"Right hand."
Although Ollivander looked a little odd, Hermione was not afraid. She held out her right hand.
"Oh, good."
Ollivander nodded and snapped his fingers. A measuring tape flew out from the corner and began taking measurements all over Hermione's body on its own, not even overlooking the distance between her nostrils.
At the same time, a quill and a notebook floated in midair, scribbling down the data at speed.
As for Ollivander, he had already gone back behind the shelves and started searching through stacks upon stacks of wand boxes.
Altair glanced at Professor McGonagall and asked softly, "Why do they need to measure all this when buying a wand?"
"It is said that every wand must fit its young witch or wizard perfectly..."
Professor McGonagall herself did not sound very certain. She hesitated, clearly unable to explain it too well.
"But a young wizard's body is still growing every year. In fact, you would not even need to wait a full year. These measurements might be out of date in three months. And besides... these wands are not being made on the spot. They were all crafted long ago, so measuring now feels a little late."
"A very clever young man."
Ollivander had somehow reappeared from behind the counter. In his hand was a wand box.
"But that sense of ceremony is our way of showing respect to wands."
He stopped in front of Hermione, opened the box, and took out a wand.
"Vine wood, dragon heartstring, ten and three-quarter inches. Try this, child."
Hermione took the wand and looked at Ollivander.
"Just give it a light wave, like this."
Hermione copied Ollivander's movement and gave the wand a little wave. A gentle breeze sprang into being out of nowhere and swirled around her, while a brilliant burst of light flared from the tip of the wand.
"A splendid combination. This wand has chosen you. Vine wood suits witches and wizards with lofty aspirations and uncommon vision. I hope you will use it well."
After saying that, Ollivander turned to Altair.
Hermione finally came back to herself from that wonderful feeling. She lovingly stroked the wand in her hand, her face bright with delight.
"Now then, let us begin with the measurements."
The tape measure flew up again and began circling Altair, taking measurements here and there, while the quill scratched away in the little notebook. Altair found himself wondering whether it contained the childhood measurements of countless witches and wizards from ages past.
After a while, Ollivander came out again and handed Altair a wand.
"Holly, unicorn tail hair, eleven inches... oh, put it down! Put it down at once!"
Ollivander had still been calmly introducing the wand, but the moment Altair took hold of it, the wand began to crackle violently.
Even though Altair let go at once, it was obvious that the wand had already been damaged.
The holly wood was covered in cracks, and the unicorn tail hair inside had burned away completely.
"A dreadful talent. Even unicorn tail hair cannot endure it..."
Ollivander gave Altair a long, deep look, then turned and went back behind the shelves to search again.
Professor McGonagall frowned deeply, though she said nothing.
It seemed Altair possessed an extraordinary natural affinity for the Dark Arts. But he was still only a child. As long as he received a proper education at Hogwarts, there should not be any real problem in the future.
Altair turned his head and found Professor McGonagall and Hermione both looking at him. All he could do was shrug helplessly.
It was definitely the One Ring's doing.
Because the One Ring was soul-bound to Altair, it had given him a kind of dark power beyond anything ordinary people could imagine. And with the Necromancer ability now unlocked, he had become especially suited to dark magic and necromancy. Under those circumstances, this outcome was not surprising at all.
After quite a long while, Ollivander finally reappeared.
"Yew. A wood associated with death, exceptionally suited for.. some stronger magic. The core is marsh werewolf hair, which is likewise extraordinarily compatible with a wizard of your talent. Twelve and three-quarter inches."
With a face full of confidence, Ollivander placed the wand into Altair's hand. Altair gave it a wave, and everyone seemed to hear a faint wail in the air.
"Oh. It seems this one is not suitable either."
Ollivander took the wand back and examined it carefully.
"The yew wood itself has not changed at all, but the core is damaged. So even marsh werewolf hair will not do? Let me think, let me think..."
Muttering to himself, Ollivander turned and disappeared again.
He felt rather pained. Marsh werewolf hair was not one of his usual materials, and there were only a handful of wands in his shop that used it as a core.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think this would be so troublesome."
Altair spoke apologetically to Professor McGonagall.
"It's all right, Altair. Your power is very unusual. A wand is a wizard's best friend, so we must be patient. Of course, you should remember this... it is not what our power is that matters, but the choices we make."
Professor McGonagall smiled as she said it.
Altair nodded. He knew that what had just happened had made Professor McGonagall somewhat worried about him.
A student born into a gangster family, and naturally gifted for dark magic.
If he ended up in Slytherin as well, Professor McGonagall would probably worry in her sleep that he might go astray.
"I have it. This one, it must be this one. I have a marvelous feeling about it!"
Just as Altair was thinking that, Ollivander appeared once more.
In his hands was an ancient-looking box, one that clearly had quite a few years on it.