Hogwarts: The Child Who Improves Too Much!

Outside Gringotts, Ethan held the gold Galleons in his hand, turning them over curiously. He looked up at Professor McGonagall, puzzled.

"Professor McGonagall, is there actual gold in these Galleons?"

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the question, then smiled slightly. "I don't know about that, Ethan. The currency of the wizarding world is created by goblins, and they add certain magical processes to them—such as making them always appear new and preventing wear from spells. They're enchanted in a way that makes them nearly indestructible."

Ethan's brow furrowed with further interest, but he made up his mind. It was not about the gold inside; it was about the magic it represented.

'Indestructible, huh?'

Professor McGonagall, who had noticed his fascination, smiled inwardly.

This boy had a keen curiosity—perhaps he would do well in Ravenclaw after all.

"Come along now," she said, motioning Ethan forward. "Our next stop is Ollivanders. You'll need a wand before anything else."

The pair meandered through Diagon Alley, its cobbled streets bustling with activity

Wizards and witches milled about, their robes swishing as they carried bags filled with magical items.

Ethan's eyes darted around, marveling at the oddities on display: self-stirring cauldrons, spellbooks whispering secrets to each other, and quills darting like birds.

Soon, they arrived at a small, shabby storefront.

Its faded sign read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.

Compared to the grandeur of Gringotts, the shop seemed unremarkable.

"Don't let appearances fool you," Professor McGonagall said, noting Ethan's expression.

"The Ollivander family has crafted the finest wands for centuries. Almost every witch and wizard at Hogwarts carries one of their creations."

Nodding, Ethan followed her inside.

The shop's interior was even narrower than it looked from the outside.

Stacks of long, thin boxes were piled high, filling every available space.

The air smelled faintly of aged wood and something ineffably magical.

"Good morning!" A soft, almost ethereal voice greeted them.

A man with silvery hair and a kind expression emerged from the shadows. His pale eyes twinkled with an otherworldly light.

"Ah, Minerva," Ollivander said warmly. "Nine and a half inches, fir, dragon heartstring. Exquisite craftsmanship, if I may say so myself. You've wielded it well all these years."

McGonagall gave a small, amused sigh.

"Good morning, Garrick. That was decades ago, but you recall it as if it were yesterday."

Ollivander's smile widened.

"Every wand has a story, and I never forget their beginnings."

He turned his attention to Ethan, studying him with the intensity of a jeweler appraising a rare gem.

"And you, young man, what is your name?"

"Ethan Adrian," he replied, stepping forward.

"Dominant hand?"

"Right, sir," Ethan answered, raising his hand.

Ollivander nodded and summoned a measuring tape, which immediately sprang to life, taking Ethan's measurements in precise, jerky movements.

Ethan watched, fascinated, as the tape measured not only his arm but also seemingly irrelevant areas like the width of his shoulders and the space between his fingers.

"Now, let's find your wand," Ollivander said, disappearing behind the counter.

He returned moments later with several boxes. Setting them down carefully, he opened the first.

"Try this one. Apple wood, unicorn hair, nine inches. Ideal for those with lofty aspirations."

He handed the wand to Ethan. "Give it a wave."

Ethan took the wand and gave a tentative flick.

The response was immediate—several boxes on a nearby shelf toppled, releasing a cloud of dust.

"No, no, not this one," Ollivander said quickly, taking the wand back and restoring the chaos with a flick of his own wand. "It happens often. Try this one instead."

Redwood, dragon heartstring," Ollivander continued, "Eleven and a half inches. This one's a bit more powerful—perfect for a wizard with great ambition."

Ethan took the wand. This time, when he waved it, a red flame burst from the tip, shooting out in a fiery arc that nearly singed Ollivander's hair.

Ollivander, looking slightly singed, took the wand back and nodded approvingly. "Yes, well... we can't all be perfect the first time."

"Let's try this one," he said again, handing Ethan a new wand. "Cedar wood, phoenix tail feathers, ten and three-quarters inches. Suitable for those with keen insight."

Bang!

Ethan waved it, and the vase next to him, which was unknown how many years old it was, shattered with a loud crack.

Ollivander sighed but only smiled. "Seems you're a rather... picky customer. But that's perfectly fine. It's about finding the right match."

In almost an hour, one by one Ethan had tried dozens of wands already.

Some sparked, some produced a faint hum, and others didn't react at all.

Each time, Ollivander carefully took the wand back, muttering to himself about how the match wasn't quite right.

The process repeated several times.

Ethan waved wands of redwood, cedar, ash, and birch, each paired with different cores: dragon heartstring, phoenix feather, and unicorn hair.

Each attempt ended in a minor disaster—a vase shattered, a curtain caught fire, or a pile of books tumbled to the floor.

Ollivander, however, remained unflustered, his enthusiasm only growing.

"Interesting, very interesting," he murmured after yet another wand failed to respond. "You are proving to be a unique case, Mr. Adrian. But worry not. I have just the thing."

He disappeared into the back room, his voice drifting back as he rummaged through shelves.

If it were a normal businessman, he would have started to drive away such a picky customer, but Ollivander would not.

On the contrary, he enjoyed it.

It was a great sense of accomplishment for him to let picky customers get matching wands.

"Most wizards find their match among the three primary cores—unicorn hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring. But there are other materials, rarer and more temperamental, that sometimes resonate with those who don't conform to the ordinary."

Ethan's ears perked up at this. "What kind of materials?"

Ollivander's voice grew fainter as he listed them. "Thunderbird tail feathers, kelpie manes, thestral tail hairs, even veela hair. Each has its own distinct properties and peculiarities."

Moments later, he returned, holding a single wand box with a reverent air.

Opening it, he revealed a wand unlike any Ethan had seen before.

Its wood was dark and polished to a high sheen, and it seemed to hum softly, as if alive.