"Creak."
The old door hinges groaned.
Ethan pushed the door open and stepped inside. His cobalt-blue eyes blinked in discomfort at the dim surroundings.
Several wizards in the bar who looked like society's dregs glanced at him, then turned away, uninterested.
Only one witch, with thick lips and a generous bust, gave him a lecherous wolf whistle.
Ethan smiled at her, making her freeze in surprise.
"Knock, knock."
Ethan rose onto his toes and tapped the bar. Politely, he asked the hunched man polishing glasses behind it:
"Hello. I'm a new Hogwarts student, and I don't have a wand yet. Could you tap the bricks for me?"
At that, Tom, the owner of The Leaky Cauldron, raised his eyelids and looked down at the boy, who spoke in such a refined manner.
The boy was slender, plainly dressed, and pale, with slightly curly black hair and remarkably regular features.
Even at his young age, it was clear that when he grew up, he would make countless girls weep over him.
On his pale face, only his cobalt-blue eyes shone brightly.
Like the vast night sky, they were calm and deep, scattered with countless stars.
They gave him an air of maturity beyond his years.
He came alone...
Tom took a few extra looks at Ethan because of his appearance, but didn't pay him much attention.
He simply said, "Follow me," set down the glass, and headed for the back door.
So, not everyone got the Chosen One treatment.
Ethan thought this as he noticed Tom's somewhat cold manner.
He didn't mind. Instead, he glanced around the bar's decor with interest.
Hmm, quite simple.
The fruit-bowl paintings on the walls were covered in cobwebs, and their frames had nearly blended into the walls.
They looked neither fresh nor appetizing.
"Different decor can give customers different impressions, Mr. Tom. Those paintings look rather old," Ethan remarked.
Tom waved a hand dismissively. "The people who come here are all regulars. Nobody wants it any quieter. Besides, they're just a few paintings. How much difference could they make?"
Ethan didn't respond. He simply made a mental note of The Leaky Cauldron's paintings.
This place led straight to Diagon Alley and got a lot of foot traffic.
If he wanted to make a name for himself, there couldn't be a better place to display his paintings.
But.
No matter what.
He first needed to paint something worthy of being framed, something that could be called a "work of art."
His usual sketch-like portrait studies wouldn't do.
As his thoughts turned,
Ethan followed the bar owner through the back door and into a small courtyard enclosed by four walls.
The faithful trash can was still doing its job.
"Count up three, then across two, and tap the wand three times."
"Tap, tap."
Tom's battered wand tapped the brick.
Then came a series of clacks, and an incredible sight unfolded.
Starting from that brick, the surrounding bricks folded outward one by one, as if disappearing into another dimension.
The opening at the center grew from a tiny hole into a spacious archway.
A clamor instantly washed over them.
Shops of all kinds lined the cobbled road.
Brightly colored awnings swayed in the sunlight, making it seem as though they'd stepped into a sea of flowers.
"Someone really broke into Gringotts? Merlin, who'd be foolish enough to do that..."
"Child, you're too young to need Madam Primpernelle's beauty potions."
"Lacewing Flies cost two Galleons! They're insane!"
People in all kinds of wizarding robes came and went. Some wore Muggle clothes, and shrieks from children rose from the crowd now and then.
Though he'd been prepared, Ethan was still stunned by the magical sight.
"Wow—"
He stood with his mouth open and his eyes wide, wishing he had eight eyes to take it all in.
"Heh heh. Enjoy your new life, kid," Tom said with a grin.
Ethan came back to himself. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Tom."
"No need to be so polite."
Tom waved a hand.
He said that, but everyone liked a well-behaved, polite child.
"My daughter, Hannah Abbott, is starting at Hogwarts this year, too. Maybe you'll run into each other there. Good luck, kid."
Ethan nodded and watched Tom turn to leave.
Then, excitement in his heart, he stepped into Diagon Alley.
He didn't have a vault, so there was no need to go to Gringotts for money.
Naturally, Ethan's first stop was the place he'd been looking forward to most—Ollivanders Wand Shop.
"Jingle."
When Ethan pushed open the dusty glass door, a sound came from somewhere behind the shop.
Rows of shelves filled with rectangular boxes met his eyes. It was like stepping into a library.
The bustle of Diagon Alley was shut out. Even the drifting dust seemed to carry an air of solemnity.
Ethan looked around with interest, enjoying the quiet and calm.
Suddenly.
"Rattle."
A set of wheels rolling across the floor sounded from deep inside the shop.
An old man with snow-white hair stood on a ladder, his moon-pale gray eyes fixed on Ethan as he spoke:
"Oh—"
Ethan smiled at him.
After saying "Oh" for ages, Ollivander still couldn't get another word out.
An awkward silence settled over the shop.
The reason was simple.
Not only had no one in Ethan's family ever bought a wand, but he hadn't come with a wizard, either!
There was no chance to show off that incredible memory of his!
After all, even children from Muggle families usually had a professor or volunteer to guide them.
Diagon Alley's shops were so tangled together that taking a wrong turn into Knockturn Alley would be a disaster!
This unusual situation reminded Ollivander of the black-haired boy who had walked into the shop alone decades ago, and that extraordinary Yew Wand...
"Ahem. Welcome to Ollivanders Wand Shop, young wizard. Let me find the wand that suits you best—though, of course, it's the wand that chooses the wizard."
Ollivander hastily changed the subject, speaking to Ethan in a solemn tone.
"Which hand do you favor?"
"My right."
Ethan answered, holding back a laugh.
It was his drawing hand, too.
While the self-measuring tape carefully measured him, Mr. Ollivander was already weaving through the crowded shelves.
"Calluses on your right hand. Do you often hold a pen or a tool? Let's see. Try this one: elm, thirteen and a half inches, Unicorn Hair. It's suited to casting powerful, elegant magic."
Ethan took the straight, smooth wand and gave it a wave.
"Bang!"
The vase beside him shattered.
"Oh, no, no! Not this one. Let me think. Perhaps cedar would suit you. A wizard with resilience and keen perception would find it the perfect companion."
But this one wasn't right, either.
Just as Ethan began to think he'd be trying wands for ages,
Mr. Ollivander suddenly cried, "Ah!" Then he hurried excitedly to a shelf and pulled out a wand box.
"That's it, that's it! The moment I saw the calluses on your hand, I should have thought of this wand."
"Hornbeam, Dragon Heartstring, fourteen inches."
It was a light brown wand with faint horizontal ridges.
Ethan took it curiously. The instant it touched his hand, he felt a warm current flow along the wand into his palm, resonating with the magic inside him.
This was the one!
Ethan's heart surged. Following the impulse, he swung his hand through the air.
"Whoosh—"
A swath of rich blue pigment spread out, with the moon and stars slowly turning within it, mysterious and beautiful.
Ollivander's eyes crinkled as a smile of appreciation spread across his face. He said slowly:
"Hornbeam particularly favors wizards with pure passion and an intense devotion to something."
"Looks like those calluses on your right hand came from drawing."
Ethan gazed up at the night sky made of oil paint, its rich blue seeming to merge with his eyes.
Only after the pigment disappeared did Ethan return to himself and look at Ollivander, who was smiling as he held out his hand.
"Seven Galleons. Thank you."
"..."
His suddenly deflated money pouch dragged Ethan back to reality.
Damn it! (╯>д<)╯!!
Making money! It was the top priority!
Before you continue