HP: Hogwart's Journey

The two families had arrived at an ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley. The shop was beautifully decorated, and the desserts were delicious, but everyone's attention was fixed on Robert's story. 

"Oh my goodness!" exclaimed Mr. Weasley, staring at Robert in shock. "You're Charles and Anna's child! Your parents were exceptional Aurors—heroes, really. I always thought they had just gone into hiding! The Ministry never mentioned they had a child! Merlin's beard, why didn't I know sooner? Do they think they can just pretend none of it ever happened?" 

"Will you be staying in London for now, child? No? Oh, never mind—you can stay at the Leaky Cauldron. This is unacceptable—I need to write to the Minister immediately! This is a major oversight on their part. I'm sorry, Molly, but I can't just let this go!" 

And with that, Mr. Weasley stormed off, using the Floo Network. A flash of green light later, he was gone, leaving everyone else exchanging bewildered glances. 

Fortunately, Mrs. Weasley quickly regained her composure. With her warm encouragement, Robert promised to visit the Burrow during the summer holidays. 

After exchanging Galleons for the year at Gringotts, Mrs. Weasley suggested they shop together. Her offer was met with gratitude from Robert and his friends. Being entirely new to the wizarding world, they knew Mrs. Weasley's practical knowledge and frugality would save them plenty of trouble. 

"Let's start by getting a wand," Mrs. Weasley said with a knowing smile. "I imagine you've been looking forward to it, haven't you?" 

Robert's eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly. For a beginner, a wand was essential for casting magic. Though he had memorized a number of spells, he was even more excited to finally perform them! 

---

Outside Ollivanders Wand Shop 

"In all of Europe, there isn't a better wandmaker than Mr. Ollivander," Mrs. Weasley said proudly. "Now, go on, dear. Do you want me to come with you?" 

Declining their offers to accompany him, Robert took a deep breath and pushed open the door. 

The gentle tinkling of a bell greeted him as he stepped into the dimly lit, narrow shop. Inside, a long bench sat by the entrance. To the left of the counter was a staircase leading upward, and the walls were crammed with countless narrow boxes. A few ornate vases were scattered throughout the room, adding a curious touch to the cluttered space. 

Robert's eyes roamed the shop, marveling at what could only be described as the birthplace of the wizarding world's most iconic artifacts. 

"Good morning," a soft voice spoke, causing Robert to instinctively look up. 

An elderly man emerged from the towering shelves of wand boxes, his silvery hair and eyes glowing faintly in the shop's dim light. For a brief moment, Robert felt as though every one of his secrets had been laid bare. 

"Good morning, Mr. Ollivander," Robert replied quietly, extending his hand. "I'm Robert Leslie, a new student at Hogwarts, here to find a companion for life." 

"Companion?" Ollivander repeated, tasting the word as a small smile appeared on his lips. He shook Robert's hand gently. "An excellent choice of words—very fitting." 

He nodded approvingly. "Well then, Mr. Leslie, it's a pleasure to meet you. In fact, I remember every wand I've ever sold. That enthusiasm in your eyes reminds me of your father. When he came for his first wand, he was just as eager. It was white ash, eleven inches, with one of the stiffest unicorn hairs I've ever seen." 

"Your mother, on the other hand, was better suited to cedar, thirteen inches long," Ollivander added with a knowing look. "A clever and resilient young lady, that one." 

Robert blinked but said nothing in reply. 

"And you?" Ollivander's gaze seemed to pierce straight through him, as though silver light danced in his eyes. "Which arm do you use for your wand?" 

"My right arm, sir," Robert replied, raising it. 

"Hold it up, then," Ollivander instructed, pulling out a measuring tape. He began to take precise measurements—shoulder to fingertip, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and even the circumference of Robert's head. 

As he worked, he spoke, almost as though reciting an advertisement. "Every Ollivander wand contains a core of powerful magical substance—that's what gives it its essence. We use unicorn hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring for the cores. Every wand is unique, as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are exactly alike. Naturally, using a wand that belongs to another wizard will never produce the same results." 

By the time he finished speaking, Ollivander had vanished into the shelves, leaving behind a mischievous measuring tape that sprang to life. Startled, Robert covered his nose instinctively. The tape paused midair, seemingly confused, then hovered and wiggled its end as if to insist he move his hand away so it could finish its task of measuring his nostrils. 

Robert refused to budge. 

The two were locked in a silent standoff until Ollivander returned with several boxes in hand. Seeing this, Robert sheepishly lowered his hand, allowing the tape to bounce twice in what seemed like indignation before completing its final measurements. Then, with a huff, it rolled itself into a ball and bounced off. 

Ignoring the tape's antics, Ollivander opened a box and presented its contents. "Your parents were both favored by unicorns. I think this might suit you. Beechwood, eleven and a half inches, quite flexible." 

He handed Robert a sleek, dark wand. 

Robert took it and gave it a casual wave. 

In the distance, a delicate vase shattered. For a moment, Robert froze, wondering if he'd be asked to pay for it. 

Before he could worry further, Ollivander snatched the wand back and handed him another. "Acacia wood, dragon heartstring, twelve inches. Try this one." 

Robert barely had time to lift the wand before a stack of materials-filled boxes went flying. He jumped back in alarm. 

What followed was a whirlwind of wand trials, leaving the shop floor littered with discarded wands. Robert couldn't help but wonder if they'd make good firewood in an emergency. 

At last, Ollivander pulled out a particularly aged-looking box. "I believe this might be the one," he said with a small, satisfied smile. 

Inside lay a black wand, its surface etched with intricate, flowing patterns that seemed almost alive. 

The moment Robert picked it up, a cool sensation coursed through his entire body. The wand felt as though it had fused with him—no longer an object but an extension of his arm. 

"One with the wand?" Robert thought vaguely, his mind clouded in awe. 

(Chapter End)