A Trip to Diagon Alley

Business in the wizarding world looked pretty easy.

Eliana looked at the small, black, old, dirty building wedged between a bookstore and a record shop and simply could not understand how a place like this could possibly be associated with the word "wonderful."

She felt like she could run this business too.

She silently noted it down as a possible career path for the future.

While she was still secretly sizing the place up, Dumbledore had already nimbly pushed open the door. "Come in quickly, Ellie."

He beckoned to her.

The chatter inside abruptly stopped, and Eliana realized that everyone here seemed to know Dumbledore.

Her guess was quickly confirmed, though even that did not go far enough—Dumbledore appeared to be a man of considerable prestige.

"Mr. Dumbledore!"

Eliana only saw a blur before the pub owner, who had been leisurely wiping down the bar, shot over to them in an instant.

"What brings you here? Would you like a glass of mead? It's on the house!"

Eliana noticed that every gaze in the pub had converged on them. Those smoking, chatting, and drinking had all stopped what they were doing, and quite a few had already raised their hands in greeting.

She even saw a pale young man wearing a turban in the farthest corner nearly fall over before slipping away in a flash.

Eliana figured he had to be the sort who did poorly in school and caused trouble, or why else would he be so terrified of seeing the headmaster?

"No, thank you for your generosity. I still need to take this child to buy her school supplies."

Dumbledore declined with a smile, nodding and bowing slightly to the others one by one.

The pub owner looked deeply disappointed. "All right, then. I won't keep you."

Dumbledore led Eliana to the rubbish bins in the backyard, counted up three bricks, then across two, and tapped one with a stick.

The bricks in the wall swiftly shifted and rearranged themselves, as though a brick door were slowly opening to reveal a bustling street beyond. The sunlight was just right, turning even the dust in the air golden.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Dumbledore said. "Stay close to me. We'll buy you a wand first."

A wand!

Eliana perked up excitedly.

Dumbledore was tall and long-legged, while Eliana was still just a little sprout. She had to jog to keep up, clutching the hem of Dumbledore's robes with one hand while craning her neck to look around curiously.

They turned into a small shop with a faded gold sign over the entrance. The moment they opened the door, a little bell chimed brightly.

Unlike the spacious display window, which held only one wand, the shop itself was packed with narrow boxes stacked all the way to the ceiling. It was quiet, solemn, and dim.

Suddenly, a person standing on a ladder seemed to glide smoothly out from within. His voice was soft and gentle. "Good morning."

His two large eyes looked like floating lightbulbs in the gloom.

Eliana nearly kicked him—how was this any different from hearing the voice of someone half-dead drifting out of a silent graveyard, then turning around to see two ghostly flames?

"Mr. Dumbledore." Ollivander recognized Dumbledore at a glance. "This does not appear to be a child of your family. You personally brought a new student here?"

His silvery-white eyes stared at Eliana as though trying to see what made the little girl different.

Eliana silently straightened her back a little more.

Dumbledore said gently, "Before becoming Headmaster of Hogwarts, I was also a teacher, was I not? Choose a wand for this child."

"Oh, of course." Ollivander muttered a correction. "But, sir, it is the wand that chooses the wizard."

He snapped his fingers.

A measuring tape floated into the air out of nowhere and began taking measurements on its own—her elbows, her fingertips, even the distance between her facial features.

Eliana did not think it looked particularly necessary, because Ollivander seemed to have turned away to start searching before even looking at the detailed measurements.

"Since you were brought here by Dumbledore... child, perhaps you can try this one."

He found a box among the various sizes beneath the counter. "Ten inches, laurel wood, dragon nerve, powerful, very powerful, but not very well-tempered. Picky, very picky—"

Eliana took it, and almost the moment it touched her hand, a cluster of somewhat dim sparks leaped from the tip.

Funeral Tiger, didn't you say you hated humans the most?

Another, brighter cluster of sparks emerged from the wand tip, forming stars in the air before vanishing.

Funeral Tiger, didn't you say that wands would never be slaves?

"Ah, this wand likes you very much." He still reached out and took it away. "But it is not the best fit for you."

"Every wand is unique, but only when the wood, the core, and the wizard all fit together perfectly can a wand truly bring out its best. Child, this is not your wand."

The laurel wand in his hand spat a puff of black smoke at him. Ollivander looked slightly embarrassed. "Ah, every wand has its own little temper."

He stuffed the wand back into its box.

For some reason, Eliana felt that the wand looked very unconvinced.

Wand boxes covered the floor. She picked up and put down all kinds of wands. Some, like the first one, sprayed sparks; others did not move at all, like dead turtles. Yet without exception, Ollivander said none of them suited her well enough.

Eliana had no idea what exactly counted as the "best fit."

Still, her inner tail was practically standing upright—ha, she really was that special. Even wands liked her.

"A remarkable guest, favored by wands that appreciate strength and potential, but not enough, still not enough—at Ollivander's, you will find the most ideal, most perfect, most suitable wand for you." Ollivander grew more excited the longer he searched. "Let me think, what have I forgotten—ah, that's right!"

He slapped his forehead and dug out a long box from some forgotten corner.

"Try this one!"

He handed over a very wand-like wand. It was smooth and straight, gradually and evenly narrowing from the handle to the tip, its overall color a light brown like a fresh tree branch.

Eliana gave it a light wave.

It was as though surging floodwaters had been guided into a river channel. Warm currents from all over her body rushed into her right hand. She instinctively raised it high, and gleaming golden flowers burst from the wand tip. The wand in her hand trembled, and a feeling of excitement traveled from her fingertips.

"A perfect combination," Ollivander said proudly. "Eleven inches, willow wood, Dragon Heartstring. Generally speaking, willow prefers wizards with potential as its masters. They possess remarkable healing abilities, but their owners are often prone to insecurity."

At that, a look of pity crossed Dumbledore's face—he had probably thought of her being an orphan. But Eliana did not care much about that. She was more interested in what Ollivander said next. "But this one is a little different."

Eliana's eyes lit up—she loved this feeling of being different.

"It was taken from the strongest branch of an ancient Whomping Willow. That was truly difficult to obtain." Ollivander shuddered as though remembering something terrible. "Its temper is violent, extremely violent—"

Something suddenly yanked Eliana's right hand, and she saw the wand lash across Ollivander's face like a whip.

"Ow!!!"

Ollivander had been whipped into Ollifender.

"I'm sorry, sir! It wasn't me, the wand moved on its own!"

Eliana panicked. Damn it, she had hit the owner while buying necessities—and this seemed to be the only shop selling them around here. He would not jack up the price, would he?

Heaven knew she had not meant to hit him. Could wand grudges please not be taken out on wizards?

Ollivander touched the red mark on his face and sucked in breaths through his teeth. "I know it was not you. It was this hot-tempered little fellow."

He did not seem angry at all. He actually looked delighted. "What a wonderful experience—the wand chooses the wizard. Little girl, you will become an exceptionally powerful wizard someday."

Eliana looked at him with an indescribable expression. Had this shop owner made so many wands that he had ruined his brain? He had been hit by one of his own creations—wasn't that completely backwards? How could he still laugh?

She cautiously shifted one step to the side. She did not want it infecting her clever little brain.

After paying seven Galleons, Dumbledore led Eliana out of the small shop.

"Next are textbooks and clothing." He unfolded a sheet of paper to check the list, then noticed Eliana slowly stretching her neck and laughed. "Look at my memory—did I forget to give you the letter?"

It was written in emerald-green ink.

With one hand, Eliana familiarly grabbed Dumbledore's robe and walked along with him, while using the other to unfold the letter one-handed.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

Her gaze stopped on the line below.

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot)

Eliana quickly glanced at the old man beside her. She did not understand those organizations, but they sounded incredibly impressive.

The rest was nothing special, just a letter welcoming her and listing the supplies she would need for school.

"I'm sorry, little Ellie," Dumbledore said apologetically. "Hogwarts' financial aid is not particularly generous, so there are some things we may have to buy secondhand."

"Okay!" Eliana nodded cheerfully. "I don't care about that!"

It was free stuff. Who cared whether it was new or old? What ended up in her hands was what mattered.

If she had cared about that, she would not have thrown herself on the ground and rolled around to extort—no, enthusiastically discuss donation matters with Mrs. Smith earlier.

Secondhand textbooks, secondhand cauldrons and scales, secondhand robes—Eliana even took the initiative to ask for the ones with more patches, saving them a little more money.

By the time they emerged carrying all their odds and ends, the sun had already begun to sink westward.

After another familiar bout of spinning dizziness, they returned to the alley beside the orphanage.

Dumbledore handed the paper bags to Eliana. "Little Ellie, remember to keep that letter safe. It contains your ticket to Hogwarts on September first. Do not miss the train."

"Okay." Eliana patted her pockets to make sure everything was where it should be.

The kind old man took out another paper bag. "This is your entrance gift. Congratulations on becoming a wizard."

Eliana accepted it in a daze. Inside was a brand-new set of wizard robes.

"Well then, I'll see you at Hogwarts."

With a sharp crack, Dumbledore vanished into thin air.

Only then did Eliana seem to snap awake. She abruptly lifted her head toward the empty street, then lowered her gaze back to the new robes.

She thought that she would definitely become the greatest wizard someday. Perhaps Dumbledore would no longer remember her by then, but she would stroll calmly up to him, wave her wand, and conjure a mountain of gold covered in all kinds of jewels.

"You helped me greatly when I was still an orphan. This is my gift of thanks to you."

—Forgive the current Eliana. A mountain of gold was the best thing she could imagine.

Her little fantasy scene made her blood boil with excitement.

Eliana looked at the textbooks in her arms with fighting spirit blazing in her eyes—then she would start by memorizing them ten times before school began!