Ollivander's Most Speechless Episode

"Creak."

The old door hinge let out a harsh screech.

Ethan pushed the door open, his cobalt-blue eyes blinking uncomfortably in the overly dim surroundings.

A few wizards who looked like society's fringe elements glanced at him, then turned away with disinterest.

Only a thick-lipped, buxom witch shot him a lecherous wolf whistle.

Ethan gave her a gentle smile, which instead left her stunned.

Damn, this kid's really handsome!

"Tap tap."

Ethan rose on his tiptoes and knocked on the bar counter, politely addressing the stooped man wiping glasses behind it:

"Hello, I'm a new student at Hogwarts and don't have a wand yet. Could you tap the brick for me?"

At this, Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron, lifted his eyelids and looked down at the boy speaking so formally.

The lad was thin, plainly dressed, with pale skin and slightly curly black hair, but his features were exceptionally well-proportioned.

Even at this young age, it was clear he'd grow up to make countless maidens weep.

On that pallid face, only a pair of cobalt-blue eyes sparkled brightly.

Like the vast night sky, calm and deep, scattered with myriad stars.

Exuding a maturity beyond his years.

Came alone, huh...

Tom took a second look because of Ethan's appearance, but didn't pay much attention.

He just said, "Follow me," set down the glass, and headed for the back door.

Sure enough, not everyone gets the "Chosen One" treatment.

Ethan thought, sensing Tom's somewhat indifferent attitude.

He didn't mind, instead curiously taking in the bar's decor.

Mm~ Very rustic.

The fruit-bowl oil painting on the wall was covered in cobwebs, its frame nearly blending into the wall.

It looked neither fresh nor appetizing.

"Different arrangements give guests different feelings, Mr. Tom. Those paintings look like they've seen some years," Ethan remarked.

Tom waved a hand dismissively. "The regulars here don't care. Fewer people means more peace. Besides, they're just paintings—how much difference can they make?"

Ethan didn't respond, but silently noted the issue with the Leaky Cauldron's hanging paintings.

This place led straight to Diagon Alley, with massive foot traffic.

If he wanted to make a name for himself, hanging his paintings here would be the best choice.

But.

Regardless.

He first had to paint something worthy of being framed, something that could be called "art."

His usual practice-like sketch portraits wouldn't cut it.

As these thoughts flowed.

Ethan followed the bar owner through the back door into a small, walled courtyard.

The faithful trash can was still doing its duty.

"Three up, two across, tap the brick three times."

"Tap tap."

Tom's worn wand struck that brick.

Then, with a series of clicking sounds, an incredible sight unfolded.

Centered on that brick, the surrounding stones flipped outward one by one, as if folding into another dimension.

The opening in the center grew from small to large, finally becoming a very spacious archway.

Suddenly, a wave of noise washed over them.

On both sides of the cobblestone street stood all kinds of shops.

Colorful awnings swayed, sunlight spilling over them, as if stepping into a sea of flowers.

"Did someone really break into Gringotts? Merlin, who'd be that foolish..."

"Child, you're too young for Madam Primpernelle's beauty potions."

"Two Galleons for lacewing flies? They've gone mad!"

People in various wizard robes came and went, with the occasional Muggle attire mixed in, and the occasional shriek of a Young Wizard rising from the crowd.

Despite being prepared, Ethan was still stunned by the incredible sight.

"Wow—"

His mouth hung open, eyes wide, wishing he could sprout eight eyes to take it all in.

"Heh, enjoy your new life, kid." Tom the bar owner grinned, chuckling.

Ethan snapped back to reality and said, "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-mannered, polite good kid.

"My daughter, Hannah Abbott, is also starting at Hogwarts this year. Maybe you'll run into each other there. Good luck, kid."

Ethan nodded, watching Tom turn and leave.

Then, with excitement bubbling in his chest, he stepped into Diagon Alley.

He had no vault, no need to go to Gringotts for money.

Ethan's first stop was naturally the one he most anticipated—Ollivanders Wand Shop.

"Jingle."

As Ethan pushed open the dusty glass door, a sound rang out from somewhere deep in the shop.

Rows upon rows of shelves packed with rectangular boxes greeted his eyes, making it feel like a library.

The bustle of Diagon Alley was shut out; even the drifting dust here carried a solemn air.

Ethan looked around with interest, feeling a sense of quiet and peace.

Suddenly.

"Creak."

A rolling sound came from the back of the shop.

An old man with white hair stood on a ladder, his moonlike gray Pupils fixed intently on Ethan as he spoke:

"Oh—"

Ethan smiled at him.

"Oh" went on for a while, but Ollivander didn't manage to spit out another word.

An awkward silence fell over the shop.

Simply because.

Not only had none of Ethan's ancestors ever bought a wand here, but there wasn't even a wizard accompanying him!

No chance to show off his powerful memory (or show-off) skills!

After all, even Muggle families usually had a professor or volunteer to guide them.

Given the maze of shops in Diagon Alley, what if he wandered into Knockturn Alley next door?

This uncommon situation made Ollivander think back decades, to the dark-haired boy who had walked into the shop alone, and that extraordinary yew wand...

"Ahem, welcome to Ollivanders Wand Shop, new Young Wizard. Let me find the wand that suits you best—though, of course, it's the wand that chooses the wizard."

Ollivander quickly changed the subject, speaking to Ethan with a deep tone.

"Which hand do you favor?"

"Right hand."

Ethan replied, holding back a laugh.

It was also his drawing hand.

As the tape measure meticulously worked over him, Mr. Ollivander was already weaving through the cluttered shelves.

"Calluses on your right hand, often holding a pen or tool... let me see, try this one. Elm, thirteen and a half inches, unicorn hair, suited for casting elegant and powerful 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 suits you. A wizard with a resilient personality and sharp eyes will find it the best companion."

But this one didn't work either.

Just as Ethan thought he'd be testing wands here for ages.

Mr. Ollivander suddenly let out an "ah," then eagerly rushed to a shelf and pulled out a wand box.

"That's it, that's it! When I saw the calluses on your hand, I should have thought of this wand."

"Hornbeam, dragon heartstring, fourteen inches."

This was a light brown wand, with faint horizontal ridges running across its surface.

Ethan took it curiously. The moment it touched his hand, a warm current flowed through the wand into his palm, resonating with the magic within him.

This was it!

His heart surging, Ethan followed the impulse and swept his hand grandly through the air.

"Swoosh—"

A expanse of rich blue pigment unfurled, with the moon and stars slowly revolving within it, mysterious and beautiful.

Ollivander's eyes crinkled, revealing a smile of appreciation as he said slowly:

"Hornbeam particularly favors those witches and wizards who harbor pure passion and an ardent obsession with something."

"It seems the calluses on your right hand are from painting."

Ethan had been gazing up at the night sky formed by the oil paint, its deep blue seeming to merge with his eyes.

Only when the pigment vanished did he snap back to reality, looking at Ollivander, who was smiling and extending his hand.

"Seven Galleons, thank you for your patronage."

"..."

His rapidly deflating money pouch yanked Ethan back to reality.

Dammit (╯>д<)╯!!

Making money! That's the top priority!