HP: Pure-Blood Glory

Hearing this, Hagrid froze and then looked at Luke with surprise. Though Hagrid was somewhat rough around the edges, he knew the basics of wizarding society. Every British wizard, and even wizards worldwide, recognized that surname.

The Gaunts were one of the twenty-eight pure-blood families of Britain and among the oldest noble bloodlines in the wizarding world.

Though the Potters were also a pure-blood family, Harry knew little about this history. However, from Hagrid's expression and Ollivander's tone, he sensed that this person must have a particularly significant background.

To Harry, it felt like meeting a new friend on the street only to realize their surname was Windsor.

(T/N: UK's royal family)

"Yes, Mr. Ollivander, Luke Gaunt sends you his greetings"

Luke said, performing a complex gesture that appeared both elegant and fluid. Ollivander, too, composed himself and returned the gesture with equal precision.

In that moment, the usual gentle and aged aura around Ollivander seemed to dissolve, replaced by a hint of noble dignity.

"Greetings to you, Mr. Gaunt."

Harry and Hagrid looked on, dumbfounded. Professor McGonagall's expression also shifted, her face becoming more solemn. This was one of the oldest wizarding greetings—used only by nobility in ancient times. Even the oldest wizarding families rarely performed this gesture now, making it seem like a relic lost to the flow of history.

But seeing these two perform it, McGonagall realized this gesture could be forgotten but was still ingrained in the bones of those who could truly wield it, ready to be called upon at any moment.

She glanced at Ollivander, that elderly man who, despite his kind and cheerful exterior, was himself a member of one of the twenty-eight pure-blood families.

After exchanging greetings, Ollivander's noble air vanished instantly, replaced by his usual warm and gentle smile. "Indeed, a true Gaunt—far above some of the fallen ones. I always thought the Gaunt family could never fall so low."

He seemed to realize something, stopping abruptly, and then addressed Luke, "I can sense the aura of a wand on you—ancient, noble, powerful, and most importantly, a perfect match with you."

"It's far too ancient, noble, and powerful. I can't rely on it fully just yet"

Luke replied with a helpless smile. After all, if anyone was attuned to the aura of wands, it was a family with over a thousand years of wand-making expertise.

Ollivander nodded at Luke's explanation without pressing further.

He then turned to his shelves, carefully selected a box, and returned to Luke's side, opening it to reveal a finely crafted wand, decorated with delicate magical patterns.

Seeing the wand, the others couldn't help but glance at their own. Hagrid even looked down at his umbrella, which, though sturdy and well-suited to his needs, seemed plain—or perhaps a bit crude—compared to the finely crafted wand before them.

"Try this, Mr. Gaunt: Elm wood with a Dragon heartstring core, twelve inches, Elegant and powerful," Ollivander introduced the wand briefly before handing it to Luke.

Luke accepted it and gave a light wave. A flame shot from the wand tip, prompting McGonagall to instinctively try to put it out, but to her surprise, the fire remained stable.

Luke moved the wand slightly, and the flame followed its tip obediently.

Harry couldn't help feeling a pang of envy. The damage from his own attempts with various wands hadn't even been fixed yet, whereas Luke seemed to find a match on the very first try.

But both Luke and Ollivander frowned as if something was amiss.

Luke extinguished the flame and handed the wand back to Ollivander.

"Sorry, it's… not quite right."

This wand, though remarkable, didn't match the synergy he felt with Slytherin's wand.

Ollivander accepted it back without surprise and nodded. "Though it seems obedient, there's a sense of forced compliance."

Ollivander promptly returned the wand to its box, set it back on the shelf, and resumed his search.

The phrase "forced compliance" left Harry and the others somewhat bewildered. If Harry hadn't misinterpreted, it almost seemed like that wand had been reluctant to be returned to Ollivander.

Harry suddenly felt a bit disheartened. The pride he'd felt earlier from the respect and attention he received began to fade. He had thought of himself as someone special, but it seemed he wasn't quite as unique as he'd imagined.

As Harry mulled over this, Ollivander produced another wand.

"Try this one—Pine wood, unicorn tail hair, ten and a half inches, Independent and Individualistic."

Though this wand didn't appear as ornate as the last, it still had a distinct presence. McGonagall and the others found themselves wondering if perhaps their own wands weren't among the finest batch.

Harry felt a bit of relief, as this wand looked similar to his own.

Luke accepted the wand and gave it a gentle wave. This time, a stream of pure, clear water flowed from the wand's tip, refreshing and joyful, filling the room with a gentle warmth.

Luke could feel a sense of harmony with this wand, though something still seemed slightly off.

Ollivander sensed it too, his brows furrowing as he held out his hand.

"It's already a ninety-percent match, very high indeed, but there's still a subtle mismatch. It feels like it's missing something…"

As Luke returned the wand, he heard Ollivander muttering to himself. Luke had a sudden thought: perhaps the issue wasn't that the wand was missing something, but rather that he had something extra—a system, or perhaps an ambition sparked by the system's tasks.

Ollivander returned to the shelves, resting one hand under his chin, thoughtfully stroking his white beard with the other, seemingly deep in contemplation.

At that moment, Luke felt a strange pull. His gaze drifted to the top of the shelf, where a new-looking box sat on the highest ledge.

"Mr. Ollivander, could you let me see that one?"

Luke asked, pointing to the box at the top.