“Red oak.
Blood Kirin scale.
Nine inches.” Ollivander held the dusty wand box with unusual care.
“I’ve searched for a suitable owner for this one many times,” he admitted softly.
“It’s extraordinarily selective.” Then, noticing Ethan’s increasingly suspicious stare, the old wandmaker coughed hurriedly.
“To be clear, the scale was naturally shed,” he added immediately.
“Harming a Kirin is said to invite terrible curses, and I value my continued survival quite highly.” Only then did Ethan relax slightly.
He accepted the box and slowly drew the wand free.
The wood felt warm against his fingers.
Not warm from temperature.
Alive.
Almost as though something inside the wand had recognized him the instant he touched it.
“This time,” Ollivander said nervously, “please wave it very gently.” He pointed toward the already damaged shelves behind him.
“I would prefer my shop remain standing.” “I’ll be careful,” Ethan promised seriously.
Then he gave the wand the lightest flick he could manage.
The entire shop exploded with movement.
The floor trembled violently beneath everyone’s feet.
Shelves rattled.
Glass shattered somewhere deeper inside the store.
Professor Sprout and Ollivander both froze as the building groaned around them.
Then the wood began growing.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Support beams thickened before their eyes, bark spreading rapidly across polished surfaces.
The wooden floorboards cracked apart as roots burst downward through the gaps beneath them.
Green vines erupted across the walls while flowering plants exploded from empty corners in seconds.
Dead timber transformed into living wood overflowing with vitality.
Fresh blossoms unfurled across the ceiling.
Flowers bloomed everywhere.
The entire shop became a miniature forest almost instantly.
And it didn’t stop there.
The growth spread beyond Ollivanders itself.
Vines surged through windows and beneath doors into neighboring storefronts.
People across Diagon Alley immediately turned toward the disturbance.
Gasps and startled shouts erupted outside.
Professor Sprout stood rooted in place, staring around her in complete disbelief.
“As a Herbology professor,” she said faintly, “I feel personally offended right now.” Slowly, she turned toward Ethan.
“That level of natural magical energy came from you?” The wand in Ethan’s hand glowed softly with warm crimson light.
A clear sign of acceptance.
The wand had chosen its master.
Ollivander looked equally stunned.
Originally, he had only offered the wand as an experiment.
And somehow— against all reasonable expectations— it had worked.
Meanwhile, Ethan stared at the transformed shop with growing panic.
“Mr.
Ollivander,” he said immediately, “I’ll pay for the damages.” “Damages?” The old wandmaker looked almost offended.
He rushed toward one of the newly grown wooden pillars, eyes gleaming with near-religious excitement.
“These trees are saturated with life energy!” His fingers trembled slightly as he touched the bark.
“This is extraordinary wand-grade material!” He looked moments away from crying tears of joy.
“Forget compensation,” he declared.
“This alone is worth a fortune.” Then he pointed cheerfully toward the neighboring shops currently being strangled by vines.
“And probably enough to compensate them as well.” Ethan finally relaxed a little.
Good.
He had no intention of beginning magical school already buried beneath debt caused by accidental magical terrorism.
Carefully lifting the wand, he asked, “How much does this one cost?” Ollivander smiled mysteriously.
“Keep it.” Ethan blinked.
“What?” “If it’s ever damaged, bring it back to me,” the wandmaker said.
“I’ll repair it personally.” Ethan’s eyes widened slightly.
“Thank you, Mr.
Ollivander.” Beside him, Professor Sprout still looked deeply shaken.
She stepped closer, examining Ethan with unconcealed disbelief.
The magical output he’d released moments ago already surpassed many fully trained adult wizards.
And he was only eleven.
But raw magical power wasn’t what truly disturbed her.
It was the nature of it.
The overwhelming vitality woven into Ethan’s magic felt fundamentally different from ordinary wizard magic.
As though nature itself instinctively responded to his presence.
Even the ancient greenhouses at Hogwarts had never given her such a sensation.
Honestly— Ethan himself was equally shocked.
He had expected stronger-than-average magic because of the Soul Palace.
But this?
This was something else entirely.
After thinking carefully, only one explanation made sense.
Wood Release.
The bloodline power inherited from his Naruto counterpart had likely altered the nature of his magic itself.
After all, magical signatures already varied naturally between individuals.
And Wood Release wasn’t merely a technique.
It was a transformation rooted deeply into the body and soul.
If anything could distort magical affinity this dramatically— it would be that.
Professor Sprout clearly wanted to ask questions.
Dozens of them.
But after looking at Ethan’s genuinely confused expression, she stopped herself.
He was still just a child.
There was no way he fully understood what had happened either.
Better to consult Dumbledore later.
Outside, the crowd gathering around Ollivanders continued growing larger.
Professor Sprout immediately moved protectively in front of Ethan.
“We’re leaving.” Without waiting for objections, she hurried him out of the wand shop.
As they disappeared into the street, a young girl standing among the crowd watched Ethan’s retreating figure curiously.
Bushy brown hair.
Large front teeth.
Bright, intelligent eyes.
She continued staring until her parents called her away reluctantly.
Professor Sprout moved quickly all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron.
The moment they entered, she turned toward Ethan with visible urgency.
“Ethan, I’m terribly sorry, but I need to leave immediately.” She shoved several items into his hands.
A train ticket.
A small pouch filled with gold Galleons.
“Your room here is already paid for until term begins.” She pointed at the ticket.
“King’s Cross Station.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Be there before eleven on September first.” Then, before Ethan could even respond— CRACK.
She Apparated away instantly.
The entire conversation ended so quickly Ethan barely had time to process it.
“…Professor Sprout really doesn’t believe in wasting time.” He glanced down at the ticket.
King’s Cross Station.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
A deeply nostalgic location.
“At least I already know how to get through the barrier,” Ethan muttered.
Otherwise that could have become extremely awkward.
After Sprout left, Ethan made one final stop before returning upstairs.
Gringotts.
Specifically because he wanted to exchange the money he had “acquired” from various London criminals into wizarding currency.
Unfortunately, reality proved disappointing.
Strict exchange limits existed between Muggle currency and Galleons.
Instead of becoming rich overnight, Ethan walked away with only two hundred Galleons.
His expression darkened immediately.
“So mugging street gangs really is low-level income…” A dangerous gleam entered his eyes.
“Maybe I should upgrade targets to Dark Wizards instead.” Somewhere in Britain, fate quietly shivered.
By the time Ethan finally returned to his room, he was too mentally exhausted to move much further.
So he sat on the bed and opened the first textbook from his Hogwarts supplies.
The History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot.
For someone completely unfamiliar with the wizarding world, it was the ideal starting point.
And thanks to the combined talent amplification from all three counterparts, Ethan’s learning ability had become terrifying.
His memory was not quite photographic.
But after reading something two or three times, he could retain and comprehend it with near-perfect accuracy.
Most people could memorize.
Far fewer could truly understand.
Ethan did both almost simultaneously.
And honestly?
The feeling was addictive.
Absorbing knowledge at that speed created a rush unlike anything else he had experienced.
Hours passed quietly beneath candlelight while pages turned one after another.
Outside the window, London sank deeper into the night.
But inside that tiny room— the future was already accelerating.