Based on the centaur's statement that "darkness spreads through the Forbidden Forest," Adrian guessed that what had been prowling in the Forbidden Forest recently must be Voldemort, who had taken over Quirrell's body.
After all, according to the original story, the current Voldemort should be extremely weak, desperately needing unicorn blood to sustain himself.
However, neither Hagrid nor he had encountered anything unusual in the Forbidden Forest.
Adrian wasn't surprised. Unicorns, as creatures, possessed an innate ability to sense evil entities like Voldemort.
It wouldn't be easy for Voldemort to catch a unicorn.
On the weekend, at the Devil's Snare's insistence, Adrian took it to Ollivander's wand shop in Diagon Alley.
This was the most famous wand shop in the wizarding world. Adrian's main wand came from Ollivander's hands—hornbeam wood, unicorn hair core, twelve inches exactly. Adrian had always found it very comfortable to use.
As soon as Adrian opened the door, the scent of wood wafted toward him. Ollivander was taking a nap in a chair.
"Mr. Ollivander?"
Adrian stood at the door, lightly tapping the wooden doorframe. The sound was neither too loud nor too soft, just enough to awaken the lightly sleeping old man without seeming too abrupt.
Ollivander immediately awoke, rising from his chair. His gaze fell upon Adrian.
Taking small, quick steps, Ollivander hurried to Adrian and stretched out his withered hand: "Your wand, sir."
Adrian took out his wand and handed it to Ollivander.
Ollivander carefully took the wand, holding it to his eyes for a few seconds.
"Hmm..." His silvery eyes gleamed in the dim light. "Ah, hornbeam and unicorn hair, twelve inches exactly. Welcome, Mr. Westeros. Do you need wand maintenance?"
Ollivander was always like this—recognizing people by their wands rather than their faces.
Adrian had heard that he remembered the name of every person who had bought a wand from his shop. Now it seemed this rumor wasn't unfounded.
He took his wand back from Ollivander's hand and shook his head. "I'm here to buy a wand."
Upon hearing Adrian's words, Ollivander paused momentarily, then anxiously wrung his hands: "Is your wand no longer suitable for you, Mr. Westeros?"
"Of course not," Adrian said with a smile. "My wand still suits me perfectly. But my friend here also seems to want a wand of their own."
As he spoke, the sleeve of Adrian's robe trembled slightly, and tendrils of Devil's Snare extended from within, reaching restlessly toward the nearby shelves.
Ollivander's silvery eyes widened slightly as he watched the Devil's Snare wrap its tendrils around a wand from the display stand, playing with it.
That wand was already emitting sparks.
"Oh, my goodness, that's not suitable for you!" The old man hurried forward, rescuing the poor wand from the Devil's Snare, then turned to Adrian. "Is this the friend you mentioned?"
Adrian nodded.
"This... is unprecedented," Ollivander said in astonishment. "In fact, wizards have previously wanted me to match wands for non-human creatures, but I refused them."
"Why refuse?" Adrian asked, puzzled.
Ollivander sighed slowly, then said: "Do you think trolls can perform magic? With their brain capacity... they'd probably just stupidly use wands to clean their ears. And I don't know which wand would choose a troll."
"Well, you don't need to worry about that. My friend can use magic," Adrian said.
Adrian handed his wand to the Devil's Snare, which wrapped its tendrils around it and awkwardly flicked it a couple of times.
The wand tip suddenly emitted a bright white light, illuminating the entire shop.
"See?"
Adrian folded his arms, looking at the shocked Ollivander.
"Very well, I'll try," Ollivander stood thinking for a moment, then walked to the shelf stacked with wands and carefully searched through them. "Let me see... this probably won't work... how about this one?"
Ollivander pulled out a box from the pile, taking out the wand inside and offering it to the Devil's Snare. "English oak, unicorn hair core, thirteen inches long."
However, when the Devil's Snare tried waving it, the wand tip only emitted a few sparks.
"Well, it seems that doesn't work..."
After trying countless wands, Ollivander sat back on the bench with a dejected face and said: "I knew it. No wand would choose a plant..."
Seeing this, though somewhat disappointed, Adrian consoled him: "It's alright, Mr. Ollivander. Finding a wand for a plant was always a far-fetched idea. I wasn't really expecting—"
"No!" Ollivander suddenly sprang up from the bench, interrupting Adrian, and exclaimed excitedly: "This must be because my wand-making technique isn't good enough."
Adrian was momentarily stunned, not knowing what to say.
"Give me some time, Mr. Adrian!" Ollivander's eyes seemed to burn with fire. "I will craft a suitable wand."
"...Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Adrian said cautiously. "Is there any way I can help?"
Ollivander nodded, then looked at the Devil's Snare. "Could I have something from your friend?"
Before Adrian could respond, the Devil's Snare had already acted, twisting off about a meter of its own tendrils and placing them before Ollivander.
"Excellent," Ollivander said with satisfaction. "You may leave now. This might take quite a long time."
Later, as Adrian walked out of Ollivander's wand shop empty-handed, Ollivander immediately hung a "Closed" sign on the door and locked it tight.
Adrian stood at the door for a moment, then said to the Devil's Snare, which was peeking slightly from his sleeve: "Looks like you'll have to wait for a while."
The Devil's Snare swayed, indicating it didn't mind.
After leaving Ollivander's wand shop, Adrian walked through Diagon Alley again.
Although it was the off-season, Diagon Alley was still quite crowded.
Without realizing it, Adrian reached the fork that led to Knockturn Alley.
There wasn't a single person here.
The most prosperous street in the wizarding world and its darkest street were separated by just a small distance.
What a bizarre sight...
After this reflection, Adrian prepared to leave.
He had no intention of venturing into that gloomy place today.
Unless one wanted to buy or sell items that weren't entirely legal on the surface, no one would willingly wander around there.
Who knew when you might be ambushed by an unfamiliar dark wizard?
There were plenty of desperados there.
However, just as Adrian was about to leave, he spotted a familiar figure.
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