"Rove, this is the Leaky Cauldron. It serves as the gateway between the magical and non-magical worlds."
Professor McGonagall stood before a pub on Charing Cross Road, pointing to a shabby wooden door.
But in Rove's eyes, this was no pub.
> [Location: Bree - The Prancing Pony]
> [Threat Level: Moderate (Teeming with Rangers, Brigands, and Orc Spies)]
The sign hanging above the door didn't say "The Leaky Cauldron." It depicted a white pony rearing up on its hind legs.
Rove's hand instantly went to the "Iron Dagger" (table knife) at his waist, his muscles coiling tight.
"Stay close to me." McGonagall pushed the door open.
The interior was dimly lit. A few elderly wizards were sitting in the corner smoking pipes—actual clay pipes—blowing smoke rings that formed strange shapes in the air.
"Is that the Grey Wizard?" Rove stared warily at an old man in a pointed hat. "Is he using smoke rings to signal tactical instructions?"
Professor McGonagall was evidently used to the wide-eyed wonder of Muggle-borns; she simply assumed Rove was awestruck by the magic.
"Don't dawdle. We're heading to the back."
She led Rove through the bar and into a small, walled courtyard, facing a red brick wall.
"Watch closely. This is the entrance to Diagon Alley." McGonagall drew her wand and tapped the wall lightly. "Three up... two across..."
With a grinding rumble, the bricks began to fold away, revealing a wide, cobblestone street.
Sunlight instantly flooded in.
Even though Rove had prepared himself, the sight before him made him hold his breath.
> [New Map Discovered: The Lonely Mountain / Gondor Market]
> [Prosperity: Extremely High]
The street was packed with wizards in robes, looking like citizens of Gondor celebrating a festival. Shops lined the street, but in Rove's eyes, the signs had all changed:
Flourish and Blotts was the [Rivendell Archives] (Selling: Elder Scrolls, Silmarillion Lore).
Eeylops Owl Emporium had become the [Misty Mountains Courier Station] (Selling: War Hawks, Scout Birds).
Quality Quidditch Supplies was the [Rohan Cavalry Supply] (Selling: Warhorses).
"First, we must visit Gringotts to withdraw your student assistance fund." McGonagall pointed toward a snowy-white, crooked building at the end of the street. "That is the wizarding bank."
Rove's pupils constricted.
> [Location: Mines of Moria]
> [Manager: Misty Mountain Orcs]
"Gringotts is run by Goblins?" Rove asked.
"Yes, Goblins," McGonagall nodded. "They aren't the friendliest creatures, but they are trustworthy. And aside from Hogwarts, Gringotts is the safest place in the world!"
Rove swallowed hard.
Safest? Maybe for you wizards! For a 'Hobbit' like me, that's walking straight into an Orc stronghold!
Passing through the bronze doors, they saw two rows of Goblins in scarlet and gold uniforms sitting behind high counters, their long fingers counting coins on scales.
But under the System Filter, those weren't uniforms.
They were wearing greasy leather armor! And those Goblins weren't weighing gold; they were sharpening blades! Their sharp teeth were bared, and their muddy yellow eyes flashed with a greedy red light, looking as if they were ready to leap over the counter and tear out a customer's throat at any moment.
Rove gripped the handle of the frying pan in his pocket until his knuckles turned white.
"We need to make a withdrawal from the Hogwarts student trust fund." McGonagall handed over a small golden key.
The Goblin looked up and smiled. (System Analysis: [Bloodlust/Hunger])
"Certainly, Professor McGonagall. Follow me."
For the next ten minutes, Rove sat in a cart hurtling through a labyrinth deep underground. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, chanting under his breath:
"It's an illusion, it's an illusion, there is no Balrog, there is no Balrog..."
When his feet finally touched solid ground and he held a small bag of jingling Galleons (System: [Dragon Hoard Fragments]), his back was soaked with sweat.
"Are you alright, Rove?" McGonagall asked with concern, noting his pale face. "The cart ride can be a bit dizzying."
"I am fine, Lady of Light." Rove took a deep breath, his gaze hardening. "I am simply more convinced than ever that we need weapons."
"Weapons?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "You mean a wand?"
...
Ollivanders Wand Shop.
Thousands of motes of gold dust floated in the air, creating a magical, fantastical atmosphere.
> [NPC: Ollivander]
> [Identity: Mad Alchemist / Swordsmith]
> [Danger Level: High (Mentally Unstable)]
When an old man with silvery eyes suddenly popped out from behind a shelf, Rove nearly punched him.
"Good to see you, Mr. Rove Baggins." Ollivander's voice was like wind rustling through dry leaves. "I know your origins are quite... unique."
Rove's heart skipped a beat. Does he know I'm a transmigrator?
No, he's probably just sensing my magical fluctuations.
"I need a weapon," Rove said bluntly. "Something long, hard, and capable of smashing an Orc's skull."
McGonagall coughed politely from the side. "Mr. Rove, a wand is a precision instrument for casting spells, not a club."
"No, Professor, you don't understand..." Rove shook his head, his face pale.
In his vision, this wand shop wasn't a cozy little store; it was an isolated island floating in a void of chaotic currents. The golden dust floating around looked like twisted rifts in the fabric of magic.
He picked up the first wand Ollivander offered (Beechwood).
> [Item: Fragile Withered Twig]
> [Hardness: F]
The lightweight feel made him panic. In a world full of "monsters" and "crises," holding a twig that felt like it would snap at any moment was like walking naked into a lion's cage.
"It's too light. No sense of security." Rove's voice trembled. "I want something that has weight to it. If... if my magic fails, I need to be able to beat someone with it."
Ollivander's eyes lit up. He seemed to realize he was dealing with a knowledgeable "warrior."
"In that case, try this. Blackthorn, unicorn hair, twelve inches. This is a wand with a warrior's spirit."
Rove took it.
Heavy. Rough.
The wood was pitch black, retaining its natural knots and texture. The moment he gripped it, the solid, substantial tactile sensation finally calmed his racing heart.
This wasn't just a wand. It was his only lifeline in this crazy, hallucinated world.
> [Item: Blackthorn War Club]
> [Quality: Superior (Rare)]
> [Physical Attack: 10-15]
> [Hardness: S (Comparable to Refined Steel)]
> [Trait: Block Rate +15%]
> [Description: This is what you wanted. Don't bother casting levitation charms with this; just use it to smash the enemy's kneecaps.]
Rove didn't wave the wand like a normal young wizard expecting sparks.
He gripped the handle with both hands, raised it high, and brought it down in a vicious overhead chop that whistled through the air, slamming heavily onto the counter.
BANG!
A vase on the counter shattered instantly. The wand didn't have a scratch; it even vibrated slightly, humming with delight.
"Perfect." Rove stroked the rough wood, a feverish light in his eyes. "Great balance. It's a good sword."
McGonagall: "..."
Ollivander: "..."
"A very... unique technique! Professor, please remember to pay for the vase." Ollivander's mouth twitched as he spoke. "The wand has chosen you. Blackthorn wands are typically suited to warriors—those who, regardless of their moral standing, are destined to go through fire and battle."
"Just as I hoped." Rove slapped seven Galleons onto the table. "Is that enough?"
Now that he had his "sword," he needed armor.
At Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Rove made an even more outrageous request.
"Madam, I would like a layer of leather stitched into the lining of this robe." Rove gestured with his hands. "Preferably dragon hide. If not, cowhide will do."
"Why?" Madam Malkin looked bewildered. "Hogwarts is quite warm, you don't need..."
"Anti-stab protection," Rove said seriously. "You never know when a stray arrow might come from behind. Also, I'll take these dragon-hide gloves. I need two pairs—stitch them together to make vambraces."
Just as Madam Malkin was beginning to wonder if this new student suffered from paranoia, the curtain of a changing booth was pulled back.
A girl with red hair stepped out. She was wearing a black robe that was slightly too big for her, and she had a gentle smile on her face.
"Um, if you want protection, I think a thick wool sweater might be more comfortable," the girl interjected shyly.
Rove turned his head.
> [Scanning Target: Human Female]
> [True Name: Susan Bones]
> [Faction: Rohan Civilian]
> [Affinity: Curious]
"A wool sweater won't stop an Orc scimitar, my lady," Rove replied with a straight face. "On the battlefield, comfort is a privilege reserved for the dead."
Susan paused for a moment, then burst out laughing.
"Are you Muggle-born? You talk so funny. I'm Susan. Susan Bones."
"Rove. Rove Baggins." Rove didn't shake her hand. Instead, he offered a slight, formal bow. "May your sword always stay sharp."
Susan laughed even harder. She thought this boy was weird, but he was cute, and the way he spoke such nonsense with such a serious face was actually kind of charming.
Professor McGonagall stood at the shop entrance, watching the scene and shaking her head helplessly.
"Alright, Rove. After we buy the clothes, we need to go to the bookstore. And remember, do not attempt to buy any forbidden tomes."
"Understood, Lady of Light." Rove sheathed his Blackthorn wand at his waist and patted his newly purchased, double-thick robe. "I only require a copy of the Field Guide to Middle-earth Monsters—oh, I mean, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."
> [Main Quest Update: Arms Race Complete]
> [Reward Distributed: Passive Skill - Block (Lv1)]
> [Effect: Increases success rate judgment when using a wand (or other stick-like object) to physically parry attacks.]