As I ran through the crowd, I put away the mask and cloak. Who would've thought having this briefcase would turn out to be far better than I had planned? Going to that place was definitely worth it—I managed to get most of the materials. Though I ended up nearly broke, old Rakan's help allowed me to find what I needed at extremely cheap prices. Some tried to scam me, but my trading skills helped me get out of those messes. I didn't get large quantities of materials, but enough to manage until I find a proper bag to store more things.
Damn… Now, where can I find Alphonse? I don't have the map… and there are so many people around me that I can't see a thing. The contrast from one place to another is overwhelming, almost suffocating.
I need to focus—he must be somewhere… For a moment, I thought about going back to where we got separated, but then the cat, still perched on my head, leapt down to the floor. Turning to look at me, its eyes shone again, almost as if to say, "follow me." Moments later, it dashed off through the crowd.
Without hesitation, I chased after the cat through the throng until we reached a school bookshop.
Inside, I spotted Alphonse paying for some books and placing them in a handcart, where there were also a couple of school robes, cauldrons, spoons, and other items from the school list.
It seemed Alphonse hadn't noticed I'd left Diagon Alley. Maybe I worried more than I needed to.
"My lord, what a pleasure to see you again. It seems you've found some interesting things," Alphonse said the moment his gaze fell on me, eyeing me from head to toe.
"Eh, yes, I came across this nice briefcase with a pretty design. It's very comfortable to carry, and it'll be useful for hauling materials for magic classes."
"Interesting. You found something quite useful… and by the looks of it, you also found a new friend," Alphonse remarked, his gaze shifting to the cat hiding behind my feet.
"Ah, yes. I came across it by chance. It seems to like me a lot—it hasn't left my side since we met."
"I see… Now I understand why you took so long. That aside, there's only one thing left, my lord—your wand. An important decision for every wizard," Alphonse said as we left the bookshop. "By the way, my lord, you lost this, didn't you?" He pulled out the map I had slipped into that unknown boy's backpack.
"I… I'm truly sorry. I got lost without realizing it. I got too distracted, which is why it took me a while to notice it was gone, and by then it was too late to go back for it."
Damn, I hope that works—to convince him it was just a small mistake by a child dazzled by the sheer wonder of Diagon Alley.
"No need to worry, my lord. Just be more careful with your things. I won't always be there to protect you and recover what you lose," Alphonse said, gently patting my head.
Those words left an immense void in my chest, reminding me of all the time I lost with him because of the war that followed the great calamity.
"Yes, Alphonse, I'll be more careful."
"I know you will, my lord. Now, let's get you your first wand," Alphonse said, walking ahead of me. "Oh, and one more thing—what's your new friend's name?"
I hadn't thought of that either. I picked up the cat and looked into its eyes. Thanks to it, everything today had gone better than expected. It had saved me and helped me more than anyone would imagine an animal could. You are definitely a very interesting creature…
"How about… Iolite?"
"What a beautiful name. I never would've thought of it. Iolite is a violet gemstone that changes in tone—the 'stone of vision,' associated with foresight, acceptance, and the unity between body and soul. A great name with great meaning," Alphonse explained.
Sometimes I'm amazed at how much Alphonse knows about… well, everything. His knowledge is always precise and easy to understand.
"Then you'll be called Iolite from now on. You're part of my adventure."
Alphonse looked at me with a smile on his face, while Iolite hopped back onto my head.
After a few minutes' walk, we arrived at the well-known Ollivander's shop.
"Fine Wandmakers since 382 B.C.," Alphonse pointed out, reading the sign above the entrance.
After admiring the shopfront briefly, we decided to enter. Looking at Alphonse's face, I noticed it reflected both nostalgia and joy.
"Ohhh, if it isn't one of my favorite customers. It's been a while, little Alphonse," said a man who cheerfully approached Alphonse to give him a hug.
"Hahaha, I'm not little anymore, Mr. Ollivander," Alphonse replied with a laugh.
Garrick Ollivander was a half-blood wizard, widely considered the finest wandmaker in the world. Many wizards bought their wands from his shop.
"You haven't changed a bit, my boy," said Mr. Ollivander. "What brings you here? Did you come personally to fix your wand? You haven't damaged it in ages."
"I've matured. I'm here now for this young one," Alphonse said, resting his hand on my head.
"Ohh, I see. Give me a moment and I'll help you. First, I need to attend to some customers ahead of you. If you want to browse the shop, feel free. If anything catches your interest, let me know," Mr. Ollivander said, turning to the waiting clients.
The shop's display was simple: a single wand resting on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. Clearly, its fame didn't come from appearances, but from the quality of its wands. The shop itself was small, bare of fancy counters, with only a thin, rickety chair in the corner that looked like it could collapse at any moment.
On the shop's walls were stacked thousands of narrow boxes, each containing a wand. The shelves reached up to the ceiling, and the whole place was covered in a fine layer of dust.
"You know, the original Ollivander came to Britain with the Romans. He started his wandmaking business in 382 B.C.—that's where their motto comes from. But the Roman conquest of Britain only truly began in 43 A.D., under Emperor Claudius. That's when the wand trade really grew," Alphonse explained.
"Is there anything you don't know, Alphonse?"
"Hahaha, like I said, this place was my safe haven as a child. I know stories about it passed down by its various owners. Ollivanders was no exception—he told me the shop's history and how much it's grown. He also explained the nearly 50 types of wood and about 18 of the most well-known wand cores used for wandmaking," Alphonse said with excitement.
"So you know about wandsmanship."
"It's not like I'm an expert. As I said, what little I know is thanks to Mr. Ollivander," Alphonse pointed out. "There are all kinds of woods and cores, some with greater affinity than others. For example, my wand is made of Yew and Dragon Heartstring…" he explained, pulling out his wand.
Alphonse's wand was dark at its wooden base but lightened in tone toward the tip. The base, or handle, was slightly twisted—likely to make gripping easier. Though I don't know much about wandsmanship, I know the basics: every wand varies in its affinities—attack, dark arts, defense, or healing—depending on its wielder.
There are also wands fiercely loyal to their owner, as well as wands that yield to the one who defeats their master. Some wands are even difficult for certain wizards to control. Wandsmanship covers many things—some of them unsettling, truth be told.
"So, explaining your wand's qualities to the boy, eh, Alphonse?" Ollivander's voice came again as he walked toward us.
"Something like that. I don't quite recall all their characteristics, but I do remember some notes I read of yours, Mr. Ollivander," Alphonse said with a smile.