"If you master Transfiguration, your wand can become your paintbrush," Ollivander had added, "a brush that feels perfectly natural in your hand."
"Of course," he'd smiled, "it's still the wand that chooses the wizard."
After leaving the wand shop, Ethan stood on the busy street, gently stroking the hornbeam wand in his hand.
It shimmered faintly in the sunlight, and its horizontal grain glowed with golden warmth—dignified and proper.
It looked like the kind of wand a truly good wizard would use.
A perfect match for him.
Ethan nodded in satisfaction and tucked the wand away.
Next, he set out to buy the rest of his school supplies.
Following the map, he soon located a place called the Second-Hand Shop.
According to the floating notes beside the map, the shop sold all kinds of used goods—old books, shaky old scales, and cauldrons with chipped paint.
Right next to it was a second-hand robe store—convenient for picking everything up at once.
The shop was located on the southern side of Diagon Alley, so Ethan strolled in that direction at a leisurely pace.
The warm sunlight bathed his face, making his fair and delicate features seem even more striking. Along the way, he drew an impressive number of glances.
What a charming boy~
On the same southern side was the office of The Daily Prophet.
Well-dressed witches and wizards hurried in and out, many accompanied by floating notepads that scribbled endlessly. The atmosphere was fast-paced and hectic.
Ethan's gaze swept over the scene casually—until he suddenly froze.
By the front steps of The Daily Prophet stood a slender girl.
In truth, she was hard not to notice.
She had long, pale-gold curls and wore enormous radish earrings.
Her clothes were so bright and mismatched they bordered on absurd, and she wore pointed shoes shaped like boats. In her arms, she held a stack of magazines.
She stood quietly, her beautiful and delicate face carrying an absent expression.
People passed by her without truly seeing her, as though she were a ghost from some other world.
—Luna?! When did she get here?!
Seeing a familiar character from the original story, Ethan couldn't help but walk up.
He was just about to greet her when he caught sight of the small tuft of hair tied at the top of her head and blurted out:
"Why is your head so pointy?"
Luna turned her head serenely, her dreamy gray-blue eyes landing on him. A faint, drifting smile rose on her lips.
"Then let me ask you something."
"Do you know about the recent break-in at Gringotts? Technically, nothing was stolen."
Ethan blinked back to focus.
He didn't know why she'd brought this up, but he played along. "Yes, I've read about it."
In his memory, it had been Voldemort attempting to steal the Philosopher's Stone from vault 713 to restore his body.
But he failed, because Hagrid had removed the Stone just before the break-in.
"Actually…"
Luna suddenly leaned in close, her wide gray-blue eyes staring into his like Ollivander's had earlier.
With a tone of complete mystery, she whispered:
"It was the goblins."
What?
Ethan raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Luna continued, "They were just holding their seventy-seventh grand gathering. They tunneled in from underground—that's why Gringotts didn't detect them."
She stared at Ethan without blinking, her ethereal voice making the absurdity of her claim all the more intense.
Ethan paused, then asked with interest, "So what do they do at these goblin gatherings?"
"Obviously, they're trying to resurrect their master," Luna replied, completely serious.
"The goblin ruler was defeated by humans long ago. Now, they're trying every method they can to bring him back, to restore the goblin empire."
"See?" She pointed at the tuft on her head. "This is goblin tribal code. It means 'Your plan has failed! Leave at once!'"
…Why did this sound suspiciously like a goblin version of the Voldemort resurrection plot?
Ethan steadied himself.
Looking at Luna's earnest expression, he replied sincerely, "I think you're absolutely right."
"It's a pity that when real danger finally arrives, most people will just say, 'Maybe we should have done something back then—but now it's too late.'"
A cynical glint flashed through Ethan's eyes.
That kind of apathetic attitude made his blood boil. He wanted nothing more than to make them truly regret what they failed to do.
Across from him, Luna blinked in surprise at his words.
He wasn't just humoring her.
This boy she had never met before actually believed she was right.
She tilted her head, studying Ethan carefully. Her gaze didn't pause on his thin, worn clothes—in fact, it never even glanced at them.
Instead, she stared straight into his cobalt-blue eyes.
They were calm and composed, like two dazzling, cold gems.
But deep within them burned a fierce fire, a life force that refused to yield, and a strength that would fight to the very end.
Luna's eyes curved in delight, and she broke into a joyful, fawn-like smile. Her whole face lit up with life.
She felt certain—she and Ethan could become good friends.
"My name is Luna Lovegood. I'll be going to Hogwarts next year. I'm here promoting my family's magazine, The Quibbler," she said cheerfully, holding out her hand to Ethan and showing him the stack of magazines in her arms.
The cover featured twisted, grotesque goblin faces from Gringotts and equally hideous goblin leaders, looking like they were locked in a "who's uglier" competition.
Promoting The Quibbler right in front of The Daily Prophet's office?
That was bold. Very bold.
"I'm Ethan Vincent," he replied easily, shaking her hand with a smile. "I'm starting at Hogwarts this year—and I love to paint."
Before they knew it, the two were walking side by side.
Luna bounced happily along beside him as they made their way to the second-hand shop, chattering excitedly while helping him browse.
"Hey, this scale must measure the truthful weight of things—because when I put The Daily Prophet on it, it said zero."
As she said this, Luna turned her head—only to see Ethan frozen in front of a shelf.
What caught his eye was a box of paints.
They hadn't been stored properly. Most of the paint had dried out, the colors congealed and messy, stuck to the insides of the box.
They certainly couldn't be used to paint at full potential.
But then again—
The price was quite low.
Just 9 silver Sickles and 21 bronze Knuts.
Ethan bit his lip and ran his fingers through his coin pouch.
He longed to bring color to his world of black and white sketches. Nine Sickles wasn't much. Even if the quality wasn't great, he needed paint…
But then again, he'd need the right kind of paper to go with it… which meant more money…
Ethan hesitated, doing mental math with his scholarship funds, wishing he could split every coin in half just to stretch it farther.
Just as he resolved to reach out and grab the box—determined to buy it—
Luna suddenly spoke up.
"Do you want paint? How about doing illustrations for The Quibbler? We can provide you with paint."
"Oh, and paper too—if you need that."
!!
Ethan spun around to find Luna's clear, sparkling eyes gazing earnestly into his.