The journey out of Gringotts was a blur of gold and echoing vaults. Alister led Astra, who was still wide-eyed with wonder, out of the bank and back into the vibrant chaos of Diagon Alley.
Their first stop, Hagrid announced with a grand gesture, was Flourish and Blotts, the famous wizarding bookstore. The building was a towering, crooked structure, its windows crammed with books of every size and shape. A large sign in the window read: Hogwarts First-Year Reading List.
"Right then," Hagrid rumbled, pulling a crumpled list from his pocket. "I'll get your school books. You two can have a little look around."
Alister didn't need to be told twice. This was what he had been waiting for. He squeezed Astra's hand and led her away from Hagrid, his gaze scanning the overflowing shelves. He passed books on charms and spells, on potions and beasts, and every title felt like a new piece of the puzzle. This was where he would find the knowledge to restore the world.
He bypassed the sections filled with colorful spellbooks. The System had already told him that his perfect control over magic meant he didn't need to practice spells in the traditional way. He just needed to understand their theory, their purpose, and their history. His gaze fell on a shelf filled with old, dusty tomes.
He selected a book with a worn leather cover titled A History of Magic. He also picked out a dense volume called Magical Theory: A Treatise on the Fundamentals. He continued his search, his eyes lighting up as he found an even older book titled Ancient Runes: The Lost Language of Magic. He chose several other books on magical theory, history, and philosophy.
He returned to Hagrid, his arms filled with books. Hagrid's eyes, usually so cheerful, were filled with confusion as he looked at Alister's choices.
"I need them," Alister said, his voice quiet but firm.
Hagrid simply stared, but then a slow smile spread across his face. "Just like your mum," he rumbled, his voice filled with pride. "Always wantin' to learn more. Well, don't you worry about the rest. Hogwarts has the biggest collection of books in the world, built up over a thousand years. The library's got everything."
Alister's heart stirred. A library built over a thousand years. A repository of knowledge, of the very magic he needed.
Alister followed Hagrid and Astra out of the quiet refuge of the bookstore and back into the bustling chaos of Diagon Alley. Their next stop, according to Hagrid, was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, a small, cheerful shop with a sign that promised to attire wizards for any event.
The inside was warm and cozy, stacked high with robes of every color and material. To Alister's surprise, the shop was completely empty. A plump, smiling witch in a lilac dress—Madam Malkin herself—greeted them with a wide smile.
"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked Alister, her eyes twinkling.
"Yes," Alister replied.
Madam Malkin led him and Astra to a raised platform and began taking their measurements with a long measuring tape that seemed to move of its own accord. As it whizzed around them, Hagrid cleared his throat.
"Right then, Madam Malkin," Hagrid rumbled, his voice filled with paternal pride. "I'm the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, so if you need any materials, I'm your man. I can get ye some high-quality Hippogriff feathers. Something special for these two."
Astra's eyes twinkled as she exclaimed, "Me too?"
Hagrid replied with a warm smile. "It's my gift for you both."
Madam Malkin's eyes lit up. "Oh, that would be delightful, Hagrid! A Hippogriff-feather lining would be just the thing to make their robes light as a feather, wouldn't it? Very durable, too."
Alister, standing still as the measuring tape worked its magic, watched Hagrid boast about the magical creatures he cared for.
"I'll have them custom-made for ye, then," Madam Malkin said, making a few notes on a small clipboard. "The quality will be impeccable. You can come back and collect them in a couple of hours."
Alister nodded, a strange feeling settling over him. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a profound statement—someone cared enough to give them something special.
After leaving the warm, cozy confines of Madam Malkin's, Hagrid led Alister and Astra past the pet shop. The street was alive with the calls of magical creatures, and the air was filled with the pungent scent of owl droppings and damp straw.
Alister's gaze drifted over the cages, and his mind, the System humming in the background, ran a cold, hard analysis. The owls were wild, their eyes filled with a restless energy that made them unsuitable for a confined life. The toads were slow and placid, and the cats, while useful, were not tools he could rely on. A single powerful spell could incapacitate them all. He had no use for a creature that could not defend itself, nor did he have any need for a pet.
"Right then," Hagrid said, his large hand gesturing toward the shop teeming with cages. "Time to get you a familiar. The letter says you can choose an owl, a cat, or a toad. Owls are very useful for sending messages, you know."
"No," Alister said, his voice quiet but firm. "I won't be getting one." He couldn't say what he truly thought—they are weak, they would be a liability, they serve no purpose in my quest. So he used the simplest, most polite lie. "I don't like keeping pets."
Hagrid's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Won't? But the letter..." He rumbled, then continued, "Well, there's no harm in it. Dumbledore won't mind."
As they left the pet store behind, their next stop was a narrow, dusty shop with a peeling gold sign that read: Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. The shop was dark and silent, and Alister felt a powerful hum of magic emanating from within, a feeling that made the magical energy in his body stir in response.
He took a deep breath and followed Hagrid into the silent, dusty shop.
The shop was a towering labyrinth of narrow boxes, all filled with the promise of a future yet to be written. A tall, old man with wide, silvery eyes emerged from the shadows. He was Mr. Ollivander, and his gaze seemed to see right through them.
"Ah, Hagrid," he said, his voice a soft, dry whisper. "A new first-year, I see."
"That's right, Ollivander," Hagrid rumbled, a large hand resting on Alister's shoulder. "This here is Alister Potter."
Ollivander's eyes, already wide, widened further as the name registered. He looked from Alister to Astra, and then back to Alister, his gaze seeming to see right through their young, frail bodies.
"Ah, yes. Alister Potter. It seems like only yesterday your mother and father were in here, buying their very first wands."
Ollivander glided silently down the aisle, pulling a long box from a shelf. He handed Alister a wand made of beechwood. "Ten and a half inches. Unicorn hair core. Pliable."
Alister took the wand. It felt like a simple piece of wood in his hand. He gave it a flick, and a shower of silver sparks erupted from its tip—a small, yet perfect display of power. He handed it back to Ollivander, who simply nodded and took it away.
He tried wand after wand, each one a different length, wood, and core. With each one, the result was the same: a brilliant flash of light, a gentle humming, a warm feeling in his hand. Every wand he touched seemed to respond perfectly to his will.
Ollivander's confusion grew with each passing minute. He had never seen a wizard get such a flawless response from so many different wands. He simply stared, a look of profound bewilderment on his face. Hagrid's surprise grew with each passing box.
Alister finally paused. He looked from the pile of wands on the counter to the bewildered Ollivander. This was not how he had imagined it. A question formed in his mind, directed to the only entity that could give him a straight answer.
System, what is happening? Why does every wand work for me?
The System's voice was instantaneous, a cold, mechanical hum that answered his question.
[A wand is a channel—a tool to focus and direct magical energy. Your perfect control and direct link to the World's Core render any wand fully compatible. The wand's core, length, or material will have no effect on your magical output. You can cast any magic without a wand effortlessly.]
Alister's mind processed the information in a flash. He didn't need a specific wand; he could use any wand. The concept of a wand choosing a wizard was irrelevant to him. He was the force, and the wand was just a simple tool.
Ollivander, still mystified, gestured to the wands on the counter. "It seems you can use any of them, Mr. Potter," he said, his voice filled with nervous energy. "I... I've never seen anything like it. Just choose one, then."
Alister took a slow walk down the aisle, his eyes scanning the endless boxes. He wasn't looking for a wand with a special core or unique wood. He was looking for a wand that simply felt right in his hand—a wand that was a perfect extension of his own body.
He finally stopped, his gaze fixed on a simple, unassuming box. He took out the wand. It was elegant, its core unknown. He held it in his hand, and it felt right.
With a final nod to a still-bewildered Ollivander, Alister, Hagrid, and Astra left the silent shop.
As they made their way back toward Madam Malkin's, Astra's pace slowed to a halt. Her eyes, wide and filled with a longing he knew well, were glued to the colorful front of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. She had never had ice cream before, and the sight of the towering, whimsical creations on display was a feast for her starved senses.
Alister looked at Hagrid, who simply smiled and gave a gentle nod.
"Go on then," Hagrid rumbled. "Can't go to Diagon Alley without having a little treat."
Alister led Astra by the hand to the counter. He watched as her face lit up with pure, unadulterated joy that he had never seen before. He bought her a large scoop of chocolate ice cream and a single, small scoop for himself. He watched as she devoured it, the sight of her simple happiness a more profound reward than anything.
After collecting their custom robes from Madam Malkin—luxurious garments with Hippogriff-feather linings that felt impossibly light—they arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron to find it much quieter. The initial excitement had died down, and the pub was once again filled with the low hum of conversation.
Tom, the owner, came out from behind the bar, his face filled with deep, sincere apology.
"My sincerest apologies, Hagrid. To you, and to the children," he said, his voice raspy. "I-I didn't mean to cause a commotion. I-I was just so surprised."
"It's alright, Tom," Hagrid said, his voice filled with paternal kindness. "No harm done."
Tom nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude. He went back to the bar and returned with a large, foaming butterbeer for Hagrid and two glasses of pumpkin juice for Alister and Astra.
As soon as Tom was gone, Alister put down his glass of pumpkin juice. "Hagrid," he said, his voice low and serious. "What did they mean? The 'Girl-Who-Lived'? They were talking about Astra. What happened to her?"
Hagrid's cheerful demeanor faded, replaced by a deep, troubled frown. He took a long swig of his butterbeer, as if trying to postpone the inevitable conversation. "Ah, well, that's a long story, Alister," he began, his voice a low rumble. "A very long and terrible story."
He explained the events of that fateful night—the night Lord Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard of all time, had sought out the Potters. Hagrid spoke of the terror Voldemort had inspired, a fear so great that wizards dared not even speak his name.
He described how Voldemort had found their family, cornering them in their home. The dark wizard had intended to kill them all, but he had failed.
"He went after your mum and dad first," Hagrid said, his voice thick with emotion. "They fought him, but... they weren't strong enough. But then... he turned his wand on little Astra. And something... something happened. The curse, the Killing Curse, it just... it just rebounded on him. He was destroyed."
Alister's mind, a perfect processing tool, was working furiously. He was a warrior. He knew the force of a killing blow, and he knew that there was no such thing as a curse just "rebounding." There had to be a reason, a source of power that had been strong enough to stop the most powerful dark wizard in history.
"He left her with a scar," Hagrid continued, his voice softer now. "A mark of his power, a reminder of what happened that night. She was the only one to ever survive the Killing Curse. They called her the 'Girl-Who-Lived'."
Alister looked at Astra, who was innocently sipping her pumpkin juice, completely unaware of the weight of the story Hagrid was telling. A protective fury settled over him. He would ensure nothing like that ever threatened her again.
"It's getting late," Hagrid said, finishing his butterbeer. "And we've still got things to get tomorrow. I reckon we should get two rooms here for the night. We can get an early start."
Alister nodded. He took Astra's hand and they walked with Hagrid to the bar.
"Tom," Hagrid rumbled, "we'll need two rooms for the night. One for me, and a room for Alister and Astra."
Tom's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise passing over his face. "Of course, Hagrid. Two rooms it is." He handed two heavy, old-fashioned keys to Hagrid, who passed one to Alister.
Alister took the key, its cold metal a grounding presence.
He led Astra up the creaky stairs and into their room. The room was simple, with two single beds and a small window. He helped Astra onto one of the beds and sat beside her, watching her small body settle into a deep, peaceful sleep.
As he sat there in the quiet darkness, his mind turned over everything he'd learned today. The magical world, Voldemort, the mysterious power that had saved Astra. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to come together, but there was still so much he didn't understand.
With a final glance at his sleeping sister, Alister lay back on his own bed, his mind still racing with plans and possibilities.
(END OF CHAPTER)
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