Chapter 5: Preparations Before the Start of Term

Although Silven didn't need a new wand, there were still other things he had to buy.

Silven had been coming to Diagon Alley since he was six, and by the time he was eleven, almost every shopkeeper here knew him — they didn't even need to open the envelope and look at the acceptance letter; just by walking around outside once, Silven knew exactly what he needed.

"Little Silven, I knew you'd come. The new books are all here, all wrapped up…"

"Thank you, Lady Blott. So how much do I need to pay…"

"Two Galleons in total. How's that discount?"

"Impossible to refuse." Silven said from the heart.

Eight books, two Galleons — Lady Blott of Flourish and Blotts must have only charged him cost price.

Such a big favor surely had nothing to do with him; it was probably because of Ollivander.

To repay the discount on his first wand?

Maybe.

Afterwards, Silven also bought a full set of pewter cauldrons, a brass telescope, a standard set of measured potion ingredients, and three sets of plain robes, including gloves, cloaks, and the like — all at discounts no one else could get, saving quite a bit of money.

The potions shop owner had prepared ingredients for him that still far exceeded the standard amount — about one and a half portions, by the look of it.

The things weren't worth much money, but the goodwill was heavy. Silven didn't stand on ceremony with them either, accepting everything with a smile.

Except for the Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Silven didn't know why the owner, Lady Theodora, was so enthusiastic, insisting on giving him an owl for free as a back-to-school gift.

Those things aren't cheap at all — a common breed costs ten Galleons, and a nicer one can even double that. Naturally, Silven refused.

He looked at the shopkeeper in front of him, a woman of about sixty, and scratched his head in bewilderment.

Honestly, he wasn't really familiar with this Lady Theodora — he'd barely even met her a few times — and he truly couldn't figure out why she was being so warm.

Out of caution, Silven didn't accept her precious gift. But she was too enthusiastic; unable to talk her out of it, Silven could only brace himself and pick out a different pet.

A tabby cat… maybe.

It looked a lot like a tabby cat, but its fur wasn't that pretty a color — a bit mottled, sort of greyish.

When Silven looked over, it was sitting in a corner with a ginger flat-faced long-haired cat, unwanted by anyone, even though its price was really cheap.

One Galleon — only five Sickles more than the cheapest rat, and even cheaper than most toads.

That was also why Silven chose it.

At that price, he could accept it with a clear conscience. As for why he didn't pick the ginger one… mainly because he didn't have a habit of collecting soda cans, especially ones that had been stepped flat.

Despite Lady Theodora repeatedly trying to persuade Silven to swap it for a prettier, better-tempered purebred cat at the same price, Silven held firm.

Until he figured out her specific purpose, he had no intention of accepting such overly enthusiastic goodwill.

In fact, he really wanted to pay for this cat too, but Lady Theodora refused to take the money, saying she was grateful to Silven — that he had done her a big favor.

"That cat is too fierce. At school you'd better keep an eye on it, or it might eat someone's pet rat or toad."

Silven looked at the tabby cat sprawled on his arm, looking utterly languid, and privately doubted Lady Theodora's words.

Of course, even if it really were that fierce, it didn't matter — once he got to Hogwarts he probably wouldn't have much energy to look after a pet anyway, so a bit of wildness would be just right for fending for itself.

……

An hour later, Silven, laden with goods, pushed open the door of the wand shop.

He planned to give the enthusiastic shopkeeper a wand-care set as a return gift before school started, plus a sheet of custom wand stickers.

The stickers were something he'd come up with last year — modeled on Chocolate Frog cards, they could move, but wouldn't suddenly disappear.

Plenty of people didn't mind spending a Sickle to stick a Dumbledore on their wand.

It's just that Ollivander always felt this thing was a rip-off; even though he agreed to display it in the shop, he never actively recommended it, so only a very small number of people knew about it, and sales were mediocre.

Oh, and there's the custom color spray — it can change the color of a wand. But Ollivander absolutely wouldn't allow Silven to put it out for sale in the shop, so Silven could only lock it away in a chest.

Still, this time he planned to bring it to school and see if he could sell it there.

Actually, Silven understood perfectly well why Ollivander objected: wands need to be inconspicuous, especially for dangerous work like being an Auror — a color matching plain wood is the best camouflage.

That's why wands are basically all brown, dark brown, or black.

Think about it — if you're out on a nighttime operation and someone whips out a big bright-red wand, that draws way too much attention; it's practically the same as carrying a Lumos.

Of course, at Hogwarts there's no problem — students don't need to fight at night.

And at thirteen, fourteen, fifteen — exactly the age for being unconventional — who could resist giving their wand a unique color?

While thinking, Silven opened a small pouch containing about thirty-odd Galleons and a few silver Sickles.

That was all the pocket money he had to date.

For Silven's age, that amount really wasn't small — after all, most new students only got seven or eight Galleons for the whole school year.

But Silven also had plenty of places to spend money. He had to make wands — the cores cost money, and the wand-body wood wasn't cheap either.

And once school started, he couldn't just freely dip into the family fortune anymore; whatever he wanted, he'd have to buy himself.

Thinking about it that way, thirty Galleons really wasn't enough…

Maybe he should make the gold and red sprays into rare editions — double the price. Hmm, green and silver, triple…

Silven quietly made a decision in his heart.

It definitely wasn't deliberately targeting anyone — he wasn't that kind of person.

……

After getting their first taste of the wonders of the magical world, some little wizards from Muggle families couldn't bear to leave, and came by almost every day.

Some, unsure how to use their wands to open the entrance, simply moved into the Leaky Cauldron. The experienced old Tom had prepared plenty of rooms well in advance and made a tidy little profit.

This also made August's Diagon Alley livelier and livelier — at a glance, every shop was packed with people… except the wand shop.

Wands aren't a Consumable; apart from the new students coming each year, there'd almost never be repeat customers in the short term.

Silven was happy to have it quiet, and used this period before school started to hurry up and rummage through the storeroom.

Inside were woods suitable for making wands that Ollivander had spent decades traveling mountains and rivers to find from all over the world — every single one top-quality stock.

Previously, Ollivander had always been worried and unwilling to take it out, but now that Silven had received his acceptance letter from Hogwarts, the grandfather, for once, became unexpectedly generous.

Silven looked like a snitch that had fallen into a vault, his eyes turned red.

Applewood soaked in pine oil for a full year... good stuff, I'll take it!

Ironwood, hard to work with but rare, take it too.

Oh, phoenix wood, also a good find—perfect with phoenix feather core, the effect is explosive; luckily, there's a phoenix at Hogwarts too, I'll take it.

Grapevine, ordinary, might as well take it since I'm not paying...

Further ahead, at the very end, Silven suddenly stopped, staring in stunned silence at a reddish-brown branch on a shelf ahead.

Merlin above, at least a thirteen-hundred-year-old dragonblood tree main branch! Old... dear Grandfather, you've been hiding something like this?!

Behind him, Ollivander went pale and immediately tried to stop him.

Dragonblood wood is common—Romania has plenty—but to grow thirteen hundred years? That's exceedingly rare.

Because of its hardness and its unique sulfur-like scent, it's greatly favored by fire drakes—essentially their toothbrush.

Few survive being gnawed for over a thousand years; he'd only ever found this small piece.

No wonder young people react fast—before Ollivander could speak, Silven had already instinctively snatched the dragonblood branch and shoved it into his coat, clutching it tightly.

Returning it is out of the question, don't even think about it; as an adult wizard, you must keep your word—breaking it is the mark of a Dark Wizard.

Is Ollivander a Dark Wizard?

Of course not.

And Silven would never let his beloved grandfather become a deceitful liar.

The consequence of this? Poor young witches and wizards who came later to buy wands.

They arrived happily to buy their first wand, only to look up and see a grumpy, disheveled old man muttering to himself.

Some of the more timid children nearly cried, no longer wanting to buy a wand.

Ollivander had done great harm—may this image not leave a shadow on their young hearts.

(End of Chapter)