"Twelve inches, vinewood, with a phoenix tail feather core—perfect for witches and wizards with a strong thirst for knowledge who love exploring the unknown."
"I think it suits you better than anything else."
Richie's eyes lit up with excitement the second he heard that.
Weren't all those crazy spells cast using wands? And now he finally had one!
Well… technically he'd had one for a whole year already.
He took the box and opened it. Inside lay a sleek brown-and-black wand.
The moment he picked it up, the wand gave a faint, happy little tremble, almost like it was letting out a cheerful sigh.
"Not bad at all. The wand accepts you," Annabelle said, nodding with satisfaction. "My taste is still impeccable."
"By the way, Auntie, how did you know I was a wizard?" Richie asked curiously.
After all, buying him a wand a full year early meant she must have known for a long time.
Annabelle reached out and playfully tapped his forehead.
"Remember that high fever you had when you were five? That was your first major magic outburst."
She spread her fingers and started ruffling his hair the same way his mom had earlier.
"It was the most dramatic magical surge I've ever seen. You nearly destroyed the whole house."
"That's when I finally found out your mother had been hiding the fact that you're a wizard from me."
"I took you straight to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries to save your life. You stayed there for three full months before you recovered."
"The healers were all amazed by your talent. That's when I suggested to your mom that she let me take you and properly introduce you to the magical world."
"But because of some things that happened in the past, your mother has always been dead set against the wizarding world, so the idea went nowhere."
Richie suddenly understood.
They had known since he was five.
No wonder his aunt and mother were always fighting. His aunt had never given up on the idea of letting him into the magical world, while his mother kept shutting it down.
That explained why the two sisters always seemed to care about each other but couldn't stop arguing.
"Still, when exactly did you figure out you could do magic?" Annabelle asked, looking at her adorable nephew with interest.
Richie's eyes shifted for a second.
"Actually… I still have some vague memories of that fever…"
(He was lying. In the original little Richie's memories, he had zero recollection of it.)
Annabelle nodded understandingly.
"So all these years you've been pretending you didn't know anything while secretly practicing magic on your own, huh?"
Richie scratched his nose sheepishly and told her about the past year of flicking sparrows in the head from across the room.
"So that's what happened…" Annabelle laughed. "You sneaky little genius."
She grinned and gave his hair another vigorous rub.
At that moment, Denton—who had been pretending to be furniture—suddenly sat up straight.
"You know, the neighborhood has been surprisingly peaceful this past year. No more constant bird chirping, and no random bird poop landing on cars anymore."
"So it was you, son."
As a law-abiding office worker, Denton used to get constantly annoyed by birds shitting on his car. This year he'd noticed there were suddenly no birds singing and no droppings. He even thought the neighborhood committee had finally taken action.
Turns out it was his own kid the whole time.
Denton looked impressed and opened his mouth to say something, but his ears twitched at the sound of footsteps. His face instantly changed. He flopped back down on the sofa, crossed his arms over his chest, and went back to playing dead.
Mrs. Harland returned to the living room, her expression complicated as she looked at her son and sister.
She had clearly used the trip to the kitchen not only to check the damage but also to calm herself down.
She sat beside Denton and gave his thigh a grumpy slap. Realizing he couldn't keep faking it, Denton immediately sat up.
"Richie, do you really want to go to that world?" she asked, still trying to persuade him. "Even though it's dangerous and full of unknowns…"
Richie's face turned serious. With encouragement in Annabelle's eyes, he spoke solemnly:
"Mom, the fact that I can use magic means I'm not a normal person…"
"A Muggle," Annabelle kindly explained. "In the wizarding world, we call non-magical people Muggles."
Richie nodded and continued.
"I'm not a Muggle. I'm a wizard. I don't belong in the ordinary world."
"Right now I'm still young, so when I accidentally made those sparrows disappear, the consequences were small and everything still seemed normal."
"But when I grow up, it won't be that simple anymore. Things will become harder and harder to control."
"That's why I need to study. I need to learn real magic and how to control my power. That way, if something like what happened when I was little ever happens again, I'll at least be able to protect myself…"
"I want to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Richie looked at his vinewood wand, then raised it high.
"Magic is my instinct. And Hogwarts… will be the key to unlocking the truth of magic."
Seeing her son's firm determination, Mrs. Harland's eyes reddened again. Annabelle quickly stepped in before she could start crying.
"Stop, stop, stop, my dear sister."
"I've told you so many times—the magical world is safe now."
"The Dark Lord is dead. The Death Eaters are either dead or locked away in Azkaban. The Ministry of Magic is actively maintaining order."
"Plus, the current headmaster of Hogwarts is the one and only Albus Dumbledore, the greatest white wizard of our time."
"There is no safer school in the world than Hogwarts."
Annabelle took her sister's hand and patted it gently.
"You wouldn't let Richie come study with me at Beauxbatons in France, so let him go to Hogwarts right here in England. That should be acceptable, right?"
"And if you agree to Hogwarts, I can pull some strings at the International Confederation of Wizards and get myself transferred to the British Ministry of Magic."
"With me keeping an eye on him, can't you trust it?"
Mrs. Harland pulled her hand away, wiped the corner of her eye, and grumbled:
"It's precisely because it's you that I don't feel reassured!"
Annabelle rolled her eyes. "Heh."
"Really safe?" Mrs. Harland asked one more time, her heart softening as she saw the hopeful look in her son's eyes.
"Safe!"
"Very safe!"
"Extremely safe!"
Annabelle answered with full confidence.
After hearing her sister's triple guarantee, Mrs. Harland thought for a long moment. Finally, she picked up the Hogwarts acceptance letter and started reading the supply list.
"We'll need to start preparing everything on this list…"
Richie and Annabelle exchanged an excited glance.
Mom (or Auntie's big sister) had… finally agreed?!