3 A Wand, the Boy, and Raven (1/2)
”Well done my son, I applause you for not falling down at your first experience in Floo Powder travel. It is quite the feat. Means you got a good head and fine balance.”
”Thank you dad.”
”Hahaha, I remember my first experience at Floo travel just like it was yesterday. You see, I threw up all over the fireplace after I had arrived, pity that my brother appeared right after I did. Was covered in my bile he was. Never did quite forgive me for that, at least, not until I covered for him the one time he was caught by our mom trying to hex my elder sister's broom. I said it was he was only trying to clean it for her, for practice when he gets his own broom.”
”Why would you need a broom?”
”You see my boy, in the wizarding world, we have this sport called quidditch. It's basically like the muggle sports soccer and basketball combined except that you fly around on brooms.”
”Oh, sounds fun.”
”It indeed is.”
Even when he tried to stay calm, Arth couldn't help but swivel his head around in excitement as his eyes scanned all over the place. He saw many ladies with robes similar to his mother's, except a bit more flashy, wizards with bizarre clothes and hairstyles.
And magic. The was magic everywhere. A young man was waving his wand to control a broom to sweep the floor, a bar had levitating cups that magically refilled, and a shop that had a bunch of weird but equally fascinating creatures.
It was quite the sight.
Arth had even seen a bear like giant man walking around with a skinny boy around his age who had black hair and round glasses.
Mr. Kingscrown guided Arth through the crowd of wizards and witches until they arrived at a narrow and somewhat shabby looking shop.
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
The golden letters that were imprinted over the door were starting to peel, worn from age. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.
Mr. Kingscrown turned around and faced Arth.
”My son, do you know what the most crucial tool of a wizard is?”
”A wand?”
”Exactly my boy, I'm so proud to have an intellectual son like you.”
Mr. Kingscrown grandly gestured at Olivanders with pride and worship.
”This shop is probably one of the best wand makers in the entire world. Bought my own wand here when I was your age, and it has never let me down since. Except in transfiguration.”
Mr. Kingscrown gave Arth ten golden coins.
”Go in and buy your wand and after you finish, go to the shop over there. The one that reads Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. I'll go get your books and equipments in the meantime. You can use the remaining money to buy yourself something to eat. It's about time for lunch anyways.”
Arth glanced at the ten golden coins and frowned.
”How exactly does money work here?”
Mr. Kingscrown slapped his head in realization.
”Sorry Arthur, I forget how much I forgot to tell you about our society. Seventeen silver Sickles to a golden Galleon and twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough.”
After handing Mr. Kingscrown his list of books and materials, Arth proceeded to head into the shop.
A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as he stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single chair. Arth peeked begins the counter and looked at the hundreds of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling.
”Good afternoon,” whispered a quiet voice. Surprised, Arth gave a quick turn in order to find the source of the voice.
An old man stood before him, his bright, pale eyes illuminating like eerie lamps in a dark cave.
”Hello, I presume you are here for a wand?” Said the man with his silvery eyes not blinking a single time.
”I don't seem recognize you? What's your name sir?”
Arth quickly responded.
”Arthur Kingscrown.”
The man raised his eyebrows.
”Child of Maxwell and Aria Kingscrown?”
”Er- Yes. That's them.”