After leaving the house, Shawn made his way alone to Diagon Alley's arms dealer.
Ollivander's shop was small and shabby. Its battered door creaked in the breeze, and the gold lettering on the sign above it was peeling.
It read: Ollivander: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC.
In the dusty window, a single wand lay alone on a dust-covered purple cushion.
Shawn pushed the door open, setting off a series of chimes. Before he could take a proper look at the little shop crammed with long, narrow boxes, an old man in a floating chair drifted out as though from nowhere.
The old man was unkempt, his long gray-white hair a tangled mess, but his silver eyes were bright and alert. He asked in a gentle voice,
"Good morning, sir. Are you a new student heading to Hogwarts?"
"Oh, black hair, black eyes, the purity of black. You must be a little one from the Black family. It's been more than twenty years, hasn't it? At last, another Black is going to Hogwarts."
Ollivander talked to himself, his face full of nostalgic remembrance.
Shawn couldn't help being impressed. The man really did have an excellent memory-and he certainly had the air of a mystic down pat.
"Hello, sir. I'm Shawn Black, and I need to buy a wand."
"Yes, the wand chooses the wizard, and every wizard needs a companion to stay with them for life."
Ollivander took out a tape measure.
"Which is your wand arm?"
"My right."
"Good. Raise your arm."
Shawn watched the tape measure take measurements of his arm, shoulder, hips, thighs, and other places, utterly baffled.
Since the man was the professional, Shawn didn't ask. Besides, according to short videos he had watched before, this procedure seemed to predict how tall a new student would grow, so they could be matched with a wand of the right length to last a lifetime.
It might not have been scientific, but it was certainly magical.
Ollivander then returned to the shelves, selected a long box, and opened it with great care.
"Holly and unicorn, symbolizing purity and nobility. Eleven point two inches. I think it should suit you very well. Give it a gentle wave."
Shawn took the wand from the box, but before he could wave it, Ollivander snatched it away.
"No, no. I can hear the wand wailing. It seems you're a picky little fellow."
Shawn had nothing to say to that. Ollivander lowered his head in thought for a moment, then returned to the shelves for another long box.
"Ebony, with a dragon heartstring core. Twelve inches. Those who wield it are strong-willed, ambitious, and powerful. Try it."
Shawn didn't bother commenting on Ollivander's assessment. He took the wand and gave it a gentle wave. A flash of purple light crackled at its tip, and a moment later, the wand began breaking apart, inch by inch.
"Oh! No! What have you done? You killed it!"
Shawn declared with swagger. (Do some readers read the novel without reading the synopsis? The protagonist is an ordinary person. Early on, after being poor for so long and suddenly becoming rich, it's only reasonable for him to get a little carried away and act a little overbearing. True aristocratic bearing is cultivated, not something you acquire just by imagining it! Give him time to grow, all right?)
"How much? I'll pay for it! Just tell me whether you have a wand that suits me. Don't bother bringing out the ordinary ones."
Even Shawn felt he was getting a little carried away after saying that, but it felt so good that he had no intention of changing. After being poor for so long, he had long dreamed of buying two of those outrageously expensive ice creams once he had money-one to eat and one to throw away. As for aristocratic elegance, nobody was born with it. He would have to cultivate it slowly.
"Who says these are ordinary? Every wand here is top quality."
Ollivander was heartbroken, but his puzzlement and concern were even stronger. With his wealth of experience, he could see that Shawn's magic was extraordinary. It actually carried flashes of lightning.
"The Ollivander Family has a long history. How could we possibly not have a wand to suit you?"
Huffing indignantly, Ollivander went deep into the shelves again. It was a long while before he emerged. This time, he had clearly dug into his oldest stock.
"Try this one. Lightning-struck peach wood, a thunderbird tail-feather core, twelve inches. My great-grandfather happened upon this piece of lightning-struck wood during his travels in the East. There is no way to determine its age. This wand will accept only a gifted wizard who fears neither law nor convention and grows stronger when faced with stronger opponents."
Shawn looked at the wand, its red and black surface shimmering with purple-blue hues, and fell in love with it at once.
The moment he took the Wand, before he could channel any magic into it, purple arcs of electricity erupted from its tip. Dark clouds even began forming overhead.
The static in the air made every strand of Ollivander's gray hair stand on end. Excited though he was, he hurriedly said,
"Oh! Heavens, a match made in heaven! You're simply perfect for each other. Hurry and calm your wand down. Are you trying to turn my shop into a thunderstorm zone?"
Shawn nodded and gently stroked the wand. The strange phenomena inside the shop vanished instantly.
"How much, sir? Oh, include the one I destroyed just now, too."
Ollivander shook his head.
"Seven Galleons, please. The destroyed wand was my fault for choosing poorly, not yours."
Shawn didn't dwell on it. He thanked him politely, paid, and left.
Watching the finely featured, black-haired boy leave, Ollivander couldn't help sighing.
"Another extraordinarily gifted wizard. I wonder whether he'll bring fortune or disaster to the wizarding world."
Outside the shop, Shawn mulled over various odds and ends before calling for Kreacher. Once the house-elf appeared, he instructed him to take him to Chinatown.
After another big shopping spree, he used a public telephone to call his magic-show assistant and give a few instructions, then returned to the old house.
Next came a complete overhaul of the interior. Wall lamps, chandeliers, carpets, ornaments, and the like were all replaced with the new things Kreacher had bought earlier in Diagon Alley.
After master and servant worked for an hour, the Black family home finally looked truly refreshed, no longer as lifeless as before.
Although the mad grandmother in the portrait was quite unhappy during the process, she only grumbled a little. The lady was no longer deranged now, either. After all, the Black bloodline could continue, so she had begun playing the part of a kind, loving grandmother.
In the kitchen, the stove was crowded with seasonings and ingredients, with every sort of spice they could need.
"From now on, bleed those chickens and ducks before slaughtering them. Whatever meat you're cooking, blanch it in boiling water first. Remember to add some of this ingredient called ginger to the water. It gets rid of the unpleasant smell."
"Kreacher, today I'll teach you a few home-style dishes first: twice-cooked pork, lion's head meatballs, and mapo tofu. It's a shame Lao Gan Ma hasn't been exported to England yet."
"Hurry up and throw out those sardines and things."
"..."
Shawn patiently taught Kreacher to cook Chinese food. He never wanted to eat that so-called "stargazy" dish again.
The house-elf truly lived up to his reputation as an all-purpose servant. He remembered everything after watching Shawn cook it once, and his superb household magic allowed him to reproduce those Chinese dishes faster and better.
Shawn himself only knew a few home-style dishes. After teaching Kreacher, he gave him a stack of Chinese cookbooks to study at his leisure, telling him to experiment freely with ingredients. They had money!
In the dining room, Shawn stuffed himself at the large dining table. Kreacher refused to sit at it again no matter what, so Shawn had to set up a little table just for him in the corner. Kreacher ate the delicious food while blowing snot bubbles, overcome with gratitude.
For a while, the atmosphere between master and servant was exceptionally harmonious.
Suddenly, Kreacher stood up, looking extremely nervous.
"Young master, someone has triggered the protective enchantments."
Shawn dropped his silver fork and hurried to the window. Seven or eight wand-wielding wizards stood in the square. Judging by their clothes, they were Aurors.
The Aurors were casting spells together, probing the protective enchantments around his old house.
Shawn knew his appearance in Diagon Alley that day must have drawn them here. Naturally, they weren't here to arrest him. They were after Regulus, the Death Eater.
The warrant for Regulus's arrest had never been revoked. Though he was dead, these Aurors would at least want to take Shawn back to the Ministry of Magic for questioning.
Shawn wasn't flustered-just guilty. He calmly approached the front door and called out to the businesslike Auror leading the group.
"May I ask why you're attacking my home?"
The Auror in charge had rugged features. He stepped forward with a slight limp.
"We received a report that a Death Eater is hiding here. Please lower your defenses and let us search the premises."
Shawn's expression turned cold.
"Hmph. A report? From whom? And do you have a search warrant?"
The lead Auror faltered. He had come in a hurry and really didn't have a search warrant.
"Who reported it is none of your business. Don't think I don't know who you are. You're a Death Eater's son. Even if you haven't committed a crime, once I catch Regulus, that lackey of the Dark Lord, you'll have to come to the Ministry of Magic with us for questioning. Lower your protective enchantments right now, and stop obstructing official business."
Shawn was so angry his chest hurt.
"Hmph. Which pure-blood family sent you? Without a search warrant, you can forget about me lowering my protective enchantments. Even if this goes all the way to the Minister, I'm still in the right."
The lead Auror hadn't expected this child to be so difficult. His expression hardened as he ordered his subordinates,
"Attack! Break open that turtle shell of his!"
In an instant, spells of red and blue struck the transparent protective barrier. Magical light shimmered throughout the old house, sending ripples and faint tremors through it.
The corner of Shawn's eye kept twitching. This was outrageous bullying. He drew his wand, ready to fight back.
Suddenly, a melodious phoenix cry rang out. A Phoenix Patronus glowing with milky-white light appeared before the Aurors.
The Aurors immediately stopped attacking. The phoenix addressed their leader.
"Scrimgeour, Regulus is dead. Leave the little fellow alone. Once I've cleared up a few matters, I'll come to the Ministry of Magic to explain the circumstances in detail."
Watching the Phoenix Patronus slowly dissipate, Scrimgeour knew Headmaster Dumbledore had sent it with a message.
Considering Dumbledore's prestige and personal assurance, he remained reluctant, but still waved a hand and said, "Withdraw."
The seven or eight Aurors then departed by Apparition, one after another.
Shawn's expression shifted uncertainly.
He wasn't at all surprised that Dumbledore knew what was happening here.
The Ministry of Magic was like a sieve. Anyone could plant their people inside it: the pure-blood families, the Death Eaters, and the Order of the Phoenix alike.
That wasn't what troubled Shawn. Just now, he had been utterly powerless. Without the Old Beekeeper's intervention, even fighting to the bitter end would have accomplished nothing. He probably would still have been hauled off to the Ministry of Magic in disgrace.
Inheriting an aristocratic estate like the Blacks' brought enormous benefits, but naturally, it also came with plenty of trouble.
Neither the Ministry of Magic nor the pure-blood aristocrats were easy to deal with. He would have plenty of battles of wits and wills ahead.
Those Aurors might well have been sent by certain pure-blood families to put him in his place.
"Sigh. I need to grow stronger quickly. The Old Beekeeper was considerate this time, though. Now I owe him another favor."
"What goes around comes around. A little impatience can ruin a grand plan!"
Frustrated though Shawn was, he could only return to the old house and carry on eating.