Diagon Alley

Hagrid had finally recovered from the shock of "opening a door with his bare hands." His massive chest heaved as he looked at Silas with astonishment and the excitement one might show upon seeing a rare magical creature.

"Blimey, blimey," Hagrid rumbled, circling the now-stable portal and clicking his tongue in wonder. "This is even more convenient than Apparition! None o' that squeezed-flat feeling! Ahem." Remembering the real matter at hand, he tried to look serious. "Kid, Professor Dumbledore asked me to take yeh to buy the things yeh'll need today. He said it'd be too late if yeh waited until yer official enrollment next year... Oh, right. This is the money yer parents left for yeh. Professor Dumbledore asked me to pass it on."

From some unfathomably deep pocket in his moleskin coat, Hagrid pulled out a bulging money pouch and handed it to Silas. Silas took it and weighed it in his hand. It was rather heavy.

"Fine." Silas nodded and stepped into the portal first. Hagrid took a deep breath, bent down cautiously as though preparing to jump into a cold pool, and crawled through after him.

The backyard of The Leaky Cauldron was as dim and messy as ever. Hagrid pointed at the wall and tapped a brick with the tip of his pink umbrella. "Look, three up and two across... this one. Tap it three times, gently..."

Silas folded his arms and watched Hagrid's movements, unable to stop himself from commenting. "So the key to entering the most important commercial street in Britain's magical world is using a rubbish bin to locate the brick you need to tap? What if the bin gets cleared away one day, or some drunk wizard accidentally moves it? Wouldn't Diagon Alley have to shut down entirely?"

Hagrid froze at the question and scratched his bushy beard. "Er... well... I never really thought about that. But don't worry!" He quickly found an excuse and gave the rubbish bin a hard pat, making it groan under the strain. "This bin's got a very powerful Permanent Sticking Charm on it! At least... as far as I know, nobody's ever managed to move it!"

Silas raised an eyebrow, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with that answer. As the bricks shifted and the archway appeared, the bustling Diagon Alley unfolded before his eyes.

Their first stop was Gringotts. Silas had no particular feelings about goblins or underground carts; he merely thought the coins were quite heavy. He efficiently exchanged Muggle currency for a small bag of Gold Galleons, Silver Sickles, and Bronze Knuts.

Next came Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

Madam Malkin was a short, plump witch with a pleasant smile. She hurried over enthusiastically. "Here for Hogwarts uniforms, dear? Plain work robes, black, a pointed hat for everyday wear, protective gloves, a winter cloak..."

With every item she listed, Silas's brow tightened further. When he heard "pointed hat," he finally could not bear it any longer and firmly shook his head. "No. I refuse to wear plain black robes and that ridiculous pointy hat. It has no personality at all, and it looks like I'm headed to a Halloween parade."

He pointed to the deep-blue, unusually textured sorcerer's robe he wore and the dark-red Levitating Cloak over his shoulders. "I'll wear my own clothes. As for the school robes... just get me one set in the smallest size as a backup. For inspections."

Hagrid opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but seeing Silas's utterly non-negotiable expression and Madam Malkin's awkward yet reluctant look, he could only scratch his head. "Er... all right, then. We'll do as he says. Let's go buy books."

Thus, they arrived at Flourish and Blotts. Books were piled all the way to the ceiling, and Silas glanced over the list.

"Standard Spells, Grade 1..." he read. Then, as if recalling something, he casually snapped his fingers and clearly said in English, "Lumos."

With a soft hum, his entire right palm instantly emitted a gentle, steady white glow, like a small light bulb.

Hagrid and the bookstore owner beside him were dumbstruck.

Silas looked at his glowing hand, then at Standard Spells on the shelf, and shrugged. "All right, looks like some basic stuff really is pretty easy. Then I'll buy more books. Maybe there'll be something more interesting."

So he began a massive shopping spree. Not only did he buy the complete set of Standard Spells, from Grade 1 through Grade 4, he also picked up Bathilda Bagshot's A History of Magic—"Should be decent as a storybook," he said—the full set of Transfiguration textbooks—"This looks a little challenging"—a copy of Newt Scamander's Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them—"As an illustrated guide"—and even, in a corner of the shelves, an extremely worn-looking copy of Advanced Potion-Making. "Maybe I can learn something unconventional?"

Finally, while paying, he spotted a copy of Hogsmeade Tourist Guide beside the counter and casually took one as well. "I'll be going there sooner or later anyway."

Silas walked out of Flourish and Blotts carrying such a huge stack of books that they nearly swallowed him whole, looking thoroughly satisfied. Hagrid followed behind him, watching this seven-year-old child who could perform Wandless magic, open doors at will, and still pick apart traditional magical education. He felt as though his decades of magical common sense were being ground into the floor.

"Next... we should buy a wand, right?" Hagrid asked in his deep voice, with a trace of anticipation and uncertainty. After all, for a child who could already use Wandless magic, was a wand... still necessary?

Ollivanders Wand Shop was small, shabby, and filled with dusty boxes stacked to the ceiling. As they entered, a jingle came from deep inside the shop. An elderly wizard with pale eyes seemed to glide out of the shadows, and a familiar smile appeared on his face when he saw Hagrid.

"Hello, Hagrid! Oh, sixteen inches, oak... such an excellent and yet terribly unfortunate wand!" Mr. Ollivander's voice was soft as a whisper, his gaze seeming to pierce Hagrid's coat and see the umbrella hidden within.

Hagrid sadly stroked his umbrella.

Ollivander's gaze then shifted to Silas. In the dim shop, his pale eyes resembled two moons. "I truly never expected to receive such a young customer in a quiet month like November. I was quite surprised when Headmaster Dumbledore informed me last night." His gaze lingered for a moment on Silas and the Levitating Cloak resting on his shoulder, a nearly imperceptible flicker of surprise passing through his eyes.

"Sorry to trouble you, sir," Silas said politely.

Then the lengthy wand-testing process began. Mr. Ollivander moved through the mountain of boxes like a busy beetle, taking out wand after wand and handing them to Silas.

"Try this one. Ash, unicorn hair, nine inches, flexible..."

"This one. Mahogany, dragon heartstring, eleven inches, reasonably springy..."

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

Silas took wand after wand, but the result was always the same. Either nothing happened, or one or two harmless sparks burst forth, or some box on a shelf simply exploded. Not a single wand produced the wondrous resonance Ollivander called "the wand choosing the wizard."

More and more tested wands piled into a small mountain at Silas's feet. Mr. Ollivander's expression changed from initial composure to confusion, then anxiety, and finally near hysteria. His white hair grew even more disheveled, and his pale eyes were filled with disbelief.

"Impossible! This is absolutely impossible!" Ollivander clutched at his hair, his voice trembling. "Among every wand made in this shop since 382 BC, there isn't one suited to you? Merlin's beard! I cannot accept this! I cannot accept selling a less-than-perfect wand to a young wizard!"

He could not tolerate an imperfect match, but the mystical energy within Silas, born from the Vishanti, seemed fundamentally incompatible with traditional wand cores such as dragon heartstring, phoenix feather, and unicorn hair.

Silas looked at the old wizard, who was on the verge of collapse, and felt somewhat guilty as well. After hesitating, he said, "Sir... how about... we forget it? I actually..."

"No!" Ollivander abruptly cut him off, his eyes becoming extraordinarily resolute and fervent. "I have carefully observed your reactions with every wand! Though none chose you, their patterns of rejection have given me data! Data unlike anything before! This proves that what you need is a one-of-a-kind wand, one tailored entirely to you!"

He waved his hands excitedly. "I will craft a brand-new one for you based on this data! It may take a long time, but you are not in a hurry, are you? After all, it will be quite some time before you enter school."

Seeing the determined light in Ollivander's eyes, the kind belonging to a true craftsman, Silas knew there was no point in trying to dissuade him. But then inspiration struck, and he thought of a possible solution.

"Wait!" he called.

Ollivander stopped and looked at him in confusion. "What is it?"

Silas did not answer at once. Instead, he closed his eyes and focused. Carefully, he guided the gentle yet vast mystical energy of the Vishanti within him, gathering it at his fingertips. A strand of pure, solid energy, glowing with warm golden light, curled and formed at his fingertips like a living thing.

"Sir," Silas said, showing Ollivander the golden strand of energy at his fingertips, "what do you think of using this... as a wand core?"

Ollivander's eyes widened instantly. He leaned close to the strand of energy, nearly pressing his nose against it, and even held his breath. "This... this is... such pure, ancient magic! I have never seen it... never felt anything like it..."

But Silas was not finished. He focused again, this time reaching for the power within him that had been tightly sealed by the system, with only the faintest trace leaking through—a power connected to the Dark Dimension. He carefully drew out a deep, cold, dark-purple energy filled with ominous temptation. Like two ropes, it twisted together with the golden mystical energy with extreme difficulty, remaining distinctly separate as it formed an incomparably strange thread of interwoven gold and violet energy.

"And this!" Silas handed the strand containing opposition and balance to Ollivander. "Use both together! Here!"

With trembling, white-gloved hands, Ollivander held the floating energy thread beneath it without quite touching it, as though cradling the most precious treasure in the world. His face was filled with utter shock, obsession, and a pilgrimage-like fervor.

"Merlin..." he murmured, so quietly that he was almost inaudible. "I have never seen... never even imagined... a material so miraculous, so contradictory, and yet seemingly containing some ultimate balance... If... if it can truly be stabilized and used as a wand core..."

He suddenly lifted his head. His pale eyes locked onto Silas, blazing with fire. "Child! Are... are you certain you wish to entrust such a precious thing to me? It may require months, perhaps even years of research! But I swear, as long as Garrick Ollivander still draws breath, I will forge you an unprecedented wand—a wand that truly belongs to you!"

At that moment, earning money or fulfilling an order no longer mattered to Ollivander. Before him stood a perfect opportunity, a challenge to everything he had learned in his life and a path toward the pinnacle of unknown magical craftsmanship. And Silas might soon possess the first—and only—legendary wand in magical history with the Vishanti Secret Arts and Dark Dimension Power as its core!

After leaving Mr. Ollivander, who remained immersed in a state of feverish research—he had nearly forgotten that Silas and Hagrid existed, diving headfirst into the workshop in the back—Hagrid and Silas continued shopping in Diagon Alley. Hagrid helped Silas buy a standard-size brass scale, a set of pewter cauldrons, and a set of crystal phials.

Finally, they arrived at Eeylops Owl Emporium. The shop was filled with the cries and beating wings of all kinds of birds, while owls of every variety peered curiously at the visitors from their cages with large eyes.

Silas was not particularly interested in the cooing owls, but his attention was caught by a lone cage in the corner of the shop. Inside was a furry little black creature with a flat, shovel-like bill. Its sparkling little eyes were greedily fixed on a shiny copper button that had accidentally poked out of Hagrid's pocket.

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

Hagrid followed his finger and smiled with honest understanding. "Oh! Yeh like Nifflers, do yeh? Course yeh can. The little things are naughty, but they're fun. But be careful," he specifically warned, glancing meaningfully at the anciently designed Suspended Ring on Silas's right hand, set with a special metal at its center. "Yeh'll need to keep an eye on every shiny thing around yeh, especially that strange-looking ring on yer hand. Nifflers can't resist shiny objects at all."

Silas looked down at the Suspended Ring on his hand and nodded. "I'll keep an eye on it." The Suspended Ring was a crucial artifact connecting to the Vishanti dimension. If this little thing stole it and hid it somewhere, that would be a serious problem.

He paid the shopkeeper a large handful of Gold Galleons—the Niffler was indeed expensive—then received a cage containing the little black furball. The creature fidgeted restlessly within it, its long nose sniffing the air with particular intensity in Silas's direction.

Holding the cage, Silas looked at the costly little creature inside and could not help commenting, "You really are expensive, little guy."

As though responding to him, the Niffler suddenly thrust its long nose and one tiny paw through the gaps in the cage, desperately reaching toward the hand on which Silas wore the Suspended Ring. Its glittering eyes were filled with boundless longing for that ring.

Silas quickly moved the hand holding the cage farther away and sighed helplessly. "All right, looks like Mr. Hagrid was completely right. I'm going to have my hands full from now on."

With that, Silas's trip to Diagon Alley was more or less complete. He had bought a mountain of books, commissioned a wand with an uncertain future but one destined to be extraordinary, and gained a troublesome yet potentially entertaining pet. He hugged his books while Hagrid carried the rest of their purchases, and the two of them—along with a cloak and a Niffler—passed through The Leaky Cauldron once again, preparing to return to Hogwarts.