Inside Ollivanders Wand Shop, a black-haired boy wearing round glasses nervously looked around at the countless wand boxes stacked from floor to ceiling.
Harry Potter felt extremely tense.
This was his first time inside a real magical shop, and honestly, the entire place felt intimidating. Dust floated through narrow beams of sunlight while thousands of wand boxes towered around him like silent watchers.
Harry kept praying internally that he would find a wand that actually suited him.
Beside him, Hagrid noticed the boy's nervousness immediately and laughed warmly.
"Don't be so stiff, Harry," he said reassuringly while patting him on the shoulder. "This is the best wand shop in all of Britain. Mr Ollivander'll definitely find the right wand for yeh."
Hagrid grinned.
"No need ter worry. Just relax."
Hearing those words, Harry gradually calmed down. His nervousness faded slightly as curiosity took over instead. He began glancing around the shop eagerly while secretly hoping the mysterious wandmaker would guide him properly.
After all, Harry knew absolutely nothing about the wizarding world.
Meanwhile, Garrick Ollivander carefully observed the famous Boy Who Lived standing before him.
Harry Potter.
A name nearly every witch and wizard in Britain recognised instantly.
Still, despite Harry's fame, Ollivander's attention remained strangely divided.
Because recently, another young wizard had traumatised him psychologically.
Logan Anderson.
Even now, Ollivander occasionally woke in the middle of the night remembering the horrifying sight of wands suddenly dying in front of him.
Ever since that day, he had developed mild anxiety toward children around the same age.
Still, business was business.
Suppressing his lingering fear, Ollivander selected a wand carefully and handed it to Harry.
At the same time, he silently prayed.
Please don't explode.
Fortunately, his prayers seemed effective.
The moment Harry touched the wand, absolutely nothing catastrophic happened. No explosions. No magical backlash. No spontaneous wand death.
Ollivander nearly cried from relief.
His confidence immediately began recovering.
Thank Merlin.
That Logan Anderson child truly was the natural enemy of wandmakers everywhere.
At best, wands fled from him in terror.
At worst, they simply died instantly.
For Ollivander, who genuinely loved every wand he crafted like one of his own children, the experience had been emotionally devastating.
If he could rewind time, he would absolutely close the shop that day rather than allow Logan inside.
Much later, after Harry Potter happily left with his new wand, Ollivander stood silently by the doorway watching him disappear into Diagon Alley.
What a wonderful customer.
Polite.
Simple.
Financially supported.
Most importantly…
Non-lethal toward wand inventory.
If every customer were like Harry Potter, life would be perfect.
Thinking this, Ollivander slowly reached behind the counter and pulled out a yellow notice.
Printed across it was a moving photograph of a handsome dark-haired boy.
Logan Anderson.
With completely serious expression, Ollivander walked over and nailed the notice directly onto the front door of his shop in the most visible place possible.
Then he carefully wrote beneath it:
Dogs and this person are not allowed inside.
....
Time passed quickly.
Before long, summer holiday was already nearing its end.
During this period, Logan constantly reviewed everything he had learned while continuing to visit Diagon Alley frequently. He even secretly paid intermediaries to purchase additional magical books from Knockturn Alley at extremely inflated prices.
Although the books contained no advanced dark magic, they still covered plenty of obscure magical theory and unusual applications that proved incredibly useful.
The more Logan learned, the more excited he became about Hogwarts.
To be precise, he felt excited about magic itself.
As for Voldemort?
Honestly, Logan could not care less about some bald noseless psychopath obsessed with immortality.
His priorities were completely different.
He only had one true goal:
Learn magic.
Understand magic.
Expand magic.
Then use the spellbook to convert that knowledge into stronger forbidden spells capable of protecting himself.
If Nyarlathotep ever remembered his existence and came knocking one day, Logan at least wanted enough strength to survive.
That alone mattered more than everything else.
On the morning of departure, Anne hugged Logan tightly with tears filling her eyes.
"Don't push yourself too hard," she whispered earnestly. "And if you ever feel unhappy there, you can come home immediately. Remember that."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"No matter what happens, this family will always be your home."
Nearby, Huggins winked dramatically.
"Your mother's right," he said. "And if the magical world happens to have any incredibly beautiful mermaids with amazing figures, remember to bring one home for me."
The next second, he doubled over in agony.
Anne had punched him directly in the stomach.
"You disgusting idiot!"
Huggins crouched on the ground clutching his abdomen while wheezing painfully.
Logan looked down at him expressionlessly.
Serves you right.
Even so, the farewell still carried genuine sadness.
Logan quietly turned away before pushing his luggage trolley toward the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten at King's Cross Station.
Behind him, Anne finally broke down crying completely.
Huggins awkwardly wrapped an arm around his wife while still holding his injured stomach.
"Don't worry too much," he said softly. "Logan's far more mature than he looks. Besides, he's a genius, isn't he?"
Unfortunately, that only made Anne cry harder.
....
Logan stood directly in front of the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters while staring blankly at the solid brick wall before him.
Technically, he understood exactly how this worked.
Run forward.
Pass through the barrier.
Board the train.
Simple.
And yet…
Something about it felt unbelievably stupid.
Perhaps it was some lingering common sense from his previous life refusing to die quietly.
Because no matter how much magical logic explained the situation, deliberately charging headfirst into a wall still sounded insane.
Logan suddenly found himself wondering something deeply important.
How exactly did all those reincarnated protagonists from online fanfiction overcome this psychological barrier so easily?
Were they all lunatics?
"Alright," Logan muttered nervously to himself. "Let's do this."
Several minutes later, he remained standing in exactly the same position.
Both hands gripped the trolley tightly while he stared at the wall in silence.
It was not that Logan lacked courage.
It was simply that every time he attempted moving forward, his brain immediately imagined him smashing face-first into solid brick like an absolute idiot.
And the moment that image appeared, his body refused to cooperate.
This could not continue.
If anyone noticed him standing here panicking over a wall, this humiliation would haunt him forever.
Logan inhaled deeply.
Then he finally gathered his courage and shoved the trolley forward.
The barrier rushed closer rapidly.
Three metres.
Two metres.
One metre—
At the very last second, Logan performed a perfect drifting sidestep and avoided collision entirely.
"Bloody hell…"
He placed a trembling hand over his chest while gasping dramatically.
"This platform is horrifying."
What kind of deranged psychopath designed magical transportation by forcing children to sprint directly into train station walls?
If given the choice, Logan genuinely believed he would rather duel Voldemort than willingly smash himself into a brick barrier.
At least Voldemort might miss.
If he ever gained authority at Hogwarts someday, he absolutely intended to redesign Platform Nine and Three-Quarters completely.
As for the replacement location…
Logan thoughtfully glanced toward the nearby fast-food restaurant.
Honestly, that place seemed much safer.
.....
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