[59] The Ice Cream Summit

Hall shook his head and continued.

"Think about it — how many times will they actually encounter danger? And this insurance premium is paid annually. Most importantly, take the Aurors, for example. I recently heard they're using a new healing potion. It's affordable and extremely effective. They need to take a lot of it, and little by little, the monthly cost is considerable. With insurance, the Aurors can essentially get a significant discount on future potion purchases."

He took a sip of tea. "And that Squib potion — I think you, who are always in Diagon Alley, know better than I do how well it sells."

Ragnok nodded. The goblins were incredibly envious of the Squib potion's success. The queues often blocked the entire street.

"We can partner with the Squib Potion manufacturer to launch an insurance programme. Buyers receive free Squib Potion every month. Or an insurance programme specifically for Squibs, giving them priority access with greater assurance."

Ragnok's eyes lit up, but then he thought of something. "But how can we guarantee they'll be willing to cooperate?"

"Leave this to me. Consider it an investment." Hall added, "I want forty percent of the profits every year."

"Forty percent? No, no, that's too much!" Ragnok felt a pang of heartache at the mention, before he'd even given anything away.

Hall noticed Ragnok's eyes darting. "I'll give you two days to think it over. Contact me when you've reached an agreement."

He stood and stretched. "The wizarding banks in America have also been contacting the manufacturer. I did the math — if we cooperate with the Americans, Britain probably won't have a chance. Fortunately, I have a pretty good relationship with them."

Hall spoke very softly, but Ragnok could hear him clearly.

Insurance was an idea Hall had had for a long time — the best way to accumulate wealth. In the Muggle world, America had developed all sorts of insurance, most famously car insurance, which made fortunes for shrewd investors. It was a pity the wizarding world didn't have cars, only brooms. But that was fine — a wizard's daily life was full of excitement and instability. Apparition often resulted in losing an organ in place.

If wizards discovered they could get the potions they needed at a discount — or even for free — through insurance, that would be incredibly tempting. And the most effective healing potion currently known in the magical world? Hall smiled faintly. It was his own, wasn't it?

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After the meeting, Hall decided Ron deserved a break.

Hall met Ron at the ice cream shop, and the two each ate a huge sundae. They walked towards the south side of Diagon Alley, looking satisfied. There was a small, run-down shop with gold lettering peeling from the door.

It read: "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC."

Hall pushed open the door and dragged Ron inside. Ron looked around curiously. Thousands of long, narrow cardboard boxes containing wands were piled from floor to ceiling, covered in a thin layer of dust. Exactly the same as when Hall had last visited.

Ollivander lifted the curtain and emerged from behind the counter. He saw Hall and Ron's nearly identical faces and paused.

"The Weasleys?" He recognised them immediately by their hair.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander," Hall greeted politely. Ron returned the greeting.

Hall pulled Ron, who had been hiding behind him, forward. "Mr. Ollivander, we've come to choose a wand."

Mr. Ollivander peered at Ron. "A Weasley fellow — rare to see someone so young buying a wand."

Hall covered his face. Too many children meant high expenses. The Weasley family's fine tradition was well-known.

Mr. Ollivander pondered. "Ah!" He pulled one from a tall box. "Birch wood, thirteen inches, unicorn tail hair. Try it."

Ron took it and swung it. The box beside him exploded.

"Oh, no, no, not this one." Ollivander snatched it back and handed him another. "Cypress, twelve point eight inches, water snake horn."

Ron swung it again. A gust of wind swept through the room, making a mess.

"Not this one either." Ollivander snatched it back again, looking thoughtful.

Ron grew nervous. He stepped back beside Hall and whispered, "Hall, is it possible no wand will choose me?"

"No, you'll have one soon."

Hall's tone was confident. The scene before him was all too familiar. He knew what was coming.

"I've got it! Try this!" Ollivander seemed to remember something, rummaging through boxes and holding one up excitedly. "This was made by my grandfather — very old. I always thought it would remain forever alone. But now, child, perhaps you are its destined owner."

Hall covered his face. These words were exactly the same as when he'd bought his wand. Was this Ollivander's twisted humour?

Ron accepted the wand with an honoured expression.

"Willow wood, fourteen inches. Core of a basilisk horn." Ollivander paused, his voice deepening. "The last person to use this core, according to the records, was Salazar Slytherin. It's an extremely powerful core — you must use it well."

Ron flicked his wand. The messy room was now spotless, the dust gone.

Ollivander paused. "You used it very well, child." His voice was now high-pitched, as if he were saying something extraordinary.

Ron held up his wand, extremely excited. This was the first time an adult had praised him like this.

Hall placed seven Galleons on Ollivander's counter, gave a slight bow, and pulled the excited Ron to leave.

"Child!" Ollivander called after him. "I mean no harm. Remember — a name doesn't mean anything. Your true self is more important."

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