A/N - Guess whose right ear suddenly started ringing two nights ago, and had to spend two days just for this chapter as the doctor's appointment he got was for two days later(Today)?
That's right. THIS GUY!
A great start to 2026, guys!
Cheers~!
Disclaimer - I don't own anything. As the corporations say these days, you will own nothing & be happy. I don't, and have never claimed to, own Marvel or Disney or any of its characters. With that out of the way, let's goooo!
Gringotts, Diagon Alley
–Damian Hawthorne–
After a round of introductions, both of them sat down as Ironquill, who was the goblin responsible for any anomalies when it came to new accounts opening and settlement, per his own words, asked for a drop of blood.
Understandably concerned about that since he'd read more than one book the size of his torso, detailing the atrocities committed across history that began with just a drop of blood, he refused to provide it. Surprisingly, Ironquill accepted his answer with no pushback, and only asked for a name so he could compare it with the list they already had.
"Damian Hawthorne. I would like to open a fresh account. If there are any previously created, I would like to close them now." He instructed the goblin, who was busy going through some thick paperwork, presumably finding his name.
After a while of just the sound of papers being shuffled echoing in the medium sized but very spartan room, Ironquill snapped the binder shut and leaned on the table, "Mr.Hawthorne, based on the records I have here, you are legally a ward of the Hawthorne family. As such, you cannot open a new account without the presence of a family member. As for the gold deposits, I can only proceed further if you would like to use your existing account."
"Not even for a generous fee?"
Ironquill shook his head, "It is not a matter of money here, Mr.Hawthorne. Money is important, yes, but if we made an exception for you, it would draw enmity from not just the Ministry and the ICW but from all our customers who use our services and are assured that we protect the minors, of all species. It would be a stain on our honor, and I would most likely be dead before the next Daily Prophet was even printed."
"Huh," He said out loud, then, voicing his confusion at the forthcoming answer, "Why are you telling me this? I was of the opinion that you value your words just as much as you value Galleon, at least when spoken to wizards."
Ironquill chuckled, the sound coming out gravelly, "Yes, that is true, however, I believe you are someone special. It is not every day that even a grown wizard has the audacity to do something you did at such a young age. Wandlessly at that. Think of this as a future investment, if you will."
He nodded, "I see." It was an acceptable explanation, even though he knew there was definitely something more to it than just that. Even so, if it got him a pleasant experience with a species that was almost universally known to only tolerate or outright hate wizardkind? Who was he to deny that?
The problem with using an existing account was that it was a minor account, one that was opened up by his legal guardian, and that role came with a lot of power over him, and he did not want that to be extended to his finances. A quintal of gold was nothing to him, and he would appreciate the convenience of getting Galleons from their official source, without the extra fleecing that underground contacts did whenever someone wanted Galleons in bulk.
So, comparing the pros and cons, he gave the go ahead to Ironquill, "I would like the money to be deposited into my old account. I assume you have a method of verification for me?"
Ironquill nodded and stood up, his head poking through a door that was very well hidden. He faintly heard the goblin speak his language, which was very much undecipherable to him, as he came back with a small crystal ball, along with a stick that was inserted at the top of the crystal.
It looked comical, but he obliged Ironquill's request of infusing some of his magic in that thing, since magic was not something that could be used to inflict nearly as much harm as blood could.
The stick vibrated as he infused his magic into it, and the crystal glowed with multiple colours. First white, then red, and then, eventually, blinked twice with red before abruptly turning green, which he took to be a good sign.
Now, he was no face reader, and this was his first official, face to face interaction with a Goblin but that was most definitely a frown on the goblin's face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Ironquill replied after a moment, as another goblin, much smaller than the already teenage sized Ironquill, came through the hidden door and collected the instrument used to, presumably, confirm his identity.
Ironquill then tapped his claw on the table, a ping of magic leaving his fingers as the table itself began to morph, the tabletop flipping to reveal a complicated apparatus, full of magic and mildly enchanted.
"Now, about the gold," Ironquill took the Bag of Holding and got to work. The gold was not refined in any way, so he was not expecting a very good rate but about 10k Galleons for a quintal of gold ore was a reasonable price or so he was told by his contacts in the Black Market, who then, shamelessly, proceeded to give him a mere 60% of what Gringotts does, for the same amount of gold ore.
__xx__
He walked out of Gringotts, with an empty Bag of Holding, a newly issued key with 10,670 Galleons deposited in his account. It was official, he was rich!
William was waiting for him outside, as they headed to Ollivanders. It was an awkward walk, despite the distance taking them only a couple of minutes, as William chose to stay outside, silent and disturbed.
The bell rang as he pushed the doors to the only officially recognised Wandmaker in all of Britain. Being around for as long as Hogwarts had been around and being trusted for all the generations that ran the store meant that Ollivanders was a true monopoly. Apparently, it had been centuries since someone even tried opening a Wand store, all of them realising the futility of competing with Ollivander.
It helped that the man did not abuse his monopoly status, so there really was no problem to solve for an enterprising new generation of wizards, not that wizards in particular were business minded. The sense of lethargy that stuck to their magical innovation was also present in their business dealings.
As soon as he took two steps inside the store, he paused and turned around, staring right at the corner of the entrance, which looked shadowy because of the dimly lit nature of the store. A second later, the old, no, Ancient form of Garrick Ollivander, was revealed to him.
He maintained eye contact with the man who walked towards the counter, but kept facing him, as if he were some wild animal that would maul him if the eye contact was severed.
After a minute of eye contact, which was quickly turning awkward, Garrick hummed and then disappeared into the inner depths of his store, which was just a very long hallway, with shelves on both sides, full of old dusty, wooden boxes that presumably contained wands.
The end of the hallway had a door that contained probably even more wands, or wand materials, or his workshop. Likely all three.
He didn't have to wait long, as the man came out of his workshop/storage space, slamming the door open, with his hand full of boxes that seemed to tower over his small frame. He raised an eyebrow as the man marched towards the counter, and, with an impact that set off a dust cloud, arranged all the boxes in a line.
"Now," Garrick leaned forward, his neck freakishly long, allowing his face to come really close to his, "Let's get to work."
He leaned back because of his face being too close but had to take a step back after seeing the manic look in his eyes. They shone briefly as the man looked way too pleased to sell a wand. It was just 7 galleons, for Merlin's sake. The first one being heavily subsidized by the Ministry, the ICW, and the Hogwarts Funds together, to set a price of just 7 Galleons for something that most magical people cannot survive without.
The next one was 150 Galleons, which was a steep increase but it was fair since it did take a long time and actually life risking activities to get the material required for some wands.
"Okay," He said hesitantly, extending his hand towards the box, only for it to get slapped aside by Garrick as he offered a wand that had intricate red and orange markings on its side. If anything, it looked really nice, and was small as well.
Before his fingers could even fully grasp the wand, it was yanked out of his grip, actually thrown away by Garrick, clattering to the ground, as he began going through all the other boxes, muttering gibberish to himself.
Huh. It was true then, all genius came with a hint of madness. In some cases, however, he noted the crashing sound of something metallic hitting the floor in the background, the madness was more pronounced and easily visible.
It was after over a dozen tries, that Ollivander grew silent, staring at the assortment of wands, then at the discarded pile of wands, before just silently moving back into his workshop/storage space.
As he did whatever it was he did back there, he absentmindedly began arranging the wands properly, his mild OCD rearing its head once more, letting his magic flow into each one of them, individually, before realising that Ollivander was right.
None of them were for him. It took him his magic cycling through them for him to be sure, but the ancient monster could tell with just a glance. Perks of a literal century's worth of experience, he supposed.
Maybe it was the fact that he was already used to his magic flowing out of his body without a focus? Or maybe, at the risk of sounding arrogant, special? His magic being altered due to his existence of an otherworlder, at least in terms of his mind. His body was native, as evidenced by his connection to the Hawthorne family.
His body was already something akin to a High Magical, when compared to average wizards, as his strength, even at 11, was beyond full grown adults. If the trend continued, he was sure to surpass Captain America level of strength with ease, by the time he reached his 20s.
As he ruminated on that, Ollivander came back, holding a stone container. It was a casket of sorts, as the man carefully lifted the cover of the box, also made of stone, and revealed an ordinary looking wand.
Not just ordinary, it looked kind of dead?
He couldn't describe it properly, but all the other wands had some spark in them that made them feel alive to his magic, once he actually tried to use them, that is. This one felt dull compared to all the others.
Ollivander offered the wand to him with far more care than he reserved for all the other wands, so he chose to try it out. His hand curved around the handle, the wood not exactly stabbing into his palm but feeling sharp and nothing like the rounded off, comfortable grips of the other wands he tried so far.
"Go on, use it."
Upon his encouragement, he channelled a bit of his magic inside, and it just flowed inside, freezing him for a bit.
Almost involuntarily, the wand was pointed at the pile of wands in front of him, as words flowed out of his mouth, "Wingardium Leviosa."
The effect was instantaneous, all of the wands simultaneously floated an inch off the table, marvelling Ollivander whose eyes shone with delight, as if his life's purpose was fulfilled.
Meanwhile, he, on the other hand, blinked as he looked at the wand in confusion, letting his magic flow into it. He was both a little alarmed and confused. The wand, did not feel any different to him. It felt as if he was using wandless magic, just like usual.
No amplification of magic, no ease of use, nothing that was usually attributed to wands. It felt as if he was just holding onto an ordinary piece of wood, and his magic just flowed through it as if it were an empty passage, instead of a device used to help wizards cast magic more easily.
"That will be 7 Galleons," Gallivander demanded with an all too pleased smug grin on his face.
He could only look at the wand in confusion. Was he being scammed here?
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