"I'm Draco Malfoy."
After introducing himself, the platinum-blond boy held out his hand for a handshake. He seemed a little affected, but once you heard his name, it was easy to understand why.
"Oh, so you're a son of the Malfoy family."
The Malfoys are a famous, long-established pure-blood family, aristocrats in the truest sense. Perhaps pleased that I knew his family name, the young Malfoy looked rather proud.
"My father is next door buying textbooks, and my mother is further down looking at wands. I'm about to drag the two of them to look at racing brooms. I don't understand why first-years aren't allowed to have their own brooms. I'll threaten my father into buying me one and sneak it in."
A textbook example of a spoiled rich kid. Or rather, a pampered young lord.
"Do you have your own broom?"
"I do. My mother gave me a Comet 260 for my birthday last year."
In the wizarding world, underage magic is forbidden, but simply using enchanted tools is not a problem.
"Oh? Then you're the same as me. Are both your parents wizards?"
"Yes."
The term "wizarding folk" refers, as the name suggests, to families of witches and wizards.
Normally, magical ability is passed down from parent to child. If both parents are wizards, the child is called "pure-blood." If only one parent is magical, the child is "half-blood." Non-magical people are called "Muggles," and wizards born to Muggles are known as "Muggle-born."
In my case, I was born to a "half-blood" father and a "pure-blood" mother. By definition, that puts me in the awkward category of "half-blood leaning toward pure-blood," a borderline case where I can just barely insist on calling myself pure-blood if I really want to.
That said, my rather Muggle-friendly parents do not use magic all that often in everyday life.
At most, the house has an unusual number of magical books lying around, or my mother brews a mysterious potion when someone isn't feeling well. I vaguely remember using magic for things like washing dishes when I was in kindergarten, but after we got a fully automatic dishwasher, we mostly just use that instead.
For the record, there is a wizarding community in my hometown of Robetta, but it is not very large.
To be honest, it is far more convenient to buy daily necessities and food at nearby large Muggle supermarkets or chain stores than to go out of one's way to visit wizard-only shops.
Besides, blending into Muggle culture makes neighborhood relations and everyday life much easier overall.
Because of all that, I attended an ordinary kindergarten and elementary school like any other child in England.
I only learned recently that many children from strictly pure-blood wizarding families are taught by their parents or private tutors until they enter Hogwarts.
In our household, however, both of my parents worked, and more importantly, because it was free, I went to a regular public school. Public schools in the UK do not charge tuition, after all.
That said, I am not completely ignorant of the wizarding world. Once a year during summer vacation, we visit wizard relatives and live what you might call a "typical wizarding family" life. We eat Chocolate Frogs and get excited talking about Quidditch and the like.
"Come to think of it, I never asked your name. What is it?"
"Ireina. Ireina Celesteria."
When I answered, the boy's eyebrow twitched. He reacted not to my given name, but to my full name, so my surname must have rung a bell.
Just then, the measuring finished. I stepped lightly down from the platform, and at the same time, Malfoy spoke up.
"Then I suppose I'll see you at Hogwarts. Probably."
"Yes. Take care."
When we stepped outside, my mother had just finished exchanging money. The wizarding world does not use paper bills; instead, it still relies on old-fashioned gold, silver, and copper coins. With magical tools, I suppose the bulk is not much of an issue.
Apparently, one gold Galleon is worth five pounds in the Muggle world. Since a Big Mac in the UK costs about three pounds before tax, prices in the wizarding world seem remarkably cheap.
I briefly wondered whether melting the coins down, selling the bullion in the Muggle world, and then exchanging the earned pounds back at Gringotts might allow someone to make unlimited money.
As I was thinking that, my mother scolded me as if she had read my mind.
"Ireina, don't even think about doing what you're thinking right now. Every coin is enchanted, and the moment you try something like that, you'll be arrested."
"…Whatever could you mean?"
＊＊
After that, my mother and I bought everything needed for school in order according to the list. The last place we arrived at was a very narrow, shabby-looking shop.
"If you're buying a wand, it has to be Ollivanders."
"So this is Ollivanders Wand Shop…"
Ollivander is a famous wand-making family in the wizarding world. I had heard the name before, of course, but this was my first time seeing the shop in person.
When my mother opened the door, a bell rang, and an elderly man with pale, light-colored eyes emerged from the back.
"Welcome. Are you here to purchase a wand?"
"Yes. For my daughter, who will be entering Hogwarts."
Mr. Ollivander's gaze shifted to me.
"Pleased to meet you, my dear young lady. Now then, let us choose your wand at once. Which is your wand arm?"
"My right."
When I extended my arm, the measuring tape began moving on its own, taking measurements from my fingertips to my wrist, and from my elbow to my shoulder. While this was happening, Mr. Ollivander explained the nature of wands to me.
"The wands in this shop each use a powerful magical core. Unicorn hair, phoenix feather, dragon heartstring. However, no two wands are ever the same."
According to Mr. Ollivander, a wand chooses its owner. That is why, even if you use someone else's wand, it will never draw out the same power as your own.
While I was swatting away the measuring tape that had started measuring my nostrils without permission, Mr. Ollivander brought over a long, slender box. He took out a wand and handed it to me.
"Holly and unicorn hair, 23 centimeters, easy to handle."
I took the wand and gave it a light test swing. Peach blossoms bloomed from the tip, but unfortunately, the flowers quickly withered away.
"Not quite right, it seems. Then how about this one? Larch and dragon heartstring, 29 centimeters, rather stubborn."
I accepted the wand and swung it lightly again. At first, nothing seemed to happen. Then part of a stack of boxes piled near the ceiling collapsed and fell down.
"That will not do either. Then, hmm, what about this? Ash and phoenix feather, 32 centimeters, very flexible."
Once again, I gave the wand a quick flick. This time, a vase on the table at the back shattered, and water splashed everywhere. The floor was soaked, but Mr. Ollivander paid it no mind and continued searching for another wand.
"Hmm. Then try this one. Alder and dragon heartstring, 32 centimeters, ideal for nonverbal spells."
Oh?
When I grasped it, the sensation was different from all the previous wands. It was easy to hold, of course, but there was also an indescribable feeling of fulfillment.
This is it. This one.
Caught up in my excitement, I raised the wand high and swung it down with all my strength. At once, amnesia flowers scattered from the tip like a snowstorm, filling the shop in a brilliant display.
"Bravo! I see now. So that is how it is."
Mr. Ollivander nodded happily, his expression also tinged with understanding.
"Alder is among the wands that only witches and wizards of considerable ability can truly master. Those drawn to alder tend to be adventurous travelers who trust themselves and are able to make decisive choices."
A traveler. That word made me react instinctively, because my dream for the future is to travel the world like Nike, the witch from my beloved book The Adventures of Nike.
According to Mr. Ollivander's further explanation, dragon heartstring learns quickly and is well suited to flashy spells. When mastered, it becomes a loyal and powerful ally.
"I'm so glad for you, Ireina."
"Yes, truly."
After thanking Mr. Ollivander once more, we paid for the wand and left the shop. We checked to make sure nothing had been forgotten, confirmed that everything was in order, and then headed home.
"Welcome back, both of you!"
When we returned, my father was waiting with a colorful spread of food. There was bread and cheese, salami, figs, olives, salad, mashed potatoes, meatballs in cream sauce, and even a large fruit cake.
"Once again, congratulations on your admission, Ireina!"
"You are our pride."
My parents smiled warmly as they congratulated me. After that, our family chatted cheerfully and enjoyed the meal together. Once everyone was full, my mother beckoned for me to come into the next room.
"Oh, right. We have a present for you, Ireina."
As she said that, my mother handed me a pointed hat and a diary.
"Someday, tell us your story."
"Yes!"
(End of chapter)
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