Chapter 73: Romania

Silven's idea was a good one, but by the next morning, he had still taken the Portkey Garrick handed him.

Because he had overlooked one thing — besides the Dragon Reserve, the most famous thing about Romania was that it grew the finest Dragonblood Wood in the entire Wizarding World.

Silven could afford not to care about Dragonheart Strings, but he could not turn a blind eye to Dragonblood Wood, especially after accidentally crafting that Special magic wand.

Silven felt in his pocket at the wand, which was about as long as a finger.

Fortunately, Garrick Ollivander had no idea what the core inside was, otherwise he might have cracked on the spot — how would he have had any mood left to go to Romania?

"Ready?" Garrick glanced at the time. "We applied for ten o'clock, hurry up."

"Three… two… one…"

As if yanked hard by something, Silven felt his feet leave the ground and his body being dragged at speed.

The wind howled in his ears, the scene before his eyes blurred, and the shops, streets, and familiar sights of Diagon Alley streaked backwards like lightning.

This was not Silven's first time using a Portkey. This kind of Special magic item didn't require one to have learned Apparition to use, and was more convenient and quicker than the Floo Network and the Knight Bus, so it had always been the preferred way Garian and Lila took him on long trips.

Only back then Silven had at most used it around Britain; a Portkey spanning over a thousand miles straight across like this was also his first attempt.

Silven had no idea how long he was dragged through the air; he only felt his head growing dizzier and his stomach churning.

At last, his feet landed heavily on the ground. Silven swayed a few times and barely steadied himself before he had time to take in his surroundings.

Beneath his feet was an expanse of open grassland, the grass thick and springy underfoot — even if he had fallen just now, he probably wouldn't have been hurt.

In the distance were enormous, unbroken mountain peaks and the boundless forest around them, and the air was thick with a lingering smell of sulphur.

"Welcome to Romania — that smell is certainly unforgettable." Garrick Ollivander landed deftly on the grass and clapped Silven on the shoulder.

"How are you feeling? All right?"

"A bit not used to it." Silven rubbed his nose; the sulphur smell was getting stronger, and he felt as though he were standing beside a volcano about to erupt.

"I was the same my first time." Garrick said with a smile. "Oh, someone's come to meet us."

A burly man ran out from the woods ahead.

"It really is you, Garrick!" The newcomer looked to be in his sixties or seventies, but his build was burlier than most — his muscular, sinewy arms were covered in scars, some long healed, others still bearing fresh scabs, clearly left only recently.

The man gave Garrick a hearty hug. "Shouldn't you be in Diagon Alley right now, preparing wands for the little wizards heading off to Hogwarts?"

"The acceptance letters haven't gone out yet," Garrick said.

"I almost forgot — it's only July." The newcomer said.

Silven had been standing beside them, watching the whole time.

"Oh, let me introduce you — this is Alistair Barclay," Garrick said. "He's also an old friend of mine, a senior dragon-keeper who's worked here for thirty years."

"Hello." Silven stepped forward. "I'm Silven Ollivander."

"Hello," Alistair said, and the two shook hands.

Silven felt as though he were gripping a piece of unpolished dragonhide.

"Ollivander…" Alistair glanced at Garrick thoughtfully. "He's Garian and Lila's son, isn't he."

"That's right."

"I've heard for a long time that Garian's son inherited the Ollivander wandmaking craft… oh, wait a moment."

He suddenly lowered his voice. "Garrick, even though we're good friends, I have to remind you of one thing — the Dragon Reserve only cooperates with the sole proprietor of the wand shop. You should know that, right?"

"Of course I know, and I have no plans to retire anytime soon," Garrick said.

"Are you sure?" Alistair gave him a suspicious look, then added, "The Dragon Reserve won't sell any materials to individuals either."

He didn't know Silven, but he knew the young Garrick — don't be fooled by the fact that they were on decent terms now; if you went back fifty years, the two of them could never have spoken calmly to each other.

Back then, that old fellow had stopped at nothing in his efforts to get his hands on enough Dragonheart Strings and heart nerves.

Yet at that time he had only just graduated, arriving at the Dragon Reserve full of passion and dreams, completely unaware of how treacherous the Wizarding World could be. Faced with the scheming Garrick, it was fair to say he was taken in every single day, in a different way each time.

And those experiences later became one of his most handy weapons when dealing with those smugglers and poachers.

"Don't worry — he's only just starting second year this year; even if you were willing to sell, he couldn't afford it," Garrick said.

Alistair still looked half-convinced.

"I'll have him stay outside," Garrick continued. "I won't let him come with us to see that killed Ukrainian Ironbelly."

"Ha — so you really did know!" Alistair said, none too pleased. "That's the real reason you came today, isn't it… By the way, how on earth did you find out? We haven't even announced it yet, and already more than a dozen people have shown up."

"Who else has come?"

"Before you there was Headmaster Albus Dumbledore — he came with Mr. Newt Scamander."

"Dumbledore — I really should have come earlier."

"Heh," Alistair gave a cold laugh.

"All right, hurry up and take me to see it," Garrick urged. "I promise that every child who uses a dragon wand afterwards will thank you for your generosity and selflessness."

"You've used that line to trick me countless times already…" Alistair gave Garrick a long-suffering look. "Among those poachers, quite a few use dragon wand cores."

Though he said so, he still led Garrick toward the central area of the Reserve — because the number of dragon-keepers using dragon wand cores was far greater, and his own wand, for instance, used a dragon's heart nerve.

Still, he didn't really leave Silven standing there on his own; although this wasn't the most dangerous central area of the Reserve, it wasn't exactly safe either.

"Someone will come find you in a bit — you can have a good look around, and if there's anything you want to know, just ask him." Alistair turned his head and looked Silven up and down.

Regular features, decent temperament — he'd stood quietly to the side the whole time they were talking.

So his first impression of Silven was quite good — at least far better than that old fellow Garrick.

"Keep at it, lad," he said with a smile. "Hope we can reach a cooperation soon."

……

(End of chapter)