Diagon Alley

Hagrid finally snapped out of the shock of Apparition. His massive chest heaved, and his gaze towards Silas was filled with astonishment and the excitement one might reserve for a rare magical creature.

"Goodness gracious," Hagrid exclaimed in his rumbling voice, marveling at the stable, formed portal. "This is even more convenient than Apparition! There's no squashed feeling! Ahem," he remembered his purpose and tried to sound serious, "lad, Professor Dumbledore asked me to take you shopping for your supplies today. He said it would be too late to prepare after you officially enroll next year... Oh, right, this is the money your parents gave you. Professor Dumbledore asked me to give it to you."

Hagrid rummaged through a bottomless pocket in his moleskin coat and produced a bulging coin purse, handing it to Silas. Silas took the purse and weighed it; it was not light.

"Alright," Silas nodded and stepped through the portal first. Hagrid took a deep breath, as if about to jump into a cold pool, and carefully bent down to follow him through.

The backyard of The Leaky Cauldron was as dim and cluttered as ever. Hagrid pointed at the wall, tapping a brick with the tip of his pink umbrella: "See, count three up from there, then two across... it's this brick. Tap it gently three times..."

Silas crossed his arms, watching Hagrid's actions, and couldn't resist a sarcastic remark: "So, the key to entering the most important commercial street in the British wizarding world is a trash can, used to locate which brick to tap? What if this trash can gets cleaned up one day, or some drunk wizard accidentally moves it? Wouldn't the whole Diagon Alley have to shut down?"

Hagrid was taken aback and scratched his shaggy beard. "Uh... well... I've never really thought about that. But don't worry!" He quickly found a reason and patted the trash can forcefully (it let out a groan of protest). "This trash can has a very powerful permanent sticking charm on it! At least... as far as I know, no one's ever been able to move it!"

Silas raised an eyebrow, noncommittal about the answer. As the bricks shifted, an archway appeared, revealing the bustling Diagon Alley before him.

Their first stop was Gringotts. Silas wasn't particularly impressed by goblins or underground rollercoasters, he just found the coins heavy. He efficiently exchanged his Muggle currency for a small bag of Gold Galleons, Silver Sickles, and Bronze Knuts.

Next was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

Madam Malkin was a plump witch with a cheerful smile. She greeted them warmly: "Are you buying Hogwarts uniforms, dear? Plain robes, black, a pointed hat for daily wear, protective gloves, a winter cloak..."

With each item she mentioned, Silas's frown deepened. When he heard "pointed hat," he finally couldn't hold back and shook his head resolutely: "No, I refuse to wear plain black robes and those silly pointed hats. They have no personality, and they look like I'm going to a Halloween parade."

He gestured to his own dark blue, strangely textured wizard robe and the dark red Levitating Cloak on his shoulders: "I'll wear my own. For the school robes... just a set in the smallest size as a backup, to satisfy inspections."

Hagrid opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but seeing Silas's unyielding expression and Madam Malkin's slightly awkward but hesitant demeanor, he could only scratch his head. "Uh... alright, let's do as he says. Let's go buy books."

So they arrived at Flourish and Blotts. The bookstore was piled high with books reaching the ceiling. Silas glanced at the list.

"Standard Spells, First Year..." he read, then, as if remembering something, snapped his fingers casually and said clearly in English: "Lumos."

With a soft "hum," his entire right palm instantly emitted a soft, steady white light, like a small lightbulb.

Hagrid and the bookstore owner next to him were stunned.

Silas looked at his glowing hand, then at Standard Spells on the bookshelf, and shrugged. "Alright, it seems some basic things are indeed quite simple. Let's buy more books then, maybe there's something more interesting."

Thus, he began a major shopping spree. He not only bought the entire set of Standard Spells (from first year to fourth year), but also took a copy of Bathilda Bagshot's A History of Magic ("Should be good for reading as a storybook," he said), the complete set of Transfiguration textbooks ("This looks a bit challenging"), a copy of Newt Scamander's Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them ("As a picture book"), and even, in a corner of the bookshelf, he found a rather worn copy of Advanced Potion-Making ("Maybe I can learn some obscure stuff?").

Finally, at checkout, he saw Hogsmeade Tourist Guide on the counter and grabbed a copy as well. "I'll be going there eventually anyway."

Emerging from Flourish and Blotts with a stack of books that almost buried him, Silas was content. Hagrid followed behind him, looking at this seven-year-old child who could perform wandless magic, Apparate at will, and was picky about traditional magical education, feeling like his decades of magical common sense were being trampled into the ground.

"Next... should we go buy a wand?" Hagrid asked in his rumbling voice, a hint of anticipation and uncertainty in his tone. After all, for a child who could already perform wandless magic, was a wand... still necessary?

Ollivanders Wand Shop was small and dilapidated, with dusty boxes piled to the ceiling. As they entered, a tinkling bell sound came from the depths of the shop. An old wizard with pale, large eyes seemed to glide out of the shadows. Seeing Hagrid, a familiar smile appeared on his face.

"Hello, Hagrid! Oh, 16 inches, oak... a fine wand, but such a pity!" Mr. Ollivander's voice was as soft as a whisper, his gaze seeming to penetrate Hagrid's coat, seeing the umbrella he was hiding.

Hagrid touched his umbrella with a hint of sadness.

Ollivander's gaze then turned to Silas. His pale eyes shone like two moons in the dim shop. "I truly never expected to welcome such a young guest in November, a rather uneventful month. Headmaster Dumbledore informed me last night, and I was quite surprised." His gaze lingered on Silas and the Levitating Cloak on his shoulders, a flicker of imperceptible astonishment crossing his face.

"Thank you, sir," Silas said politely.

Then, the long process of trying wands began. Mr. Ollivander darted between the mountains of boxes like a busy beetle, taking out wand after wand and handing them to Silas.

"Try this one, ash wood, unicorn hair, nine inches, flexible..."

"This one, mahogany, dragon heartstring, eleven inches, decent flexibility..."

"Willow, phoenix feather, ten and three-quarter inches..."

Silas took wand after wand, but the result was always the same: either no reaction, a few sparks of no consequence, or simply causing a box on a shelf to explode. Not a single wand resonated with him in the way Ollivander described as "the wand choosing the wizard."

As more wands were tried, they piled up at Silas's feet like a small mountain. Mr. Ollivander's expression shifted from initial composure to confusion, then to anxiety, and finally, almost to hysteria. His white hair became even more disheveled, and his pale eyes were filled with disbelief.

"Impossible! This is absolutely impossible!" Ollivander clutched his hair, his voice trembling. "None of the wands made in this shop, from 382 BC to the present, are suitable for you? By Merlin's beard! I can't accept it! I cannot sell a less-than-perfect wand to a young wizard!"

He could not tolerate any imperfect match, but the Vishanti secret arts energy within Silas seemed to have a fundamental incompatibility with traditional wand core materials like dragon heartstring, phoenix feather, and unicorn hair.

Silas looked at the almost-collapsing old wizard and felt a pang of guilt. He hesitated for a moment and said, "Sir... perhaps... we should just forget it? I actually..."

"No!" Ollivander interrupted him sharply, his eyes becoming unusually firm and fervent. "I have carefully observed your reactions with all the wands! Although they did not choose you, their rejection patterns have given me data! Unprecedented data! This proves you need a wand that is unique, tailor-made for you!"

He waved his hands excitedly. "I will craft a brand new one for you based on this data! It might take a long time, but you're not in a hurry, are you? After all, you won't be enrolling for quite a while."

Silas looked at the genuine craftsman's persistence burning in Ollivander's eyes and knew that dissuasion was useless. But then, a flash of inspiration struck him, and he thought of a potentially viable solution.

"Wait!" he called out.

Ollivander stopped and looked at him, puzzled. "What is it?"

Silas didn't answer immediately. Instead, he closed his eyes and concentrated. He carefully guided the gentle yet immense Vishanti secret arts energy within him, letting it gather at his fingertips. A thread of pure, solidified energy, glowing with a warm golden light, coiled and formed at his fingertip as if alive.

"Sir," Silas showed the golden energy thread at his fingertip to Ollivander, "Look, using this... as a core, how about it?"

Ollivander's eyes widened instantly. He leaned closer to the energy thread, almost pressing his nose against it, holding his breath. "This... this is... what kind of pure and ancient magic! I've never seen... never felt..."

But Silas wasn't finished. He concentrated again, this time touching the power within him that was tightly sealed by the System, only a faint trace leaking out, connecting to the Dark Dimension. A deep, cold, purplish-black energy, with a sinister allure, was carefully guided out. It twisted together with the golden secret arts energy, like two ropes, struggling immensely, forming a strand of energy that was utterly bizarre, interwoven with gold and purple.

"And this!" Silas handed this energy strand, containing opposing forces and balance, to Ollivander. "Both together! Here!"

Ollivander, with trembling, white-gloved hands, held the suspended energy strand as if cradling the most precious treasure in the world. His face was filled with extreme shock, obsession, and a pilgrimage-like fervor.

"Merlin..." he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I have never seen... never even imagined... such a miraculous, contradictory, yet seemingly balanced material... If... if it can truly be stabilized and used as a core..."

He suddenly looked up, his pale eyes fixed on Silas, burning with an intense flame. "Child! You... are you sure you want to give me something so precious? This might take months, even years of research! But I swear, as long as I, Garrick Ollivander, have breath left in me, I will craft an unprecedented wand, truly yours!"

For Mr. Ollivander, earning money or fulfilling orders was no longer important at this moment. He was facing an excellent opportunity that challenged his lifelong studies and led to the pinnacle of unknown magical arts! And Silas might soon possess the first and only legendary wand in magical history with a core of "Vishanti Secret Arts" and "Dark Dimension Power"!

Leaving Mr. Ollivander, who was still immersed in fervent research (he had almost forgotten about Silas and Hagrid, diving headfirst into his backroom workshop), Hagrid and Silas continued their shopping in Diagon Alley. Hagrid helped Silas buy a standard-sized brass scale, a set of pewter cauldrons, and a set of crystal bottles.

Finally, they arrived at Eeylops Owl Emporium. The shop was filled with the sounds of various birds and the flapping of wings, with owls in cages curiously observing the newcomers with their large eyes.

Silas wasn't very interested in the hooting owls, but his gaze was drawn to a single cage in the corner of the shop. Inside was a furry, black creature with a flat, shovel-like snout, staring greedily with its bright little eyes at a shiny brass button that had accidentally peeked out of Hagrid's pocket.

"Niffler!" Silas's eyes lit up as he pointed at the little creature. "Mr. Hagrid, can I buy a Niffler?"

Hagrid followed his finger and smiled with a simple, understanding expression. "Oh! You like Nifflers, do you? Of course, you can. This little guy is mischievous, but he's a lot of fun. But you have to be careful," he warned, his gaze meaningfully flicking to the ancient-looking ring with a special metal inlay on Silas's right hand. "You need to keep a close eye on all shiny objects around you, especially that strangely shaped ring on your hand. Nifflers have absolutely no resistance to shiny things."

Silas looked down at the ring on his hand and nodded. "I'll be careful." He thought to himself, the ring is a key artifact connecting to the Vishanti dimension. If this little thing stole it and hid it, it would be a huge problem.

He paid the shopkeeper a large handful of Gold Galleons—the Niffler was indeed expensive—and then received a cage containing the little black furball. The creature fidgeted restlessly in the cage, its long snout sniffing the air intently, especially in Silas's direction.

Silas carried the cage, looking at the valuable little creature inside, and couldn't help but grumble, "You're quite expensive, little guy."

As if responding to his words, the Niffler suddenly thrust its long snout and a small paw through the cage bars, reaching out with clear intent and urgency towards Silas's hand wearing the ring, its bright little eyes filled with infinite desire for it.

Silas quickly moved the hand holding the cage away and sighed helplessly. "Alright, it seems Mr. Hagrid was absolutely right. I'm going to be busy from now on."

Thus, Silas's trip to Diagon Alley was largely complete. He had bought a pile of books, pre-ordered a wand with an uncertain but destined-to-be-extraordinary future, and acquired a pet that would likely cause endless trouble but might also be very interesting. Carrying his books, with Hagrid holding his other purchases, the two (plus a cloak and a Niffler) passed through The Leaky Cauldron once more, preparing to return to Hogwarts.