Ollivander looked at Hermione's earnest face and offered a small, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Miss, but I don't take custom orders.
Besides, my shop contains almost every possible combination of wood and core. You could try them until next year, and it would be no different from a bespoke wand."
Hermione's eyes drifted toward Kane, who was currently admiring his sleek new tool. She pointed a trembling finger. "Then what about him?"
Kane, suddenly caught in the crossfire, pointed his wand at his own chest. "?"
Ollivander coughed into his hand, looking awkward. He shouldn't have spoken in such absolutes, but refusing custom orders was a long-standing rule. He struggled for a response. "He... is an exception."
Hermione deflated instantly. Her upbringing had taught her the basic rules of the world early on: those at the top enjoy privileges the rest of us can only dream of.
Luxury, elite education—she hadn't expected to find a class system already firmly in place at the very first step of her magical journey.
"Then just help find a wand," she said, her voice flat. She didn't want to spend another second talking to these "stinking aristocrats." She wanted her wand, a pile of books, and a quiet corner where she could bury herself in the ocean of knowledge.
From this tiny shop, she felt she could see the rigid hierarchy of the entire Wizarding World. The only thing she could rely on was her own intelligence. If she didn't waste a single second, maybe—just maybe—she could eventually see the tail-lights of these pure-blood elites.
Ron, anwhile, stood there completely oblivious to Hermione's internal monologue. If he, a genuine "British-to-the-bone" pure-blood, knew that Hermione thought he was part of so untouchable elite, he wouldn't know whether to feel proud or embarrassed.
Kane, sensing the air in the room was becoming as volatile as a gunpowder keg, decided it was ti to make a quick exit. Hermione looked like she was one "Since you're an orphan..." away from a ltdown.
But Ollivander wasn't done. He had decided that being allowed to work with Living Wood and Nightmare Fuel—materials he had never seen in his long life—was a divine gift. As a craftsman first and a businessman second, charging Kane for the privilege felt wrong. In fact, it felt like he owed Kane.
Under the confused gazes of Kane and Harry, the bewildered look from Ron, and Hermione's "revolutionary-glaring-at-a-landlord" stare, Ollivander pressed a small, heavy pouch of Gold Galleons into Kane's hand.
"Being able to craft such a masterpiece is its own reward. Don't think less of it, child," Ollivander said, even leaning down to give Kane a brief, emotional hug.
"I don't know why, but I suddenly felt a chill on the back of my neck," Kane muttered as they stepped out into the street. "Like soone was ntally stabbing ."
"Might be that little witch, Hermione Granger," Hagrid mused. "If I'd been treated that differently as a kid, I'd be a bit miffed too."
"Anyway, never mind that. I need to go to Gringotts. Hagrid, mind coming with ?" Kane looked at the gold. He needed two gold nuggets for a Science Machine.
Now that he had so capital, he figured he'd buy them directly from the bank. With Hagrid there, the goblins wouldn't try to bully a kid.
One quick trip to Gringotts later, the group erged. Kane's pocket was now two gold nuggets heavier, and Ollivander's gold... was entirely gone.
"Oi! I heard soone say Kane gave that stuck-up Malfoy brat a proper thrashing. Is it true?"
Two voices spoke in perfect, alternating harmony. Kane turned to see the Weasley twins.
"You missed out big ti," Ron chid in, recounting the scene with sweeping gestures. "Kane's shadow reached out and stuck Malfoy to the ceiling like a bug! Lucius Malfoy himself had to co and apologize to get him down."
Mr. Weasley, who had just joined them, looked stunned. "Lucius Malfoy... apologized? To a student? That's a turn-up for the books."
After a few more minutes of chatter, the Weasleys headed off, taking Ron with them. Only Kane, Harry, and Hagrid remained in the Leaky Cauldron's courtyard.
Hagrid stroked his massive beard. "Professor McGonagall ntioned you didn't have the best ti with those Muggles, Harry. Is that right?"
Harry shrugged. "Depends on how you define it. I wasn't respected, but I wasn't exactly 'damaged'—well, not more than usual, thanks to Dudley."
"In that case, I reckon you wouldn't want to go back there before term starts. You can stay here at the Leaky Cauldron. They do room and board."
Harry's eyes lit up with joy, then he imdiately thought of his "holess" brother who was likely sleeping under a bridge and eating scraps. He had to help.
"A double room," Harry interjected. "Kane's staying too."
"But Kane has a place to stay," Hagrid said, confused.
"Probably a bridge or a sewer pipe," Harry insisted, thumping his chest like a protective older brother. "I've got the gold now; I'm not letting him suffer out there."
Hagrid looked at Kane awkwardly. Kane, for his part, was tired of the "grocery store shelf" bunk beds at the castle. A real room with real als? Sign him up.
"I need to go grab my things before I move in," Kane said.
Harry wanted to tell him to leave the rags and buy everything new, like a CEO in one of Aunt Petunia's soap operas, but he figured so things had sentintal value.
He simply went upstairs to book the room while Kane went to "fetch" his belongings.
Back at Hogwarts, in Dumbledore's bedroom, Kane was frantically dismantling his campfire. He shoved the stones and charcoal into his pockets, even eyeing the floorboards to see if they were worth prying up.
If he suddenly manifested a campfire in the middle of a room at the Leaky Cauldron, would it reinforce Harry's image of him as a destitute runaway? Probably. But between his pride and his survival... survival won every ti.
In the outer office, Albus Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his crooked nose. He had wanted to spend the next few weeks observing Kane's magic up close, but the boy was moving out the sa day he'd arrived.
He couldn't exactly bla Hagrid; he hadn't given the giant specific instructions.
Kane erged from the bedroom, looking ready for a journey. Dumbledore offered a thin smile. "All packed?"
"Just need to stop by the Forbidden Forest for so wood," Kane replied.
Dumbledore's expression faltered. Dealing with Treeguards at Hogwarts was easy for the professors, but if Kane brought one of those into Diagon Alley... the local wizards wouldn't know what hit them.
I have to stop him, the Headmaster thought.
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