Diagon Alley bustled with noise and movement as witches and wizards crowded the narrow cobbled streets. Owls screeched overhead while shopkeepers called from brightly coloured storefronts overflowing with magical goods.
With a soft crack, Vinda Rosier Apparated into a quiet corner of the alley beside Lucien and Draco.
The instant Lucien's feet touched the ground, the familiar system notification appeared in his mind.
[Congratulations to the host for entering Diagon Alley.]
[Achievement Unlocked: Exploring Diagon Alley.]
[Achievement Points Awarded: 100.]
Lucien's mood improved instantly.
Before he could fully appreciate the free points, however, a miserable groaning sound came from beside him.
"Ugh…"
Draco had collapsed against a nearby wall with a pale face.
Lucien stared at him strangely.
"Don't tell me this was your first Apparition."
Draco instantly tried standing up in protest.
"Of course not—"
Then he bent over and nearly vomited again.
Lucien silently stepped backward.
It took Draco nearly three full minutes to recover enough to stand properly again.
"This is why children normally use Floo Powder," Lucien commented calmly.
Draco wiped his mouth with obvious embarrassment.
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I said I'm fine!"
Lucien merely chuckled and chose not to continue humiliating him further.
Just as the two prepared to head deeper into Diagon Alley, Lucien suddenly noticed several suspicious figures watching them discreetly from nearby corners.
Their disguises were poor.
Far too stiff.
Far too cautious.
Aurors?
Or perhaps spies sent by influential pure-blood families?
Lucien glanced quietly toward Vinda.
She gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Clearly, she had already noticed them as well.
"Lucien," Vinda said calmly, subtly slipping her wand from her sleeve, "you and Draco should purchase your Hogwarts supplies first."
"I have something to deal with."
Lucien immediately understood.
"Very well, Aunt Vinda."
He smiled faintly.
"Draco and I will meet up with you once we're finished."
Then he turned toward the blond boy beside him.
"Let's start with Ollivanders."
Draco immediately brightened again.
Together, they walked through the busy alley until an old, narrow storefront came into view.
The faded sign above the door read:
OLLIVANDERSMakers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.
The shop looked ancient.
Dusty wand boxes filled nearly every corner from floor to ceiling, leaving barely enough room to walk. The dim lighting and crowded shelves created an oddly oppressive atmosphere.
Yet despite the appearance, this place remained one of the greatest wand shops in Europe.
Countless legendary witches and wizards had received their wands here.
The moment the two stepped inside, a voice echoed from somewhere among the towering boxes.
"Oh my… two young wizards."
An elderly man with white hair slowly emerged from the shadows wearing loose brown robes. His pale eyes gleamed unnaturally beneath the dim candlelight.
"Welcome to Ollivanders."
"Hello, Mr. Ollivander."
Lucien greeted him politely.
Regardless of personality, someone capable of becoming the wizarding world's greatest wandmaker deserved respect.
"Come in, come in."
Ollivander waved them closer enthusiastically.
The old wandmaker's eyes immediately landed on Draco.
"Platinum blond hair… aristocratic posture…" His expression brightened slightly. "A Malfoy child."
"I still remember your father purchasing his wand." Ollivander spoke almost dreamily. "Elm wood. Dragon heartstring. Quite a refined combination."
He smiled faintly.
"And now his son is preparing for Hogwarts as well."
Draco looked visibly pleased by the recognition.
Meanwhile, Ollivander's gaze shifted slowly toward Lucien.
A trace of confusion appeared in his eyes.
"Interesting…"
He studied Lucien carefully.
"Golden hair. Blue eyes. Noble bearing…" Ollivander frowned thoughtfully. "Yet I don't recall any British pure-blood family matching that description."
His pale eyes narrowed.
"And you are…?"
"Lucien is fine."
Seeing Lucien avoid directly answering, Ollivander did not press further.
Instead, he moved directly to business.
"Very well, Lucien. Which hand is your wand hand?"
"Actually, Mr. Ollivander, there's no need."
Lucien calmly drew his wand from inside his coat and presented it lightly.
"I already possess one."
The instant the wand appeared—
Ollivander practically lunged forward.
"My goodness…"
The old wandmaker grabbed the wand with trembling excitement as though he had just discovered priceless treasure.
"Elder wood…"
His voice grew increasingly shocked.
"And this core…"
Ollivander's fingers trembled visibly.
"I've never encountered anything like it before."
Lucien smiled faintly.
"Qilin nerve."
"A magical creature from the East."
"Qilin…"
Ollivander looked stunned.
His expression immediately changed.
The last confirmed appearance of a Qilin had occurred during the legendary duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald decades earlier. Since then, the magical creature had practically vanished from public knowledge.
Anyone capable of obtaining Qilin material for wandmaking was unquestionably extraordinary.
Ollivander looked at Lucien again.
Then suddenly asked—
"Are you related to the Dumbledore family?"
Lucien's smile instantly froze.
If years of aristocratic training had not refined his self-control, he might have snatched the wand back on the spot.
What kind of absurd eyesight was this?
How exactly did he resemble Dumbledore?
The very thought felt offensive.
In truth, Lucien obtained the wand through coincidence.
Two years earlier, while exploring Grindelwald's private collection, he discovered preserved Qilin materials originally gathered for magical research. Naturally, Lucien immediately claimed the opportunity for himself.
Taking a slow breath, Lucien forced his expression back into calm politeness.
"Mr. Ollivander," he said smoothly, "allow me to introduce myself properly."
"My name is Lucien."
A brief pause followed.
"Lucien Grindelwald."
Ollivander's eyes widened instantly.
As someone who personally lived through Grindelwald's rise across Europe, he understood perfectly what that surname represented.
For several seconds, the old wandmaker simply stared silently.
The atmosphere became strangely awkward.
Fortunately, Draco unintentionally broke the silence.
"Mr. Ollivander," he interrupted awkwardly, "could you help me choose my wand first?"
Ollivander blinked rapidly before finally recovering.
"Yes, yes, of course."
He hurriedly grabbed a measuring tape and approached Draco.
"Now then… right-handed?"
"Right hand."
"Excellent."
Ollivander immediately began digging through towering wand boxes.
"Try this. Nine and a half inches. Redwood. Dragon heartstring. Quite similar to your father's."
Draco eagerly waved the wand.
BOOM.
A nearby display exploded instantly.
Glass shattered everywhere.
Draco grimaced.
"…Probably not that one."
"Indeed."
Ollivander smoothly retrieved the wand without concern.
"Interesting. You differ more from your father than expected."
He searched again before producing another box.
"Try this one. Ten inches. Hawthorn wood. Unicorn hair core."
Draco waved it experimentally.
This time, the broken display window instantly repaired itself.
The wand practically hummed in his hand.
Draco's eyes lit up immediately.
"This one!"
He gripped the wand tightly like a child receiving the greatest toy imaginable.
Ollivander smiled knowingly.
"Excellent choice."
"Seven Galleons."
…
After leaving Ollivanders, Lucien quietly smacked his lips in disappointment.
He never got to hear Ollivander's classic line about "the wand choosing the wizard" in full dramatic fashion.
Honestly, that felt mildly disappointing.
But Draco refused to give him time to dwell on it.
The blond boy immediately grabbed Lucien's sleeve and dragged him further down Diagon Alley.
"Next is Madam Malkin's for school robes," Draco announced enthusiastically. "Then we should visit Twilfitt and Tatting's afterward for proper formal robes."
His expression became slightly disdainful.
"Honestly, Madam Malkin's quality isn't even that good. If Hogwarts didn't insist on accommodating Muggle-born students, I wouldn't normally—"
Before he could finish complaining, they arrived outside Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
The shop was crowded with first-year students and anxious parents.
The moment they entered, a cheerful voice greeted them.
"Hogwarts first-years?"
A short, plump witch dressed in purple robes smiled warmly at them from behind the counter.
Lucien nodded politely.
"Yes, Madam Malkin. We'll need standard Hogwarts robes."
"Of course, dear."
Madam Malkin quickly measured both boys before pulling several unfinished robes from nearby racks. Needles and scissors immediately sprang to life under her wand's control, rapidly adjusting the fabric.
Lucien glanced around the crowded shop.
"At this pace," he muttered quietly, "we may be here awhile."
He was already considering leaving temporarily to purchase books and cauldrons first—
When suddenly—
Jingle.
The shop bell rang.
The door slowly opened.
A thin black-haired boy stepped hesitantly inside.
His oversized clothes hung awkwardly from his frame, and his expression carried unmistakable nervousness. He looked almost afraid to meet anyone's eyes.
Behind him stood an enormous bearded giant who practically filled the doorway.
Lucien's eyes narrowed instantly.
Messy black hair.
Nervous green eyes.
And Hagrid standing behind him.
Could it be…?