C3 The Ancestral Cane

Malfoy's voice drew Liang Mu's attention once again.

Gazing at the charming boy with light golden hair and a pale complexion before him, it was clear why he was known as the "Young Master of Slytherin"—adorable with a touch of mischief.

"Of course."

Malfoy wasn't bothered by Liang Mu's brevity; after all, Liang Mu was one of his few friends. He was somewhat excited to encounter Liang Mu here.

The number of pure-blood wizard families in England was limited, and even fewer were deemed suitable to associate with the Malfoy heir. As for Malfoy's two henchmen, they were, in truth, nothing more than lackeys.

"Liang Mu, did you know? My father told me that Harry Porter is starting school this year, the one who..."

"Draco."

Clearly thrilled to see Liang Mu, Malfoy was unfortunately cut off before he could finish. The sound of the voice made him instinctively recoil.

A blond man with a cane had appeared at the shop's entrance, standing tall and straight in the sunlight, the epitome of a gentleman.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Liang Mu greeted him respectfully, and the Old Steward gave a slight bow.

Lucius then turned his attention to Liang Mu, his stern expression swiftly replaced by a professional smile.

"Liang Mu, it's been a while. Although I'd love for Draco to stay and chat, we have pressing matters to attend to. My apologies."

With a tip of his hat, Lucius promptly led Draco away.

Watching Draco look back with a forlorn expression, Madame Mojin nearly had her heart melt.

"Poor child, to have such a stern father."

Exiting Madame Mojin's clothing shop, Liang Mu and the Old Steward resumed their exploration of Diagon Alley. They visited the Prophet Daily Headquarters, the Libram Bookstore, and the Joke Shop. Despite Diagon Alley's seemingly small size, it wasn't until evening that Liang Mu and the Old Steward reached this part of the alley, with only two shops left unvisited.

At that moment, the exploration meter on the display read 95%, nearly complete.

Ollivander's Wand Shop, a family business run by Ollivander since 382 B.C., was a venerable establishment with a significant role in the wand-making world, virtually spanning the entire history of wand craftsmanship.

The proprietor of this establishment is none other than Garwick Ollivander, one of the three great wandmakers of Europe. Liang Mu surveyed the shop's twisted and dilapidated facade before his gaze landed on the golden plaque adorning the door:

Ollivander: Crafting wands since 382 BCE

With that, he pushed the door open and entered.

*Ring!*

The bell's crisp tone lingered in the air.

He took in the narrow room, its height stretching five to six meters, with walls crammed full of paper boxes—easily a thousand—stacked nearly to the ceiling.

*Thud!*

The sound of wood striking the floor echoed from the back of the room. A disheveled old man with white hair and a face etched with wrinkles emerged from a corner, his hawk-like grey eyes scanning the room.

"Ah, Young Master Liang Mu, I saw you pass by this morning and thought you might not visit today," Ollivander said in his raspy voice, not pausing for a reply before turning to the Old Steward.

"Wu Dongmu, mermaid hair, thirteen inches, repaired once—am I correct?"

"Your memory is as impeccable as always," the Old Steward replied, his eyes crinkling with a respectful smile.

With a nod of affirmation, Ollivander beamed a self-assured, kindly smile at Liang Mu, sensing an opportunity to earn a few extra Golden Galleons. Each scion of wealth was a byword for deep pockets and light wits, eager to spend liberally on their wands.

"No, no, no, it was the wand that informed me. Now, Young Master Liang Mu, which hand do you prefer to use?"

Liang Mu, put off by Ollivander's sleazy grin, stepped back and extended his left hand.

"Just as the rumors described—silent and stoic. But you should know that's hardly charming, and it won't win over the fair maidens. Please, raise your arm a bit higher."

Ollivander cast a surreptitious glance at Liang Mu's right hand, then with a flick of his wand, he sent a measuring tape zipping from the table towards Liang Mu.

The tape swiftly took Liang Mu's measurements. Without delay, Ollivander turned and navigated through the sea of boxes, soon returning with an armful of cases containing wands, which he set upon the counter.

"Every Ollivander wand is imbued with a potent magical substance, which is the very essence of the wand, Young Master Liang Mu."

With those words, Ollivander carefully selected a wand and offered it to Liang Mu.

"Give this one a try. It's crafted from parasol tree wood with the hair of a Zou Wu – a fine match for someone of your stature."

Liang Mu took the wand, his face betraying no emotion. He glanced at the panel indicating zero magical power and felt a growing sense of unease.

Noticing Liang Mu's hesitation, Ollivander encouraged him, demonstrating with his own wand.

"Just give it a gentle wave."

Liang Mu looked at Ollivander and gave the wand a flick.

Nothing happened.

Ollivander's brow furrowed at this. He had witnessed wands conjure storms, explosions, and even divine light, but never had he seen one fail to elicit any response.

Could it be that Liang Mu had no magic within him? Impossible, Hogwarts doesn't make such errors. Even a dud should produce some sort of reaction, albeit a minuscule one.

"Hold on, let me find another wand that's more sensitive for you to try."

Ollivander then turned and delved into a box of wands.

Liang Mu's frown deepened. He realized the gravity of the situation; if he couldn't demonstrate his magical power, there was a significant risk of being expelled and failing his mission.

"Young Master, there's no need to worry. Just try a few more wands and you'll find the right one. It took me four attempts to find the wand that chose me," the Old Steward reassured him softly.

"What exactly is magic? And how do wizards cast spells?"

Liang Mu pondered the books he had read at home in recent days, which, due to theoretical differences, were mostly Eastern texts.

"Magic is a part of the world; it resides in the air and in our blood. Casting spells involves a wizard using the magic in their blood as a conduit, sensing the magic in the air with their Psychic Force, and then channeling it through incantations to achieve the desired effect."

Is that so? The Psychic Force, then?

Closing his eyes, Liang Mu lifted his hand, focusing his considerable Psychic Force.

A tendril of Psychic Force spiraled from his fingertips. Simultaneously, Liang Mu sensed the magic in the air and found he could manipulate it with ease.

The chaotic magic swirling around Liang Mu was unsettling, akin to witnessing a horde of insects scurrying madly in every direction, even in a 360-degree panorama. It drained the color from his face.

Moreover, he sensed a certain resistance from the disordered magic, which left Liang Mu feeling anxious.

Upon opening his eyes, the aged visage of Ollivander filled his view. Instinctively, Liang Mu stepped back and threw a punch, landing squarely on the old man's nose.

"Oof!"