Chapter 10: Actually, Everyone's a Half-Blood

Twenty minutes later, Hermione finally understood what Silven meant by "means of transport."

She never dreamed that new students would actually take a boat to school, and at the same time she saw the towering castle standing at the far end of the lake.

Window after window glittered beneath the starry sky, mysterious and beautiful.

Most of the other new students were captivated by the sight too, standing dumbly in place.

"Come on, first-years, if you want to sit in a warm castle and enjoy a splendid dinner, get on the boats, quick."

"But mind you—no more than four to a boat!"

"Harry, over here, the rest of you follow." Hagrid guided the new students along in an orderly fashion.

"Hey, I know you."

Silven looked up at the boy speaking to him across the boat.

Platinum-blond hair, pale complexion, looking arrogant and a touch mean.

He seemed to be nursing a grudge against someone—apparently on the losing end of it—and his tone was a bit sharp as he spoke.

"I remember you," he said again, "you're the one from the wand shop, right?"

"Yes," said Silven, glancing at the other two boys beside him—stocky and thick, like two wooden stumps.

"Oh, this is Crabbe, this is Goyle." The boy said, "I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. I suppose you're one of us, right…?"

Silven raised an eyebrow. "If you mean pure-blood, yes."

"Then you must know me, yes?" Malfoy went on. "Or are you one of those people—foolish and ignorant."

His voice suddenly rose noticeably, as if deliberately meant for someone to hear.

Silven guessed it was the boat next to theirs—or more precisely, the one on the left, where the boy with a scar on his forehead, Harry Potter, was sitting.

Still, showing off his family's fame here—had his brain gone addled from anger?

"Let me introduce myself—Silven Ollivander." Silven looked at the slightly proud Malfoy and suddenly couldn't help smiling.

"The fact is, when the first Malfoy was rising to power, the Ollivanders had already been on this land for one thousand eight hundred years. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The small boat fell silent at once.

Then a burst of undisguised snickering drifted over from the next boat.

Malfoy's originally pale face instantly flushed bright red.

When he'd been humiliated by Harry Potter on the train, his face hadn't even gotten this red. He hadn't expected to be "humiliated" here, but on second thought, the man's words weren't wrong at all.

Silven wanted to laugh too, but he held it in.

One could only say Malfoy had brought the disgrace on himself.

If you were talking about the amount of gold, the Ollivander family might rank at the very bottom of all the pure-blood families.

But if you were talking about lineage and family history—well, sorry, not a single pure-blood family in all of Britain could hold a candle, Hogwarts included, Merlin himself included.

Hogwarts was founded a thousand years ago, that is, the tenth century.

The legends of Merlin and King Arthur belong to the sixth century.

And the Ollivanders… it's written right on the signboard—382 BC, more than nine hundred years earlier than Merlin.

Silven looked at the red-faced Malfoy and spread his hands. "Tsk, we clearly met at the wand shop, so why bother…"

Perhaps it was an illusion, but the temperature around them seemed to have risen a notch.

Still, Silven had no intention of making Malfoy too uncomfortable, so he offered his hand and said:

"Let me introduce myself properly—Silven Ollivander. And yes, I do know you… hawthorn, unicorn hair, ten inches, am I right?"

The台阶 Silven offered came at just the right moment, and the color drained from Malfoy's face at a speed visible to the naked eye.

He really wanted to swat that hand away, but after only a moment's hesitation he gave up the idea and extended his own hand as well.

"Draco Malfoy."

"You've already said that once."

"You'll definitely be sorted into Slytherin." Malfoy immediately changed the subject.

"Perhaps," said Silven.

Same thing as before—do you understand the weight of 382 BC?

It's just that the Ollivanders never cared about anything beyond wands; otherwise, if you really got into it, this so-called pure-blood business—even Salazar Slytherin himself would have to step back in line.

But that sort of thing doesn't mean much; go back a few more generations and everyone's a half-blood.

But after the handshake and making up over here, the next boat was far more disappointed.

"I thought Malfoy was going to get taught a lesson." Ron sighed, but he soon broke into a grin. "Still, this isn't bad either—did you see it? That Malfoy bloke's face was redder than the train."

"Ah, I saw it," Harry Potter nodded.

"Wait a moment." At that point, Hermione, sitting across from them, suddenly spoke up. "That Ollivander family—do they really have eighteen hundred years of history?"

"Uh, maybe," Ron scratched his hair.

To tell the truth, he wasn't too sure either.

He only knew the name Ollivander was very famous; every wand their family used was made by an Ollivander—his grandfather's, his great-grandfather's, all the same.

As for exactly how many years the Ollivanders had existed?

Who bothers to look into that sort of thing?

The four people on the boat collectively fell silent… no one knew what they were thinking, while Silven and Malfoy, on the contrary, were chatting quite pleasantly.

In just this short while, Malfoy had already asked three times whether the wand could really be turned silver-green.

To this, Silven—who had "accidentally" let it slip—shrugged and said it was still under research, the technique wasn't mature yet, he'd have to wait patiently.

"I'll pay extra—any number of galleons!" Malfoy thumped his chest with a resounding smack.

Silver base with green pattern, the same colors as the Slytherin emblem—this was an absolute must. Not having it would be un-Slytherin!

The little boat glided past the center of the lake, and bright moonlight illuminated the flush on Malfoy's face—though this time it was from excitement.

Silven looked at the thirty Galleons deposit in his hand and slightly curled his lips.

Indeed, his earlier idea worked—Hogwarts was easy to fool, and this money was truly easy to get… easy to make.

……

Under this strange atmosphere, the boat finally reached the opposite shore.

Hagrid walked at the front, climbed the stone steps, and raised a massive fist to knock three times on the castle door.

The door opened, and Professor McGonagall appeared before them, her expression stern, ready to lead the new students into the Great Hall.

Silven remained at the back; as he stepped into the castle, Hagrid suddenly stopped walking.

"Were those things you said in the wand shop true?" he said in a deliberately lowered voice, glancing nervously inside the castle, as if afraid McGonagall had just heard him.

But McGonagall had already entered the Great Hall and naturally couldn't hear him.

"What?"

"About… my umbrella…" Hagrid looked even more nervous, unconsciously touching his coat pocket.

"Oh, of course it's true," Silven said. "If you need it."

"I live near the Forbidden Forest," Hagrid said quickly, as if releasing a deep breath.

(End of Chapter)