"You'll love Hogwarts! You can see magical creatures there, like unicorns. And did you know that wizards can fly on real broomsticks? In your first year, Madam Hook will teach you how to ride a broomstick. Personally, I prefer flying carpets, but they're not available in Magical Britain...", Mr Cassian carried on talking without pausing as he led us through a network of caverns lit by torches.
Professor McGonagall did not walk alongside us. A few metres behind the two of us, she strode silently through the grotto, her blue eyes taking on a pensive expression.
"Mr Cassian, do you know why flying carpets have been banned in Britain?"
Cassian ran his fingers through his tousled hair.
"Heh, it's a bit of a complicated story..."
He cleared his throat as he led us along a dark corridor.
"During the Second Wizarding War, under the leadership of Gellert Grindelwald—one of the most feared Dark Lords of that era—Russia, Germany, Brazil, Norway, and other smaller wizarding societies joined forces to form an alliance called the Acolytes. Their goal was total domination over Muggles. Heh, they called it 'peaceful coexistence,' but in reality, Muggles were nothing more than animals that could be slaughtered at their whim."
He glanced at me, and seeing that I wasn't bored or frightened by his story, he continued his explanation, oblivious to the disapproving look Professor McGonagall was giving him.
Of course I wasn't going to point that out to him—the information he was sharing was far too interesting for that!
"Anyway, when the Acolytes' acts of terror became too much, an alliance was formed with Magical Britain, the Holy Empire of France, Italy, and M.A.C.U.S.A. Our British Ministry, in all its wisdom, issued an ultimatum to those damned Asians—of course, they hadn't consulted the alliance beforehand,... heh," Cassian muttered mockingly, which earned him another stern look from Professor McGonagall—a look he skillfully chose to ignore,…obliviously.
"The Asians—or rather, the Inquisitor: Tatsuya Ling, who represented, and still represents, the Magical Asian Community—was so enraged by the ultimatum that he decided, contrary to his previous decision to remain neutral, ...to ally himself with Gellert Grindelwald and helped subjugate the Muggles."
"Anyway, I've strayed from my previous explanation... After the Wizarding War, the Inquisitor, seeking revenge against the alliance, ordered that no goods originating from Asia be sold to the countries that had fought for Muggle rights. This included the Flying Carpet..."
In my mind, I went over the new information once more.
I still couldn't figure out why the British Ministry of Magic had issued an ultimatum in the first place. The Asian Society had made its position crystal clear: to remain neutral. Why take the risk of issuing an ultimatum? From Mr. Cassian's tone and choice of words, it sounded as though he thought the Ministry was idiotic...that they had acted impulsively, out of sheer stupidity.
I don't know how powerful and large Asian society is compared to the British society, but damn it, Asia is an entire continent! Surely its power is comparable to that of other major powers...
In the Harry Potter books, the Ministry of Magic in Great Britain also seemed incompetent—maybe this reflects to the reality?
Hmm, I can look into this further in the Hogwarts library...
"We're already here..." Mr. Cassian interrupted my thoughts.
We had arrived in a large hall. There were dozens of black marble fireplaces of various sizes. Some were large enough for a person to walk through without any trouble, and others were over 10 meters tall! All the fireplaces were burning with large, intense green flames that cast flickering shadows across the room. Standing by a medium-sized fireplace—about 5 meters tall—was a person who looked exactly like Mr. Cassian. He was gesticulating animatedly to a wizard with a slender build. The wizard possessed a large package with a volume of over around 20 cubic meters. The package was covered with a black cloth that concealed its contents.
After a brief moment, I remembered Mr. Cassian's inner gift. He had said that his inner gift gave him the ability to create clones of himself.
This was one of his clones!
I felt a strong urge to observe this clone with my magical vision in order to compare it to Mr. Cassian, who was standing to my left. Unfortunately, if I actively used my magical vision, my eyes would reveal their true form.
What a shame...
Wait, is Mr. Cassian even the original?
Could Mr. Cassian just be a clone, too?
Without waiting another moment, I turned to Mr. Cassian and asked, "Mr. Cassian, are you a clone?"
Mr. Cassian turned to me in surprise. My question was so abrupt that it made him raise his eyebrows. He scratched the back of his head, laughing, and replied, "Haha, actually, I am a clone—you figured it out pretty quickly..."
Intrigued, I took a closer look at him.
From the very beginning of my meeting, there had been no evidence to suggest that this entity was artificially or magically created. As I walked toward his desk with Professor McGonagall, he had fallen asleep at his desk. His reactions were completely normal and natural. The slight sense of awe and nostalgia Mr. Cassian felt when he recognized Professor McGonagall had been detected by my Legilimency. Does this mean that Mr. Cassian—a clone—has thoughts and feelings? Does a clone count as a living person?
Wait, wait..... As I made full use of my magical vision at the counter to examine the Faith-Particles more closely, I could observe the outline of a soul in both Mr. Cassian and Professor McGonagall.
Does that mean his inner gift literally creates life?
No, that can't be, can it?
The wizarding world was becoming more and more mysterious to me, and a slight shiver ran down my spine.
No, no, no, he must have been lying—the indirect creation of souls as a side effect of his Inner Gift? That can't absolutely be not possible...
I didn't let my inner turmoil show on my face and bombarded Mr. Cassian with more questions.
"Do you have thoughts/feelings? Can you communicate with the original? Have you ever tried to start a rebellion, like the French Revolution in 1789? If not, do you think that you have a free will? Are you alive? Do you think that you have a soul?"
"Uh, I'm not sure about the last two questions—"
"Mr. Noir," Professor McGonagall interrupted Mr. Cassian sternly. She raised her hand and counted to seven. "You have... asked seven questions regarding his Inner Gift. Seven," she repeated, looking deep into my eyes. "Even though you've only just learned about the wizarding world today and aren't familiar with our etiquette, such behavior is still very rude. Inner Gifts are considered strictly personal, and such matters are not—I repeat, not—to be discussed with people you've only just met!"
Perplexed, I looked into Professor McGonagall's eyes.
Yeah, maybe I went a little overboard... The way I asked those questions reminds me of Hermione Granger from the books. But curiosity is never a bad thing, no matter how strong it is. I would never apologize for that!
The expectant raise of Professor McGonagall's eyebrow made me quickly reconsider my decision. I turned to Mr. Cassian, who was silently watching Professor McGonagall.
"Please excuse my rude behavior, Mr. Cassian; I hope you'll forgive me for asking such inappropriate questions."
"Uh, no problem, Mr. Noir. I probably would have asked similar questions in my youth, though not quite so many... Well, you'll make an excellent Ravenclaw, no doubt about it," he replied.
Professor McGonagall sighed and agreed with him: "Indeed, indeed. Now let's finally Floo to Diagon Alley."
Mr. Cassian agreed with a wordless nod. He led us to a fireplace large enough to fit three people at once. The large green flame that filled the entire fireplace didn't feel hot to the touch. He then waved his wand and muttered a spell I didn't recognize. He turned to face us.
"The fireplace has been calibrated for Diagon Alley; you should be transported to a stop near Gringotts." Mr. Cassian extended his arm invitingly. "Goodbye, Professor McGonagall, Mr. Noir," he said, bowing slightly to Professor McGonagall and giving me a slight nod, which I returned.
Professor McGonagall said goodbye to Mr. Cassian and stepped into the green flames without hesitation. Before my eyes, I watched her back dissolve into ash until only the green flame of the fireplace remained visible.
Strange—in the books, the fireplace wasn't calibrated to a specific location; before entering, you'd name the destination, toss some "Floo Powder" into the fireplace, and then step into it.
Whatever.
"Goodbye, Mr. Cassian," I said, and stepped into the green flames without hesitation.
I raised my hand and examined it; green flames engulfed it, my arm, my legs—until nothing remained of me. I was shot upward like a rocket, with immense pressure exerted on my body from all sides. My eyes watered from the stream of magical particles moving at tremendous speed across my field of vision. A blurry green could barely be made out. To fight the nausea, I closed my eyes and reduced the visual overload. After about a full minute, the pressure subsided, and I was able to move my body again.
Suddenly, a great force pushed me forward, and I stumbled forward.
I stumbled forward and landed on my knees. The pain in both my knees as they slammed against the cobblestones lessened the rising urge to vomit. I braced myself on my knees and then stood up on my legs. After a brief moment, the nausea stabilized at an acceptable level, and I opened my eyes again.
In front of me stood a huge fireplace made of white marble. The fireplace was over twenty meters wide and about 10 meters high. Every few seconds, the fireplace flashed, and wizards and witches emerged from it. Some were accompanied by children my age. In contrast to my reaction to the Floo Network, most of the wizards stepped out smoothly, without falling to their knees.
Professor McGonagall stood a few meters away from me, smoothing out her green robes.
I walked silently over to stand beside her and surveyed the wizards and witches who were talking with others.
Professor McGonagall turned to me.
"Since I'm a little short on time, you'll go to Ollivanders on your own..., Ollivanders is the best wandmaker in Great Britain. While you're at Ollivanders, I'll go get your books and other supplies. We'll meet later at 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions' to pick up your robes."
She raised one eyebrow. "Any questions?"
I nodded. "Professor McGonagall? Where is Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions?"
"Oh, right... if you walk down the left street at the intersection leading out of Ollivanders, you'll reach the Diagon Alley fashion district. In the courtyard, you'll easily recognize Madam Malkin's shop. If you can't find your way, ask a wizard on the street."
"All right," I replied.
Professor McGonagall led me through narrow alleys and large pedestrian zones. Magical items were being sold on every corner. The concentration of magical particles even exceeded that of the previous cave. However, there were no magical creatures present—no giant flying bats covering the sky. The sky was cloudy and gray, which was not unusual for London.
My gaze was drawn to a group of teenagers who had gathered outside a Quidditch shop. An elegant broomstick was on display in the glass case.
"By the Great Mother, a Comet 260! If I had that, the Seeker from Slytherin would be a snake compared to me!"
"Heh, keep dreaming in the realm of Morpheus, and you'll stay there forever, you fool. A Comet 260 costs 135 Galleons—your father could never afford that."
Another one said, "And how many more times do I have to tell you, Thomas? The Nimbus is a thousand times better than the Comet 260, by Merlin's beard! When are you finally going to get it?!"
I followed their discussion with interest. Especially their references to figures like Merlin, or the Greek god Morpheus, or even the goddess of the Magical Society, who is addressed as the "Great Mother."
Their discussion was drowned out by the crowd...
I was standing with Professor McGonagall in front of a shop that read: Ollivanders — Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C
"Hm, 382 before Christ?"
It's strange that wizards don't have their own calendar. Why would they use Muggle units? Do Muggle-borns have that much influence on the wizarding world?
The shop was in poor condition, and dusty windows were set on either side of the doors. You could even see cobwebs on the display case, which made the wand shop look out of place in this era. Behind the dirty glass, you could see two wands being held aloft by cushions using telekinesis. Through my magical vision, I recognized a rune in the display case that was lifting the red cushion. Blue magical particles swirled around the red cushion.
Using my magical vision, I continued to examine the display case and observed the indigo-blue magical particles.
How does the rune even acquire magical particles? Or does a rune not need any magical particles at all to trigger an effect? Hmm, if so, would that mean a rune is merely symbolic of something? If my hypothesis is accurate, is the rune that makes the pillows float telekinetically some kind of anti-gravity rune or levitation rune?
"*Sigh*" It's a shame that Hogwarts doesn't offer the course: Study of Ancient Runes until third year.
"Mr. Noir, we'll meet at Madam Malkin's shop." Without waiting for my reply, she turned 180 degrees and left me standing alone in front of Ollivander's. Through my Legilimency—which could detect people's emotions when they were more intense than usual—I sensed a hint of impatience.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Professor McGonagall's receding figure, but she had already disappeared behind a crowd of people...
One last time, I focused my attention on the rune in the display case before tearing my gaze away from its magnetic pull, remembering the impatience I'd sensed in Professor McGonagall.
With a sigh, I walked toward the door of Ollivander's.
I raised my hand, intending to unleash my magical power to open the door telekinetically, now that I was finally in the wizarding world, free from the chains that had prevented me from casting spells freely. A reflection on my imminent actions made me pause.
As Professor McGonagall had recently pointed out to me, along with Mr. Cassian, I'm not familiar with the norms and etiquette of the wizarding world. Opening the door with my telekinesis could be interpreted by Ollivander as offensive or even as an attack on his shop. Maybe he even has protective shields that could react to such an "attack."
Better to open the door the boring way.
Somewhat annoyed, I opened the door.
A loud bell rang.
I stepped into the dusty wand shop, known for making the best wands in all of Great Britain.
Tall, dusty shelves surrounded me, filled with boxes that contained wands. Only the enchanted cupboards prevented the thousands of boxes from falling from the shelves.
The gentle, pleasant scent of magical ingredients wafted to my nose. Surprisingly, the counter was clean—not a speck of dust to be found.
A smoky voice called: "Wait a moment...I'll be right there!"
Heavy footsteps came from the back of the shop.
Out came Garrick Ollivander.
Brown, messy hair stuck up from his head. He wore a brown coat with a loose tie. Intelligent grey eyes peeked out from beneath his tousled hair. His surprisingly youthful appearance made my blue eyes widen slightly. In the books, Garrick Ollivander was described as an old man with gray hair, not unlike Albert Einstein.
Garrick Ollivander looked as if he had just gotten up.
His eyebrows shot up.
"Well, well, if that isn't a Black."
My eyebrows shot up in surprise, but I immediately let my facial expression show confusion.
He cleared his throat briefly: "Good afternoon, Mr. Black, may Mother Magic bless you. What can I do for you?"
"Good afternoon, Mister Ollivander. I think you've confused me with someone else. I'm a Muggle-born. "My name is Kiran; I only recently learned about the wizarding world," I said, trying to clear up the misunderstanding, and deliberately left out my last name: Noir.
"Really?" Ollivander scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Then I must have been mistaken. Well, Mr. Kiran, what can I do for you?"
"I would like to have a wand" I answered.
"Oh, yes, of course, of course—wait a moment," he replied absentmindedly.
He scratched his scalp while waving his wand. Over his shoulder he asked me, "Which is your wand hand?"
"My left," I answered.
Out of nowhere a measuring tape and a papyrus roll with a pen materialized and hovered in the air. The tape measured my hand and performed all kinds of measurements. The width and length of my fingers. The size of my forearm. The length from my shoulder to my hand. Meanwhile the pen wrote my measurements on the papyrus roll, producing a faint scratching sound.
My attention returned to the counter where Garrick Ollivander stood.
He waved his wand and the papyrus with my measurements appeared. Ollivander grabbed a quill at the edge of the counter and wrote out several equations.
I studied the equations with interest.
"If I may ask, Master Ollivander, what is the purpose of these equations?"
Without looking up he answered, "Through Arithmancy you can minimize the wand-finding process. Technically speaking, you could call this Divination."
Divination? Because my body is a certain size, you can use arithmetic calculations and equations to derive information. What does my body have to do with my future wand? Does a wand have certain preferences regarding the build of its future owner? Or is it something else entirely?
Strange, but so interesting.
"That is why I took those measurements," he added.
For a few seconds he wrote formulas quickly...
"Well, well—shall we begin?"
He waved his wand and silver magical particles formed around him.
A bright wand appeared in his hand. "Yew, 25.5 cm, rigid, with a core of dragon heartstring."
My eyes scanned the wand and immediately noticed a discrepancy in the magical flow. Before my hand could touch the wand, Ollivander snatched it out of my reach.
"No, no! That is certainly not it," he said almost panicked.
"Try this one."
He handed me a dark wand, about 26 cm long.
Again I noticed a discrepancy in the wand's magical signature. When I touched it, it vibrated and recoiled like a frightened, unworthy creature.
This procedure repeated a few more times.
Finally, he pulled out the wand...
"Dawncedar, 34.25 cm, quite rigid, with a Thestral tail hair core."
Dark wood like night stretched along the wand. The higher toward the tip, the lighter it became, until it reached a bright white. Before my hand reached the wand, my magic already quivered with excitement.
Golden waves, visible only to me, streamed from me and unknowingly strengthened the gravity around me. Just before it reached my palm, it flew from Garrick Ollivander's hand to mine.
Magic poured from every part of my body. The golden waves streaming out of me intensified and made my surroundings vibrate.
My attention, however, was fixed on the wand.
It practically throbbed with excitement and magical power. A rare smile appeared on my otherwise expressionless face.
"Well, well, Mr. Kiran—it appears you have found your partner. This particular wand is characteristic for witches and wizards who often bring new insights into the magical world or bring about change."
"On the other hand, the core..."
A short pause.
"Thestral tail hair is normally very difficult to tame and leads to bipolar wands. In your case, however,...it seems that this wand with a Thestral tail hair is working..."
I absorbed the information but my focus remained on my new wand.
"Well, Mr. Kiran, I hope you are not dissatisfied with your counterpart... although I cannot imagine being disappointed with this specimen."
I came out of my trance.
"Thank you very much, Mister Ollivander. How much do I owe you?"
"Oh, nothing at all. Didn't you know that for Muggle-born students who attend Hogwarts, the school supplies are paid for by the school board governors?"
"Oh"
"Thank you very much for the wand, Mr. Ollivander. Have a nice day," I said as I took my leave.
"You too—may Lady Magic bless you," he replied, with an additional religious farewell.
I turned, wand in hand, and headed for the exit.
A smoky voice made me pause.
"Give my regards to Professor McGonagall, Mr. Kiran."
I turned around.
"I will, Mister Ollivander...have a good day."
Finally I turned toward the entrance.I opened the door and stepped out.
The usual loud, magic-humming Diagon Alley greeted me.
[Word Count: 3526]