Chapter 422: Chapter 423: Shopping

Bai Lang followed the professor, and the first thing he saw was a crucible shop, which had a big advertisement, "Crucibles, all sizes; pure copper, brass, tin, silver; automatic stirring, retractable." The professor led Bai Lang into the shop; the place was filled with crucibles, and Bai Lang was too lazy to choose, since he vaguely remembered that crucibles in movies were just like large household soup pots, so he decisively chose a tin‑wax crucible—a set bought from childhood to adulthood, like nesting dolls.

"Actually one would be enough," the professor said. "But that's fine. Let's see what we need to buy next. Hogwarts school uniform, a first‑year freshman needs: 1. three sets of plain work robes (black) 2. one plain pointed hat for daytime wear (black) 3. a pair of protective gloves (made of dragon hide or similar material) 4. a winter cloak (black, silver clasps). Note: all student garments must have name tags. Alright, now let's go to Mrs. Mo Jin's Robe Shop."

Mrs. Mo Jin was a short, plump witch, and she seemed to have a good relationship with the professor; Bai Lang maliciously thought perhaps it was because they were both short, plump‑type witches. "Alright, dear. Let's take your measurements." This measuring tape automatically crawled over Bai Lang's body, recording each dimension. Interestingly, Bai Lang did not see any other "classmates," perhaps because he arrived at an inconvenient time.

The tape was quite mischievous; it seemed to try measuring every possible dimension. When it started crawling inside his trousers, Bai Lang grabbed it and tossed it away. "Alright, please wait a moment." Mrs. Mo Jin laughed and ran to the back, while the professor led Bai Lang away, "Before Mrs. Mo Jin finishes, let's go buy books and a wand. Do you want a magical pet? Oh, not really? Fine, let's go buy books first."

Liheng Bookstore was the kind of shop commonly found in Britain; the shelves were packed with books, but Bai Lang wasn't very interested. What amused him was the sheer variety—books larger than a person to ones the size of a postage stamp, even a wordless book he didn't know how to read. Of course, some titles were rather eye‑catching, but Bai Lang thought that if he wanted any potent magic, he couldn't expect to find it in these publicly sold printed volumes.

According to the reading list, Bai Lang quickly gathered the required books—actually the shop staff had already prepared everything, bundling all first‑year textbooks together, and the young wizards only needed to pay. "Dear, don't you want an owl? Trust me, you'll need one while studying at Hogwarts."

Bai Lang, led by Professor Sprout, entered the Ira Owl Shop, which was filled with bird feathers and a foul smell. Inside it was pitch black, but Bai Lang had night eye, so he could see fairly well—since mastering the Tiger Form True Meaning, Bai Lang also gained night eye—an Innate Expert with keen ears and sharp sight, even having cultivated divine abilities; a mere night eye was quite ordinary for him.

Inside were owls of all sizes, and even the shop clerk looked almost like an owl—round head, round brain, with hair and fallen feathers. Bai Lang didn't hesitate; he went straight for the biggest owl. "Please give me that great horned owl." As for Professor Sprout, when Bai Lang left, she had already handed him a leather pouch, "standard potion powder."

"Finally we need a wand, and then with your school uniform we can head back," Professor Sprout said.

The last shop was tiny and shabby; the gold lettering on the door had peeled off, reading: Ollivander: Crafting fine wands since 382 BC. In the dust‑covered window, a lone wand rested on a faded purple cushion. As they entered, a series of tinkling bells rang from somewhere at the back of the shop. The interior was very small—just a long bench and nothing else. Bai Lang stared at the thousands of haphazardly stacked boxes that reached the ceiling. "I suspect most of them are empty; otherwise this shop would be a total failure, making thousands of wands and not selling any…" he thought, but didn't say it aloud.

Mr. Ollivander was an old man, his eyes a pale hue that seemed to glow. "Mr. Bai, very good. What kind of wand do you like? Ah, perhaps you prefer your own power? Come, let me see…" The old man pulled a long measuring tape marked with silver graduations from his coat pocket. "Which arm will you use to wield the wand?"

Bai Lang could be rather cheeky at times. "Oh, I'm ambidextrous; either hand works fine." Ollivander gave Bai Lang a slightly reproachful look, shook his head, and said, "Aha, the Weasley twins—you remind me of them."

"Raise your arm. Good." He measured Bai Lang, starting from shoulder to fingertip, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and finally head circumference. As he measured, he said, "Each Ollivander wand contains an exceptionally potent magical substance—that is its essence, Mr. Bai. We use unicorn hair, phoenix tail feather, and dragon nerve. Every Ollivander wand is unique, because no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are exactly the same. Of course, if you use a wand that should belong to another wizard, you won't get such good results."

"I bet he says that to every young wizard. And this thing isn't even consumable? A business that can only be done once really has no future." Bai Lang's mutterings stayed unspoken. Meanwhile, the old man had climbed to a high spot and soon brought down dozens of boxes. "Let's try this one: seven inches, mahogany with phoenix feather…" Bai Lang held the object and felt nothing; it was just a stick.

The painful, lengthy wand‑testing began; Bai Lang showed no reaction to any wand, and sweat even beaded on the old man's forehead. He glanced at Professor Sprout, who didn't smile but said seriously, "Hogwarts never makes mistakes."

"Alright, alright. What a demanding customer…" Mr. Ollivander wiped his sweat; not to mention Bai Lang, who had been waving so many little sticks, was also sweating—a sheer annoyance. Ollivander crawled into the back of the shop, and the boxes above suddenly collapsed. Bai Lang stood up, wondering whether he should dive in to pull the old man out before he got crushed.

However, the old man climbed out on his own; before Bai Lang and Professor Sprout could act, he dragged out a dust‑covered, unusually long box that seemed about to fall apart. "This will work, made by Ollivander four hundred years ago." The box fell apart the moment he finished speaking, and in Ollivander's hand was a long… "staff?" Bai Lang muttered, and even Professor Sprout frowned.

"Four feet, oak, brass fittings, dragon‑heart core." Ollivander handed the staff to Bai Lang with obvious disappointment. As soon as Bai Lang grasped it, it burst into multicolored light—well. Four hundred years… Bai Lang was sure he meant "stockpiled goods," but Ollivander didn't continue, "Sorry, child, this wand costs twenty‑seven galleons."