After that, Glenn went down the street in order, buying the books, scales, cauldron, and other things he needed. He also bought an eagle owl, which he left temporarily at Eeylops Owl Emporium.
At last, he came to a small, shabby shop. In its dusty window, a single wand lay on a faded purple cushion, with a sign above it: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
Judging by the peeling gold lettering on the door, the claim was certainly convincing.
Glenn tore his gaze from the wand in the window and entered the shop.
The place was tiny. Apart from a bench, there was nothing inside but thousands of narrow boxes stacked almost to the ceiling along both walls.
"Good afternoon." Following the voice, Glenn saw an old man with very pale eyes.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander."
Although he had no idea which Ollivander this was, "Mr. Ollivander" was always a safe way to address someone in a wand shop.
"Sir, you've come to take away a wand of your own, haven't you?"
Glenn nodded. "Yes."
At that, Ollivander pulled a long tape measure marked with silver lines from his pocket. "Which arm do you use to wield your wand?"
"My right hand."
"Good. Raise your arm." He measured Glenn, first from shoulder to fingertip, then from wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and finally around his head.
As he measured, he said, "Quite a few students heading to Hogwarts have taken home their own wands recently. That's a good thing. But I must warn you, sir, every Ollivander wand contains a powerful magical substance. That's the heart of it."
"Of course, if you use a wand that ought to belong to another wizard, you'll never get such good results..."
Glenn made no comment.
In fact, the first wand he had ever used had been secondhand.
He hadn't needed any complicated adjustment. He had basically just picked it up and used it.
As for what Ollivander had said, well, he probably had a point.
"Very good, sir. May I ask your name?" Ollivander asked as he let the tape measure float in the air to measure the distance between Glenn's nostrils.
"Glenn Howard."
"Ah, Glenn..." Ollivander repeated softly.
"What is it?"
"Fascinating. Truly fascinating." Ollivander came back to himself and spoke with delight.
"My father once told me that the work he was proudest of in his entire life was a wand he made for a wizard named Glenn."
"Did your father run a shop in Diagon Alley too?"
"Oh, no. He spent his entire life running a shop in Hogsmeade." Ollivander smiled and shook his head. "Unfortunately, I have no brothers or sisters, so I had to close the shop in Hogsmeade."
"That's a shame." He meant it, since he had bought his wand in Hogsmeade back then.
"We've strayed a little, but this is a good omen." Ollivander blinked his pale, colorless eyes.
"According to my measurements, you're a customer with powerful intuition. Have a look, Mr. Glenn. You might spot the wand that truly suits you at a glance." Ollivander smiled as he reeled in the tape measure.
It was clear he didn't dislike such a coincidence.
Hearing this, Glenn lifted his head and looked at the thousands of narrow boxes stacked to the ceiling along both walls.
Ollivander's measurements were one thing, but for Glenn, whether a wand would work for him depended more on whether it appeared golden under Revelio.
With that thought, Glenn gave his right hand the faintest flick.
"Revelio."
As he silently spoke the incantation, the world dimmed, and everything lost its usual colors.
All the thousands of narrow wand boxes suddenly shone a brilliant, dazzling gold, as if calling for Glenn to choose them.
"Well? Have you taken a fancy to any wand?" Ollivander asked from beside him.
"..."
"If none of them catches your eye yet, that's all right. After all, it isn't the wizard who chooses the wand, but the wand that chooses the wizard. Perhaps I should take them all down and let you try them one by one." The brief silence made Ollivander think Glenn was overwhelmed by the sheer number of wands.
"No, there's no need. Could you get me that wand—no, the one next to it?" Glenn pointed to a corner of the shop.
"Oh, certainly... Certainly." Ollivander flicked his wand, taking down the neighboring box, which held a wand made of Holly with a Phoenix Feather core, eleven inches long.
"Oh, excellent! My, how extraordinary, sir." Ollivander looked delighted. "Summer Oak, Dragon Heartstring, thirteen inches. Hmm, hard and springy. Excellent."
"As I said, wizards who choose Summer Oak for their wands tend to have exceptionally strong intuition." Ollivander handed Glenn the box containing the wand.
Watching the other wands grow somewhat dimmer now that they hadn't been chosen, Glenn emerged from the Revelio state.
Under Ollivander's expectant gaze, he opened the box.
Inside lay a dark brown wand, its wood marked with thick, richly textured grain.
To be honest, Glenn didn't think it looked all that different from the other wands.
"I'm sure you'll accomplish great things with it in your hands," Ollivander said, his voice full of excitement.
Glenn smiled politely and nodded. Then he looked past Ollivander to the corner of the wall at the far end of the shop—a London Map.
The next moment, he raised the wand over his head and swung it down with a whoosh.
A streak of red light cut through the dusty air, passed through Ollivander's white beard, skirted the wand box on the right as it tried to make a break for it, and finally struck King's Cross Station on the London Map.
Through the faintly smoldering hole, Glenn saw Platform Nine and Three-Quarters teeming with people.
"Why are there so many Muggles here? What are they all doing?"
"This is a Muggle railway hub, of course it's packed with Muggles..."
"A-a what?"
People streamed past the platforms numbered nine and ten.
Alongside ordinary people hurrying by with briefcases were children dressed in robes.
They pushed somewhat oversized trolleys loaded with suitcases and other belongings.
Most of the children had adults accompanying them.
But there were exceptions.
For example, Glenn, who had gotten up early.
He gave a small yawn and checked the clock at King's Cross Station.
It was ten twenty-five. There was plenty of time.
Although he had never traveled to Hogwarts this conventional way, he had studied there as a transfer student, so even if he had never tried it himself, he had heard about it.
All he had to do was wait until there were fewer ordinary people around—Muggles, that was—and then push his trolley straight into the gap between platforms nine and ten.
Clearly, though, not every child without a guardian could be as calm as Glenn.
A dark-haired, rather undernourished boy got off a train some distance away.
After helping him push his trolley into the station, the middle-aged man accompanying him gave him a mocking smile and left without a trace of responsibility.
Abandoned, the boy stood there pushing his trolley, his face practically spelling out the word "bewildered." He even stopped a passing guard to ask, "When does the train to Hogwarts leave?"
Before long, he was furtively tailing a family of red-haired wizards!
When they moved forward, he moved forward too. When they stopped, he pretended to stop by chance a little way off...
By coincidence, the boy stopped about five meters from Glenn.
"Need some help?"
The black-haired boy, whose peripheral vision had been fixed on the red-haired family, suddenly stiffened and looked toward the voice.
"I happen to be going to Hogwarts for the first time too," Glenn said with a friendly smile.
At that, the boy's face grew a little hot.
But after blushing, he realized that the boy who had spoken to him was alone as well. In an instant, he felt as though he had found a companion, and some of his fear of the unknown eased.
"Oh, me too. Well, um, I mean, do you know how we're supposed to get to Hogwarts?"
Glenn didn't answer right away. Instead, he smiled and held out a hand.
"Glenn Howard."
The boy hesitated, then held out his own hand.
"Harry Potter."
Before you continue