"Are you here to buy a Hogwarts School uniform, dear?" As soon as they entered the tailor shop, a short, plump witch with a warm smile greeted Albert.
"Yes, madam," Albert nodded. "Thank you for your trouble."
"What a polite young man. Come, let me take your measurements." Madam Malkin gestured, and a measuring tape, pins, and scissors flew towards them, automatically beginning to measure Albert's frame. Herb watched in amazement.
Ordering custom-made clothes was a lengthy process, taking a full half hour. Madam Malkin told them to return after their shopping to pick up the package.
"Madam, in addition to the required school uniform, I'd also like to order a black pointed hat and a plain black cloak, tailored to my measurements but without a name tag. And please package them separately," Albert said to Madam Malkin after straightening his slightly disheveled clothes.
"A black pointed hat and a plain cloak?" Madam Malkin looked at Herb quizzically, repeating Albert's request.
"Yes," Herb nodded. He knew this was a gift for Nia.
"Very well," Madam Malkin said without dwelling on the odd request, nodding to show she understood.
After paying a deposit in Galleons, the two left Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and went to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, not far away. There, they purchased the brass scales, brass telescope, and small glass potion vials on their list.
In fact, Albert simply handed the list to Wiseacre and stated he needed to buy the items.
The total cost came to 13 Galleons. Additionally, Albert bought an hourglass for 2 Galleons.
With Wiseacre's enthusiastic guidance, Albert easily found Potage's Cauldron Shop, where he purchased a pewter cauldron for 15 Galleons.
Through shopkeeper Potage, they located a pharmacy to replenish the ingredients needed for their Potion-making class.
The pharmacy was far from a pleasant place. Even from the entrance, a nauseating odor assaulted their senses, as if deliberately designed to drive customers away.
The shop was filled with bizarre items. Jars of herbs, dried roots, and brightly colored powders lined the shelves.
Bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and fluffy claws hung from the ceiling.
Good heavens, Herb thought, how could a wizard possibly brew these things into a potion and drink it?
Herb didn't dare think further, because he saw a jar of slugs priced at one Galleon.
It was utterly disgusting.
The boy's father was starting to question his life choices.
Perhaps sending his son to Hogwarts wasn't such a wise decision after all.
Besides potions, Albert also bought some tools for brewing potions.
After paying, he pulled Herb, who wore a complicated expression, out of the shop.
"Albert, maybe we should give up," Herb said seriously after they were far enough away. "Let's send you to Eton College."
Albert's face twitched, and he shook his head.
"But... the more I think about it, the less reliable it seems. Maybe Daisy was right," Herb said, his expression complex as he looked at his son.
"We still need some books, a wand, and an owl," Albert said, looking at Herb. "At least let's get to know the magical world before we make any final decisions."
"Alright," Herb said, somewhat dejectedly, but he nodded in agreement.
After purchasing the books on his list at Flourish and Blotts, Albert also bought a basic history of the magical world.
He'd actually wanted to linger in the bookstore, but considering the time, he decided against it. He asked the manager for a list of books so he could order them later by Owl post.
Next, at the Diagon Alley stationery shop next to Quality Quidditch Supplies, he bought a large supply of parchment, quills, and ink.
With the shopkeeper's enthusiastic help, he found Eeylops Owl Emporium, located on the north side of Diagon Alley. It was easy to spot, with numerous Owls perched outside.
He absolutely needed an Owl; otherwise, he wouldn't be able to contact his family.
Herb helped him buy a bag of Owl feed and Owl nuts.
Pushing the trolley, Herb checked off each item as they bought it. Only wands remained.
Ollivander's Wand Shop was on the south side of Diagon Alley. They'd learned its location from the witch selling Owls.
It was a small, dilapidated shop.
When Albert pushed open the door, a tinkling bell announced their arrival. The interior was tiny, with nothing but a long bench.
Herb pushed his cart into the shop, feeling as though he had instantly filled the small space. He sat on the bench, munching on a pumpkin pastry he had just bought from a stall outside. The cart was piled with more sweets, all gifts for Nia.
Albert also held a pumpkin pastry in his hand, feeling hungry himself.
"Is anyone here?"
"Good afternoon," a soft voice replied as Ollivander emerged from the back room.
"Hello, sir. I'd like to buy a..." Albert set down his pastry.
"Wand, of course. A new Hogwarts student, I presume?"
"Yes, sir."
"By the way, what's your name?" Sensing Albert's confusion, Ollivander explained, "The Ministry of Magic requires a record of every wizard who purchases a wand from me."
"Albert Anderson," Albert introduced himself.
"Very well, Mr. Anderson." Ollivander pulled a tape measure from his pocket. "Which arm do you usually use?"
"I'm right-handed," Albert replied, raising his arm.
Ollivander began taking Albert's measurements, starting from his shoulder to his fingertips, then from his wrist to his elbow. The complex process left both father and son wondering if Ollivander was selling wands or clothes.
"Every wand I make is unique," Ollivander said as he measured Albert, "and wizards always find the perfect match here." But Albert was already starting to question reality. The measuring tape was somehow automatically measuring the distance between his nostrils.
Albert brushed the tape aside and walked to the counter.
Ollivander had already pulled a wand from the shelf. "Made of holly and phoenix feather, seven inches long, very flexible."
As Albert reached for it, Ollivander snatched it back.
"Try this one. Made of white ash and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches long. An extraordinary combination, with excellent elasticity."
Albert took it and gave it a flick, but nothing happened.
"Doesn't seem to be a match," Ollivander said to himself. "Let's try this one..."
Albert tried wand after wand. Sometimes they unleashed explosive power, shattering vases on the counter and startling Herb.
"I like picky customers," Ollivander said with a smile, bringing out another pile of wands. "Redwood and phoenix feather, nine inches long, good flexibility."
Albert took the wand, feeling a slight warmth in his fingertips. He tapped it lightly, and a red spark shot from the tip, blooming like fireworks in the shop.
"That's the one," Ollivander said cheerfully, placing the wand in its box. He smiled at Albert. "Legend says a redwood wand brings its user good fortune."
"Do you believe it?" Albert asked.
"No. I believe redwood wands are drawn to certain wizards—wizards who already possess the ability to turn danger into opportunity when faced with peril."
"So it's not the redwood that brings luck, but its owner who gives it that reputation?" Albert raised an eyebrow.
"You could say that," Ollivander nodded. "That will be ten Galleons, thank you for your patronage."