Two goblins bowed to them, leading them into a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were seated on high stools behind a long counter, some weighing coins on brass scales, others examining gemstones through eyeglasses, all diligently scribbling in large ledgers.
Felix approached the counter and took out a wad of pounds from his pocket. "Hello, I need to exchange these pounds for Galleons."
An elderly goblin came forward and took the pounds. "The exchange rate for pounds to Galleons is five to one. Are you sure you want to convert all two hundred pounds into Galleons?"
"Yes," Felix nodded. "Also, please change one Galleon entirely into Sickles."
"One Galleon equals seventeen Sickles," the old goblin explained. After a short while, a younger goblin handed Felix a heavy pouch.
Next, Dumbledore led Felix to begin his shopping.
"First, you'll need a wand," he said. "And Ollivander makes the best wands."
The shop was small and shabby. The gold lettering on the sign above the door was peeling and read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. In the dusty window, a single wand lay on a faded purple cushion.
"How are you, Ollivander, my old friend?" Dumbledore called out warmly as soon as they entered. A wizened old man emerged from a corner and greeted Dumbledore with an equally warm embrace.
"Hello, old friend," he said in a soft, somewhat archaic tone. "What brings you to my humble establishment today?"
"Oh, just picking up a student from the Muggle world. Wool's Orphanage, you know," Dumbledore winked, then introduced Felix. "This is him, Mr. Chance. Though Muggle-born, he can already control his magic quite proficiently."
"Hmm… no wonder," Ollivander murmured, approaching Felix and peering at him with sharp eyes. He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings from his pocket. "Alright, Mr. Chance, come along. Let me see."
"Which is your wand arm?" he asked.
Felix replied, "I'm right-handed."
"Hold out your arm. That's it." He began to take Felix's measurements, starting from the shoulder to the fingertip. As Ollivander measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Chance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings. Every single Ollivander wand is unique, for no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are ever precisely the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
Ollivander chattered on as he darted between the shelves, climbing up and down ladders, while the tape measure continued to measure Felix on its own. Though his rambling was enough to make one drowsy, Felix forced himself to listen attentively. Despite already knowing much from the original stories, he was still intensely curious about everything in the magical world.
"Right then," Mr. Ollivander said, and the tape measure dropped to the floor, coiling up. "Now, Mr. Chance, try this one. Sycamore and phoenix feather. Twelve and a half inches. Nice and supple. Just give it a wave."
Felix took the wand, and the moment he waved it, he sensed trouble. Sure enough, the next instant, the tip of the wand erupted in a gout of golden-red flame, which immediately set the counter before him ablaze. Felix even felt as if he had almost summoned a living phoenix.
"Aguamenti!" Dumbledore quickly waved his own wand, and a jet of clear water shot from its tip, instantly extinguishing the flames.
"Apparently not," Ollivander said, shaking his head. He produced another wand. "Beechwood and snake nerve core. Nine inches. Rather whippy. Try this."
The mishap this time was a plume of black smoke. The counter and boxes enveloped by it were rapidly corroded with ugly little holes, as if splashed with acid. It took some effort to restore them.
Next, Ollivander had Felix try wand after wand. It seemed the more wands he tested, the happier Ollivander became, but accidents continued to occur, one after another. Both Ollivander and Dumbledore learned their lesson, keeping their own wands at the ready to prevent any sudden flames, frost, or explosions from causing irreparable damage.
Thanks to the grimy windows of Ollivander's small shop, passersby outside noticed none of this.
Finally, just before Felix was completely buried under a mountain of wand boxes, Ollivander halted the fruitless experiments.
"Oh, what a choosy customer," he sighed. "Was that place cursed with some spell? This boy's magic is even more powerful than his."
"Mr. Ollivander, what are you talking about? I don't understand," Felix asked, knowing full well that "he" referred to Voldemort, but maintaining an air of innocent confusion.
Ollivander, however, brusquely changed the subject. "No, it's nothing. You'll find out in due time. Let's return to the matter of wands."
"This is the wand I believe might be most suited for you," he said, fumbling for a moment before pulling an exquisite purple wand from a large box and handing it to Felix.