"That is what? It seems to be a coin..."
Maca toyed with the object in his hand, while recalling the enigmatic blue light he had seen a moment ago. He momentarily set aside his intention to leave this place and pulled out a broken piece of wood from another nearby crate.
Feigning curiosity, he inquired, and after listening to the short, somewhat nonsensical explanation from the short wizard, he showed interest in the price.
"Ten Galleons! It surely requires ten Galleons, it's worth this price, just look at how rare it is..."
Seeing that he was about to be conned again, Maca had to interrupt the wizard's speech with a wave of his hand and stated a price once more, "Three Galleons, as far as I know, that's all it's worth."
Maca's tone was unusually firm, as if he clearly knew the true value of this so-called "Heirloomborne Coffinwood."
"No! This can't be! At the very least, eight Galleons! You must understand that infamous dark wizard—sly Heirloomborne, buried himself in..."
Before he could finish, Maca once again cut him off, "Four Galleons! No more than that!"
Just as the short wizard was about to continue, Maca pretended to growl in annoyance and casually pulled something out of a crevice in the shelf, then declared loudly, "Fine! With this included, both for eight Galleons! Otherwise, I won't take any of it!"
Maca slapped eight Galleons onto the nearby counter, then stared intently at the short wizard.
The other side suddenly fell silent. He glanced down at the object in Maca's palm, then at the eight Galleons on the counter, a look of grievance on his face.
It was a rather ancient-looking coin, heavy in his hand, but dirty and seemingly unremarkable.
"Alright, alright, consider it a gift from me, a bargain at eight Galleons." He said in a resigned tone, tucking the coins onto a locked drawer of the counter...
On the street, Maca was in high spirits. He played with the old coin in his hand, feeling a sense of triumph. Even this dim alleyway seemed to have brightened up.
Of course, he had no chance to see what was happening inside the Marvolo Museum, where the short wizard was sporting the same pleased smile.
"Arrogance is humanity's most precious asset; it can bring profit to Marvolo." The short wizard said dreamily, patting the drawer filled with money, making a jingling sound of gold coins.
The old coin in Maca's hand had naturally been magically altered by the short wizard. In fact, it was just a dirty iron coin.
Leaving aside the tricks of dishonest merchants, on the other side, Maca, content with his success, estimated that it was about time and began to head back.
"Hmm?"
Maca arrived at a crossroads and immediately spotted a tall figure in the crowd, emerging from the entrance of Flourish and Blotts.
"Half-giant Hagrid?" Maca murmured under his breath as he walked over.
As he maneuvered through the thronging crowd, he quickly noticed the small figure by Hagrid's side.
"Oh! Might you be the famous... Mr. Harry Potter?" Maca deliberately gave the boy an up-and-down glance before speaking.
The boy hadn't had a chance to react yet, but the people around had already gathered.
"Oh, Merlin's beard! It's Harry Potter!"
"Really? Oh—!"
"Good heavens! I feel like I'm dreaming!"
The crowd immediately burst into chatter. A few even pushed forward, as if they were encountering a rare magical creature.
Looking left and right, Maca grabbed Harry's sleeve and started to run, motioning for Hagrid to follow. It wasn't until they had entered a junk shop that Maca and Harry finally let out a sigh of relief.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't expect them to react like that." Maca said somewhat embarrassedly.
"Oh, that's alright," Harry looked at Maca, who was about the same age as him, and shook his head. "But why? This is the second time, I seem to be quite famous?"
Maca glanced at Hagrid, seeming to understand something, and nodded.
"Well... I'm sorry, but I think it's not really my place to explain this to you." Maca scratched his head, though he was just being evasive.
Just as Harry was about to inquire further, Hagrid had already approached.
"Alright, alright, now that we're here, how about we go get you a wand?" Hagrid patted Maca's shoulder and said with excitement. "You can come along too! Uh..."
"Maca, Maca McLean." Maca nodded his head.
"Oh, yes, Mr. McLean." Hagrid also nodded.
"No, I mean, just call me Maca."
As Maca said this, he suddenly placed his hand on Hagrid's behind. He immediately realized what he had done and felt embarrassed.
"Merlin, you're tall!" Trying to ease the awkwardness, Maca intentionally cleared his throat.
Hagrid, on the other hand, laughed a little awkwardly in response, but didn't say anything.
Maca finally realized that Hagrid might still be concerned about his heritage. Of course, knowing Hagrid's personality, he probably cared more about how the children perceived him rather than his own lineage.
Seeing this, Maca immediately withdrew his hand, regardless of whether it was Hagrid's shoulder or back. He chuckled lightly and said, "A goblin at Flourish and Blotts told me the same thing earlier."
"Hahaha! You're not much older than that goblin." Hagrid wasn't naive; he clearly recognized Maca's attempt to lighten the atmosphere.
Meanwhile, Harry, standing to the side, watched the two with a puzzled expression. He couldn't quite grasp what they were talking about, but the atmosphere seemed a bit odd.
"Alright then, let's go! We're headed to Ollivanders across the street, where you two will surely find the finest wands."
Yes, wands—the very thing both Maca and Harry had been eagerly dreaming about.
The storefront looked worn and weathered, with a faded gold sign hanging above the door that read: "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."
In the dusty display window, on a faded purple cushion, a solitary wand sat alone.
As they entered, a series of tinkling bells could be heard from somewhere in the back of the shop. The interior was tiny, with nothing aside from a long bench.
Hagrid took a seat on the bench while Harry, on the other hand, felt a strange sensation—almost as if he was in a highly regulated library.
Suppressing the multitude of questions that had arisen in his mind, Harry began inspecting the thousands of long, narrow boxes that nearly reached the ceiling. For some reason, he suddenly felt a shiver down his spine. The dust and silence of the place seemed to carry an air of mysterious magic.
"Good morning," a gentle voice said, startling Harry.
Hagrid, who was seated, was also quite startled. Suddenly, a series of crisp, clinking sounds resounded as he hastily stood up from the bench.
An elderly man stood before them. His pale eyes shone brightly in the dim shop, like two moons against the shadows.
"Good day, Mr. McLean," Maca greeted politely.
Harry looked a bit reserved but followed Maca's lead with a tentative, "Hello."
"Oh, yes," the old man said, "yes, indeed. I knew I'd be meeting you soon, Harry Potter, that's no trouble at all. Your eyes are just like your mother's; she came here to purchase her first wand, and it feels like it was only yesterday. Eleven and a quarter inches, willow, swishy, good for charm work."
Mr. Ollivander walked up to Harry, and Harry wished he would blink more often; his silvery eyes were giving him the creeps.
"Your father, on the other hand, was quite different. He favored mahogany wands. Eleven inches, pliable, a bit more power, excellent for transfiguration. I should say, your father favored it, though actually, it's the wand that chooses the wizard, isn't it?"
Mr. Ollivander seemed to have no awareness of Maca standing to the side. He stepped closer to Harry, getting so close that his nose almost touched Harry's face. Harry could even see his own reflection in the old man's cloudy eyes.
"Oh, this is..." Mr. Ollivander's pale fingers gently traced the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.
"I'm truly sorry, but it was a wand I sold." He spoke softly, "Thirteen and a half inches. Cedar wood. Very powerful, too powerful indeed, and it fell into the wrong hands... If I had known what this wand would eventually lead to after it was made..."
Mr. Ollivander sighed lightly but then looked up and gazed past Harry. He seemed to recognize Hagrid, and that finally put Harry at ease.
"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! It's wonderful to see you again. Oak, sixteen inches, a little bendy, right?"
"Right you are, sir," Hagrid replied.
"That's quite a fine wand. But I suppose they snapped it in half when they expelled you?" Mr. Ollivander suddenly grew serious.
"Oh, yes, that's right, snapped it in half they did," Hagrid said slowly as he moved his feet, "Still got the pieces, though."
"But you don't use it anymore, do you?" Mr. Ollivander asked urgently.
"No, sir, don't use it anymore," Hagrid replied. Harry noticed that Hagrid was holding onto the pink umbrella quite tightly as he answered.
Of course, Maca had no time to worry about Hagrid's broken umbrella. This was because Mr. Ollivander had finally turned his attention to him.
"Oh, a new face. Hello, young man." Mr. Ollivander seemed to be less interested in Maca than he was in Harry, and this was entirely reasonable. Maca didn't have any extraordinary lineage or history that others would recognize. "What's your name?"
"Maca McLean," Maca answered.
"Oh, alright, Mr. McLean," Mr. Ollivander said, casting a sharp gaze at the two of them. "Now, gentlemen, who will go first?"
He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings from his robe pocket. With a stern expression, Maca gently patted Harry on the back, indicating that he should go first.