Sunday morning arrived with a light drizzle over London.
The rain hit the windowpane in a steady rhythm.
Up in his room, Edward was busy.
He wore his heavy training bands strapped securely to his wrists and ankles.
He was doing slow, controlled push-ups on the floorboards.
He focused on his breathing.
He had spent the last few days ignoring the thick parchment letter sitting safely in his storage space.
He was just waiting to see how long it would take for a Hogwarts teacher to finally show up.
“Edward!” Matron Cole’s voice echoed sharply up the stairwell.
“Get down here immediately!” Edward stopped.
He dropped to his knees, quickly unstrapped the heavy weights, and tossed them into his invisible space.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt, slipped his shoes on, and walked downstairs.
He found Matron Cole standing in the main hallway.
She was talking to a stranger.
The woman did not look like she belonged in the dreary, grey orphanage.
She was plump, had a kind, round face, and wore earthy brown clothing that looked a bit like a dress and a bit like a gardening smock.
Her hat sat slightly crooked on her head.
“Edward,” Matron Cole said.
She smoothed her skirt, trying to look professional.
“This is Madam Sprout.
She represents a rather exclusive boarding school in Scotland.
She is here to offer you a place.” “Hello, Edward,” Professor Sprout said.
She gave him a warm, motherly smile.
“Hello, Madam,” Edward said politely.
He stood straight and kept his hands by his sides.
Sprout turned back to the matron.
“St.
Jude’s has done a wonderful job with him.
Our school for gifted children has a special fund for students without means.
His tuition, boarding, books, and supplies will be completely covered.” Matron Cole looked thrilled.
Edward could practically see the gears turning in her head.
One less mouth to feed, and she didn’t have to pay a single pound for it.
“That is wonderful news,” Matron Cole said.
“Edward is a bright boy.
He helps out a lot around here.
The other boys look up to him.” “I am very glad to hear it,” Sprout said.
“If you don’t mind, Matron, I would like to speak with Edward privately to explain our curriculum.” “Of course,” Matron Cole agreed quickly.
“Edward, take Madam Sprout to your room.” Edward nodded.
He led the professor up the creaky stairs and pushed open the door to his bedroom.
Sprout walked in and looked around.
She took in the neatly made bed, the swept floor, and the sparse, clean surroundings.
“You keep a very tidy room, Edward,” Sprout said.
She sat down on the edge of his bed.
“I like things organized,” Edward replied.
He leaned against the window frame and crossed his arms.
“So, a school for gifted children?” Sprout smiled.
Her eyes twinkled.
“Edward, has anything unusual ever happened around you?
Things you couldn’t explain?
Especially when you were angry, or perhaps scared?” Edward knew exactly what she was doing.
It was time to play his part.
He looked away, pretending to be hesitant.
He shifted his weight and rubbed the back of his neck, acting like a nervous kid holding a big secret.
“Sometimes,” Edward mumbled, looking at the floorboards.
“Sometimes when I get really mad at the older boys, things start to fly around me.
Books fall off shelves.
Once a cup shattered across the room, but I didn’t even touch it.
I didn’t tell anyone though.
I didn’t want them to call me a freak.” Sprout’s expression softened completely.
She looked at him with deep sympathy.
“Oh, my dear boy.
You are not a freak.
None of us are.” “Us?” Edward asked, acting entirely confused.
“Edward,” Sprout said kindly.
“You are a wizard.” Edward stared at her.
He let the silence hang in the air for three seconds.
Then, he burst into laughter.
He laughed loudly, clutching his stomach.
It was a very good fake laugh.
“A wizard?” Edward said.
He wiped a fake tear from his eye.
“Like with pointy hats and magic wands?
Right.
That’s a good joke, Madam.
Did Ben put you up to this?” “It is not a joke,” Sprout said gently.
She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a wooden stick.
She pointed it at his wooden chair in the corner of the room.
She gave the wand a quick flick.
The wooden chair suddenly turned into a large, fat pig.
The pig snorted loudly, sniffed the floorboards, and wagged its curly tail.
Sprout waved her wand again.
The pig turned back into a wooden chair.
Edward let his jaw drop.
He widened his eyes.
He put on his best shocked face.
“That…
that was magic,” Edward stammered.
“Yes,” Sprout said, smiling proudly.
“And you can do it too.
You have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Edward quickly reached under his pillow, pretending to pull something out.
He pulled the thick parchment letter from his storage space and held it up.
“I got this a few days ago by owl,” Edward said.
“I didn’t open it.
I thought Ben and the older kids were playing a prank on me.
I thought they somehow trained a bird just to make fun of me.” “I assure you, it is very real,” Sprout said.
“Hogwarts is a wonderful place.
You will learn to control your abilities.” Edward let his excitement show.
He dropped the cautious act and bombarded her with questions.
“How does it work?
Do I get a wand?
Are there dragons?
Do we fly on brooms?
How do we hide from normal people?
Can I turn things into pigs too?” Sprout laughed.
She spent the next ten minutes answering his questions, clearly happy to see him so enthusiastic.
“Now,” Sprout said, standing up and smoothing her smock.
“We have a lot to do today.
We need to go to London to buy your school supplies.
Grab your coat, Edward.” Edward grabbed his winter coat.
They walked out of the orphanage and stepped into the damp morning air.
They took the London Underground into the city.
Edward followed her down the busy streets until they reached a dingy, dark pub called the Leaky Cauldron.
Edward noticed that normal people walked right past the pub without even glancing at it.
Their eyes just slid right over the door.
They went inside.
The pub smelled of stale beer and pipe smoke.
They walked out the back door into a small, walled courtyard.
Sprout tapped a specific brick in the wall with her wand.
The bricks shifted.
They spun and folded outward, creating an archway that revealed a busy, chaotic street.
“Welcome to Diagon Alley, Edward,” Sprout said.
Edward looked around.
Witches and wizards rushed by in long robes.
Owls hooted from cages outside shops.
Store windows displayed cauldrons, brooms, and weird ingredients in glass jars.
He acted amazed, pointing at the shop windows while Sprout explained how the magical economy worked.
First, they went to Gringotts Bank.
Sprout showed the goblins a letter from the school, and they gave her a small pouch of gold Galleons from the Hogwarts orphan fund.
Edward made a mental note to come back later by himself and exchange some of his system cash.
They walked up and down the street.
They bought his plain black robes at Madam Malkin’s.
They bought his potion ingredients from the apothecary, which smelled strongly of rotten eggs and dried cabbage.
They bought a pile of heavy spellbooks from Flourish and Blotts.
“And finally,” Sprout said.
She pointed to a dusty, narrow shop at the very end of the street.
“Your wand.
Ollivanders.” Edward walked into the shop.
It was entirely quiet.
Thousands of narrow boxes stacked up to the ceiling.
Dust floated in the air.
An old man with pale, silvery eyes stepped out from the back rows.
“Ah,” Ollivander said softly.
His eyes moved from Edward and landed on the professor.
“Professor Sprout.
Plum wood, ten and a quarter inches, dragon heartstring.
Pliable.
Excellent for Herbology work, if I recall correctly.” Sprout smiled warmly.
“Your memory is as perfect as ever, Mr.
Ollivander.” Then she introduced Edward to Ollivander.
Ollivander stopped in front of Edward.
He stared at him for an uncomfortably long time.
He didn’t blink.
He leaned in close, invading Edward’s personal space.
“I see a great future in you, young man,” Ollivander whispered, his voice full of mystery and weight.
“Yes…
very great indeed.” Edward simply blinked back.
His expression did not change.
“Okay.
Can I have a wand now?” He stepped back and started pulling boxes from the shelves.
He brought a stack to the front counter.
He handed Edward a wand.
“Try this.
Beechwood and unicorn hair.
Nine inches.” Edward took it.
He waved it.
Nothing happened.
Ollivander snatched it back.
He handed him another.
“No, no.
Maple and dragon heartstring.
Go on.” Edward waved it.
A glass vase on the counter exploded into tiny pieces.
Edward jumped back.
A wide, genuine grin spread across his face.
He felt the rush of magic pulse through his arm for the first time.
The power of it excited him.
“That was brilliant!” “Definitely not,” Ollivander said, looking at the broken glass.
He handed Edward a third wand.
“Ebony and phoenix feather.
Eight and a half inches.” Edward gripped it and gave it a swish.
A stack of empty wand boxes collapsed to the floor with a loud crash.
Edward laughed out loud.
He was actually having fun.
“Oops.
Sorry.” “Tricky,” Ollivander muttered.
He seemed energized by the challenge.
He ran to the back of the shop.
He returned with more boxes.
“Hazel and unicorn hair.” Edward waved it.
A stream of cold water shot out of the tip and hit Ollivander square in the chest.
Edward winced.
“My apologies.” Ollivander wiped the water from his shirt.
He did not look upset.
He looked fascinated.
He rushed to the back rows again.
He pulled a dusty box from the very bottom of a pile.
He brought it to the counter and opened it carefully.
“Try this one,” Ollivander said.
“Ash wood.
Dragon heartstring core.
Eleven inches.
Rigid.” Edward took the wand.
The moment his fingers wrapped around the wood, a sudden, intense warmth shot up his arm.
It felt like grabbing a live wire, but it didn’t hurt.
He raised the wand and brought it down.
Red and gold sparks shot out of the tip, lighting up the dim shop like a firework.
“Oh, bravo,” Ollivander clapped softly.
“Yes, very good.” Edward looked at the wand in his hand.
It felt perfect.
He felt the energy buzzing against his skin.
“What does it mean?” Ollivander leaned against the counter.
“The wand chooses the wizard, Mr.
Brooks.
That is the rule of wandlore.
We do not know entirely why, but the materials always reflect the owner.
Ash wood is known for its stubbornness.
It cleaves to its one true master and loses its power if passed to another.
It points to a mind that is firm and unyielding.” Edward nodded, listening closely.
“And the core,” Ollivander continued.
“Dragon heartstring.
It produces magic with the most power.
It learns quickly.
An ash wand with a dragon core is a formidable tool in the hands of someone who knows exactly what they want.” Ollivander stepped close to Edward again.
He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“This wand…
it is one of a kind, Mr.
Brooks.
It chose you for a reason.
You will do great things.
Unique things.” Edward stared at the old man.
The excitement of the magic faded slightly, replaced by his usual deadpan logic.
He recognized a rehearsed sales pitch when he heard one.
Edward simply blinked.
“Right.
How much?” Ollivander paused.
He looked slightly thrown off by the lack of awe.
He cleared his throat.
“Seven Galleons, please.” Edward paid the gold.
He took the box and walked out the door.
Sprout followed him outside.
“Professor Sprout,” Edward asked once they were standing on the cobblestone street.
“Does he tell that to every student who comes into the shop?” Sprout smiled gently.
“I don’t think so, Edward.
Mr.
Ollivander is just very passionate about his craft.
You should feel special.” Just then, a young boy and his father walked past them and entered Ollivander’s shop.
Edward stopped walking.
He stood near the open doorway.
Sprout stopped with him.
From inside the shop, Ollivander’s dramatic whisper floated out to the street.
“I see a great future in you, young man.
You will do great things.
Unique things.” Edward slowly turned his head.
He gave Professor Sprout a long, flat look.
Sprout looked away quickly.
She cleared her throat loudly.
She adjusted her hat, suddenly very interested in a nearby brick wall.
“Right, well,” Sprout stammered.
“Time to get your cauldron.” “Are most wizards this eccentric?” Edward asked as they walked away from the wand shop.
“The magical world is a very vibrant place, Edward,” Sprout said, dodging the question entirely.
“We value individuality.” “Is that a yes or a no?” Edward pressed.
Sprout sighed playfully.
“Why don’t you tell me what you think at the end of your first year?” “Deal,” Edward nodded.
They finished shopping.
Sprout offered to buy him a pet, suggesting an owl or a toad, but Edward politely declined.
By late afternoon, they were back in front of St.
Jude’s orphanage.
Sprout handed him a thick envelope containing his train ticket.
“The Hogwarts Express leaves from King’s Cross Station on September 1st, exactly at eleven o’clock,” Sprout explained.
“The ticket says Platform 9 3/4.
To get there, you just need to walk straight through the solid brick barrier between platforms nine and ten.
Do not stop, and do not be scared.
It is best to do it at a run if you are nervous.” Edward nodded, putting the ticket in his pocket.
“Walk into a brick wall.
Got it.
Sounds completely safe.” Sprout chuckled.
“You will be fine, Edward.
I will see you soon at Hogwarts.
Have a wonderful rest of your summer.” “Thank you, Professor,” Edward said.
He watched her walk down the street and turn the corner.
As soon as she was out of sight, he picked up his heavy bags of magical supplies.
He walked back inside the orphanage, feeling satisfied.
He had his wand.
He had his books.
He was ready for September.