#3

Even though Ted had seen Diagon Alley a handful of times in clips and videos in the past, witnessing it in person was an entirely different experience. His eyes widened in awe, momentarily forgetting even the ever-present system notifications in his head.

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[Ding! Task triggered:]

[Explore Diagon Alley (Green)].

The most famous wizarding shopping street in Great Britain! Why not take a stroll? Every shop is worth a visit!

Goal: Achieve 100% exploration of Diagon Alley.

Progress: 1%.

Reward: 100 experience points, random card.

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Ted barely registered the message, still transfixed by the sight before him. Professor McGonagall, noticing his wide-eyed stare, allowed herself a rare smile. "Oh, Ted, this is only the beginning. You'll have plenty more to be amazed by in the future. But for now, let's get your funds sorted first. You have quite a bit to buy."

She set off at a brisk pace, pulling Ted along. He tried to take in every detail, but there was simply too much to see. The narrow, cobbled street was lined with an array of strange and wonderful shops, each more bizarre than the last. Towering cauldrons stacked outside storefronts, enchanted quills scribbling in midair, and owls of every size hooting from their perches—all of it was overwhelming.

After several minutes of navigating the lively street, they reached a grand three-story building standing apart from the others. Unlike most of the wooden shops, this one was made of white stone, giving it a distinct and imposing presence.

Of course, that was only at first glance.

Ted squinted, and his sense of structure and design instincts screamed in protest. "What—what is wrong with those pillars?!"

Gringotts' white marble columns were a disaster. Not only were they crooked, but each floor's pillars tilted in a different direction, making the entire structure look like it had been built by a wizard who had downed one too many Firewhiskeys. It was an architectural horror.

Ted had to fight the urge to run over and straighten them out.

Two goblin guards in scarlet and gold-trimmed uniforms stood rigidly by the bronze front doors, their sharp eyes darting around suspiciously. Beyond them, a second silver door gleamed, engraved with an ominous warning:

Enter, stranger, but take heed of what awaits the greedy.

For those who take without earning shall face the harshest of fates.

If you seek to plunder from these vaults what is not rightfully yours...

Then beware, for it is not treasure you should fear, but the curse that follows.

Ted snorted. "They seem a little paranoid."

Professor McGonagall merely nodded. "Indeed."

Most people would take this inscription as a sign of the goblins' mistrust of wizards, but Ted saw something else—an unshakable blend of fear and arrogance. Goblins were undeniably guilty of their own deceptions, yet their pride and greed wouldn't allow them to admit any wrongdoing. They overcompensated by acting as if they were the victims.

Professor McGonagall wasted no time securing Ted's student loan. The goblins at the towering counters handled the transaction with their usual cold efficiency, sneering down at them from their ridiculously high chairs. Ted couldn't help but think they had deliberately designed the counters to make wizards look small in comparison.

Their entire existence was built around one concept: control. Goblins believed that anything they crafted rightfully belonged to them, and any payments made to them were nothing more than a rental fee. The moment an item's original owner died, goblins felt entitled to reclaim it.

It was the same mentality that had led to conflicts like the infamous Goblin Rebellions, where they tried to snatch back magical artifacts—including Gryffindor's sword—after already accepting payment for their craftsmanship. That particular attempt had ended in a well-deserved defeat.

Ted shuddered at the thought.

'Don't make me go full Goblin Slayer on you...'

His fingers twitched, imagining a heroic stance, wand in hand, storming into the depths of Gringotts to claim justice.

'Wand in hand, follow me! Kill goblins, loot the vaults!'

Professor McGonagall glanced at Ted, whose expression had turned suspiciously determined. "Something on your mind, Mr. Epifani?"

He coughed and quickly looked away. "Uh, nothing! Just, uh... excited to get my school supplies!"

"Good," she said, eyeing him briefly before leading him back toward the entrance. "Because next, we visit Ollivanders."

Ted perked up immediately, all thoughts of goblin conspiracies temporarily forgotten. A wand—his very own wand! Now that was something to look forward to.

The first thing to do when you have money is to buy a wand.

Ollivander's wand shop had an old and modest storefront, with a single wand displayed on a faded purple cushion in the window. A peeling gold sign above the door read: "Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC."

If that date was true, then when the Roman Republic was just getting started, Ollivander's ancestors were already crafting wands. That was a level of history Ted found almost impossible to wrap his head around.

Professor McGonagall pushed open the door, and a small brass bell above it chimed with a crisp ring.

The shop itself was small and cramped, filled almost entirely with towering shelves stacked with thousands of long, narrow boxes. A single counter stood near the front, and beside it, a lone bench for waiting customers. Dust clung to the shelves and boxes, making Ted wonder why a wizard wouldn't use a simple cleaning spell to keep things tidy.

Before he could ponder it further, a thin old man with wild, white hair—comparable to Einstein's—appeared silently from behind a shelf, his pale eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall. A pleasure, as always. And this must be our new young wizard," he said, his voice soft yet knowing.

This was Ollivander, the most famous wandmaker in Britain.

"Stretch out your hand," he instructed.

At his words, a tape measure floated up from the counter and began taking Ted's measurements—height, arm span, wrist circumference, and even the length of his fingers.

"Which is your wand hand?" Ollivander asked.

"Right."

"Let's try this one." With a wave of his hand, a box shot off the shelf and into his waiting palm. "Twelve and a quarter inches, mahogany, with a unicorn tail hair core. Excellent for Transfiguration."

Ted barely had time to touch it before Ollivander snatched it away. "No, not quite right. Try this instead—cherry wood, phoenix feather."

Ted gave it a tentative wave.

"Bang!" A loud crack sounded, and the wand nearly flew out of his hand.

"No, no, that won't do either." Ollivander shook his head, unfazed.

Ted sighed. "I need a wand, not a firecracker."

The process repeated itself multiple times. Some wands sparked too violently, others felt dull and unresponsive in his grip. Ted's magical sense was sharp enough to notice when a wand wasn't quite the right fit, even if it functioned well enough. Ollivander, however, didn't seem the least bit discouraged.

"Ah, a picky one. I like that!" the wandmaker said with a grin, pulling yet another box from the shelves. "Let's take our time."

Ted wasn't sure if Ollivander was enjoying himself too much.

For Ollivander, wand cores were limited to three: phoenix feather, unicorn hair, and dragon heartstring. Other wandmakers experimented with different materials—Veela hair, kelpie mane, and even Thestral tail hair—but Ollivander's philosophy was firm.

Just as another box floated toward them, Ted felt something strange. Before he even saw the wand, he could sense a faint pull from within the box.

Ollivander's fingers brushed over the wood with reverence. "Cedar, with a phoenix feather core. Ten and three-quarter inches. Firm, yet brittle. The handle has simple horizontal ridges for grip."

The moment Ted wrapped his fingers around the wand, warmth spread through his palm. Magic flowed effortlessly from it, stronger and more alive than any of the others. He gave it a small flick, and streams of golden sparks and ribbons burst from the tip, filling the shop with a dazzling display.

Ollivander beamed. "Ah! A perfect match. A wand of cedar, a truly formidable choice."

He leaned in slightly. "My father, Gervaise Ollivander, always said: 'A wizard with a cedar wand can never be fooled.' And I must agree. The owners of cedar wands possess sharp perception and unshakable loyalty. Those who earn their trust will find them to be lifelong allies—but those who cross them will regret it."

His eyes twinkled. "A word of advice: never make an enemy of a true cedar wand wielder. It seldom ends well."

"Seven Galleons," he added, holding out a hand.

Ted sighed. A great story, but unfortunately, no discount.

Stepping outside, his new wand in hand, Ted couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

"The wands of great wizards always have epic backstories," he thought. "Something like 'the last gift from a long-lost relative' or 'crafted from a tree struck by lightning in a magical storm.' And here I am, just picking mine off the shelf like any other customer."

Still, despite his complaints, the wand felt right. Its balance was perfect, and its magic hummed in tune with his own.

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[Cedar Phoenix Feather Wand (Green)]

Magic Power Increase: +1 Level

Spell Enhancement: +1 Level

Keen Insight: +1 Perception

Note: A young wizard's first wand.

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Professor McGonagall nodded approvingly. "Well, now that you have your wand, it's time for your school robes."

Ted hesitated. "Professor, I noticed some second-hand shops nearby. Given my budget, I think second-hand robes might be a more practical choice."

McGonagall studied him for a moment, then nodded. "If that's what you want."

Originally, she had planned to buy him at least two new robes while opting for second-hand textbooks to keep costs low. After all, children often had concerns about appearances. But since Ted suggested it himself, there was no need to argue.

They visited a second-hand robe shop right next to Madam Malkin's, where Ted picked out some slightly oversized robes so he could grow into them. Then they stopped at a second-hand store, searching for other supplies.

Unfortunately, the cauldrons there were in terrible condition—dented, cracked, or worse. Ted wasn't about to risk blowing himself up in Snape's class with a faulty cauldron.

Instead, he found a decent set of glass potion bottles. They were a bit dirty but perfectly usable after a good cleaning.

Books, however, were tricky to find. This year, it seemed, too many students were on the hunt for second-hand supplies. After searching three different stores, he finally managed to get copies of The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1), Magical Drafts and Potions, and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

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Word count: 1767