A magical journey that begins in Azkaban.

Chapter 531 Ollivander's Love and Integrity
Draco took the newspaper and quickly read it. Suddenly, his eyes sparkled and that familiar smile appeared on his lips again.

He suddenly stood up and jumped onto the long table, causing the surrounding students to exclaim and look sideways.

"Listen to this!" Draco shouted, attracting everyone's attention. Then, he recited in a frivolous voice: "Ah~ Arthur Weasley, a sloppy guy who returned to the Ministry of Magic because of a power struggle."

"He must have forgotten his vigilance on Molly's apron, which is why he was bitten by the monster's fangs in the Ministry of Magic."

Draco's tone was so amusing that it caused laughter in the hall. The nickname "Sloppy Weasley" spread quickly in the hall as he read it, and soon it would spread throughout Hogwarts.

When the Weasleys come back, they will probably be called "Sloppy Guy No. 1, Sloppy Guy No. 2... Little Sloppy Guy" by others.

Draco continued reading triumphantly: "Perhaps this was a deliberate revenge by an employee of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. This shows how intense the power struggle in the Ministry of Magic has become..."

Malfoy stopped reading here, because he found that the rest of the paragraph was all Rita's satire on the Ministry of Magic. It was not until the last paragraph that the jokes about Arthur reappeared.

So, he chose to skip and selectively read: "We have reason to believe that Arthur has been infected with the side effects of the snake virus due to excessive contact with Muggle objects: attracting snakes and reducing his IQ."

"Especially the snake venom remaining in his body has affected his soul. Perhaps he has lost the ability to cast spells and is no longer a wizard.

I have to thank Merlin, because the foolish Arthur can lie quietly in the hospital bed instead of running out and causing a burden to everyone. "

"Hahaha..." The hall was filled with cheerful laughter. Goyle and Crabbe echoed loudly, "What a precise writing style! Draco, you recited really well!"

"That's enough, Malfoy, you are so cold-blooded!" Neville couldn't help shouting, "How can you humiliate Mr. Arthur like this? He was injured while performing his duties."

"Oh? What? Harry Potter and Weasley's followers?" Draco stared at Neville angrily and was ready to go over and fight with his arms raised.

Roger gave Pansy a look, asking her to hold Draco back and not let the situation get out of control.

"Let me go, Pansy!" Draco shouted, and at the same time did not forget to mock Neville: "If you have any objection, I can call him'brave sloppy ghost'."

"Or maybe he just went to the Ministry late at night and stole..."

"Quiet!" Just as the atmosphere was about to get out of control, Dumbledore's voice echoed throughout the hall.

Everyone fell silent immediately, exchanging uneasily glances.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Neville, please come into my office."

"But Headmaster, I didn't write that!" Draco protested, "I don't have such writing skills..."

"Mr. Malfoy!" Dumbledore's tone was a little harsh.

Draco turned a little pale, but still felt that he was right.

"It's just going to the principal's office!" he muttered secretly, "Who knows how long you can be the principal..."

Roger secretly kicked him to remind him to keep his mouth shut. He was clearly unable to resist, yet he still liked to speak out. He deserved to be punished.

"Snake venom." He bit the soft crucible bread and watched the two people leave the auditorium.

The level of the healers at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Sorrow was not enough to eradicate the snake venom in Arthur's body. This could only mean one thing: the creature that bit Arthur was even more terrifying than Nagini.

If Rita wasn't making it up, the poison in Arthur's body could really hurt the soul...

"A basilisk?" Rogge murmured, his voice so low that only he could hear it. "So far, this is the only snake venom that can harm the soul, and the cure is Phoenix Tears."

He carefully reviewed every detail in the report and soon found valuable clues from the few words. Based on these alone, he roughly deduced what happened last night.

In his first year, he traded the method of hatching the basilisk to Voldemort. Without Nagini, it was not difficult for Voldemort to breed his own basilisk.

"Salazar was able to do this, so there is no reason for Voldemort to admit defeat." He thought of Voldemort's conceited personality. He would definitely feel genuinely happy if he could defeat his ancestor. "Besides, Harry Potter speaks Parseltongue, so he can seamlessly put himself in the perspective of the Basilisk."

He quickly figured out the other party's motive: "In other words, Voldemort has returned to his old ways and is determined to get the prophecy from that year."

"Is the prophecy so important?" Roger sighed helplessly. He really couldn't understand why Voldemort was so obsessed with this.

The more you care about the prophecy, the more you become part of it. Voldemort and Dumbledore have both gone too far and too deep on this path. They have both been captured and entrapped by this obsession, unable to see the broader picture and possibilities.

The students around them were still discussing what Draco had read, while Goyle and Crabbe were spouting off more jokes about the Weasley family.

But Roger had no interest in these. His mind had already flown elsewhere. He stood up calmly, straightened his robe, and left the long table silently.

The winter wind hurt his face, so he wrapped his scarf around his neck and buried half of his face in it. Then, he walked out of the castle at a leisurely pace.

Halfway through the journey, he suddenly looked back. The towering Hogwarts Castle was covered in silver, majestic and mysterious.

But he couldn't help but think of the wizards who were locked in the prophecy, as if countless fine threads had fallen from the sky, controlling the people in the room.

"The puppet of prophecy." He murmured softly.

Roger came to the quiet Diagon Alley alone and walked straight to Mr. Ollivander's Wand Shop. When he opened the door, a crisp bell broke the silence in the shop.

The narrow aisles in the store were filled with wand boxes on both sides, stacked up precariously into tall towers. He stepped carefully on the warped floor, really worried that he would knock down the "leaning towers of wands" on both sides.

Although the shop was deserted, Mr. Ollivander was still sitting attentively behind the counter, his weathered hands carefully fiddling with an unfinished wand.

Hearing the doorbell, he raised his head and looked at the person coming through his reading glasses with his cloudy but bright eyes.

"Rogge..." He blinked in surprise and asked curiously, "Hasn't the wand been taken away by Albus? Why are you here?"

"The broken wand?" Roger looked at Ollivander. He didn't expect that he could repair the Elder Wand.

"Yes, just a few days ago." He took off his reading glasses with a proud smile on his face, "That wand is really extraordinary. It can bring out the wizard's magic power to the extreme."

He paused, a trace of regret flashing in his eyes: "Unfortunately, I haven't found out the secret of its resistance to the Unforgivable Curse. If I could study it for a while longer..."

Roger raised the corner of his mouth slightly, took out an exquisite wooden box from the inside of his robe, and slowly pushed it over: "Mr. Ollivander, take a look at this. Maybe your regret can be made up with this."

When the wooden box was slowly opened, Ollivander's eyes suddenly shone with amazing brilliance. His expression instantly became serious and focused, his hands trembling, and he carefully took out the wand as if he was holding the most precious treasure in the world.

"This style, this exquisite craftsmanship..." He murmured softly, his fingertips gently stroking the texture of the wand's surface, his voice trembling slightly with excitement, "There is no doubt that it was made by the same wandmaker as the previous wand."

Ollivander took a deep breath, as if he wanted to engrave the scent of the wand in his heart: "Its material has never been used in a wand..."

"Osmanthus wood." Roger raised a mysterious smile and added, "You are indeed very discerning. You can see their commonality at a glance." "I can see it, I can see it!" Ollivander was completely immersed in his obsession with the wand, his eyes became blurred and eager. He even ignored his own identity and pleaded eagerly, "Can you allow me to study for a while?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ollivander." Roger shook his head gently and politely refused. "Actually, the purpose of my trip is to use it to exchange for a set of wand making methods."

Hearing this, the enthusiasm in Ollivander's eyes quickly receded like the tide.

He reluctantly put the wand back into the wooden box, his tone full of regret, "It is indeed rare and priceless, but..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes moving back and forth between Rogue and his wand, as if he was engaged in a fierce inner struggle.

Finally, he sighed deeply and said, "Rogge, wand making is a wonderful skill that requires experience and accumulation. If you are willing to work for me after graduating from Hogwarts, I can teach you the methods and techniques of wand making step by step."

"Apprentice?" Roger repeated softly, obviously not intending to accept Ollivander's suggestion.

He didn't expect that Ollivander was more conservative than he thought. The so-called apprentice was to do odd jobs for the master. It was only when Ollivander was about to die that he could pass on the most critical technology of making wands.

Moreover, this was when no one in his family was willing to work in this field.

But he was not discouraged, and took the opportunity to present his second plan: "Then, can you help me find a magic wand made by Tiago?"

"Thiago Quintas?" A complicated look flashed in Ollivander's eyes.

"Yes."

"Young man, wands are a delicate subject, an art that requires patience, wisdom, and honesty. Studying alone is not a good method." He immediately saw through Rogge's intentions and reminded him earnestly: "In our circle of wand masters, Tiago's river monster wand core is a joke."

"Of course, I don't doubt his skill in making wands. What I am saying is that he is not a sincere person."

"You mean, the river monster is fake?"

Ollivander chuckled but did not answer directly. He slowly closed the wooden box and pushed it back in front of Roger, with a hint of regret in his eyes.

"If you are really interested in wand making, my advice still applies. Come to me after graduation, start learning from the Celtic Tree Calendar, and slowly accumulate experience. This is the right way."

"A true wand master needs to devote the rest of his life to this. If it is to satisfy one's own hobby of collecting..." The old man spoke slowly, reminding intentionally or unintentionally: "You have to understand that wands are not just tools. They have their own souls and can establish a unique connection with wizards."

"Then can you tell me who has Tiago's wand?" Roger was not discouraged, with a determined light flashing in his eyes: "I can deposit it in your store for you to study."

"Roger..."

"One year."

"this is not……"

"Three years!" Roger opened the lid of the box again and said sincerely, "Sir, I understand your concerns. But please believe that this is just a wizard's pure curiosity. I promise you that I will treat every wand with caution and respect their power."

Ollivander hesitated and wavered. He put on his reading glasses, hoping that the thick lenses could hide the movement in his eyes.

He slowly closed the box, his fingertips lingering on the smooth surface: "I have to admit that this is indeed a very sincere condition."

His hand lingered on the box, as if he was weighing something. Suddenly, he raised his head and looked at Roger sharply: "I do know a wand collector who has a wand made by Tiago. But..."

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

"Five years." Ollivander took his hand away from the wooden box and stated his bottom line in an ultimatum tone, leaving no room for doubt: "Lend it to me for five years. I can help you write a letter to the collector."

Perhaps knowing that his conditions were too demanding, Ollivander put his hands on the edge of the table and hastily added: "When the time comes, I will share the research results of these two wands with you. And, during this time, you can always come to me to ask questions about wand making."

"Also, the material for Tiago's staff core is in the 'White River Monster'." After saying that, he breathed a sigh of relief.

The small wand shop was filled with the scent of magic and ancient wood. The two people inside and outside the counter were silent at the moment.

Roger fell into deep thought. He did not doubt Mr. Ollivander's integrity, and he believed that the wand master would not casually propose such a long period of five years. His intuition told him that this might be a necessary condition for in-depth research on the Death Wand.

What really bothered him was that Mr. Ollivander obviously knew the secret of Tiago's wand, but he was unwilling to tell it directly.

"I hate the Riddler." Roger complained secretly in his heart.

The air was filled with tension and anticipation. Roger took a deep breath, his eyes moving between the wooden box and Ollivander. Finally, he made a decision.

"Sir, you win." A hint of helplessness appeared at the corner of his mouth, and he said sincerely: "Your noble character has touched me."

"If it were anyone else, they would have revealed the wand collector's name and address without hesitation."

Ollivander took the wooden box carefully, with a hint of apology in his eyes. "This is just the stubbornness of an old wizard who is behind the times. But if the other party refuses, there is nothing I can do."

"In the next five years, I can study the production method of this wand and the magical power contained in it from all angles." This idea made Ollivander full of energy, as if he was decades younger.

Even though Roger was standing right opposite him, he replaced the old wooden box containing his wand without hesitation.

"I knew it." Ollivander muttered to himself, picking up the magnifying glass and observing the wand carefully. "The previous method can't repair it perfectly. Albus was too impatient."

As he spoke, he turned and walked towards the workbench at the back, his steps brisk as if he couldn't wait to start his research.

Roger stood there, watching Ollivander's busy back, with mixed feelings in his heart. Although he felt a little embarrassed to be left out, he did not mean to blame the old wizard at all.

He was somewhat unhappy with the other party's decisive refusal, but he could empathize with his fanatical research attitude.

"This old man's love for the wand is beyond imagination." Roger whispered to himself and couldn't help smiling.

After leaving the wand shop, Roger went straight back to the Three Broomsticks Tavern. The tavern was warm and cozy, with the fire in the fireplace dancing happily, dispelling the chill outside.

He walked to the round table in the corner and took out the book "Cryptozoology", which he regarded as a fabrication.

"It looks great." Luna held the oak wine glass, and her voice floated over like mist.

Rogge couldn't help shrinking his neck and exhaled a large breath of foul air: "Ha...Luna, you scared me."

Luna didn't seem to care about Roger's reaction, her eyes were already drawn to the book. She sat down briskly opposite Roger and picked up the heavy "Cryptozoology" without waiting for an invitation.

"There are so many animals I've never seen before." Luna's voice was full of excitement, and her big eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Are there any harassment flies or nymph hooks here?"

(End of this chapter)