You really couldn't say Garrick treated Louis like an outsider at all.
Muttering under his breath, Louis walked out of Ollivander's private workshop and into the storefront. At the counter stood a customer—about one and a half meters tall, wearing a pointed wizard's hat.
The customer was craning her neck to look up at the stacks of wand boxes piled to the ceiling, perhaps marveling at the layout of the shop.
"Hello, welcome to Ollivander's Wand Shop," Louis greeted smoothly.
He'd never run a store before, but he knew the gist of receiving customers—politeness, warmth, and just a touch of trickery. Simple enough.
It was a pity Ollivander's was essentially a half-charity monopoly. No need to con anyone—otherwise Louis might have earned a few Trick Points on the side.
Don't be fooled by the fact he already had over a hundred thousand points. In practice, that was just enough for a single legendary ten-pull. By the time the legendary lottery opened, who knew how much more he would need to save?
When the customer turned toward the sound of his voice, Louis froze for a moment.
Not because he recognized her—but because she was striking.
A blonde girl with the face of an angel, around ten years old judging by her build. She wore a finely tailored pale-green dress trimmed with elegant decorations. Her slightly upturned eyes made her green gaze especially sharp, and her long golden hair was brushed neatly to one side, the very picture of grace.
A new classmate? Louis rubbed his chin.
"Hello," the girl said, her voice clear, her every word and gesture refined. "My name is Cassandra Vole. I've come to purchase a wand. Is Mr. Ollivander here?"
"A wand? But Hogwarts hasn't sent out the acceptance letters yet, has it?" Louis asked curiously. "So eager to buy a wand already?"
The girl named Cassandra didn't so much as acknowledge his question. She only maintained her polite, slightly distant smile.
"Forgive me. That's a personal matter. Is Mr. Ollivander available?"
Ah, so she's a proud little lady.
Louis shrugged. "He's in the back working. Wait a moment if you like. Make yourself at home."
With that, he flopped into the shop's only chair, easily finding a packet of good green tea from Garrick's stash and brewing himself a cup.
Apparently worried about his blood pressure, Ollivander stocked nothing but green tea.
Louis's casual behavior made Cassandra frown slightly, though she didn't comment. She also didn't search for a place to sit among the clutter, but instead stood gracefully where she was—like a noble swan.
Good form, Louis noted.
By "form," he didn't mean looks or figure, but the way one sat, stood, walked, and carried themselves—the essence of a person's spirit.
Take Cassandra, for example. Even though the only person present was Louis, she still held herself in the most elegant stance, hardly moving at all.
It wasn't because of anyone's eyes on her—she demanded it of herself.
A strictly disciplined person. At first Louis thought her aura was similar to that brat Draco Malfoy. But no—Malfoy was still Malfoy, leagues beneath this girl.
The shop was utterly silent: Louis sipping his tea in peace, the girl standing still as a statue. The atmosphere looked painfully awkward.
But Louis didn't care. He wasn't bothered by awkwardness. The girl didn't care either, untouched by her surroundings.
It wasn't until Garrick emerged from the back room that the stalemate broke.
"Hello, young lady. You're here to buy a wand?" Ollivander said kindly to Cassandra—then shot Louis a puzzled look, as if wondering why he'd left a guest waiting while he sat there drinking tea.
"Yes, you must be Mr. Ollivander? I am Cassandra Vole."
Cassandra lifted the hem of her skirt in a perfect curtsey.
Every movement was precise, as though measured by rule.
This kind of person—one who bound themselves so rigidly with rules—made Louis yawn without thinking.
What a boring person.
"Vole, is it? A very old family name," Ollivander murmured, writing Cassandra's name into a thick, ancient ledger. "Now then, let's measure the necessary dimensions."
Louis rolled his eyes. Ollivander really doesn't mind the trouble, does he.
With a wave of his hand, animated measuring tools bounced over and began recording all sorts of strange data from Cassandra.
Cassandra, proud and elegant as ever, raised no objections. Louis, however, couldn't understand why choosing a wand required taking a girl's measurements—and even more baffling, why she accepted it so naturally.
Once the sizing was done, Ollivander thought for a moment before pulling out a wand.
"Elm, unicorn hair, eleven inches. Try it."
He handed it to Cassandra.
She accepted it with practiced ease, giving it a casual flick. A sudden gust of wind toppled a mountain of wand boxes.
Seeing the wand's reaction, Garrick shook his head. "Not this one."
He bent down, retrieved another, and passed it over.
"Hawthorn, dragon heartstring, ten inches."
This time, a jet of flame burst from the tip—nearly setting Ollivander's hair on fire. Fortunately, the old wandmaker was agile enough to dodge in time.
Gulp. Louis swallowed hard, distressed.
"Mmm. A promising reaction," Ollivander said, oblivious to Louis's unease. "But I believe it must be this one: Elm, dragon heartstring, ten inches."
He presented a third wand.
The instant Cassandra took it, she felt a strange harmony. The wand thrilled in her grasp, shimmering with golden light.
… … …
Suddenly, Cassandra's breath caught. In that resonance, she seemed to feel the wand core itself breathing. The dragon's sinew pulsed with raw power, but then—it faltered.
It was afraid.
Through their bond, Cassandra instinctively turned her gaze toward Louis, who was lounging in his chair, yawning.
The terror from the wand seemed to stem from him.
Who is he? Why does merely standing there make a wand recoil in fear?
"Yes, this is the one," Ollivander nodded. "Elegant and strong. A perfect fit for you."
But Cassandra appeared distracted, still staring at Louis.
"This wand is nine Galleons," Garrick reminded her.
She blinked back to herself, apologizing softly. "Forgive me—I was distracted. Thank you very much, Mr. Ollivander."
She paid, cast one last deep look at Louis, then turned and left.
"Remarkable," Ollivander said after she was gone, watching Louis wipe a tear from the corner of his eye brought on by yawning. "Simply sitting there, and you made a wand's faint consciousness tremble in fear."
As a wandmaker, who believed wands were alive, he could feel their emotions.
The wand's reaction had been like that of a lesser being under natural oppression.
And that was dragon sinew!
---
PS: Cassandra is an original game character. The author doesn't know her deeply, but will do their best to flesh out her personality and role. If you have thoughts or suggestions, feel free to leave them in the comments.
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