Being a passerby in HP female protagonist fanfiction

Ollivanders Wand Shop was empty at first.

Miss Fairburn was waiting for me at the door. Soon, we heard hurried footsteps, and Mr. Ollivander, with his disheveled hair, came out from the back of the shop.

"Good afternoon!" said Mr. Ollivander.

"Hello!" I greeted him somewhat awkwardly.

“Oh, well, a rather unusual child. Let me see what kind of wand would suit you…” Mr. Ollivander spoke very quickly, and I had some difficulty deciphering his words.

“Try this one, it’s made of mahogany, maybe it will suit you?” Mr. Ollivander handed me a wand.

I held it nervously. I had never cast a spell before, and despite being accepted into Hogwarts, I doubted I would ever be able to use magic at all.

However, based on my trust in the mysterious messenger, I felt that no one would go to such lengths to prepare these things for me without a purpose. This person must have something on their mind about me or Hogwarts—so I must be able to use magic, otherwise all of this would be in vain.

The wand felt heavy in my hand. I tried to wave it casually, and a book in the distance was suddenly knocked away.

“This one won’t do.” Mr. Ollivander shook his head and found another wand. “Try this one, beechwood! Maybe you have enough wisdom to impress it.”

I waved my hand carefully, and a gust of wind swept through the shop.

“No, this won’t do. Let me see.” Mr. Ollivander pulled out his tools, and the measuring tape flew up and down on my body automatically. Ollivander muttered something and threw it back into the pile of wands.

He handed me a few sticks, but unfortunately none of them were quite right.

“Let me think… Ah, I should give you that wand!” Mr. Ollivander exclaimed excitedly, pulling a wand from a corner.

I waved it, and it emitted a soft white light.

“That’s right, this is it! Alder wood, phoenix feather! It’s surprisingly flexible.” Mr. Ollivander smiled. “You’d make a fine white wizard.”

"Thank you!" I said to Mr. Ollivander with great excitement.

Miss Fairburn was waiting for me outside the door, and she led me back into the house.

After settling my things, I thanked Miss Fairburn, who remained indifferent, bid me farewell meticulously, and left.

I packed up what I bought, and then eagerly picked up the wand to examine it closely.

I believe no Harry Potter fan could resist having their own wand. Honestly, I'm so excited I could jump for joy.

Great!

I would love to cast a spell if I could, but I immediately realize that I don't know any spells and it would be difficult for me to learn them on my own.

The reason is that even though there are magic books and textbooks, I may not be able to understand them. In fact, learning with only a superficial understanding is more dangerous. Casting magic requires reciting incantations with a standard accent, and beginners are prone to various problems when learning magic.

The most typical example is Seamus Finigan, the explosives genius in the movie.

How to do this?

Before I could agonize for long, a book, seemingly out of nowhere, struck me squarely on the head.

Bang.

What book came from that ambushed me?

Stunned by the impact, I stared blankly at the ceiling.

There was clearly nothing there; not even an owl was in the room. I picked up the book and fell into deep thought.

It's really suspicious, but to be honest, everything I'm going through right now is suspicious, and there's either a huge secret behind it or something like that.

I opened the book and, lo and behold, it was blank.

I stubbornly flipped through it from beginning to end, but there wasn't a single word.

Such a suspicious and blank book easily reminded me of a certain boss's diary.

Oh no, really?

I remember the first page of that diary had Tom Riddle's name written on it.

I silently took out my pen.

I've never gotten used to using a quill pen, but now's not the time to talk about that.

I carefully wrote a question mark on the blank page.

【? 】

Something magical, yet unsurprising, happened: my handwriting slowly disappeared, and soon another line of text slowly appeared.

When I saw this word, I was certain that this book had nothing to do with Tom Riddle.

Because this character is Chinese.

[Answer everything you want to know, and record everything you don't want to forget.]

Me: Get lost, riddle teller.

Finally, there's something that allows for face-to-face communication, so I wrote down directly: Who are you?

The handwriting emerged.

The Book of Truth

Such a concise and useless answer.

I don't know if it guessed what I was thinking, but another line appeared in the book.

You can tell me your doubts.

"Where did you come from? How did I get here? What am I going to do?" I immediately asked the three philosophical questions.

[The Book of Truth, created by a person who exhausted his own wisdom.]

Your arrival began by chance and ended by destiny.

The future is your choice.

The three sentences seem to have said something, yet also seem to have said nothing.

I was silent.

"Teacher Shu, why is my Zihan gone today? She came home and was lying on the bed. I was worried something had happened, but when I touched her, I found she was dead. She cried and told me that all the other children in the class knew the truth, but she didn't. Teacher, did you bully her?"

"Damn riddle book! I'm calling the police to have you arrested!"

The riddle book paused for a moment, then dots and question marks appeared.

【…? 】

I chuckled.

Who is Zihan?

"Zihan is my child."

You do not have a child named Zihan.

"How do you know I didn't?"

I think I have a bit of a nitpicking tendency, but that's not important.

Based on my understanding, you do not have children.

"Your information is a bit outdated. I really do have it. If you don't believe me, you can tell me what information you know about me. There must be something wrong in it."

The riddle book was quiet for a moment, then words appeared. It did indeed contain my information, but unfortunately, it wasn't what I wanted to see.

[Ming Lai, a Chinese, was born in the UK on February 9, 1980. Her parents are...]

This is my identity information after I traveled through time.

I was unwilling to give up and couldn't get any answers, so I started bombarding the riddle book from all angles.

"What do you mean by 'Book of Truth'? You're more like a 'Book of Riddles,' because you don't explain anything clearly."

"Let me ask you questions? Okay, how old are you? Have you just turned 18? Are you male or female?"

"If you won't tell me that, what do you know? Can you teach me magic? Do you know how to use magic?"

"How can you teach me magic if you don't know any? This is misleading me!"

After my abuse, the pages of the riddle book started to feel a bit sluggish.