Chronicles Of Arth: Prince Of Shadows

"Well done my son, I applause you for not falling down at your first experience in Floo Powder travel. It is quite the feat. Means you got a good head and fine balance."

"Thank you dad."

"Hahaha, I remember my first experience at Floo travel just like it was yesterday. You see, I threw up all over the fireplace after I had arrived, pity that my brother appeared right after I did. Was covered in my bile he was. Never did quite forgive me for that, at least, not until I covered for him the one time he was caught by our mom trying to hex my elder sister's broom. I said it was he was only trying to clean it for her, for practice when he gets his own broom."

"Why would you need a broom?"

"You see my boy, in the wizarding world, we have this sport called quidditch. It's basically like the muggle sports soccer and basketball combined except that you fly around on brooms."

"Oh, sounds fun."

"It indeed is."

Even when he tried to stay calm, Arth couldn't help but swivel his head around in excitement as his eyes scanned all over the place. He saw many ladies with robes similar to his mother's, except a bit more flashy, wizards with bizarre clothes and hairstyles.

And magic. The was magic everywhere. A young man was waving his wand to control a broom to sweep the floor, a bar had levitating cups that magically refilled, and a shop that had a bunch of weird but equally fascinating creatures.

It was quite the sight.

Arth had even seen a bear like giant man walking around with a skinny boy around his age who had black hair and round glasses.

Mr. Kingscrown guided Arth through the crowd of wizards and witches until they arrived at a narrow and somewhat shabby looking shop.

Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

The golden letters that were imprinted over the door were starting to peel, worn from age. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

Mr. Kingscrown turned around and faced Arth.

"My son, do you know what the most crucial tool of a wizard is?"

"A wand?"

"Exactly my boy, I'm so proud to have an intellectual son like you."

Mr. Kingscrown grandly gestured at Olivanders with pride and worship.

"This shop is probably one of the best wand makers in the entire world. Bought my own wand here when I was your age, and it has never let me down since. Except in transfiguration."

Mr. Kingscrown gave Arth ten golden coins.

"Go in and buy your wand and after you finish, go to the shop over there. The one that reads Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. I'll go get your books and equipments in the meantime. You can use the remaining money to buy yourself something to eat. It's about time for lunch anyways."

Arth glanced at the ten golden coins and frowned.

"How exactly does money work here?"

Mr. Kingscrown slapped his head in realization.

"Sorry Arthur, I forget how much I forgot to tell you about our society. Seventeen silver Sickles to a golden Galleon and twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough."

After handing Mr. Kingscrown his list of books and materials, Arth proceeded to head into the shop.

"Good afternoon," whispered a quiet voice. Surprised, Arth gave a quick turn in order to find the source of the voice.

An old man stood before him, his bright, pale eyes illuminating like eerie lamps in a dark cave.

"Hello, I presume you are here for a wand?" Said the man with his silvery eyes not blinking a single time.

"I don't seem recognize you? What's your name sir?"

Arth quickly responded.

"Arthur Kingscrown."

The man raised his eyebrows.

"Child of Maxwell and Aria Kingscrown?"

"Er- Yes. That's them."

"Well Mr. Kingscrown, I am Ollivander. Which is your wand hand?"

"Er- I'm right handed if that's what you mean."

"Hold the hand out please."

Mr. Ollivander measured Arth from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head.

As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Kingscrown. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Mr. Ollivander let go of his hold on the measuring tape and went of flitting around shelves taking down boxes, all the while the tape measurer measured Arth by itself.

"Oak wood and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches. Stiff but strong, take it and give it a wave."

Arth took the wand and waved it. It had reached about over his shoulders when Mr. Ollivander snatches it out of his hands and opened another box.

"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

"Tricky customer, no matter. I'll find you a wand soon."

However, the more wands Mr. Ollivander gave to Arth, the more wands Mr. Ollivander took away. The most concerning thing to Arth was that the more failures Mr. Ollivander had, the happier he became.

Soon, Arth got used to the atmosphere of the shop and gazed around the shop, albeit a bit bored. His eyes caught an ordinary black box that looked just like the rest. For some reason though, Arth couldn't take his eyes off the wand.

Mr. Ollivander noticed this and followed Arth's eye and traced it to the box. He pulled out the box and opened it.

"Cedar and wolf hair, eleven and a half inches. Well suited for magic in general."

Arth grabbed the wand and felt an indescribable feeling of warmth. The tip of the wand exploded into a blinding blade of white before settling down to pulsing glow.

Mr. Ollivander started to clap.

"Bravo, oh yes indeed. Very good performance."

After paying seven Galleons for his wand, he went to go buy his robes. After he bought three sets of work robes, a hat and some gloves, he found an ice cream shop and ate.

"Hello dad."

"Oh hello Arthur. Did you get your wand?"

"Yes."

"Perfect! Now your only one step away from becoming a fabulous wizard."

Arth glanced skeptically into the store.

"Why were you in front of an pet store?"

Mr. Kingscrown scratches his head embarrassed.

"Well, you mother gave you a feast as a congratulations gift, I thought it would be appropriate to buy an owl for you as another gift."

"So this is where you got King."

Twenty minutes later, Arth and Mr. Kingscrown left the shop with an additional small black bird that rested on Arth's head.

"Are you sure you want this baby crow? And owl is way more useful, it can carry letters back and forth."

Arth happily shook his head.

"I'm fine, I quite like this guy. He can always grow and I'm sure he won't be any worse than an owl. I can always use king to send a letter back when you send me things. And father, it's a raven, not a crow."

"As long as your happy, my son."

After that, a month quickly passed and it became time for Arth to go to Hogwarts.