[Chapter Size: 1700 Words.]
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"Hagrid, what is Quidditch?" Harry asked casually while licking his ice cream. That was what the slightly arrogant, bushy-haired girl had just mentioned.
"Merlin’s beard! Harry, I forgot how little you know!" Hagrid exclaimed, giving his large, shaggy head a pat. "Quidditch is incredibly important! It’s a hugely popular sport. Of course, I mean, in the wizarding world, well, in the entire wizarding world, really."
Hagrid probably did his best to explain the rules of this game, or sport, in detail, but his ability to express himself was somewhat questionable, and his explanations were vague. More often than not, he emphasized how great his favorite team used to be, though their performance had declined in recent years.
Fortunately, Harry grasped the concept well enough and managed to get the general idea.
Smacking his lips, Harry thought about it and realized it sounded like basketball or football, but played on broomsticks!
"By the way, wouldn’t that thin broom handle get stuck in a rather uncomfortable spot when you rode it?" Harry felt a bit concerned.
"Hagrid, I want to buy a few more books. Some that introduce me to the wizarding world. I feel like I know far too little about it!" Harry shared the idea that had occurred to him during his brief conversation with the girl earlier.
"Ah, of course, you can! That was my oversight! I can recommend a few books, like Hogwarts: A History, which is an excellent read!" Hagrid nodded repeatedly. "But before that, we still need to buy the most important thing!"
Harry raised an eyebrow; he knew exactly what Hagrid was talking about. There was only one item left on the shopping list, and it was the one that intrigued him the most, the wand!
If there was one thing Harry was most excited to buy, it was undoubtedly his wand.
Would it be a long staff, like Merlin’s in the comics? Or a spear, like Loki’s? Or maybe.
Harry glanced at the inner pocket of Hagrid’s coat and barely caught sight of the tip of a small red umbrella. He had seen many types of wands in RPG games, and in Neil’s memory, that one called Aegean World was even more bizarre.
Now that he was about to have a real magical wand of his own, how could he not be excited?
Under Hagrid’s guidance, the two arrived at a small, run-down shop, though, to be fair, most shops in Diagon Alley had shabby exteriors, yet their interiors were surprisingly spacious, as if by magic.
The gold lettering on the sign above the door was faded, clearly having hung there for quite some time. It read:
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.
"382 B.C.?"
Harry had no idea what historical period that referred to, but one thing was certain, whatever people lived in those times, they had absolutely nothing to do with the modern British Empire.
Was boasting also common in the wizarding world? Harry thought mischievously.
Through the window, Harry spotted a pale purple cushion with a piece of wood on top.
If not for the fact that the proportions seemed off, he might have mistaken it for one of those interesting utensils provided at Chinese restaurants in Chinatown, chopsticks.
This wand was a bit different from what he had imagined.
Upon entering the shop, Harry looked around. His first impression was that the place was meticulously organized. The most striking feature was the numerous towering shelves, built specifically for storage, stretching all the way to the ceiling. Thousands of long, narrow boxes were neatly arranged upon them. Judging by their shape, they likely contained wands.
"Good morning." A gentle voice sounded without warning.
Both Harry and Hagrid flinched at the sudden sound. A very old-looking man, or wizard, stood before them. He had a pair of light gray eyes, not particularly striking but incredibly sharp, making them seem almost eerie in the dimly lit shop.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
It reminded Harry of certain nocturnal animals.
"Good morning, Mr. Ollivander. Could you please make a bit more noise when you walk next time?" Hagrid muttered.
"Pleasure to see you, Hagrid." Mr. Ollivander ignored Hagrid’s minor complaint and smiled. "Oak, sixteen inches, a bit bendy? You were quite the particular customer back then."
"Your memory has always been sharp." Hagrid grinned sheepishly.
"That was a fine wand, but it’s a shame they broke it, isn’t it?" Ollivander said regretfully.
"Yes... yes..." Hagrid’s eyes turned slightly vacant, and his hand instinctively touched the inside of his coat in an unnatural motion. In that very pocket rested the red umbrella. "But I still have it."
"It’s good to keep it as a memento, but you can’t use it, can you?" Mr. Ollivander shook his head before turning to Harry with a hint of hesitation. "I received the Hogwarts admission list for this year, but, that young lady, is she Granger?”
"Haha!" Hagrid laughed heartily. "I've been looking forward to this moment all day, Mr. Ollivander. This is Potter, Harry Potter."
"Good morning, sir," Harry greeted in a slightly hoarse voice.
"Merlin’s beard!" Ollivander examined him closely, his eyes flickering with incredulity.
"I thought so… Yes, you look a great deal like your mother. Boys often resemble their mothers, but it’s rare to see such a striking resemblance, Mr. Potter. Well, except for the eyes and hair, those are your father’s. Fascinating, isn’t it?"
"Yes, sir." Hagrid chuckled. "When I first met Harry, I had the exact same reaction as you.”
"Ah, truly a most anticipated guest." Mr. Ollivander appeared delighted, though his eyes were drawn, almost involuntarily, to Harry’s forehead. However, his thick fringe obscured anything from view.
"I remember every wand I’ve ever sold. Your father’s was mahogany, excellent for Transfiguration, and he was exceptionally skilled in that field. Your mother’s, on the other hand, was willow. Well, to be precise, it was the wand that chose them. You see, I’ve always believed that it is the wand that chooses the wizard."
Harry blinked, an awkward yet polite smile forming on his face. What else could he do? He couldn’t exactly say, "No, sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about."
The discomfort made Harry instinctively scratch his head, ruffling his bangs, unintentionally revealing the lightning-shaped scar.
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Harry toyed with his wand, a faint headache creeping in.
A wand purchased from Ollivanders had led to many things. He had also learned a name from Hagrid, Voldemort.
Although Hagrid was reluctant to say much, the limited information he provided still left Harry unsettled.
Voldemort had once been such a terrifying figure that people feared to even speak his name. Even now, Hagrid hesitated before uttering it.
Voldemort had killed his parents.
He had tried to kill Harry, but instead, he had died, leaving only a scar on Harry’s forehead.
Because of that scar, or perhaps because Voldemort had been defeated while attempting to kill him, Harry had been hailed as the savior who vanquished the Dark Lord, making him famous throughout the wizarding world.
There was even a widely known title attached to his name: The Boy Who Lived.
Harry wasn’t particularly fond of the title. He would have preferred something cooler, like The Melancholy Prince or Son of the Wind.
But honestly, did wizards even have common sense?
How could a baby, who knew absolutely nothing, kill a powerful Dark Lord?
There had to be some unknown reason.
Unfortunately, Hagrid didn’t know, or perhaps he did but refused to say. Either way, there was no way for Harry to find out.
So, he turned to books. He bought several that weren’t on his required shopping list:
A History of Modern Magic.
The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts.
Important Magical Events of the 20th Century.
Biographies of Famous Wizards in Modern and Contemporary Times.
All of these books contained some records of him, but the details were frustratingly vague. Most focused on how cruel and terrifying Voldemort had been at the time, and then, in a single sentence, they stated that Voldemort had "met his Waterloo" when he tried to kill Harry Potter and subsequently vanished without a trace.
While reading these books gave Harry some understanding of the wizarding world, it didn’t answer the questions he truly wanted to know.
However, during this process, he came across a name, one that stood out.
Albus Dumbledore.
Current Headmaster of Hogwarts. Harry had seen the name on his acceptance letter. But after reading about him, Harry was deeply impressed.
"Holy crap, this guy is incredible."
That was Harry’s immediate reaction upon learning about Dumbledore.
Every book that mentioned him was overflowing with praise. The most common descriptions included:
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards.
Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.
Order of Merlin, First Class.
And so on.
Thinking back, even Hagrid had spoken of Dumbledore with deep admiration, his tone far more serious than usual. It seemed that this legendary wizard was truly revered in the magical world.
The books also mentioned that there had been a Dark Lord before Voldemort, one whom Dumbledore had personally defeated.
As for Voldemort himself, even at the height of his power, the only wizard he had ever feared was Dumbledore. Because of Dumbledore’s presence, Voldemort had never dared to attack Hogwarts, making it the safest place in the entire British wizarding world at the time.
Harry found it a little strange that someone so powerful had chosen to remain in a school as Headmaster, rather than becoming the Minister for Magic, the highest position in the wizarding government.
He’s powerful but uninterested in power.
He seems too perfect.
Are there truly perfect people in this world? Harry was skeptical.
And when he saw Dumbledore’s portrait in his textbook, his doubts only grew stronger.
Because this world-famous Dumbledore, with his long white hair and beard, looked eerily similar to Neil.
And that Neil, had wanted to take over his body.
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