Someone was loudly boasting, "That's the new Light Wheel 2000—the fastest yet!" There were also shouts about equipment being sold, which Kevin understood as similar to, "+3 Longsword! +2 Cloak! +4 Spoon!"
A low, soft whimpering came from a dimly lit shop. The sign above the door read: Eeylops Owl Emporium – Screech Owl, Horned Owl, Tawny Owl, Brown Owl, Snowy Owl. The magical creature in his dimensional belt trembled with fear, warning him not to step inside.
Kevin's head kept swiveling left and right, as though he might twist it straight off his neck. It felt like walking through the magic-item section of a Dungeons & Dragons rulebook. He tried not to miss a single object for sale, hoping he might stumble upon one of the three legendary materials needed for the Infinite Wish Spell.
"Let's buy your uniform first," Professor McGonagall said, pointing toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "We'll begin with your school uniform, then your books, then Ollivanders for your wand, and finally the cauldron."
"No problem at all." Kevin immediately began imagining how many enchantments his Hogwarts uniform might have.
Madam Malkin was a short, plump witch with a friendly smile and dressed in purple. "Is he buying a Hogwarts uniform?" she asked McGonagall. "Isn't he a bit late? Most students arrived a month ago."
"His situation is a little different, madam. We'll need to use that… ah… special fund," McGonagall said awkwardly. "So custom robes won't be possible."
"Oh," Madam Malkin said with deep sympathy. "Don't worry—I've just put away several uncut display sets after the rush." She rummaged through boxes and produced a stack of garments. "Here you are! Almost perfect!"
The "almost perfect" cloaks were not at all what Kevin expected. They had no magical aura whatsoever. They didn't resemble Mage Armor, Elemental Resistance, or Arrow Ward, but since they were free, he accepted them gladly.
McGonagall paid her a few copper Knuts, then led Kevin toward the bookstore.
"Did you just pay using this world's currency?" he asked.
"Of course—those were Knuts," McGonagall explained. "Twenty-nine Knuts make one silver Sickle, and seventeen Sickles make one Galleon. Galleons are gold coins. Simple enough."Not simple at all. Why in the world wasn't it decimal?
"Are Galleons pure gold?" Kevin asked.
"Yes."
"Can anyone mint them, or is there a government authority that issues currency and collects seigniorage?"
"What do you mean?" McGonagall asked, baffled. "Goblins mint the coins. They run the bank. Wizards keep their money there."
"You pay goblins to guard your property?" Kevin asked. "And the face value of the coins is higher than the metal value?"
"Yes…" McGonagall said, now completely lost. "Goblins never work for free—and never do anything for free, really."
Kevin vaguely remembered England's gold-silver ratio being fifty to one, definitely not seventeen to one. He decided he should research arbitrage opportunities and perhaps find a hedge-fund wizard. After all, banks here literally stored gold coins in vaults guarded by creatures.
He wanted to complain about the primitive financial system… but considering that over 116,800 euros in Amsterdam deposits had once vanished, perhaps their system wasn't so bad.
Next they entered Flourish and Blotts. Books filled the shelves from floor to ceiling. Some were huge leather-bound volumes like paving stones; others were tiny silk-bound books the size of stamps. Some were covered with strange symbols, and a few were completely blank.
"These blank ones must be ciphertext," Kevin thought. "My text-deciphering ability will finally shine."Text-deciphering was an Intelligence-based skill for cracking codes—very mage-like. Unfortunately, he had never used it in any of his campaigns.
Just as he prepared to show off, McGonagall cut him off, "You won't need such advanced books yet." She handed him a stack of worn second-hand textbooks she described as "well cared for." Kevin only hoped he could learn at least first-level magic from Standard Spells, Grade 1.
"Now we'll go buy your wand. Don't worry—you'll find one that suits you. The wand chooses the wizard."
Kevin didn't think a wand was essential for spellcasting, but as the saying went: you might not need it, but you'd better have it. A strong extra piece of equipment was never a bad thing.
The wand shop was tiny and dilapidated. The gold lettering on the door was peeling, but still read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C. A single wand sat on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.
"Good afternoon," a gentle voice said. "Ah, Professor McGonagall. Nine and a half inches, fir, quite stiff, with a dragon heartstring core—perfect for advanced Transfiguration. Made by my father, of course." The old man's pale eyes shone like moons.
"Hello. We're hoping for… well… a discounted wand for our new student," McGonagall said. Mr. Ollivander leaned forward and studied Kevin closely.
"Well, young man, let's see." He pulled out a measuring tape that immediately began taking its own measurements. "Which arm do you use?"
"I usually use my right, but my left works too," Kevin said. Ever since the Chinese translation of the Dark Elf Trilogy became popular, who didn't add 'dual-wielding' to their character sheet?
Ollivander handed him wand after wand—unicorn hair, phoenix feather, dragon tendon, snow-ape fur, and materials he'd never heard of. Kevin swung each one, but nothing happened.
"What a picky customer," Ollivander muttered. Kevin's Perception was high enough to hear it clearly.
A troubling thought crept in. Wizards here were born with magic—more like warlocks. Even if he had magic per his character sheet, perhaps the wands would reject him. If none worked, would they dismiss him?
"Sorry, you're not actually a wizard. Please go home."Hogwarts Castle—and all the experience it promised—flashed before his eyes. So he decided to act.
"What would happen if I swung the… uh… the right wand?" Kevin said, carefully avoiding the corrupted syllables that had been on the original tag.
"Anything from sparks to flames to light," Ollivander said. "Once even a swarm of bats. Try this one—it's a Grigorovich wand, very sensitive. Perhaps too sensitive."
Kevin decided to give a manual response—something truly dramatic. As he swung the wand, he silently chanted Silent Phantom, recalling the animation of a Death Knight's Death Coil.A burst of ominous green light shot forth, entwined with a ghostly skull, streaking past in a brilliant arc.
The shop fell silent.
Then Ollivander breathed, "It seems… we have found your wand. Remarkable. Not since that one who must not—"
"What wood and core is it?" McGonagall interrupted sharply.
"Paulownia wood with a Veela-hair core," Ollivander said. "I've never liked using Veela hair myself. Too sensitive. Too temperamental. But there are all sorts of people in the world…"
"What is a Veela?" Kevin asked.
"Oh, they are—"
"All right, Mr. Ollivander. Thank you very much," McGonagall cut in quickly—again. Her speed made Kevin wonder if any wizard could ever finish a spell in front of her. "Mr. Goldsmith, we will need to talk."