Chapter 10: Actually, We

Twenty minutes later, Hermione finally understood what Silven meant by “transportation.”

She never imagined that first-years would arrive at school by boat, and now she saw the towering castle standing at the far end of the lake.

Windows glittered under the starry sky, mysterious and beautiful.

Most of the other first-years were likewise transfixed, standing frozen in place.

“Hurry up, first-years—if you want to sit warm inside the castle and enjoy a lavish dinner, get on board.”

“But be careful—no more than four people per boat!”

“Harry, come here, the rest follow behind.” Hagrid guided the first-years in orderly fashion.

“Hey, I know you.”

Silven looked up at the boy speaking across from him.

Platinum-blond hair, pale complexion, appearing arrogant and slightly haughty.

He seemed to be in a feud with someone, perhaps even lost it—he spoke with a sharp tone.

“I remember you,” he said again. “You’re the one from the wand shop, right?”

“Yes,” Silven said, glancing at the two boys beside him—broad and sturdy, like two tree stumps.

“Oh, this is Crabbe, this is Goyle,” the boy said. “I’m Malfoy—Draco Malfoy. I assume you’re one of us.”

Silven raised an eyebrow. “If you mean pure-blood, then yes.”

“Then you must know me, right?” Malfoy continued. “Or are you like some others—stupid and ignorant?”

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

Silven guessed it was the boat beside them—more precisely, the boy on the left, with a lightning-shaped scar: Harry Potter.

But showing off family prestige here—had he lost his mind?

“Let me introduce myself,” Silven said, looking at the smug Malfoy, unable to suppress a smile. “Silven Ollivander.”

“When the first Malfoy rose to prominence, the Ollivanders had already existed on this land for eighteen hundred years. Do you understand what that means?”

Silence fell over the boat.

Then, a clear, unhidden snicker came from the neighboring boat.

Malfoy’s pale face instantly flushed crimson.

He hadn’t turned this red when Harry Potter humiliated him on the train—yet here, he was “humiliated,” and upon reflection, the other boy was absolutely right.

Silven wanted to laugh too, but held it back.

Malfoy had brought this upon himself.

In terms of gold, the Ollivander family might rank at the very bottom of all pure-blood families.

But if you speak of lineage and family history, sorry—no pure-blood family in Britain can match us, not even Hogwarts, not even Merlin.

Hogwarts was founded a thousand years ago—in the tenth century.

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

And the Ollivanders? The sign outside says 382 BC—nine hundred years older than Merlin.

Silven looked at Malfoy’s flushed face and shrugged. “Tsk. You’ve seen me in the wand shop—why play this game?”

For a moment, he thought the air around them had grown warmer.

But Silven had no intention of making Malfoy suffer too much—he extended his hand.

“Let me properly introduce myself: Silven Ollivander. And yes, I do know you—hawthorn, unicorn hair, ten inches, correct?”

Silven’s timely offer of grace restored Malfoy’s composure in visible, rapid fashion.

He wanted to swat the hand away—but after a brief hesitation, he abandoned the thought and reached out.

“Draco Malfoy.”

“You already said that.”

“You’ll definitely be sorted into Slytherin,” Malfoy immediately changed the subject.

“Maybe,” Silven said.

Again—the question is: do you understand the value of 382 BC?

The Ollivanders care nothing for anything beyond wands. If they did, even Salazar Slytherin himself would have to step aside.

But that’s meaningless—go back a few generations, and everyone’s mixed-blood.

Yet after this handshake, the neighboring boat was noticeably disappointed.

“I thought Malfoy was going to get a proper scolding,” Ron sighed, then grinned. “Still, this is better—did you see Malfoy’s face? Redder than the train.”

“Yeah, I saw it,” Harry Potter nodded.

“Wait,” Hermione, seated across from them, suddenly spoke. “Is the Ollivander family really eighteen hundred years old?”

“Maybe,” Ron scratched his head.

Honestly, he didn’t know.

He only knew the name Ollivander was famous—everyone in his family used Ollivander wands, including his grandfather, and his grandfather’s grandfather before him.

How long had the Ollivanders actually existed?

Who cared about such things?

The four on the boat fell into silence—no one knew what they were thinking, while Silven and Malfoy chatted amiably.

In just this short time, Malfoy had asked three times whether wands could truly be turned silver with green veins.

Silven, who had “accidentally” let it slip, shrugged and said he was still researching—the technology wasn’t mature yet; patience was required.

“I’ll pay more—any amount of Galleons!” Malfoy thumped his chest.

Silver base, green veins—the same colors as Slytherin’s emblem. He had to have it. Without it, he wasn’t Slytherin!

The boat glided past the lake’s center; the bright moonlight illuminated the flush on Malfoy’s face—this time, from excitement.

Silven looked at the thirty Galleons in his hand and faintly smiled.

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

…

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

Hagrid led the way up the stone steps, raised his massive fist, and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door opened, revealing Professor McGonagall, stern-faced, ready to lead the first-years into the Great Hall.

Silven remained at the back. As he stepped into the castle, Hagrid, who was just leaving, suddenly stopped.

“Are those things you said in the wand shop true?” he asked in a deliberately hushed voice, glancing nervously inside the castle—as if afraid McGonagall might hear.

But McGonagall had already entered the Great Hall; she couldn’t hear him.

“What?”

“About… my umbrella…” Hagrid looked even more tense, instinctively touching his coat pocket.

“Oh, of course it’s true,” Silven said. “If you need it.”

“I live near the Forbidden Forest,” Hagrid said, exhaling deeply.

(End of Chapter)