nearby table as if a massive weight had been lifted, gasping for air.
"In-incredible..."
His voice trembled, but his eyes were startlingly bright. "No core, just the body itself producing such an effect."
As he spoke, he couldn't help but reach out again, gently stroking the surface of the Dragon tooth.
"The closest I've ever come to a finished product... was an oak one, sixteen inches long, slightly curved,"
He paused, his tone suddenly dropping. "It was later snapped in half."
Thorne blinked.
"This one of yours... must have taken a long time to make, right?"
"Uh..."
Thorne thought for a moment. "Not long, about two or three seconds."
Silence followed.
Ollivander froze for a moment, then suddenly burst into loud laughter.
There was even a hint of exhilaration in that laughter.
Thorne silently assessed the man's age, wondering if he should reserve a bed for him at St Mungos in advance.
He and Harry exchanged a glance, then he spoke seriously.
"Sir, I'm telling the truth. Don't you think this Dragon tooth... looks familiar?"
"It's actually supposed to be across the street from you; it's been there for a long time."
Hearing this, Ollivander instinctively looked across the street.
At first, the smile hadn't faded from his face.
But gradually, the smile froze.
"The Dragon tooth..."
His voice grew quieter. "Yes, the Dragon tooth!"
The next moment, his eyes flew wide open.
"Th-this is impossible!"
"It was still there yesterday!"
Ollivander whipped his head around, staring intently at Thorne.
"How did you do it?"
Thorne scratched his head and hoisted the Dragon tooth back onto his shoulder.
"Uh... just a squeeze."
"A squeeze?"
"Yes, just a squeeze."
The termite's eyes seemed to lose all light at that moment.
He stepped back slowly, leaning his back against the table, looking as if his worldview had taken a direct hit.
Beside him, Harry was also shocked that Professor Thorne had made a "wand" himself, but he didn't quite grasp its value, so his reaction was a beat slower.
Seeing Ollivander looking like his soul had been sucked out, he couldn't help but tug at Thorne's trouser leg.
"Pro-Professor... what... what's wrong with him?"
Thorne tilted his head, thought for a moment, and explained seriously.
"I think it's roughly equivalent to—when you're being chased by your cousin for a beating, you suddenly realize he's driving a truck today."
Harry's face went pale instantly.
"Oh my god..."
"That's truly... despairing."
It took a while longer before Ollivander seemed to recover from the collapse of his worldview.
He took a deep breath, stood up straight, and looked at Thorne with piercing eyes.
"Alright, I understand."
"Young man, do you... have a job?"
Thorne blinked.
"I do."
"Is the pay high?"
"Uh, the salary is actually okay, about—"
"I'll pay double!"
Thorne was stunned.
"But... I haven't even said how much yet."
"It doesn't matter."
Ollivander said decisively, "Whatever they're paying, I'll double it."
Harry was shocked on the spot.
No way?
Was it possible that the second Hogwarts Professor he'd just met wouldn't be there when school started?
Thorne looked at the "termite" before him with his exceptionally determined gaze, swallowed slightly, and then his expression became solemn and serious.
"My employer, Mr. Dumbledore,"
"Brought me from St Mungos to Hogwarts and saved me from a predicament where I might have faced imprisonment."
"He is my dearest kin and companion, my mentor and friend."
Hearing this, Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
Phew, thank goodness, this Professor really does have a sense of duty.
However, the next moment, he heard Thorne add in an incredibly firm tone.
"He'll have to pay more!"
—
Half an hour later.
Two figures, one large and one small, walked out of Ollivander's wand shop.
Thorne smacked his forehead in frustration as he walked.
"Dammit, why did I sign a seven-year contract with Dumbledore? And the penalty for breach of contract is so high!"
"This won't do; I have to find a chance to renegotiate. This is practically hindering my transfer!"
Harry walked beside him, looking at him with a somewhat speechless expression.
Didn't he just solemnly swear he wanted to protect the students?!
Thorne sighed and groaned for quite a while before finally resigning himself to reality.
"Forget it, there will be plenty of chances to make money later. Better focus on the task at hand first."
He looked down at Harry. "Is there anything else you haven't bought?"
Harry thought seriously.
"I think I've got everything... while we were lost earlier, we basically bought everything along the way."
Speaking of which, he suddenly remembered, "Oh, right, I still have a set of robes to pick up from Madam Malkin's."
Thorne's eyes lit up instantly.
"Oh right, I should get a new outfit myself."
"Perfect then, let's go pick them up together."
Soon, the two of them pushed open the door to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
But as soon as they entered, Thorne froze in his tracks.
From the outside, it certainly looked like a perfectly normal clothing shop.
The problem was, all the "staff" in the shop were spiders.
They moved all eight legs at once with ridiculous agility, pinning black robes for customers while quickly measuring dimensions with tape measures and various tools, their movements as fluid as if they'd practiced countless times.
There were even a few spider webs hanging in the corners.
Thorne stared at the silk, wondering if he was the only one who could see it.
In an instant, he felt a strange, strong sense of déjà vu.
It was as if he were back in Deepnest.
Except this place was much more wholesome—no iron insects scurrying about, and no giant spiders that might pounce and kill him at any moment.
Thorne snapped out of it and patted Harry on the shoulder.
"Alright, you go try on your clothes first."
"I'll have Madam Malkin take my measurements in a bit."
Harry nodded and immediately trotted over toward a Spider tailor.
Not far away, a Little White Weasel seemed to be trying on clothes too.
Thorne glanced over, his expression very calm.
Well, since meeting Professor Snape, he'd fully accepted that mammals would pop up from time to time in this world; his mental fortitude had improved significantly.
But he still couldn't help but wonder.
Could this weasel also be a Slytherin student?
Thinking this, he sat down on a chair by the shop entrance and pulled out a quill, intending to use this spare moment to further refine his map of Diagon Alley.
Just then,
"Click."
The sound of the shop door closing echoed behind him.
A figure stopped in front of Thorne.
"Mr. Thorne."
A gentle and confident voice rang out.
"You are indeed as handsome and dashing as the legends say."
Thorne was taken aback and instinctively looked up.
Met with his gaze was a... White Weasel, dressed in luxurious robes.
He was carrying a few books in his arms, which looked like textbooks; a perfectly elegant smile graced his furry face, and his manner was refined and composed.
Thorne stared at him for a few seconds.
"...Dashing?"
He looked left and right, confirming no one else was around, before standing up.
"Are you talking to me?"
"I believe," the White Weasel said with a slight smile, "there isn't a second person named Eric Thorn here, is there?"
Thorne brushed some soot off his robes, his mouth twitching as he muttered silently to himself.
Sure enough, it's a mistake for St Mungos not to have an ophthalmology department.
The White Weasel clearly didn't know what Thorne was thinking and continued unhurriedly.
"And you certainly have even more presence than the rumors suggest..."
At this point, his nostrils twitched slightly.
"Hmm, did you... just have biscuits this morning?"