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Chapter 20 – The Wand Chooses the Shareholder
Paggie wiped her tears, still sniffling dramatically.
Outside the vault, Pullring, the goblin, stood frozen in horrified silence.
He honestly wished the ground would open up so he could crawl under the trolley and die there.
Kindness? Poverty?
Yes, he knew those words. But why did they sound so revolting coming from those two?
Inside the vault, the boy and the house-elf were being painfully sentimental again. Pullring clenched his teeth. His whole body twitched with secondhand embarrassment.
"Are you done yet?" he finally snapped. "We have other customers waiting!"
He was seconds away from vomiting up his lunch. If he had to hear the words "poor" and "kind" one more time, he might start biting people.
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Darren finally followed Paggie's advice and withdrew ten thousand gold galleons, thirty thousand silver sickles, and an armful of bronze knuts from the vault.
He even spent one galleon on a magically expanded money pouch.
Then, under Pullring's death glare, he hurriedly dragged Paggie out of Gringotts before she could announce to the entire bank how "saintly" he was.
He practically fled into the sunlight with his face burning.
So much for a low-profile reputation. He just wanted people to think of him as a kind, humble young wizard—
Not the Messiah of Gringotts, for Merlin's sake!
Apparently, he'd set Paggie's "admiration level" too high, because she'd become a one-elf Potter propaganda machine.
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"Okay, Paggie," Darren interrupted quickly before she could tell a passing wizard about his 'heroic heart.'
"We're buying a wand. Now."
"Of course, Little Master Darren!" Paggie chirped, cheerfully carrying the money bag that was half her height. "Paggie is happy to serve!"
"Yes, yes," Darren muttered. "I know."
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Ollivanders Wand Shop
Established 382 B.C.
The only wand shop in Diagon Alley.
The most famous in Europe.
And, of course, the mandatory checkpoint for every self-respecting protagonist.
A soft voice drifted through the dim shop as they entered.
"Good afternoon."
Darren looked up.
An elderly man stood among the shelves of wand boxes, his silver-white eyes gleaming eerily. His gaze felt as if it could read one's very soul.
"Hello, sir," Darren said politely.
"Oh, I knew you'd come," said Ollivander, voice calm and nostalgic. "Dumbledore mentioned that young Harry Potter had a younger brother."
He leaned closer, studying Darren's face with quiet fascination.
"Ah… your hair and eyes are your mother's exactly. But your mouth—yes, that's James Potter's smile. Always charming, that boy…"
His eyes misted faintly. "I grow sentimental in my old age. Few children ever listen to my ramblings so kindly."
Darren smiled, his expression perfectly angelic.
"I don't think you're rambling at all, sir. I love hearing about them."
(Another few paragraphs of "Holy Father" material right there.)
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Ollivander chuckled softly.
"Your mother's wand was ten and a quarter inches, willow, excellent for charmwork.
Your father's was eleven inches, mahogany—ideal for Transfiguration.
"But of course," he added with a knowing smile, "it is never the wizard who chooses the wand. The wand always chooses the wizard."
He paused, glancing behind Darren.
"And you must be… ah yes. Paggie, the old house-elf of Fremont Potter, are you here for dividends?"
Darren froze.
"Dividends?" he echoed.
The word echoed in his skull like a spell gone wrong.
Ollivander nodded casually. "Why, yes. Fremont Potter—your grandfather—purchased ten percent of my business decades ago. Surely you've come to collect the share?"
Darren's eyes widened.
What?! Ten percent of Ollivanders?!
He turned to Paggie in shock.
"Pa–Paggie? Is that true?"
The old elf knocked herself lightly on the head, embarrassed. "Ah yes! Master Fremont told Paggie to buy it many years ago. But after his passing, Paggie forgot where the papers were. Oh dear, Paggie really is getting old."
Darren stared at her like she'd just revealed she was Merlin's apprentice.
No wonder Ollivander's been so familiar with our family!
He'd thought this old man just had an incredible memory for customers. Turns out, he was family business.
And the worst part? If Paggie hadn't come along, Ollivander probably wouldn't have said a word!
Old slyboots! Darren thought furiously. You've been pocketing our wand profits for years!
Of course, as a "pure and innocent" child, he couldn't exactly call him out.
So he smiled instead, eyes shining with mock innocence.
"Wow, Paggie! That's amazing! Since we have a share in Mr. Ollivander's shop, you don't have to go out earning money anymore. You can just stay with me and my brother forever!"
Paggie looked moved nearly to tears again.
"Oh, Little Master Darren, you're so kind! But Paggie can't agree to that."
She sniffled dramatically. "Even if we find the papers, we'll have to register the shares with the Ministry of Magic, reconcile accounts with Mr. Ollivander, and collect years of unpaid dividends. Oh dear, it will be such hard work!"
Darren's face twitched.
He could practically feel Ollivander sweating behind him.
Good, he thought smugly. Let the old man squirm. Maybe next time he won't "forget" to mention shareholders.
Meanwhile, Paggie was already deep in thought.
Perhaps… she should find a female elf, have children, and raise them to serve the next generation of little Potters.
Then, when Little Master Darren had children of his own, her offspring could continue protecting them.
Such a perfect, wholesome cycle!
She sniffled proudly at the idea.
Darren, however, looked at her expression and suddenly got chills.
Why did her loving gaze feel like a family expansion plan he hadn't agreed to?
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