Creaaak.
The old hinges groaned with a sharp squeak as the door swung open.
Ethan stepped inside, blinking uncomfortably as his cobalt-blue eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.
A few shady-looking wizards glanced at him briefly before losing interest and turning away.
Only one busty witch with thick lips gave him a low, suggestive whistle.
Ethan gave her a polite smile in return—causing her to freeze in surprise.
Damn… this kid's actually handsome!
Knock knock.
Ethan stood on tiptoe and knocked gently on the bar counter. With polite clarity, he addressed the hunched man wiping glasses behind it.
"Hello, I'm a new student at Hogwarts and I haven't received a wand yet. Would you mind tapping the bricks for me?"
Hearing this, Tom, the barkeep of the Leaky Cauldron, looked up from beneath heavy lids and gave the boy a long stare.
The boy was thin and plainly dressed, with pale skin and gently wavy black hair. His features were delicate and well-defined.
Even at his age, it was clear he would grow into the kind of man who could make thousands of girls cry for him.
But the most striking thing was the boy's cobalt-blue eyes—brilliant and calm like a starry night sky. They held a depth and maturity far beyond his years.
Came here alone, huh...
Tom lingered on the boy's face for a moment longer than necessary, but ultimately didn't pay him much mind.
"Follow me," he muttered, setting down the glass and walking toward the back door.
As expected—no "Chosen One" treatment.
Ethan noted Tom's indifferent tone but wasn't bothered. He was far more interested in the decor of the old pub.
Hmm... quite plain.
The paintings of fruit bowls on the walls were draped in spiderwebs, their frames almost blending into the aged stone.
They looked neither appetizing nor artistic.
"Different decor can create a different atmosphere, Mr. Tom," Ethan said casually. "Those paintings seem a bit... old."
Tom waved a hand dismissively. "Our customers are all regulars. Nobody cares. Besides, they're just paintings. What difference do they make?"
Ethan didn't argue, but he made a mental note about the bar's neglected artwork.
The Leaky Cauldron led directly into Diagon Alley. With so much foot traffic, it was the perfect place to showcase his work.
Still—
Before anything else, he needed to create a piece truly worthy of being framed—something that could be called art.
His usual sketch-style portraits wouldn't cut it.
As these thoughts flowed through his mind, Ethan followed Tom through the back door and into a small, walled courtyard.
A loyal trash bin stood dutifully in its corner.
"Count up three bricks, then two across. Tap three times with a wand."
Tap tap.
Tom's worn wand tapped the designated brick.
With a series of clicks and cracks, something extraordinary happened.
Starting from the brick he tapped, the wall folded outward, layer by layer, as though collapsing into another dimension.
The small hole grew wider and wider until it became a spacious archway.
Suddenly, noise and chatter flooded in.
On either side of a cobblestone road stood an assortment of shops.
Colorful umbrellas swayed in the sunlight, which spilled across the lane like a sea of blooms.
"Someone actually tried to break into Gringotts? Merlin's beard, who'd be crazy enough…"
"You're too young for Madam Primpenelle's beauty potions, dear."
"Two Galleons for a lacewing fly? That's robbery!"
People in wizarding robes bustled past, with a few Muggle-dressed individuals sprinkled among them. Children's excited shrieks rang through the crowd.
Even though he was mentally prepared, Ethan was still stunned by the magical scene before him.
"Wow—"
He gaped, eyes wide with wonder, as if trying to see everything at once.
"Heh, enjoy your new life, kid," Tom said with a rare grin.
Ethan came back to himself and said, "Thank you for your help, Mr. Tom."
"No need to be so formal."
Tom waved him off, but in truth, everyone appreciated polite, well-mannered children.
"My daughter, Hannah Abbott, is starting at Hogwarts this year too. You might run into her there. Good luck, kid."
Ethan nodded and watched Tom walk away.
Then, brimming with excitement, he stepped into Diagon Alley.
He had no vault at Gringotts, so he didn't need to make a detour.
His first stop, of course, was the place he looked forward to the most—Ollivander's Wand Shop.
Ding-a-ling.
When Ethan pushed open the dusty glass door, a sound echoed from somewhere in the back of the shop.
Before him were rows and rows of narrow rectangular boxes stacked high, almost like a library. The lively chatter of Diagon Alley was muffled here.
Even the floating dust particles carried a solemn air.
Ethan looked around with interest, enjoying the quiet and stillness of the place.
Suddenly—
Clatter clatter.
From deep inside the shop came the sound of wheels scraping against the floor.
An elderly man with snow-white hair stood on a ladder, his pale moon-like eyes staring straight at Ethan.
"Ohhh—"
Ethan smiled up at him.
Ollivander "ohhh"-ed for quite a while… but said nothing else.
An awkward silence fell over the shop.
Why?
Because Ethan had no wizarding relatives, and no one accompanying him!
Ollivander had no chance to show off his legendary memory or drop some mystic one-liner.
Even Muggle-borns were usually accompanied by professors or volunteer guides.
After all, Diagon Alley could be confusing—and a wrong turn might land someone in Knockturn Alley.
This rare situation reminded Ollivander of a dark-haired boy who had once stepped into the shop alone many decades ago, destined for a powerful yew wand...
"Ahem. Welcome to Ollivander's, young wizard," Ollivander finally said, recovering quickly. "Let's find the wand that suits you best—though of course, it is the wand that chooses the wizard."
"Which hand do you use?"
"My right," Ethan replied, stifling a laugh.
His drawing hand, naturally.
As a measuring tape began automatically taking his measurements, Ollivander shuffled between shelves.
"Calluses on the right hand. Do you use tools or write often...? Hmm. Try this: elm wood, thirteen and a half inches, unicorn hair. Excellent for elegant, powerful magic."
Ethan took the smooth, straight wand and gave it a wave.
Bang!
A vase shattered nearby.
"Oh no, no, not that one! Maybe... perhaps cedar. Loyal and perceptive wizards often find it their best match."
That one didn't work either.
Just as Ethan began to wonder if this would take all day—
Ollivander suddenly let out a soft "Aha!" and hurried over to one of the shelves to pull out a wand box.
"Yes, yes! I should've thought of this the moment I saw your hand."
"Hornbeam wood, dragon heartstring, fourteen inches."
It was a pale brown wand with faint horizontal grain marks.
Ethan took it, and the moment it touched his palm, he felt a warm current flow into his body, resonating with his own magic.
This was the one!
Excitement surged in Ethan's chest. Following his instinct, he raised the wand and gave it a sweeping motion through the air.
Whoosh—
A rich wave of blue pigment unfurled in the air, forming a moon and stars that slowly revolved in a magical night sky—mysterious and breathtaking.
Ollivander's eyes curved in admiration as he smiled and said warmly:
"Hornbeam chooses those with a pure passion and a devoted love for a craft."
"From the look of it, those calluses came from painting, didn't they?"
Ethan looked up at the painted sky with wide eyes, its deep blue tones reflecting in his own.
Only after the colors faded did he look back at Ollivander, who was smiling and extending his hand.
"Seven Galleons. Thank you for your business."
"…"
Ethan's coin pouch instantly deflated, snapping him back to harsh reality.
Damn it!!
Making money is now top priority!