Erwin nodded. "Yes, Sunny Finch. One of the strongest students of her generation in Britain."
Ollivander raised an eyebrow. "One of the strongest? Comparable to the best at Hogwarts?"
Sunny Finch quickly shook her head. "No, no! I wouldn't say that. Britain is different from Hogwarts. My skill is barely passable among my peers, nowhere near Erwin's level!"
Erwin smiled. The instinct to downplay oneself was deeply ingrained in her—a product of upbringing and temperament.
"Alright, enough of that," Erwin said, turning to the shopkeeper. "Mr. Ollivander, help her choose a wand."
"It is Ollivander," the man corrected him gently. "I have told you before, it is the wand that chooses the wizard, not the other way around. I can only bring out the stock and see which one wishes to leave the shop with this customer from Britain."
"Yes, yes, you're right," Erwin sighed. "Let's get started. I still have to take them back to Hogwarts this afternoon."
"You have no patience," Ollivander tutted. "I liked you much more when you first stepped into my shop."
Erwin shook his head. He really had nothing to say to the stubborn old man.
Ollivander moved behind the counter and headed toward the back shelves to select a few wands for Sunny Finch to try.
Sunny Finch leaned closer to Fleur, who was standing nearby. "What's this about wands choosing wizards? What's the story behind that?"
Fleur offered an explanation in a hushed tone. "In the Western wizarding world, there are very few wand makers: Ollivander in England, Gregorovitch in Germany, and our country's master in France. They are the most famous. There are others, like Jonkel, Wolff, Beauvais, and Quintana—seven masters in total. Ollivander is the most renowned; many wizards come specifically to Diagon Alley to buy from him. True wand masters believe wands are semi-sentient. They choose wizards worthy of their devotion. Only when chosen by a wand can it unleash its full power. It's a common belief in the wizarding world."
Sunny Finch looked intrigued. "That's quite interesting! But it reminds me of marketing."
Erwin chuckled. "Marketing?"
Sunny Finch nodded. "Yes! You know what I mean."
Erwin admitted, "I initially thought the same as you."
"And now?" Sunny Finch asked doubtfully.
Erwin shrugged. "Now, I think there might be some truth behind it. I don't know the specifics; only wandmakers would. I've asked Mr. Ollivander about learning wand-making before, but he refuses. He's a stingy old man."
Ollivander emerged carrying several slender boxes. "Erwin, I'll say it again. You are not suited to learn wand-making. Your magic is too… domineering. Ordinary materials simply cannot withstand it. They submit the moment you touch them. That means any wand you make will only recognize you. It isn't that I don't want to teach you."
Erwin shrugged. "Fine, whatever you say. After all, I don't know what's really going on, do I?"
Ollivander was too tired to argue. He had tried to teach Erwin once. The moment Erwin attempted to insert the core, the wood surrendered immediately. No one else could use such a wand; if they tried, it would offer fierce resistance. Wands that passed through Erwin's hands were unsellable.
Ollivander placed the boxes on the counter. "The previous students chose wands of surprisingly uniform material—peach wood. I don't know why, but they seem to have an affinity for it. No other material works quite the same way. So, the wands I brought are all peach wood. Try these first. If they don't choose you, I'll find others."
[Note: Original text had problematic framing suggesting peach wood preference was due to "Great Britain" cultural tools. Corrected to simple magical affinity without cultural stereotype.]
Sunny Finch nodded. "So, what do I do now?"
Ollivander opened a box and smiled faintly. "Grab them. They will tell you whether they have chosen you through their reactions."
Sunny Finch stepped forward and picked up the first wand.
Erwin watched the peach wood on the table. All peach wood? Perhaps it was simply what resonated with the students' magical cores—nothing mystical about geography, just natural compatibility.
Sunny Finch gripped the handle and looked at Ollivander with a bewildered expression.
Ollivander smiled. "Wave it. Just once."
Sunny Finch nodded. "Oh!"
She flicked her wrist instinctively.
The next moment, a beam of red light shot directly from the wand tip, grazing Ollivander's head.
Startled, the shopkeeper ducked just in time to avoid being struck.
Sunny Finch froze. "Um, I'm sorry! Are you alright?"
Ollivander peeked out from behind the counter. "I'm fine. But child, could you not use a spell? Just a light wave is sufficient."
Sunny Finch looked embarrassed. "Sorry. It was a subconscious reaction."
Ollivander waved a hand. "It's alright. Let's try another."
He took another wand from the box, but stopped before handing it over. "Child, I'll say it again. No magic spells. Just wave it lightly. Remember?"
Sunny Finch nodded. "Okay, I understand."
Ollivander passed her the second wand.
This time, Sunny Finch learned her lesson. She waved it gently. Instantly, a strong wind swept through the shop, rattling the scales on the shelves.
Before Sunny Finch could react, Ollivander snatched the wand back.
"No. Not this one."
Erwin stifled a yawn. He was already writing the script in his head. He was quite certain Ollivander was about to deliver his classic line.