After leaving Ollivander's, Solim led Silna through the cobbled street to finish the rest of their shopping.
"Do you want to stop by the Eeylops Owl Emporium or go to the Magical Menagerie?" Solim asked, glancing down at his sister.
The Eeylops Owl Emporium, of course, sold only owls—Harry Potter had bought Hedwig there. The Magical Menagerie, on the other hand, offered all sorts of creatures. That was where Hermione Granger had once found Crookshanks.
"The Magical Menagerie," Silna decided. "We hardly ever use owls anyway."
The shop was just as Solim remembered—crowded, noisy, and alive with the sounds of hissing, barking, chirping, and croaking from every corner. The air was thick with the scent of straw and feed. Behind the counter stood a woman with large, black-rimmed glasses, busy feeding her animals breakfast while muttering cheerfully to herself.
Spotting customers so early in the morning, she brightened instantly.
"Looking for a pet, are you? You've come to the right place! We've got everything here!"
"Let's stick to something normal this time," Solim said, turning to Silna. "Cats, dogs—something like that, maybe?"
But Silna wasn't listening. Her gaze had gone distant, her brow furrowed as if she were trying to catch a sound.
"Silna?" Solim prompted.
"Huh?" She blinked and looked around. "Did you hear that just now?"
Solim frowned. "Hear what?"
She shook her head slowly. "I'm not sure. But I'm certain someone—or something—else was speaking just now. Not just us three."
A faint chill ran down Solim's spine. "What did you hear?"
"Wait… listen," she whispered.
The noise in the shop was nearly overwhelming—birds screeching, rats squeaking, cats yowling, the low croak of toads—but Silna seemed focused, her eyes darting toward the far wall.
"He said he's cold," she murmured suddenly.
"Cold?" Solim repeated, eyebrows rising. "An animal said that?"
He stared at her in disbelief, then took her by the hand and began weaving through the rows of cages. "Come on—show me where."
They stopped in front of a small glass tank near the back of the shop. Inside, coiled neatly on a flat stone, was a slender white snake.
The moment Silna approached, her expression changed. Her face went pale, her eyes widening with a mix of fear, shock, and wonder all at once.
"I… I can understand him," she whispered.
Solim stared at her, realization dawning. "You're a Parselmouth."
He couldn't believe it. A snake-speaker—his sister! Of all the things to discover before her first year at Hogwarts…
He leaned close and muttered, "Don't tell anyone about this, Silna. Not a word."
She shot him an unimpressed look. "Obviously."
Solim winced. Of course, she wouldn't know—it wasn't as though snakes often appeared around Selwyn Castle. No one could have guessed she had such a gift.
"You want this one, then?" Solim crouched to examine the snake more closely. It had gleaming green eyes and, to his surprise, a small pointed horn sprouting from its head.
"Oh, you've got an eye for fine creatures!" the shopkeeper exclaimed, suddenly appearing beside them. "That's a rare breed—a young Longhorn Water Serpent. See that little horn? When it matures, it'll grow larger, and the horn becomes quite valuable."
Both Solim and Silna knew exactly what she meant. Horns from adult Longhorn Water Serpents were used as powerful wand cores—rare and expensive.
"All right," Solim said, straightening. "We'll take it. You'd better take good care of it, Silna."
He turned toward another cage on a high shelf. "And that cat, too."
The shopkeeper hesitated, rubbing her hands. "Ah… that one?"
"Yes," Solim said. "Is something wrong with it?"
"She's… particular," the woman admitted. "A beautiful black cat, isn't she? But she's very picky about people. Others have tried to buy her, but she simply wouldn't go with them."
Solim smiled faintly. "Then let's see if she'll come with me."
The woman nodded. "Go ahead. If she likes you, she's yours. If not, no hard feelings. I've got others—see that ginger one over there? Lovely cat, very affectionate. Name's Crookshanks."
Solim followed her gesture and spotted the ginger cat with the squashed face and bushy tail. He barely suppressed a laugh. So that's Crookshanks. Hard to believe Hermione fell for that face.
Turning back to the sleek black cat, he noticed something striking: one eye gold, the other a deep emerald green.
He reached into the cage carefully, letting her sniff his fingers. The cat batted his hand with her paw, then laid it gently on the back of his own.
Solim chuckled. "Ha! The cat's paw has chosen me."
He scratched her chin, and she leaned forward, purring softly. "Do you want to come with me, then?" he murmured.
The shopkeeper smiled. "She likes you. You can name her yourself."
When they finally left the Magical Menagerie, Silna had a small white snake coiled loosely around her wrist, while the black cat perched comfortably in Solim's arms.
Silna named her snake Tris, and Solim's cat she dubbed Luna. Luna rode on his shoulder, surveying Diagon Alley with wide curiosity—it was her first glimpse of the world beyond her cage.
"Don't you feel ridiculous?" Solim muttered, giving his sister an exasperated look. "A snake on your wrist?"
Silna ignored him. She was too busy whispering softly in Parseltongue, the snake flicking its tongue in response.
"All right, fine," Solim sighed. "Next stop: clothes. Do you want to go to Twilfitt and Tatting's or Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions?"
Most wizards shopped at Madam Malkin's—affordable, reliable, and of decent quality. Twilfitt and Tatting's, however, catered to those who could afford something finer.
"I don't really know," Silna admitted. "You choose, brother."
Feeling the weight of his coin purse—already lighter than he liked—Solim decided to splurge a little. "Twilfitt and Tatting's it is."
The shop was elegant, the air scented with new fabric and charm polish. When they stepped out some time later, Silna was fitted with perfectly tailored school robes and a few finer outfits besides. Solim, however, looked heartbroken as he counted the coins left in his purse.
"Nearly wiped out," he muttered. "I've still got to buy your cauldron and potion ingredients. Merlin's beard…"
As they walked back toward the Leaky Cauldron, Silna finally spoke. "Brother, back in Ollivander's—why are the wands so cheap? The materials alone cost more than what he charges. He can't possibly be selling them at a loss, can he?"
Solim stroked Luna absently, the cat's purr rumbling against his hand, and began to explain.
"Wands are essential for every witch and wizard," he said. "But the materials that make them—cores, woods, enchantments—are all extremely expensive. If Ollivander charged the true cost, most families could never afford one."
He looked at Silna seriously. "Take dragon heartstrings, for example. To get one, you'd have to slay a dragon. Even the cheapest dragon dung sells for two Galleons a barrel. A heartstring? Worth far more."
"So how do ordinary families manage?" Silna asked.
"They don't," Solim said dryly. "Not without help. The Ministry of Magic set up a subsidy for first wands—Ollivander sells them at a lower price, and the Ministry reimburses him with materials instead of money. But that only applies to a person's first wand. The second one, you pay in full."
He gave her a knowing look. "That's why Ron Weasley used his brother's old wand, even when the unicorn hair was sticking out of it. Their family couldn't afford a new one."
Silna's brow furrowed. "So how much would a wand really cost?"
"Depends on the core," Solim said. "The simplest unicorn-hair wands go for seventy to eighty Galleons. The Minister of Magic earns about four hundred Galleons a month—so even for him, a good wand costs half a month's pay. A dragon-heartstring wand?" He gave a low whistle. "Anywhere between a hundred and twenty to two hundred and forty Galleons. Imagine expecting ordinary wizards to pay that."
Silna nodded slowly. "No wonder families pass wands down."
"Exactly," Solim said. "Most wait until their child's magic stabilizes before buying a new one. Otherwise, it's a waste. They use an old wand for the first few years—it's cheaper, and for many, it's the only option."
By the time they returned to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, Solim had counted his losses: four hundred and fifty Galleons gone in a single morning.
As he slumped into a chair, Luna curled up contentedly in his lap and Tris flicked her tongue at Silna's ear.
"Utterly reckless," Solim groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Completely, gloriously reckless."
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