Chapter 5: The Magic Wand that can bring Luck

"Are you going to buy your Hogwarts robes, dear?" Just as Albert stepped into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, a squat, smiling witch in mauve greeted him warmly.

"Yes, ma'am," Albert replied politely.

"What a well-mannered young man! Stand here, dear, and I'll get you measured." With a flick of her wand, measuring tapes zipped through the air, flitting around Albert's arms and legs, taking measurements with an uncanny precision. Pins hovered in midair, scissors snipped through cloth on their own, and a floating quill scratched notes onto parchment. Herb watched, dumbfounded.

Tailoring robes was a meticulous process. After nearly half an hour, Madam Malkin straightened up. "All done for now! Come back later to collect them after you finish your shopping."

"Madam, in addition to the standard Hogwarts robes, I'd like a black peaked hat and an ordinary black cloak—both tailored to my measurements but without any house emblems. Please pack them separately," Albert added.

"A peaked hat and a cloak?" Madam Malkin eyed him curiously, repeating his request.

"Yes," Herb affirmed. He knew these were meant for Niya.

"Alright, dear," she said briskly, jotting it down.

After paying a deposit, the two left Madam Malkin's and made their way to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, where they purchased a set of brass scales, a collapsible brass telescope, and glass phials.

Albert handed over his list to the shopkeeper. "I need everything listed here, please."

The total came to thirteen Galleons. On impulse, he also purchased a small enchanted hourglass for two Galleons, which gleamed with shimmering golden sand.

With Wiseacre's directions, they easily located Potage's Cauldron Shop, where Albert picked up a standard size 2 pewter cauldron, as required by Hogwarts, for fifteen Galleons.

Next, they ventured into Slug & Jiggers Apothecary to gather potion ingredients.

The apothecary was dimly lit and smelled strongly of rotten eggs and herbs. Glass jars lined the shelves, filled with substances like shriveled roots, shimmering silver powder, and bundles of dried nettles. The ceiling was cluttered with suspended clusters of bat spleens, snake fangs, and a dozen types of feathers.

Herb recoiled as he spotted a barrel labeled Pickled Slugs – 1 Galleon per pint.

Disgusting.

For the first time, Herb felt uneasy. Is sending Albert to Hogwarts truly the right decision?

Albert, however, was unfazed, carefully selecting a kit containing basic potion ingredients alongside a set of stirring rods and a silver knife for slicing herbs.

After paying, he turned to Herb, who still looked uneasy.

"Albert… are you sure about this?" Herb muttered as they stepped out into the fresh air. "The more I think about it, the more I feel Daisy might be right. Maybe you should go to Eton instead."

Albert sighed.

"We still need books, a wand, and an owl," he reminded him. "At least wait until we finish shopping before making any decisions about the wizarding world."

Herb exhaled. "Fine."

At Flourish and Blotts, they bought all the books on the Hogwarts list, plus additional volumes on wizarding history. Albert was tempted to linger, but mindful of time, he requested a catalog from the shopkeeper so he could order books by owl later.

From the stationary shop near Quality Quidditch Supplies, he stocked up on parchment, quills, and ink.

Then, they headed to Eeylops Owl Emporium. The shop was packed with cages stacked from floor to ceiling, filled with owls of every size and color—barn owls, screech owls, tawny owls, and snowy owls. The hooting and rustling of wings filled the air.

Albert chose a handsome tawny owl, and Herb added a bag of owl nuts and a pouch of dried mice.

Checking the list, Herb saw they had only one item left.

"Just the wand now," he noted, pushing the cart.

They asked a witch at the owl shop for directions to Ollivanders, the famous wand shop.

A small, narrow building stood before them, its gold lettering faded: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. The dusty window displayed a single wand on a faded purple cushion.

Albert pushed open the door. A bell tinkled softly.

The shop was tiny, containing only a single spindly chair. Hundreds of narrow wand boxes lined the walls, stacked haphazardly up to the ceiling.

Herb squeezed inside, barely fitting with the cart. He sat down and pulled out a pumpkin pasty from the food stall they'd passed earlier.

Albert, also hungry, unwrapped one for himself.

"Excuse me, is anyone here?" he called.

A quiet voice answered, "Good afternoon."

A ghostly, pale-eyed man emerged from the shadows: Garrick Ollivander.

"Ah. A new Hogwarts student," Ollivander said softly, studying Albert with those silvery eyes.

"Yes, sir," Albert said, placing his pasty down.

"And your name?"

"Albert Anderson," he replied, puzzled.

Ollivander nodded. "Every wand I sell is registered with the Ministry of Magic. Which is your wand arm?"

"My right," Albert answered, raising it.

Ollivander produced a measuring tape, which began taking absurdly precise measurements—shoulder to fingertip, wrist to elbow, even nostril width.

"Wands are unique, you see," Ollivander murmured. "Each one chooses its wizard."

Herb and Albert exchanged a glance. This was starting to feel more like a tailor shop than a wand shop.

Ollivander pulled a box from the shelves.

"Holly and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Supple," he announced.

Albert reached for it—but before he could grasp it, Ollivander snatched it away.

"No, no. Try this instead—ash and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, flexible."

Albert took the wand, but nothing happened.

"Not quite," Ollivander muttered, diving into the stacks.

Wand after wand failed. At one point, sparks shot out and shattered a vase, making Herb flinch.

"Ah," Ollivander mused, eyes gleaming. "I do love a picky customer."

He returned with a sleek red wand.

"Red cedar and phoenix feather, nine inches. Quite elastic."

Albert grasped it. Warmth spread from his fingertips. He gave it a flick. Crimson sparks burst from the tip, cascading like fireworks.

"Ah, there we have it!" Ollivander beamed. He gently placed the wand into a box.

"Red cedar wands tend to choose wizards with great determination and an instinct for survival," Ollivander mused. "It's said they bring good fortune."

Albert arched a brow. "Do you believe that?"

Ollivander chuckled. "Not quite. I believe the wizards who wield red cedar tend to make their own luck."

Albert smirked. "So it's the wizard—not the wand—that's lucky?"

"Precisely," Ollivander said approvingly. "That will be ten Galleons."

Herb paid, and with the wand safely boxed, they stepped out into the bustling street.

Their Hogwarts shopping was finally complete.