Charlie followed Professor McGonagall into the shop.
The narrow space was stacked to the ceiling with slender wand boxes, piled so densely there was hardly room to breathe. The air was thick with the scent of ancient wood and lingering magic.
In the center of the shop stood a thin black-haired boy, holding a wand in his hand with wide-eyed excitement.
Beside him sat a giant of a man, so enormous his head nearly brushed the ceiling.
The moment the giant spotted McGonagall, he scrambled to his feet in a panic.
"Professor McGonagall!"
Hagrid's booming voice filled the room, and as he stood, he smacked the chandelier overhead, sending it swaying wildly and casting flickering shadows across the walls.
"Hello, Hagrid," McGonagall replied warmly.
Her eyes landed on the dark-haired boy, and a thought crossed her mind.
That must be Harry Potter…
She remembered delivering a tiny baby to the Dursleys all those years ago. Now here he was, still tiny.
Merlin's beard, did those Muggles never feed him?
He should've been a healthy growing boy, but he looked frail and malnourished. His clothes were comically oversized, clearly old hand-me-downs.
Harry had just chosen his wand and was preparing to leave with Hagrid when he noticed Charlie enter the shop.
Another new student?
Harry blinked in surprise.
The boy who had just walked in was his age, but incredibly handsome. His black hair was neatly combed, his deep black eyes were sharp and full of life, and his clothes fit perfectly, radiating a kind of quiet, noble grace.
Next to him, Harry felt like a scruffy scarecrow.
Charlie noticed the stare and offered a friendly smile.
He'd clearly heard the shopkeeper's earlier greeting, this boy must be the famous protagonist himself, Harry Potter.
Harry's face flushed, and he quickly nodded in response before hurriedly following Hagrid out of the shop.
Charlie stopped.
Why the hell are you blushing like a teapot, huh?
Has British politeness already infected eleven-year-old kids?
"Professor McGonagall, a pleasure as always,"
The voice came from Ollivander, who stepped forward to greet them. He looked old, with wispy silver hair draped over his shoulders and pale eyes that shimmered with a kind of knowing wisdom.
"Mr. Ollivander," McGonagall nodded.
"This is Charlie White, a first-year student."
Ollivander's gaze settled on Charlie with curiosity.
"Mr. White. A pleasure. Let's find the wand that's meant for you."
He pulled out a soft measuring tape, which began floating around Charlie, automatically taking his measurements.
"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. White," Ollivander said as he measured.
"Every wand is unique, just like every witch and wizard."
Once the measuring was done, he turned toward the massive wall of boxes and began to search carefully.
"Try this one, twelve inches, willow wood, unicorn hair core."
Charlie took the wand, gave it a gentle wave, and immediately, the surrounding wand boxes began shaking violently.
Ollivander snatched the wand away in alarm.
"No, no, definitely not that one."
"How about this, eleven and a third inches, birch wood, dragon heartstring."
Charlie gave it a try, and this time, the entire shop began to tremble. The glass windows buzzed and rang with ominous vibrations.
"Merlin's bones, still not right…" Ollivander muttered with a frown.
"You have strong magical energy, Mr. White. You'll need a wand to match that power."
For the next ten minutes, Charlie tried wand after wand.
Ollivander's expression grew increasingly serious as he began searching deep in the back shelves of the store.
"Perhaps... that one," he murmured.
He reached into a forgotten corner and pulled out a dusty old box.
Opening it revealed a deep-colored wand resting quietly inside.
"Thirteen inches, elder wood, with a phoenix feather core," Ollivander said, voice low and grave.
"This wand is very special, Mr. White. Elder is known as the wood of death, while phoenix feather represents rebirth."
Charlie reached out and took the wand.
Instantly, a warm current surged from his palm through his entire body.
A golden light shot from the wand's tip and bloomed into dazzling flower shapes in the air.
"Perfect!" Ollivander clapped his hands.
"A truly perfect match!"
Charlie could feel the warmth pulsing through the wand, it was his. Really his.
"This wand is rare, Mr. White," Ollivander said seriously.
"Only extraordinary wizards can pair with elder wood. And phoenix feather only chooses those destined for greatness."
"Seven Galleons," he added as he packed the wand into its box.
"Treasure it."
Charlie paid and tucked the wand carefully away.
Just as he turned to leave, Ollivander spoke again, his voice low and mysterious.
"You will achieve great things, Mr. White."
Charlie: ???
Why does that sound so familiar…
Wait, do you say this to everyone?!
Ollivander smiled mysteriously.
That's just good business.
Tell everyone they're special, and they'll always come back.
You think I've stayed in business since 382 B.C. by accident?
...
Leaving Ollivander's, Charlie walked with a spring in his step, still holding his wand.
Professor McGonagall checked her watch.
"Next stop: Flourish and Blotts. We'll buy your schoolbooks."
Charlie looked at the list: Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, A History of Magic, Theories of Magic, and so on.
This is just the magical version of language arts, history, and physics…
He bought all the required textbooks for 13 Galleons.
As for the extra reference books… yeah, Charlie knew himself.
He wasn't touching them.
There was no way someone who'd ignored textbooks in his past life was suddenly going to love studying just because there was magic involved.
"Now let's visit Madam Malkin's for your robes," McGonagall said.
Madam Malkin was a short, plump witch who welcomed Charlie with a big smile.
"Hogwarts first-year? Hop up on the stool, dear."
Charlie stepped up, and Madam Malkin began measuring him.
"I want the best fabric," Charlie said without hesitation.
McGonagall raised a brow.
"Standard fabric is perfectly fine, Mr. White."
"No, Professor," Charlie said calmly. "I prefer comfortable clothes."
Madam Malkin beamed.
"The best fabric is indeed more comfortable, and more durable."
She didn't mention that it also cost much more.
Three sets of premium wizard robes, plus a pointed hat, dragonhide gloves, and a cloak, total: 40 Galleons.
[Congratulations, Your Majesty! Tyrant Behavior Detected: Lavish Spending.
+5 Tyrant Points]
Charlie smirked inwardly.
So the system rewards this kind of behavior. Noted.
Next, they bought a cauldron, scales, a telescope, and other school supplies, another 10 Galleons gone.
"Last, let's get your pet," McGonagall said.
"You may choose one: an owl, a cat, or a toad."
Inside Eeylops Owl Emporium, birds hooted and screeched from every direction.
Charlie's eyes instantly locked onto the largest owl in the room.
A Eurasian eagle-owl, its feathers a striking mix of brown and black, wingspan over a meter wide, eyes glowing amber with fierce intelligence.
It perched proudly above the rest, looking down on everyone like a king.
"That one," Charlie said without hesitation.
The shopkeeper blinked.
"Are you sure, son? That's an Eastern eagle-owl, the largest owl species we have. Very temperamental. Most buyers are adults."
"I'll take it," Charlie said firmly.
This was ancient Eastern wisdom.
Bigger is always better.
[Congratulations, Your Majesty! Tyrant Behavior Detected: Overreaching Ambition.
+3 Tyrant Points]
He paid 15 Galleons for the owl and named it Storm, because it looked like a brewing tempest.
Storm, surprisingly, took to Charlie immediately. It perched calmly on his shoulder, occasionally grooming his hair with its beak.
"He seems to like you," the shopkeeper said with a smile.
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200 P.S = 1 Extra Chapters