The Secondhand Robe Shop and the Weasley Family

The panel classified the wand as a high-grade magic artifact?

Gerald's expression turned a little odd.

What did "unclaimed" mean?

Could wands really have wills of their own? Did fully mastering one require either powerful magic or a long period of adjustment?

Gerald couldn't help considering the possibility. After all, plenty of wizards found their spells greatly weakened when using someone else's wand.

And in the original story, the usual ways to change a wand's allegiance were to kill its original owner or use a Disarming Charm to wrest it from their control.

That seemed more like conquest by force.

But when young wizards first chose their wands before starting school, did those wands truly obey them completely?

It now seemed the answer was no.

A wand probably only obeyed a new young wizard provisionally.

To become its true master, they either had to keep growing stronger or build a deeper connection through prolonged use.

But since the panel called the wand a magic artifact, could there be other ways to claim it?

The more Gerald thought about it, the more excited he became.

Meanwhile, Ollivander had no idea what was going through Gerald's mind.

He nodded at Gerald's response, apparently quite satisfied with his promise to put the wand to good use.

He turned and went behind the counter, then took out a leather wand sheath decorated with pale blue cloud patterns and handed it to Gerald.

"Consider this a gift. My grandfather made this wand. Seeing it find its owner after all these years has put one of my lingering concerns to rest."

Gerald came back to himself and smiled.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander. Um... sir, how much do I owe you altogether?"

"Don't thank me. The wand chose you, Mr. Green." Ollivander waved a hand. "Seven Galleons will do."

As he spoke, his gaze passed over Gerald's shoulder toward the window.

Gerald took seven Galleons from his pocket and handed them to Ollivander, while a thought stirred in his mind.

Just as I thought. Any wand costs seven Galleons when a new student buys their first one. The Ministry of Magic must have a rule about it.

Just then, the bell above the door rang.

Professor McGonagall pushed the door open, pulling a dark gray suitcase behind her.

"All settled?" She looked at the wand in Gerald's hand.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall." Gerald slipped the wand into its sheath and fastened it at his waist.

McGonagall turned to Ollivander and gave him a slight nod.

"Mr. Green."

She patted the suitcase beside her, then turned to Gerald.

"I've bought all the school supplies you need. They're packed in this suitcase along with your textbooks. The final item on the list is your work robes. We'll go there now."

Gerald took the suitcase.

It was much lighter than he had expected, probably thanks to some sort of weight-reducing charm.

Something else occurred to him as well.

When Professor McGonagall had gone to buy his cauldron, Dragonhide Gloves, and other supplies, she hadn't taken any money from his purse.

Apparently, the stern professor had paid for them out of her own pocket.

Cauldrons and Dragonhide Gloves aren't cheap. What a sweet older catgirl.

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall. I'm sorry for the trouble."

McGonagall pushed open the door of Ollivander's wand shop, and the afternoon bustle of Diagon Alley washed over them.

"You're welcome. It's my duty."

They made their way through the crowd, heading deeper into Diagon Alley.

"You have two options for your robes. Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions is halfway down Diagon Alley. A brand-new, made-to-measure set of school robes costs about twelve Galleons. There's a secondhand robe shop around the corner at the far end. It's much cheaper. You can usually buy a ready-made set in good condition for two or three Galleons."

"The secondhand shop will be fine." Gerald didn't hesitate.

"Very well. We'll head there now."

McGonagall glanced at him, a hint of approval in her eyes behind her glasses.

"The secondhand robe shop is around that corner. It's called the Winkle Secondhand Clothing and Hat Shop. The owner is a witch who talks rather too much, but she has a good heart."

Gerald followed her through the thinning crowd.

All kinds of shops lined Diagon Alley's main street, but once they turned down a side lane, the surroundings looked noticeably shabbier.

The cobblestones were no longer so neatly laid. Some were even cracked, holding little puddles of rainwater left from who knew when.

The shop signs looked much older too.

"Here we are."

Professor McGonagall stopped in front of a shop with a narrow storefront.

A faded wooden sign hung above the entrance, bearing the words "Winkle Secondhand Clothing and Hat Shop" in ornate lettering.

Beneath it, a crooked line of smaller text read, "Uniforms · Robes · Everyday clothing. Good quality, fair prices."

The shop was considerably more spacious inside than Gerald had expected, but dimly lit.

Several magical lamps hung from the ceiling, casting a dull yellow glow that barely illuminated the tightly packed rows of clothing racks.

Behind the counter, a short, plump elderly witch was using her wand to mend the lace edging around the collar of a purple robe.

She looked up at the sound of the door opening, and her round face immediately broke into a broad smile.

"Well, if it isn't Professor McGonagall!"

Her gaze fell on Gerald behind Professor McGonagall, and her eyes brightened.

"Oh, bringing a new student to buy robes? You've come to the right place, young man. Let me tell you, Auntie Winkle's clothes have lovely fabric and even lovelier prices. Half the students at Hogwarts have bought clothes from me."

"Mrs. Winkle, as you guessed, this boy is starting his first year at Hogwarts. He needs a full set of everyday robes and a winter cloak, as well as a school uniform."

"Of course, of course."

Mrs. Winkle came around the counter and hurried over to Gerald, who stood half a head taller than she did, then looked him up and down.

"Hmm, a sturdy build. Not like some children, all skinny as broom handles." She squeezed Gerald's shoulder, looking pleased. "Come over here. I'll find you a few things that fit."

She led Gerald to a row of clothing racks at the back of the shop and began searching through them with practiced ease.

"Everyday robes, at your height... this one should do. It's been worn for less than a year and still looks quite new."

Mrs. Winkle kept chattering as she

took a dark gray robe off the rack and handed it to Gerald.

"Try it on."

Gerald took the robe and turned it over to inspect it.

The fabric was indeed good. The cuffs and collar were clean, with no obvious signs of wear.

He slipped the robe on. The length was just right.

Mrs. Winkle clapped her hands in satisfaction.

"A perfect fit! I've been selling secondhand robes for forty years, and these eyes have never misjudged a size. Now I'll find you two more to wear while the others are in the wash, and a nice thick winter cloak."

She turned and plunged back among the clothing racks to search.

Just then, a commotion came from the shop entrance.

The brass bell jingled incessantly, accompanied by a flurry of footsteps and several boys talking over one another.

"Fred, that's my money pouch! Give it back!"

"What do you mean, your money pouch? It's in my hand now, so it's mine."

"Mum! Look, Fred's taking my things again!"

"George, you're involved too. Both of you, stop it!"

A red-haired woman pushed the door open and walked in with a little girl in her arms, followed by four red-haired children of varying ages.

The eldest wore glasses and had a composed expression.

The two in the middle looked exactly alike, clearly twins, and were laughing as they shoved each other.

The youngest trailed at his mother's heels. His red hair was tousled, a few freckles dotted his face, and he looked about eight or nine.

Gerald's gaze lingered on the group of redheads, and his heart gave a sudden leap.

Wait... the Weasley family!