Diagon Alley.
A secret street of wizards, located in an alley somewhere in London.
Wizards not only had an extremely small population compared to Muggles, but living together in one place was highly likely to attract Muggle attention and violate the International Statute of Secrecy.
Therefore, it was safe to say that places where wizards gathered in such numbers were non-existent, with the exception of Hogwarts and its surroundings, and Diagon Alley.
Which meant that this place, Diagon Alley, was one of the only places where one could buy the various supplies needed for Hogwarts.
This was the reason why Harry and I headed to Diagon Alley as soon as we returned to London from the Mediterranean coast of Italy.
At the entrance to Diagon Alley, I tapped the bricks, and they slid apart, opening the gate to the street.
I glanced at Harry with a bit of anticipation, but he just walked calmly through the path between the bricks.
"Harry, aren't you amazed? This is the 'wizarding world' you wanted so badly."
"To be amazed by a simple brick wall opening up... haven't I seen a bit too much for that?"
He had a point. In terms of amazement, the sight of Number 12, Grimmauld Place appearing was far more spectacular.
I felt a little nostalgic for the pure, innocent reactions of the old Harry, but it wasn't a big deal.
"Master, what should we buy first?"
"Deek is supposed to buy everything else anyway, so let's go and pick out your wand."
"My wand!"
Harry's face lit up with a smile at those words.
Harry was still using the wand I had used in the past.
Mahogany, dragon heartstring, 12 inches.
It was a wand that had been twisted into a strange shape while passing through time. Its magical power had diminished somewhat compared to before, but it wasn't as if it couldn't produce magic.
If I hadn't obtained the Elder Wand on my first day in the 20th century, I probably would have kept using it.
Perhaps because I had given it to Harry myself, it was a wand that followed his commands quite well.
Nevertheless, a wizard's true power is unleashed when they have their own, custom-made wand.
Unless, of course, you're an exceptional case like me with something like the Elder Wand.
"I want to have my own wand, too!"
"Of course you do, you're a wizard. Let's hurry up and buy it and go back."
Harry looked at a map and ran towards Ollivanders, and I followed him.
"Curious, very curious."
Ollivanders. I had arrived a little late because I was buying Harry's presents.
When I entered the place, Harry was holding a wand and admiring it, as if he had already found the one that was right for him.
And the old man with white hair, standing in front of him and muttering incomprehensible words, was, by all accounts, Ollivander.
Wow, he looks exactly like his grandfather.
Ollivander, paying no mind to my soft gasp of admiration, was explaining the origin of the wand to Harry.
"...The brother wand to that wand..."
In short, the story was that the wand that used the same core as the one in Harry's wand was used by the one who gave Harry his lightning-bolt scar, Voldemort.
Hearing that, I raised an eyebrow.
That foreign sensation I sometimes feel when I look at Harry. Could it be related to this?
I had a faint idea, but in any case, it wasn't a problem to think about right now.
I grinned, placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and said.
"Harry, try casting a spell as a test."
"Ah, yes. Um."
After a moment of contemplating which spell to use, Harry lightly waved his wand and tidied up the messy interior of Ollivander's shop.
In an instant, the boxes that had been piled up all over the floor were taped shut and returned to a corner of the shelf.
The dust was, of course, cleaned up as well, and the shop's fixtures that had been broken during the wand testing process were all restored to their original state.
Seeing this, Ollivander clapped his hands in amazement.
"Ah, my goodness! Perfect! Harry, that's truly amazing!"
It was a display of skill that was hard to believe had been performed by a young student who hadn't even enrolled at Hogwarts yet.
Indeed, a talent and skill worthy of being acknowledged by the brother of 'His' wand. Ollivander felt a tingling at his fingertips as he imagined the history that wand would write.
Ollivander's gaze, full of admiration, then fell on me.
"Hmm? This boy here... who is he? Are you also here to buy a wand?"
I shook my head lightly and said.
"No, sir. I already have a wand."
I thought about taking out the Elder Wand to show him, but then it occurred to me that a wandmaker of Ollivander's caliber might recognize it at a glance.
So the wand I took out to show him was my strangely bent wand that I had just gotten back from Harry.
But after a quick glance at the wand, Ollivander's eyes lit up, and he thrust his face toward me.
"You, where did you get that wand? May I have a look?"
"Yes, sure."
There was no reason to refuse, so I held out the wand to Ollivander.
Ollivander, who took out a small magnifying glass from somewhere and began to examine the wand for a long time.
Although I had the Elder Wand now, this was a wand I had used for a long time and had grown fond of.
I even had a small hope that a master craftsman like Ollivander might know how to fix it.
Ollivander, who had been wrestling with my wand for a long time, frowned as if something wasn't working out, and then said to us.
"Wait here a moment."
Then, with a clatter, he went into the workshop behind the shop.
Harry, stunned by the sudden disappearance of Ollivander, asked.
"Are all wizards that eccentric?"
Come to think of it, that man was the first wizard Harry had seen after me and Dumbledore. I shrugged and replied.
"The Ollivanders are a bit peculiar, but wizards aren't much different. You get strange when you live for a long time."
Just think of Albus. When he was young, he was a promising kid, but now he's an old man who walks around in strange pajamas.
Harry smiled playfully and said.
"Oh dear, I'm suddenly a little scared to live in the wizarding world."
"Harry, you're a wizard, too."
"Ah."
As we were talking like that, the sun outside was already beginning to set. It felt like we had been waiting for almost an hour.
Deek would be waiting, too. How much longer did we have to wait?
Just as I was wondering if I should forcefully call Ollivander out, he fell out of the attic with a clatter.
Startled, Harry asked.
"Mr. Ollivander, are you alright?"
"Ah, of course. I'm fine, I'm fine."
Ollivander replied, brushing the dust off his body.
Then he came over with my wand and asked me abruptly.
"You, this wand. Where on earth did you get it?"
His flashing eyes made him look like both a madman and a sage.
"This wand. I can definitely see the Ollivander technique in it. But, strangely enough, I have no memory of making this wand."
"Excuse me, but could it be that you just don't remember?"
"Oh, no. I remember every wand I've ever made. Without a single exception. It's impossible for me to forget a wand like this."
Ollivander continued, stroking the wand as if in a trance.
"So, I just went through the records of the wands made by my ancestors. No matter how I think about it, this wand was touched by the hand of an Ollivander. Unfortunately, there was no record of a wand of this type at all!"
Good heavens.
Don't tell me the Ollivander family records all the information about their customers every time they sell a wand.
Considering that information about the wand's material, core, etc., can affect the use of magic, that's incredibly creepy.
This is a data privacy breach.
"But, you know what's really strange? In the meticulously kept wand-making journal of my grandfather, Gerbold Ollivander, there was a single blank space! As if it had been erased for some reason. My grandfather was also a truly great wandmaker, and he was the most famous wizard of his time..."
Regardless of my disgust, Ollivander tried to continue his explanation about his grandfather.
It was about time for Deek to finish buying the other things, so I cut Ollivander off and asked.
"Mr. Ollivander. Excuse me, but what is the conclusion? I'm afraid I'm short on time right now."
"Ah, dear me. My apologies. Anyway, as you know, that wand was exposed to a very strange power and was bent. The core and the wood are still intact, so it seems to cast magic just fine, but I don't know what might happen."
In a word, he didn't know what the problem was.
Feeling a little annoyed at having wasted my time, I asked.
"Then is there no solution?"
"Hmm, that's a problem to think about. But, strangely enough, I don't feel any will from that wand. A will to fix its body."
Hearing that, I looked at my wand. Was it sulking because I only use the Elder Wand?
Ollivander's eyes sparkled as he said.
"Instead, I feel a will to become something different. Not an ordinary wand, not a broken wand, but something very different."
So, keep an eye on that wand.
With those words, Ollivander ushered us out of the shop.
After blinking for a long moment, Harry asked.
"Um, Master. If I heard correctly, did we just not reach any conclusion at all?"
It was an accurate summary of the hour we had lost. I sighed and said.
"That's why I told you, Harry. There are many eccentrics among wizards. Let's go find Deek."
Muttering, Harry and I set off to find Deek. But just in case, I put the mahogany wand in my robes.
Meanwhile, at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
Deek had bought all the other supplies and had entered the shop to buy the school uniforms for his master, Aisen Knightly, and his disciple, Harry Potter.
And what Deek saw there was a boy with platinum-blonde hair, having his measurements taken to buy clothes.
Oh, it seems that child will also be enrolling at Hogwarts with Master and Harry Potter!
Deek, who had been looking at the boy with a light smile, went to the shop owner, Madam Malkin, and asked.
"Hello, madam. Would it be alright if Deek placed an order?"
But suddenly, the platinum-blonde boy spoke to Deek in an irritated tone.
"House-elf, can't you see I'm ordering clothes right now? How dare you be so annoying!"
Deek blinked his large eyes and apologized.
Although his tone was rude, the boy wasn't entirely wrong, as he had almost cut in line.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Yes. You should be."
Deek stood quietly in his place and waited for his turn.
At least, that was the case until, a little while later, the boy and the shop owner started arguing.
"Are you telling me I can't buy a mere three robes? I'm telling you, my father sent the money in advance!"
"And I'm telling you, there's no money deposited in our shop under the Malfoy family name, you see?"
Malfoy, Malfoy. I've heard that name somewhere.
Ah, come to think of it, didn't Master say that the owner of the vault he destroyed was a Malfoy?
Feeling a cold sweat he wasn't used to, Deek quietly slipped away.
I'm sorry, Master, but I'll have to buy the clothes next time. What a bad Deek I am.