chapter 83: shopping in diagon alley
"Brother, do us a favor," George whispered in Russell's ear. "Ron insisted on coming along. Mum and Percy went to buy new school robes, so this is our only chance to carry out our grand plan."
Russell glanced at Wednesday and blinked—this was their shared signal.
Wednesday blinked back. Agreement.
"Thanks, mate," Fred said, giving Russell a quick hug before he and George hurried off toward their destination.
"They want to go to the joke shop," Ron said quietly. "Their dream is to open one someday."
As he spoke, he carefully hid the cauldron behind his back, clearly hoping Russell wouldn't notice its worn, dusty condition.
"Come on, Ron," Russell said casually, pretending not to see anything. "We still have things to buy."
"Ron, we're heading to get wands first. Have you bought yours yet?"
"No…" Ron muttered, pulling his collar up slightly. "I'm using Charlie's old wand."
His voice was barely audible, his ears turning bright red.
An awkward silence followed—until Russell spotted an ice-cream stand.
"I suddenly feel like ice cream. How about you two?" he said, already buying three cones.
"That'll be five Knuts."
Instead of paying, Russell looked down at Ron.
"Well? Aren't you going to do the honors?"
Ron froze, then awkwardly reached into his pocket. Inside were six well-worn copper Knuts—his entire savings.
He hesitated, clearly reluctant, but remembering the pile of snacks Russell had brought the day before, he clenched his teeth and handed over five Knuts.
"Alright… I'll pay."
His eyes followed the coins until the vendor took them away.
Watching Ron lick his ice cream in a daze, looking utterly miserable, Wednesday frowned. She didn't quite understand why Russell was doing this—it felt a little like teasing a child.
Russell, already familiar with Diagon Alley, led them straight to Ollivanders.
"I—I'll wait outside," Ron said hesitantly. "If I'm not buying one, it feels weird going in."
What he didn't say was that he didn't want to watch Wednesday get a new wand and feel that sharp twist of envy.
That would be humiliating.
"Wait for what?" Russell laughed, giving Ron a light push. "Didn't you just buy me ice cream? This is me returning the favor. I'm buying you a wand."
Russell genuinely couldn't understand the Weasleys' logic. Clothes and textbooks could be second-hand, sure—but a wand?
A wand was a wizard's second life.
Using someone else's discarded wand wasn't just a matter of pride—the compatibility alone was a huge problem.
The fact that Ron had managed to complete his entire first year with a second-hand wand was, in Russell's eyes, proof enough of his talent.
"Y–you're giving it to me?"
Ron's eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open as if his brain hadn't quite caught up with reality. After a moment, he shook his head vigorously, struggle written all over his face.
"No, I can't accept this. It's too expensive. Thank you—but I really can't."
Look at that. Such a polite kid.
"Don't worry about it, Ron. Think of it as your enrollment gift—and your Christmas present too. Don't expect another one during the holidays," Russell said with a grin.
"As for your parents, I'll explain it to them."
"Do you really want to keep using a wand that doesn't suit you?"
Russell's words hit home. Ron's hesitation finally gave way to longing, and he nodded hard.
"Russell, you're amazing!"
A bright, heartfelt smile bloomed across his face.
"I'll follow you from now on—whatever you tell me to do, I'll do it!"
An unexpected bonus, Russell thought. He didn't refuse—just smiled back.
So this is how it works… suppress first, then reward—winning hearts and minds.
Wednesday nodded thoughtfully, committing the tactic to memory.
If Russell knew what she was thinking, he'd have cried injustice. He'd had no intention of "winning" a child's loyalty—he'd simply felt Ron deserved better.
"All right, let's go inside."
---
Ollivander wasn't bustling about in the back as usual. Instead, he sat behind the counter, peering through a magnifying glass at something unknown. Hearing the door, he looked up—and his eyes lit up.
"Mr. Fythorne! It's been quite some time," he said warmly.
"Laurel wood, unicorn hair, twelve and one-third inches—correct?"
At Russell's nod, Ollivander chuckled.
"That line of yours—'the Wizard also chooses his own wand'—left quite an impression on me."
"You're here to help these young witches and wizards choose their wands, I presume?"
Russell nodded and was about to introduce them when Ollivander raised a hand.
"Allow me to guess," he said, smiling with evident delight at the chance to show off his memory.
"Red hair—clearly a Weasley. Am I right?"
"Yes, sir," Ron replied nervously. "Ron Weasley."
"I remember your father's wand," Ollivander said fondly.
"Cedar wood, unicorn hair, thirteen inches. A fine wand—served him very well."
His gaze then shifted to Wednesday.
"Black hair… such a distinctive presence…"
He frowned slightly, genuinely puzzled.
"Child, what is your name?"
"Wednesday. Addams."
"Ah—an Addams," Ollivander murmured.
"I rarely do business with your family. You usually purchase your wands in Germany."
There was a hint of professional rivalry in his voice.
"Still," he added quickly, "I daresay my wands are superior. Miss Addams, you've made a wise choice."
"Mm. Who knows?"
Wednesday crossed her arms, entirely unimpressed.
Ollivander laughed awkwardly and hastily changed the subject.
"Let us take your measurements…"
---
"Hawthorn wood, unicorn hair, thirteen inches," Ollivander announced, nodding in satisfaction.
"Every Weasley wand has had a unicorn-hair core since my grandfather's time."
But when it came to Wednesday, even Ollivander hesitated.
Russell had already been a difficult customer—Wednesday was even worse.
"May I choose for myself?" she asked calmly, returning yet another unresponsive wand to its box.
Ollivander paused.
"…Yes. Yes, of course."
Ordinarily, he would never allow it.
But after Russell, he was curious.
Very curious indeed.