The next morning, Dumbledore arrived at Wool's Orphanage to take Thomas shopping.
As they stepped outside, Thomas looked up at him.
"So, how are we getting to Diagon Alley?"
"We'll be using Apparition," Dumbledore replied. "It's the fastest way to travel, though it can be unpleasant for first-time witches and wizards."
Thomas grinned.
"Sounds fun."
Dumbledore chuckled.
"Keep your stomach steady. Most people don't enjoy their first trip."
The world twisted.
Thomas felt himself pulled through a narrow tunnel as space folded around him. For a brief moment, everything blurred together. Yet within the chaos, he clearly saw the flow of space itself—a thin passage just wide enough for two people.
'Interesting...'
The sensation ended as quickly as it began.
They landed in a quiet alley.
Dumbledore studied him.
"How do you feel?"
Thomas dusted off his clothes.
"I'm fine."
"No dizziness? No nausea?"
Thomas shook his head.
"Nothing."
A hint of surprise crossed Dumbledore's face before he laughed.
"Excellent. It seems you were born for magic." His smile became a little strained. "Wool's Orphanage certainly has a habit of producing... extraordinary children."
Thomas noticed the distant look in the Headmaster's eyes but wisely chose not to ask.
"Come," Dumbledore said. "Diagon Alley awaits."
---
Thomas stopped the moment they entered the hidden street.
Crooked buildings lined the cobbled road, each packed with strange goods. Owls flew overhead carrying parcels while witches and wizards wandered between shops, chatting as enchanted signs flashed and magical displays filled the air.
"This..."
He slowly smiled.
"This is magic."
Dumbledore watched him with amusement.
"Indeed. Diagon Alley is the heart of magical Britain. Everything a Hogwarts student needs can be found here."
Thomas's eyes swept across every storefront.
Potion ingredients.
Spellbooks.
Robes.
Magical creatures.
Rare materials.
'Every one of these has value,' he thought. 'Someone's making a fortune... and eventually, so will I.'
Their first stop was Gringotts Wizarding Bank.
A stern goblin accepted Dumbledore's key without a word before leading them to one of the carts.
The cart shot forward like a rocket.
It dived through twisting tunnels, crossed rickety bridges, and raced past underground waterfalls.
Thomas remained completely calm.
The goblin glanced at him with mild approval.
Dumbledore simply smiled.
"You handled that better than most adults."
"It wasn't that bad."
The goblin snorted.
At the vault, Dumbledore opened the heavy door.
Inside sat neat stacks of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.
"Hogwarts has set aside funds for your school supplies," Dumbledore explained. "A special exception."
"Thank you."
Thomas quickly estimated how much each coin might be worth.
'Gold coins... a magical economy... I should learn how investments work here.'
Once they had enough money for the trip, Dumbledore closed the vault.
"Now then," he said. "Let's find your wand."
Thomas nodded.
As they walked through Diagon Alley, however, he suddenly stopped.
Something was calling to him.
Not magic.
Something sharper.
Something familiar.
Across the street stood a newly built shop with polished stone walls and elegant golden lettering.
Sword Master's Workshop.
Thomas stared at it without blinking.
His Sword Qi stirred for the first time since arriving in this world.
It felt...
Like home.
Dumbledore followed his gaze.
"Hm. That's new."
Thomas pointed toward the shop.
"Can we stop there first?"
Dumbledore looked at the sign for a moment before smiling.
"A swordsmith in Diagon Alley is certainly unusual."
He adjusted his robes.
"But I see no reason not to satisfy your curiosity."
Together, they walked toward the mysterious shop.
The moment Thomas stepped inside, he felt it.
Sword Qi.
It was faint compared to the worlds he remembered, but it was there.
The shop was lined with swords of every shape and size. Longswords, sabers, rapiers, greatswords—each carried traces of magic unlike anything he'd felt before. It wasn't wand magic. It was sharper. More focused.
Behind the counter stood a middle-aged man with streaks of gray in his dark hair. His calm eyes rested on Thomas before he gave a slow nod.
"So... you're the one who heard the call."
Thomas frowned.
"The call?"
The swordsmith smiled.
"Have a look around. You'll understand soon enough."
Drawn by instinct, Thomas walked toward a simple sword hanging on the wall.
It wasn't the largest or the fanciest.
It just felt... right.
As his fingers brushed the hilt, the sword trembled.
With a soft hum, it lifted from its display and settled gently into his hand.
The shop fell silent.
The swordsmith smiled knowingly.
"So it has chosen."
Thomas tested its balance.
"I'll take it."
Dumbledore blinked.
"You haven't even bought your wand."
Thomas grinned.
"Who's to say I can't use both?"
The swordsmith chuckled.
"Before you decide, give it a swing. Swords in the wizarding world are forged from many of the same magical materials as wands."
Thomas nodded.
He drew in a slow breath.
Sword Qi gathered around him, invisible to everyone except himself.
Unlike cultivation worlds, this world held very little Sword Qi. It had taken him ten years to condense enough into a core and reach the first stage of the Sword God Template.
Even so...
He swung.
Crack.
The blade bent before snapping clean in half.
Silence.
Thomas looked at the broken sword.
"...Oops."
Dumbledore stared.
The swordsmith burst into laughter.
"I thought so."
Without another word, he disappeared into the back room before returning with a long wooden box.
He carefully opened it.
Inside rested a crimson sword.
Its black hilt held a blood-red gem, while dragon-like patterns ran along the blade. Although shorter than Thomas, it carried an ancient presence that filled the room.
"It will grow alongside its master," the swordsmith said. "Literally."
Thomas reached toward it.
The instant his hand wrapped around the hilt...
The sword sang.
A clear metallic hum echoed through the shop.
A silver light traced along its edge before fading away.
The sword fit his hand perfectly, as though it had always belonged there.
The swordsmith smiled.
"I forged it from dragon bone, phoenix feather, unicorn core, and enchanted crimson steel."
He sighed softly.
"Everyone called it a failure. It rejected every owner."
Thomas looked up.
"Why me?"
"Because it wasn't made for ordinary wizards."
The swordsmith met his eyes.
"It was waiting for someone whose will is as sharp as a blade."
Thomas gave the sword another practice swing.
This time, nothing broke.
Instead, the blade sliced through the air with effortless precision.
"It's yours."
Thomas blinked.
"Free?"
"It wouldn't accept anyone else."
The old smith closed the empty box.
"Just promise me one thing."
Thomas raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Don't become a tyrant."
Thomas smiled.
"I wasn't planning on it."
"Good."
The swordsmith nodded.
"Because someone with your talent could become one."
Dumbledore watched the exchange quietly before clearing his throat.
"Well, Mr. Thomas..."
He smiled.
"I'm even more interested in seeing what kind of wand chooses you."
Thomas sheathed the sword across his back.
"Then let's find out."
Ollivanders stood near the end of the street.
Its faded golden sign read:
Ollivanders – Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.
A small bell rang as they entered.
An elderly man with silver eyes looked up from behind the counter.
"Albus."
Dumbledore smiled.
"It's been too long, Garrick."
"It has."
Ollivander's gaze shifted to Thomas.
"A new Hogwarts student?"
"Indeed," Dumbledore replied. "Another child from Wool's Orphanage."
For a brief moment, Ollivander's expression darkened.
"I only hope history doesn't repeat itself."
Thomas pretended not to notice.
Ollivander picked up a tape measure.
"Right or left hand?"
"My right."
"The dominant hand. Excellent."
The tape floated into the air, measuring Thomas from shoulder to fingertip while Ollivander searched through towering shelves.
He returned with the first wand.
"Chestnut wood. Phoenix feather. Twelve and a half inches."
Thomas gave it a wave.
A burst of fire shot from the tip, nearly igniting a shelf.
Dumbledore quickly extinguished it.
"Not that one," Ollivander said calmly.
The next wand was shorter.
"Hornbeam. Great Wolf core."
Thomas flicked it.
Black smoke exploded across the shop.
Everyone started coughing.
"...Definitely not."
One wand after another failed.
Some sparked.
Some exploded.
One shattered a flowerpot.
After nearly half an hour, Ollivander disappeared into the back room.
When he returned, he carried a single black box.
He handled it with unusual care.
"I never intended to sell this wand."
He slowly opened the lid.
Inside rested a beautiful wand unlike any Thomas had seen.
"Ancient Phoenix tail feather."
"Ancient Dragon heart core."
"And wood from a century-old Elder Tree."
"My finest creation."
Thomas sighed.
'Please work.'
He wrapped his fingers around the wand.
The room answered.
A warm breeze swept through the shop.
Every wand on the shelves began humming.
Golden light spiraled around Thomas's arm before fading into the wand itself.
Silence followed.
Ollivander's eyes widened.
"...Extraordinary."
Dumbledore smiled.
"It appears you've found each other."
Thomas lifted the wand.
Unlike the sword, which obeyed strength and control, the wand felt alive.
It expanded his senses, letting him feel the flow of magic itself.
He gave it a gentle flick.
A rush of wind swept through the shop, scattering papers into the air without breaking a single object.
Power.
Perfectly controlled.
Ollivander slowly shook his head.
"I offered that wand to dozens of witches and wizards."
"It rejected every one of them."
Thomas slipped it into his robe.
"I guess it was waiting for me."
"I believe it was."
As they left the shop, Ollivander quietly spoke to Dumbledore.
"Albus... are you certain that boy isn't under some enchantment?"
Dumbledore watched Thomas examine both his sword and wand.
"No."
"He is simply... different."
"The wand didn't merely choose him," Ollivander whispered.
"It welcomed him."
Dumbledore nodded.
"I know."
"There is great power within him."
He smiled faintly.
"My hope is that he chooses the right path."
Outside, Thomas admired the wand before grinning to himself.
'Sword God Template... a sword that accepted me... and now a wand.'
'This world has no idea what's coming.'
Leaving Ollivanders behind, Dumbledore and Thomas continued through the busy streets of Diagon Alley. They passed potion shops, cauldrons stacked outside storefronts, and enchanted books floating in display windows before stopping outside Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
A bell chimed as they entered.
Rows of Hogwarts robes filled the shop, and a kind-looking witch with gray hair stepped out from the back.
"Headmaster Dumbledore! It's been a while."
"It has," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "This is Thomas. He'll be attending Hogwarts this year."
Madam Malkin smiled warmly.
"Welcome, dear. Hop onto the stool."
Thomas climbed onto the platform while a magical tape measure floated around him.
He watched it work and muttered under his breath.
"'Tailor magic... what a cheat.'"
Dumbledore glanced at him.
"Did you say something?"
Thomas smiled innocently.
"Nothing."
The shop door opened again.
A blond boy about Thomas's age walked in and climbed onto the stool beside him.
"First year?" he asked.
Thomas nodded.
"Yeah."
The boy looked him over before stopping at his bright red hair.
"Weasley?"
Thomas let out a long sigh.
"No. Just red hair."
Madam Malkin laughed.
"I'm sure you'll hear that often."
The boy smirked.
"I suppose you don't act like one."
Thomas looked back at him.
"And you're far too polite to be a Malfoy."
The blond boy blinked before laughing.
"Fair enough."
Dumbledore watched the exchange with quiet amusement.
'I have a feeling these two will either become friends... or rivals.'
As Madam Malkin finished taking measurements, Thomas studied one of the standard Hogwarts uniforms.
After a moment, an idea came to him.
"Miss Malkin?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Would you mind if I made a few changes to the design?"
She looked slightly surprised.
"You don't like my robes?"
Thomas immediately realized how that sounded.
'Oops.'
"That's not what I meant," he said quickly. "Your work is excellent. I just have an idea for a different style."
Her expression softened.
"Oh? Let's see it."
She handed him a sheet of paper and a pencil.
Thomas began sketching.
His hand moved with practiced confidence, drawing a uniform inspired by the Mage's Association from another world. A fitted coat layered over a vest, matching trousers, elegant robes, and subtle embroidered patterns that gave it the appearance of a true magical scholar rather than a school uniform.
Lucius leaned over to watch.
"...That's incredible."
Madam Malkin's eyes widened.
"My word..."
She carefully picked up the drawing.
"The layering... the stitching... these trims..."
She looked back at Thomas with genuine admiration.
"This is unlike anything I've ever seen."
Thomas rubbed the back of his neck.
"I just wanted something that looked... cooler."
Lucius laughed.
"I'd wear that."
"So would I," Madam Malkin admitted. "I'll need a few extra days, but I can certainly make it."
Dumbledore walked over and examined the sketch.
A small smile spread across his face.
"It seems you're already changing the wizarding world, Mr. Thomas."
Thomas shrugged.
"One step at a time."
Madam Malkin carefully folded the drawing.
"I have a feeling students from every magical school will want robes like these someday."
Thomas smiled.
'I might as well modernize a few things while I'm here.'
Madam Malkin gathered several fabrics and nodded.
"You'll have your standard Hogwarts robes today. Your custom set will be ready soon."
Lucius crossed his arms.
"I have a feeling you're going to cause quite a stir at Hogwarts."
Thomas picked up his robes and grinned.
"That's the plan."
With their final purchase complete, Dumbledore led Thomas back into the lively streets of Diagon Alley.
Everything he needed for Hogwarts was finally ready.
Everything except the adventures waiting for him on September first.
To be continue
Hope people like this rewrite of Ch 2