Wand of Destiny
After discussing the financial issue, Professor McGonagall escorted Levin to a nearby alley. St. Lerke's Orphanage was situated in an isolated area, devoid of any human presence near the alley. Levin suddenly sensed something amiss.
Then, Professor McGonagall spoke, "Mr. Levin, to save time, we'll need to use magic to reach our destination. It might not be comfortable, so please bear with it."
"Alright," Levin responded, already anticipating what was to come.
"Then, please take my hand... Disapparate!"
Levin experienced an unsettling sensation throughout his body as if he were being crammed into the drum of a washing machine and spun dry. A second felt like an eternity.
When Levin's feet touched the ground again, his legs nearly gave out, and he stumbled. His stomach churned, threatening to expel the poor-quality breakfast bread he had consumed earlier.
Professor McGonagall patted Levin on the back and offered him a chocolate frog.
"Apologies, Mr. Levin. How are you feeling? With many new students to receive these days, I'm compelled to resort to this mode of travel. Have a bite; it'll help settle your stomach," she suggested.
"No... I'm fine, Professor McGonagall, really."
Levin popped the cold chocolate frog into his mouth. Sensing the frog's legs wriggling and the sweet chill, it immediately eclipsed all the subpar desserts he had endured over the past eleven years. Indeed, even if just for the cuisine, Hogwarts was worth the journey.
[You experienced Apparition firsthand, feeling discomfort from the mode of travel, thus understanding the spell [Dimensional Anchor]].
[Space Anchor]: This spell temporarily restrains space to thwart others from utilizing spatial movement spells.
Why was it that Levin comprehended not Apparition, but the Dimensional Anchor? Regret washed over Levin. Had his initial reaction been enjoyment instead of nausea, perhaps he would have mastered this remarkable mode of movement by now? Yet, the dimensional anchor, capable of restraining all spatial movement, seemed more useful than an anti-apparition array that only targeted [Apparition].
Raising his gaze, Levin spotted a modest facade ahead, roughly one-third the size of the orphanage's door. To the uninitiated, it resembled the entrance to a public restroom.
On either side of the facade stands a bookstore and a record store. Compared to its vibrant, neon-lit neighbors, the sign here is distinctly retro—a simple wooden board adorned with a picture of a bubbling cauldron, enticing Levin with its peculiar charm. Despite its eccentricity, none of the passersby spare it a glance.
"So, this is our stop, the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Street," Professor McGonagall explained. "This place is under a Muggle repulsion charm, rendering it invisible to them."
With a swift motion, she pushed open the door and ushered Levin inside. The interior was dimly lit, with oil lamps casting a faint glow. Levin imagined that with a bit more light, the place would resemble a bustling nightclub. Unfortunately, the wizarding world still relied on antiquated methods.
Despite its reputation, the establishment appeared rather unkempt and disorderly. Long, square, and round wooden tables dotted the space, occupied by peculiar-looking wizards engaged in lively conversation, perfectly suited to the ambiance of a pub.
Upon spotting newcomers, many greeted Professor McGonagall warmly. The bald-headed proprietor behind the bar, Tom Abbott, set down his glass and greeted them, "Ah, Professor McGonagall, it's been a while. Are you here for this year's new students?"
Professor McGonagall nodded, "Indeed, Tom. This young wizard here is of Muggle descent. I'm taking him to Diagon Alley for supplies."
"Welcome, young lad," Tom greeted Levin warmly. "You're quite the fine fellow. By the way, my granddaughter will be starting Hogwarts this year too. You two might just become classmates."
Levin sensed his passive ability [Charm Humans] subtly influencing the conversation.
"Hello, Mr. Tom, I'm Levin Green."
After a brief exchange, Professor McGonagall led Levin out through the back door of the Leaky Cauldron. Before they lay what appeared to be a dead end, with a trash can leaning against the wall.
Approaching the wall, Professor McGonagall instructed, "Remember how to open it." She demonstrated, "Start from the trash can, count three bricks upward, then two horizontally. Tap it with your wand."
In an instant, the seemingly solid brick wall began to transform. The bricks shifted and rearranged, revealing an arched passageway. A winding cobblestone street stretched out before them, lined with shops selling various wares—pots, pets, herbs, books, and broomsticks. Wizards in assorted attire bustled in and out of the shops, while owls soared overhead. This was Diagon Alley, the gateway to the magical world!
Levin stood in awe of the bustling scene before him, finding it even more thrilling than in the movies.
Professor McGonagall offered a slight smile. "Alright, Levin, there's plenty more to amaze you in the days ahead. But for now, let's head to Gringotts first. You've got quite a shopping list..."
Taking Levin by the hand, Professor McGonagall led the way. After a five-minute stroll, they arrived at a junction, where Professor McGonagall finally came to a halt. Across the junction stood Gringotts, a three-story white building.
This towering stone edifice stood out among the ordinary wooden structures, exuding a majestic aura from afar. However, upon closer inspection, Levin noticed that the white marble columns flanking Gringotts were oddly slanted!
Not only were they crooked, but each pillar seemed to lean in its own unique direction, defying any semblance of alignment. For Levin, a man grounded in science and engineering with a touch of mild OCD, this sight was disheartening. He silently vowed that if given the chance, he'd set them straight.
At either side of Gringotts' bronze gate stood elf guards donned in red uniforms with gold accents. Though diminutive in stature, their haughty demeanor irked Levin slightly. Ignoring the bothersome guards, the duo made their way inside, where they were met with a white and silver door adorned with bold engravings:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn,
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
"How do you feel about this?" Professor McGonagall asked Levin, catching his eye at just the right moment.
Rather than expressing awe or offering the typical responses of an ordinary young wizard, Levin responded with a disdainful snort.
"All I see are their greedy gazes and their greedy intentions," he remarked coldly.
Professor McGonagall was taken aback by his words. It took her a moment before she nodded slowly. "You... you're right."
At that moment, she realized that the child near her was not only more mature than she had presumed but also sharper than she had imagined.
She understood all too well: Goblins were skilled craftsmen, yet their mindset was driven by greed and possessiveness. They believed that anything they crafted belonged solely to them, and any payments made to them were merely rent. Even the legendary Gryffindor's sword fell under this claim.
This perspective has led to numerous conflicts and even wars between goblins and wizards. However, each time, the goblins were defeated, forcing them to adhere to wizarding laws despite their reluctance.
At the elevated counters flanking the hall, she swiftly processed Levin's loan. The goblins, in an ostentatious display of superiority, designed the counters to be higher than necessary, towering even above everyone.
Consequently, the chairs behind the counters were equally lofty. They would likely need a small ladder just to navigate them.
"Alright, Levin, your loan's sorted," McGonagall said, guiding Levin away from the bothersome setting. "Next up on the agenda: getting yourself a wand."
Under Professor McGonagall's guidance, Levin entered a shop. The door of the shop was old and narrow, with a faded purple cushion and a wand displayed in the window. Above the door hung a peeling gold sign that read: "Ollivanders - Crafting Fine Wands Since 382 BC."
Levin couldn't help but doubt the authenticity of such a claim. If it were true, their family had been making wands since ancient times, long before many historical events.
Upon entering, a copper bell rang with a crisp sound. The interior of the shop was small, with only a counter and a bench. Shelves lined the walls, filled with thousands of narrow cardboard boxes containing wands stacked to the ceiling.
Despite being the beginning of the school season, the shop was quiet, with no other customers present.
As Levin stepped in, he couldn't help but inhale softly. Despite the convenience of cleaning spells, the dusty atmosphere of the shop was difficult for him to accept.
"Good morning, Ms. McGonagall. 9½ inches, crafted from fir wood, with a dragon heartstring core. It is particularly well-suited for Transfiguration magic. Is this this year's young wizard?" a soft voice greeted.
An old man emerged from behind the counter, his large light-colored eyes filled with delight as he looked at Levin.
"Nice to meet you, kid. I'm Garrick Ollivander," the elderly man greeted Levin as they entered the store.
Levin couldn't help but wonder about Ollivander's claim of being the "Great Staff Master of Great Britain."
"Okay, let's get straight to picking out the wand. Hold out your hand," Ollivander instructed, as a ruler magically measured Levin's physical attributes.
"Right hand," Levin replied, extending his dominant hand. He soon continued measuring Levin's arm span and height.
After the measurements, Ollivander selected a wand and handed it to Levin for testing. "Eleven and a quarter inches, made of alder and snake nerve. An alder wand suits wizards who are helpful, considerate, and likable. Give it a try."
Levin waved the wand, causing it to produce a burst of fire. He couldn't help but wonder if Ollivander perceived him as a particularly amiable wizard.
Satisfied with the outcome, Ollivander prepared to conclude the selection process, but Levin hesitated. "Wait, can I try another one? I don't think this one suits me."
Ollivander, taken aback by the request, agreed to let Levin try another wand. "If you insist, perhaps this twelve-inch wand made of applewood with a phoenix tail feather core will be more suitable. It's powerful, but not meant for dark magic..."
Before Levin could even test it, Ollivander snatched the wand away, shaking his head. "No, not this one," he muttered, giving Levin an odd look.
Confused by Ollivander's reaction, Levin wondered if the wandmaker was implying he would be a dark wizard.
"What about this one? Cedarwood, phoenix tail feather..." Ollivander suggested, offering another option for Levin to try.
In Ollivander's, wands can only have three cores: phoenix feathers, unicorn hair, and dragon heartstrings.
However, wands produced by other wand manufacturers may have different cores. For instance, Fleur's wand core is Veela hair (her grandmother's hair), while wands in the United States often feature cores such as thunderbird tail feathers, cat leopard hair, White River Monster back spines, wetland werewolf hair, and other materials from the wider Americas.
Ollivander asked Levin to try one wand after another, selecting ones capable of casting powerful spells and even black magic. Yet, Levin found success with each wand, achieving a perfect match despite their diverse capabilities.
However, Ollivander, initially pleased, began to sweat as Levin effortlessly connected with every wand, indicating that the perfect match had not yet been found.
"Mr. Green, I've never encountered a wizard like you, always able to make any wand work," Ollivander remarked. "The good news is, when needed, you can easily borrow other people's wands without worrying about running out of magical spells."
After much consideration, Ollivander returned from the back hall with a box wrapped in silky satin.
Levin was content with his adaptability, seeing it as a testament to his talent.
"There's a saying in life: when you click with someone effortlessly, it's likely because their EQ and IQ surpass yours," Levin reflected. "Similarly, being able to adapt to any wand suggests my talent can overcome their limitations."
"Try this wand, eleven inches, acacia wood, phoenix feathers," Ollivander suggested, presenting a wand with a golden-red luster.
As Levin held the wand, he felt a unique connection. The wand seemed to meld with his essence, responding effortlessly to his thoughts.
"Seems like you two are a perfect match!" Ollivander exclaimed with genuine joy. "Acacia wood is rare and selective, but it only reveals its true power to the most talented, and Mr. Green, you're undoubtedly one of them."
After purchasing the wand for ten gold galleons, Levin and Professor McGonagall left the shop, both satisfied with the outcome.
"Alright, time to get your school uniform customized," Professor McGonagall declared, leading Levin to their next destination.