Chapter 5: Preparations Before Term Begins

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

Since he first came to Diagon Alley at six, and until eleven, nearly every shopkeeper there knew him—he didn’t even need to open his letter to check his acceptance notice; just walking around once, Silven knew exactly what he needed.

“Little Silven, I knew you’d come—your new books are all here, already wrapped…”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bloot, how much do I owe you…”

“Two Galleons total. How’s that discount?”

“Impossible to refuse,” Silven said sincerely.

Eight books for two Galleons—Mrs. Bloot of Flourish and Blotts must have charged him only cost price.

Such a favor couldn’t possibly be because of him; it must be because of Ollivander.

To repay the discount on his first wand?

Maybe.

After that, Silven bought a full set of tin cauldrons and brass telescopes, a standard measure of powdered ingredients, and three sets of plain robes including gloves and cloaks—all at discounts no one else could get, saving him a great deal.

The herb shop owner had prepared far more herbs than standard—about one and a half times the usual amount.

The items weren’t worth much, but the sentiment weighed heavily; Silven accepted them all with smiles, without protest.

Except at the Owls Emporium.

Silven didn’t know why Mrs. Theodora was so enthusiastic, insisting on gifting him a snowy owl as a back-to-school present.

That thing wasn’t cheap—a common breed cost ten Galleons, and better ones doubled that; Silven naturally refused.

He stared at the shopkeeper, a woman nearing sixty, and helplessly scratched his head.

Honestly, he didn’t know Mrs. Theodora at all—he’d barely seen her a few times—and he couldn’t fathom why she was so generous.

Out of caution, Silven didn’t accept her expensive gift. But she was too insistent; unable to refuse, he reluctantly picked another pet.

A tabby cat… maybe.

It looked like a tabby, but its fur wasn’t as beautiful—muddy, dull gray, and patchy.

When Silven looked over, it was huddled in a corner with a ginger, flat-faced longhair cat, completely ignored, despite its very low price.

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

That was why Silven chose it.

At that price, he could accept it without guilt; as for why he didn’t pick the ginger one… mainly because he had no habit of collecting crushed soda cans, especially flattened ones.

Though Mrs. Theodora repeatedly urged Silven to exchange it for a prettier, gentler purebred cat at the same price, Silven held firm.

Until he understood her true motive, he wouldn’t accept such excessive kindness.

In fact, he wanted to pay for the cat too, but Mrs. Theodora refused, saying she was grateful—he’d done her a great favor.

“That cat’s too fierce. Be careful at school—it might eat someone’s pet rat or toad.”

Silven looked at the tabby cat lounging lazily on his arm, skeptical of Mrs. Theodora’s warning.

Of course, even if it were truly fierce, it didn’t matter—he wouldn’t have much time to care for a pet at Hogwarts anyway; a bit of wildness would let it fend for itself.

…

An hour later, laden with purchases, Silven pushed open the wand shop’s door.

He planned to give the enthusiastic shopkeeper a wand care kit as a return gift, plus a sheet of custom wand stickers.

The stickers were his own invention from last year, inspired by Chocolate Frog cards—they moved but didn’t vanish suddenly.

Many people didn’t mind spending a Sickle to stick a Dumbledore on their wand.

But Ollivander always thought the stickers were scamming customers; though he allowed them on display, he never promoted them, so only a few knew they existed, and sales were mediocre.

Oh, and custom color sprays—able to change a wand’s color—but Ollivander flatly refused to let Silven sell them in the shop, so Silven had locked them in a box.

This time, though, he planned to take them to school and try selling them.

Silven knew perfectly well why Ollivander opposed them: wands needed concealment, especially for dangerous jobs like Aurors—matching the color of wood was the best camouflage.

So wands were mostly brown, tan, or black.

Imagine, during a nighttime operation, someone pulls out a bright red wand—it’d be glaringly obvious, practically like casting a Lumos charm.

But at Hogwarts, it didn’t matter—students didn’t need to fight at night.

And at sixteen, it was the perfect age to be unique—who could resist giving their wand a distinctive color?

As he thought, Silven opened a small pouch containing over thirty Galleons and a few silver Sickles.

That was all the pocket money he had so far.

For Silven’s age, that sum was substantial—most first-years had only seven or eight Galleons for the whole year.

But Silven had many expenses—he needed to buy wand cores, and the wood for wand shafts wasn’t cheap.

And once school started, he couldn’t freely take from family wealth—he’d have to buy everything himself.

Thinking like that, thirty Galleons really wasn’t enough…

Maybe turn the gold and red sprays into rare editions—double the price. Hmm, green and silver? Triple it…

Silven made a silent decision.

It wasn’t meant to target anyone—he wasn’t that kind of person.

…

After first witnessing the wonders of the magical world, some Muggle-born witches and wizards couldn’t bear to leave—they came nearly every day.

Those unsure how to open the entrance simply moved into the Leaky Cauldron; old Tom, experienced and prepared, had plenty of rooms ready and made a tidy profit.

This made Diagon Alley increasingly crowded in August—every shop, at a glance, was packed… except the wand shop.

Wands weren’t consumables; aside from new students each year, there were almost no repeat customers in a short time.

Silven welcomed the quiet, using the days before term to ransack the storage room.

Inside were the woods Ollivander had spent decades traveling the world to find—each piece top-grade.

Previously, Ollivander had hesitated to take them out; now that Silven had received his Hogwarts letter, the grandfather, unusually generous, finally let him have them.

Silven felt like a gnome dropped into a vault—his eyes turned red.

Applewood soaked in pine oil for a full year… excellent, take it!

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

Oh, phoenixwood—also excellent; paired with phoenix feather cores, the effect was explosive. Luckily, there was a phoenix at Hogwarts—take it.

Grapevine—ordinary, but why not take it if it’s free…

Further ahead, at the end of the shelf, Silven suddenly stopped, staring in shock at a reddish-brown branch.

Merlin above—a dragonwood main branch, at least thirteen hundred years old! Old… dear Grandfather, you kept something like this hidden?!

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

Dragonwood was common—Romania had plenty—but one that grew to thirteen hundred years? Extremely rare.

Because of its hardness and unique sulfur scent, it was beloved by fire drakes—essentially their toothbrush.

Few survived being gnawed for over a thousand years; he’d only found this small piece.

No wonder the young were quick—before Ollivander could speak, Silven had already snatched the dragonwood branch and shoved it into his robes, clutching it tightly.

Returning it was out of the question—don’t even think about it. As an adult wizard, one must keep one’s word; breaking promises was the mark of a Dark wizard.

Was Ollivander a Dark wizard?

Of course not.

And Silven wouldn’t let his beloved grandfather become a liar.

The result? Poor young witches and wizards who came later to buy wands.

They arrived happily to choose their first wand, only to look up and see a scowling, disheveled, muttering old man.

A few timid children nearly cried—they didn’t want to buy wands anymore.

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

(End of Chapter)