"Charing Cross Road," Marilyn Gryff murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, though it carried a subtle authority that turned heads even in the bustle of London. Her keen eyes flickered up toward the shop signs lining the street, their bold letters framed against the early morning light. "We must find that pub they spoke of—the one hidden to all but those who know how to look," she added, her tone tinged with anticipation, a feeling shared with Nicholas.
Beside her, Nicholas clutched her hand, his grip firm, though there was an air of youthful excitement beneath it. "Grandfather said the Ministry men will be waiting for us outside the entrance," he said, his gaze darting around in search of the mysterious location. His voice, though soft, held confidence well beyond his years. "I'm sure we'll spot them soon, Mum."
Marilyn's lips curved into a slight frown. "I do hope so, Nico. Lest we linger too long and attract attention. The last thing we need is for someone to recognize us, and the paparazzi to descend upon us like vultures." She sighed, her annoyance palpable. Too many times had their private outings been cut short by swarms of photographers, always hungry for a glimpse of her glamorous Hollywood persona.
Nicholas glanced sideways at his mother, amused by her current appearance. Her usually immaculate hair was hidden beneath a modest bandana, and simple sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She wore a crisp white polo tucked into a pair of casual green trousers—an outfit worlds away from the high-class, polished image the public was used to. "No one would ever believe that Marilyn Gryff—internationally renowned actress—is walking through London looking like this," he quipped, a grin spreading across his face. It was a far cry from her usual red-carpet style, and the contrast made him chuckle. Today, she looked like any ordinary mother, but he knew there was nothing ordinary about her.
Marilyn laughed, her tone light but her expression thoughtful. "Well, it's nice to blend in for once. Even I enjoy anonymity from time to time." Her eyes wandered ahead to a passing restaurant and a quaint bookshop just beyond it. "Speaking of which," she said with interest, "will I be meeting these new friends Mark mentioned last night? I hope you've invited them along today. You know I always enjoy meeting the ones you hold dear."
Nicholas hesitated for a moment, slowing his pace slightly before matching hers again. "They've already finished all their school shopping," he said quietly, his tone filled with a hint of regret. "I might be the last one to receive the letter."
Marilyn's smile faltered, and she sighed. "That is a shame. I was quite looking forward to meeting them." Her voice softened momentarily before regaining its usual sharpness. "Mark did mention they're an... interesting bunch. He said some of them are quite snobbish about Muggles—like me." She let out a small, sarcastic laugh before her expression turned serious. "But Nico, you must remember: the Wizarding world is just as flawed as ours. Prejudice exists everywhere, even among those who wield magic. But you—Nicholas Gryff—must never allow yourself to fall into that mindset. You will never look down on another, do you understand?"
Her words, though strict, were laced with deep affection. Nicholas knew well how important this lesson was to her, and he smiled gently. "I understand, Mum," he said earnestly. "But you have to remember, they're just kids, like me. They're shaped by their upbringing, by what they've always known. I don't think they really mean harm. It's just... the way they talk sometimes."
Marilyn stopped and turned to face him fully, her eyes piercing through her sunglasses. "Then be the one to show them differently," she urged, her voice soft but firm. "A true friend doesn't just tolerate bad behavior; they challenge it, guide it. And if you ever hope to be a leader—someone they'll respect and follow—you must influence them for the better, Nicholas. Don't let their prejudices shape you. You must be the one who shapes them."
Nicholas nodded, absorbing her words as they continued walking. His mother was always so wise, despite her fame often overshadowing her wisdom. She had the ability to cut through superficiality and reach the heart of matters, and he admired her for that. "They're not bad kids, Mum," he reassured her. "I promise. They're just... different."
Before Marilyn could respond, Nicholas's eyes narrowed as he squinted ahead. "Look!" he exclaimed, excitement bubbling up in his voice. "I think I see the Ministry men. Over there by that large door, standing quite inconspicuously." He pointed toward two men in dark suits, their presence subtle yet unmistakable. "And the pub's entrance! We're almost there."
Marilyn smiled, a mix of pride and amusement crossing her face as she looked toward where her son was pointing. "Ah, well spotted, Nico. Let's not keep them waiting, then." Together, they quickened their pace, stepping closer toward the hidden world that awaited them just beyond that unassuming doorway.
Marilyn smiled, her lips curving with a mix of pride and quiet amusement as she glanced toward where her son was pointing. "Ah, well spotted, Nico," she remarked, her voice carrying an elegance befitting her stature. "We mustn't keep them waiting." With a subtle nod, they quickened their pace, drawing closer to the concealed gateway that promised entry into a world Nicholas had only recently learned about, and one that Marilyn herself was still coming to understand.
As they approached the rectangular door, one of the men stationed outside stepped forward. He was dressed in a dark, impeccably tailored suit that gave him an air of quiet authority. His sharp eyes scanned both Marilyn and Nicholas from head to toe, though his hands remained casually in his pockets. "Are you Mrs. Gryff and Sir Nicholas?" the man inquired, his tone professional yet respectful, the title for Nicholas clearly indicating an acknowledgment of the Gryff family's esteemed lineage.
"That is correct," Marilyn responded with a composed nod, her voice carrying the poised, authoritative tone she often used in business meetings. She had long learned how to command respect without appearing overtly imperious. "I take it that you've been sent by the Ministry of Magic, as per my father-in-law's arrangements?" Her gaze held steady, not missing a beat as she sized up the two men, both of whom now stood before her and her son.
The man nodded, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit and pulling out a gleaming badge, which he presented for Marilyn's inspection. "Indeed, ma'am. I am Loras McMilian, and this here is my partner, Viraj Patil. We are from the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol." Loras's manner was both formal and slightly eager, while his partner, Viraj, nodded politely but remained more reserved. Viraj, with his light brown skin and sharp, discerning eyebrows, gave them both a respectful greeting. "Good day, Mrs. Gryff, Sir Nicholas," he said, his tone less conversational, more professional.
Loras, however, was noticeably more enthusiastic. "I trust this is your first visit to Diagon Alley?" he inquired with a grin. "Rest assured, your safety and comfort are our utmost priority." He then gestured to Viraj, his voice dropping into a playful tone as he added, "Now, hurry up if you want an autograph too, mate."
Viraj shot a sharp look at Loras, clearly signaling for him to rein in his enthusiasm, but Loras pressed on undeterred. "Before we proceed, Mrs. Gryff, might I trouble you for an autograph?" His voice, though sheepish, retained a level of earnest admiration that seemed almost comical coming from such an imposing figure. "I must confess," he continued, "I'm quite the admirer of your work. I've seen your films more times than I can count—right, Viraj?" He threw a glance at his partner, seeking affirmation.
Viraj, however, merely rolled his eyes in mild exasperation, though the slightest twitch at the corner of his lips suggested he wasn't entirely immune to the charm of the moment.
Marilyn and Nicholas exchanged amused glances, then chuckled in unison. The two Ministry officials had appeared so stern and formal just moments before, and now here they were—eager fans, completely caught off guard by the presence of a famous actress in their midst. Loras, clearly encouraged by their response, pressed forward. "We were briefed about who we'd be escorting," he explained, a hint of excitement coloring his tone. "When we realized it was the Marilyn Gryff herself, we couldn't believe our luck! Of course, we didn't know you were connected to such a prestigious wizarding family, ma'am." With an almost reverent motion, he produced an album—its cover adorned with a large, glamorous portrait of Marilyn from one of her well-known films.
"My apologies if this seems unprofessional," Loras added, his tone suddenly more formal again, "but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Nicholas couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, slightly puzzled. The average wizard, especially those raised in the magical world, usually paid little attention to Muggle culture—let alone Muggle celebrities. His curiosity didn't last long, as Loras quickly offered an explanation. "We're both Muggle-born," he admitted, his eagerness to explain still evident. "It's not uncommon for us to keep a foot in both worlds."
Marilyn, ever gracious, smiled warmly at them. "No need to apologize, Mr. McMilian," she replied, reaching into her elegant bag and retrieving a sleek, enchanted fountain pen. With practiced ease, she signed the albums, handing them back to Loras. He gratefully accepted them, passing one to Viraj, who stored it away in a manner that suggested the albums had vanished into some magical storage space beyond immediate comprehension.
"Thank you, ma'am," Loras said with a slight bow of his head, regaining his professional demeanor. "Now, if you would kindly follow us, we'll lead you to the entrance to Diagon Alley." With that, he gestured toward the wooden door and held it open, revealing the dim interior of the famed Leaky Cauldron.
As Nicholas stepped inside, he was immediately struck by the stark contrast between the mundane London streets they had just left and the ancient, almost otherworldly atmosphere that enveloped the pub. The Leaky Cauldron seemed to exist in a world of its own, with stone floors that looked worn from centuries of foot traffic, dimly lit lanterns hanging from the low-beamed ceiling, and dark, polished wood furnishings that exuded a rustic charm. The smell of aged wood, pipe smoke and something vaguely herbal lingered in the air.
The room was alive with the chatter of wizards, each dressed in an array of robes that ranged from simple woolen garb to luxurious velvet cloaks trimmed with gold and silver thread. Many of them were huddled over mugs of strange, steaming brews and peculiar potions, while others clinked glasses of firewhisky and other alcoholic beverages unknown to Nicholas. The sound of muffled laughter and the clattering of mugs against tables filled the air, giving the place a lively, yet timeless feel.
Nicholas's eyes widened in awe. Everything about the Leaky Cauldron felt like stepping into a medieval tavern, untouched by the passage of time or the influence of the modern world. The pub seemed to hum with magic, as though its very walls had witnessed countless tales and magical occurrences over the centuries. Despite its age and the faint layer of dust that clung to the shelves behind the bar, the pub was undeniably alive, a vibrant hub of the wizarding world hidden in plain sight.
"Wow," Nicholas whispered, more to himself than anyone else. His mind raced, trying to soak in the sights and sounds of this otherworldly place. It felt as though he had stepped back in time, into a hidden pocket of history that had been preserved through magic alone.
Loras and Viraj led the way, cutting through the crowd of wizards and witches with ease. Their presence didn't go unnoticed, though—Nicholas caught the occasional glance from patrons, curious eyes flicking toward him and his mother. However, most of the wizards in the pub were too engrossed in their own affairs to pay them much attention. The air was thick with the smell of various magical brews and potions, and an undercurrent of hushed conversation hummed around them, as if the very magic in the pub dampened the noise to a respectful murmur.
"Good morning, Tom," Loras called out as they approached the bar, his voice cutting through the low murmur of the pub.
Behind the bar stood Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, a figure that immediately caught Nicholas's attention. Tom was a stooped old man, bald with only a few wisps of white hair clinging to the sides of his head. His skin was thin and parchment-like, but his eyes—bright, sharp, and a touch mischievous—betrayed his age. He wore an old, somewhat tattered apron, stained from years of serving drinks and meals to wizards and witches from all walks of life. Yet despite his weathered appearance, there was a warmth to him, an undeniable friendliness that softened his otherwise stern exterior.
Tom's gaze shifted toward Marilyn and Nicholas, and a friendly smile stretched across his wrinkled face. "Ah, special guests today, is it?" His voice was gravelly, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone, as though he was well aware of the importance of his patrons.
Loras nodded, gesturing toward the two of them. "Allow me to introduce Mrs. Marilyn Gryff and her son, Sir Nicholas." His voice carried a note of reverence, acknowledging not just their fame but their lineage. "They are here on special business, first time visiting Diagon Alley."
Tom gave a knowing nod, his gaze lingering on Marilyn for a moment longer than usual. "Ah, of course, of course," he said with a chuckle, his eyes sparkling with recognition. "It's not every day we get someone from a family of high prestige in here." He then turned his attention to Nicholas. "And young Master Gryff. You'll be heading off to Hogwarts soon, I reckon?"
Nicholas smiled politely, feeling a mixture of pride and anticipation. "Yes, sir. It's my first year."
"Well then, you're in for quite the adventure," Tom said with a wink, leaning on the counter. "Diagon Alley's where it all begins. You'll find everything you need to start your journey."
Marilyn returned Tom's smile, her own eyes filled with a combination of curiosity and amusement. Despite her experience in the Muggle world, the magical realm was still foreign to her, and she seemed just as eager as Nicholas to explore its mysteries. "Thank you," she said graciously. "I'm sure we'll be in good hands with these fine gentlemen escorting us."
"Indeed, ma'am," Loras interjected with a respectful bow of his head. "Now, if you'll allow us, let us proceed to the entrance of Diagon Alley. It's just at the back here."
Tom waved them off with a friendly nod, gesturing toward the back of the pub. "Go on, then. No need to keep you waiting any longer."
As they made their way to the rear of the Leaky Cauldron, Nicholas glanced back at the pub once more, the sights and sounds of it already etched into his memory. The air seemed to thrum with magic, and for the first time, he truly felt that he was part of this hidden world—a world where the ordinary and extraordinary coexisted in perfect harmony.
Reaching a plain brick wall at the back of the pub, Loras turned to Nicholas and his mother with a knowing smile. "Now, prepare yourselves," he said, his tone lighter but still formal, "this is where the true magic happens."
With a smooth flick of his wand, Loras tapped the bricks in a precise sequence, and Nicholas's eyes widened as the wall before them began to stir to life. The ancient bricks shifted and twisted, pulling apart like an intricate puzzle, until a narrow archway emerged. It opened up to reveal a bustling, vibrant street, brimming with magic and activity. Diagon Alley stretched before them, teeming with life.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Loras said, his tone filled with a hint of pride as he gestured for them to step through. "Feel free to explore at your leisure. We'll be just behind, ensuring no interruptions." His words were respectful, mindful of their prestigious guests, but there was an unspoken understanding that this day belonged to Nicholas and his mother.
Marilyn, her eyes wide with wonder, nodded graciously, grateful for the space they were given. Nicholas could see the flicker of excitement in her expression as she took in the sight before her. This wasn't just another shopping trip—this was their first true step into the magical world, a place they had only heard about through stories and letters.
As they stepped through the archway, Diagon Alley unfolded in all its splendor. The street itself was a patchwork of cobblestones, worn smooth by centuries of wizard footsteps, yet still pulsing with the essence of magic. Tall, crooked buildings lined either side of the alley, their facades adorned with glittering signs that hung above doorways, each one more fantastical than the next. Shops bustled with activity—vendors calling out to customers, children darting between their parents with excitement, and owls hooting from the windows of pet shops.
There was an intoxicating mix of sounds and scents—rich, earthy potions simmering in cauldrons, the sweet aroma of freshly baked pastries from a nearby bakery, and the unmistakable rustling of parchment as witches and wizards carried armfuls of spellbooks and scrolls. Vibrant banners flapped in the gentle breeze, advertising everything from magical sweets to enchanted broomsticks, while above, the sky was crisscrossed with magical contraptions zipping through the air, leaving trails of sparkling dust behind them.
Nicholas couldn't help but be drawn to the grandeur of it all. "This is incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. Everywhere he looked, there was something new and extraordinary to take in. The sight of wizards and witches bustling around, some in richly embroidered robes, others in more practical attire, lent an air of timelessness to the street.
They passed a shop selling shimmering cauldrons in various sizes, each one gleaming in the sunlight. Nicholas's eyes lingered on them—he knew he'd need one for Hogwarts—but he decided against stopping. There was far too much to explore, and he didn't want to rush through any part of this magical adventure.
As they continued walking, Marilyn seemed just as enraptured by the scene. She was uncharacteristically quiet, her normally composed demeanor softened by the sheer wonder of the alley. Her eyes darted from one shop to another, drinking in the whimsical details. She paused, mesmerized by a display of floating quills and enchanted ink pots that hovered near the window of a stationary shop. "It's like something out of a dream," she murmured, more to herself than to Nicholas.
Nicholas smiled at her reaction, realizing that, despite her years of experience in the Muggle world of glitz and glamor, the magic here was something entirely new to her. "We need to find Madam Malkin's," he reminded her gently, pulling a small piece of parchment from his pocket that George had given him earlier. It was a detailed list of the items required for Hogwarts, along with suggestions of the best shops to visit in Diagon Alley. "The robe shop is just ahead."
As they walked, they passed numerous other shops, each one offering a glimpse into a different aspect of the magical world. There was the Apothecary, its windows filled with jars of rare ingredients, from bundles of dried herbs to shimmering scales of magical creatures. Nicholas could smell the sharp, earthy tang of fresh potion supplies wafting from its doorway.
Further down, a magical menagerie displayed fantastical creatures—cats with sleek fur that shimmered in the light, cages filled with tiny, iridescent fairies, and owls of every shape and size perched on shelves, watching the crowds with sharp, intelligent eyes. The shop they passed next seemed to be selling enchanted telescopes and star charts that sparkled with shifting constellations. Nicholas felt a tug of curiosity but kept moving, determined to see as much as he could before they reached their destination.
At last, they reached Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, its grand storefront proudly displaying elegant robes draped over mannequins that moved subtly, as though adjusting themselves in preparation for the next customer. The windows were lined with neatly folded robes in every conceivable shade and style, from plain Hogwarts uniforms to luxurious, embroidered dress robes that shimmered in the light.
As the door to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions swung open, a soft chime announced their arrival. Nicholas stepped inside, the smell of rich fabrics and the faint hum of enchantments filling the air. The shop had a dignified atmosphere, with neatly arranged robes of every color hanging from wooden racks. The mannequins in the window seemed to shift subtly, showing off the fine details of their embroidered sleeves and shimmering hems.
The proprietress, a kindly old witch with curly white hair and glasses perched on the edge of her nose, approached them with a warm smile. Her mauve robes swished softly as she moved, giving her an air of elegance despite her age. "Good day to you both," she greeted in a voice that was gentle. "How may I be of service today?"
Nicholas stepped forward, slightly nervous but determined to handle the interaction himself. He felt a twinge of excitement—this was another rite of passage, a step closer to Hogwarts. "I'm here for my school robes," he said politely, his voice steady. "First-year at Hogwarts."
Madam Malkin's eyes lit up at once. "Ah, Hogwarts, of course! The finest institution and I suspect you'll need the full set—three plain work robes, black, and a pointed hat for day wear, yes?" She didn't wait for a response as she began to busy herself, pulling various robes from a nearby rack. "You'll also want a winter cloak, I imagine. It can get quite drafty in the Highlands."
Marilyn stood a little apart, her eyes wandering over the selection of robes and fabrics displayed around the shop. She ran her fingers lightly over a particularly fine velvet cloak, seemingly impressed by the craftsmanship. Though she let Nicholas take the lead, there was a quiet sense of pride in her expression as she observed the interaction.
Madam Malkin began measuring Nicholas with a flick of her wand, the enchanted tape flying around him as she muttered to herself. "You've got a good frame for robes," she said approvingly. "Taller than most first-years, I'd wager. Now, stand still, dear, while I pin these." She draped a robe over Nicholas's shoulders and began adjusting the fit with deft hands.
Nicholas stood quietly, feeling the soft fabric against his skin. He glanced at his mother, who caught his eye and gave him an encouraging smile. It felt surreal—he was actually getting his Hogwarts uniform, something he had only dreamed about until recently.
Once the fittings were complete, Madam Malkin stepped back to admire her work. "There we are, dear. That should do it. A fine set of robes, if I may say so." She turned to Marilyn, who had now joined them. "Your son will be quite the picture at Hogwarts."
Marilyn smiled, but it was Nicholas who answered. "Thank you, Madam," he said with a slight bow of his head, trying to emulate the poise he imagined his grandfather, Godfrey, would have in such a situation.
When the time came for payment, Nicholas reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather pouch. He turned it upside down over his palm, and a cascade of golden Galleons poured into his hand, the coins gleaming brightly under the soft light of the shop. He held them out to Madam Malkin, who blinked in surprise at the sight of such a sum.
"My word," she said, her voice filled with a mixture of surprise and respect. "That's more than generous, young master." Her sharp eyes flicked briefly to Nicholas's face, and then to Marilyn's. "The Gryff family, I presume?"
Nicholas nodded. "Yes, my grandfather is Godfrey Gryff," he replied politely, though he didn't particularly enjoy the attention that his family name brought.
At once, Madam Malkin's entire demeanor shifted, becoming even more effusive. "Of course, of course! The Gryff family—such an esteemed lineage," she gushed, her hands clasped together as though she were speaking to royalty. "In that case, please, allow me to offer you a discount. It would be my honor to serve the family of such noble standing."
Nicholas, unsure how to respond, simply thanked her, while Marilyn gave a gracious nod of approval. The discount, though generous, felt unnecessary to Nicholas, but he knew better than to refuse. In the wizarding world, family names carried weight, and gestures like this were part of the old traditions.
Madam Malkin carefully packed the robes into a neat parcel, tied with a ribbon that bore the shop's emblem. "It has been an absolute pleasure," she said as she handed the package to Nicholas. "Do come again, and if you ever need anything bespoke, you know where to find me."
Their next stop was the famed Flourish and Blotts, a sprawling bookshop nestled in the heart of Diagon Alley. As they stepped inside, the scent of parchment and aged leather greeted them, evoking an immediate sense of history and knowledge. Shelves upon shelves of books towered overhead, some of them gently vibrating with latent magic, while others glowed faintly in the dim light of the store. The shop felt alive, like a sanctuary of wisdom from centuries past.
An inconspicuous man, with thinning hair and half-moon spectacles, approached them with a courteous bow. His robes, though worn, were meticulously clean, and he seemed eager to assist. "Welcome to Flourish and Blotts," he said, his voice soft yet precise. "How may I be of service?"
Nicholas stepped forward, proud yet modest, as he had learned from his grandfather. "I'll be attending Hogwarts this year," he said, his tone polite but confident. "I need the required textbooks for first-year students."
The manager's eyes lit up at once. "Ah, a Hogwarts student! Say no more. I've already taken the liberty of preparing the full list for you." With a swift gesture, he beckoned one of the assistants, who soon returned with a neatly wrapped stack of books. "All of your essential texts, Sir."
Nicholas accepted the bundle but felt a familiar curiosity tugging at him. While the manager's attentiveness was appreciated, he had hoped to find something that might surprise or intrigue him—a book that wasn't already in their extensive family library. He began to wander around, scanning the shelves for titles that caught his eye. Yet, with each shelf he passed, disappointment grew. Many of the most fascinating volumes, the ones rich in ancient knowledge or obscure spells, were already in his family's collection, and those that weren't didn't seem to pique his interest.
After a short time, he rejoined his mother. Marilyn had been quietly admiring the shop's interior while he browsed, her fingers lightly trailing over the polished wood of the bookshelves as she waited. "Nothing?" she asked, noting the slight frown on Nicholas's face.
"Nothing new," he replied, though he shrugged it off easily. "Maybe next time."
With their books sorted, they prepared to leave and continue their exploration. As they made their way down the bustling street, something in the distance caught Marilyn's eye. A sign, delicate yet unmistakable, read Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions. Nicholas noticed the glint of interest in his mother's eyes and stifled a chuckle.
"You could just walk past it, Mum," he teased, though he already knew it was a lost cause.
Marilyn smiled, unable to resist. "Oh, hush, Nico. It never hurts to see what the magical world has to offer." With a graceful turn, she steered them towards the shop. Inside, shimmering bottles lined the walls, each potion promising to enhance beauty in ways only magic could. Despite her brief curiosity, Marilyn only purchased a single vial—more out of mild amusement than actual necessity.
"You'll hardly need more than one, Mum," he said teasingly as they exited. "Since you're beautiful enough as it is."
"You and your sleek tongue, Nico," Marilyn smiled.
As they made their way down Diagon Alley again, they passed a smaller, secondary bookshop that seemed to attract a rather diverse crowd. Outside, clusters of young witches and wizards gathered, some with robes that were frayed at the edges, while others wore clean but simple attire. It was a scene that gave Nicholas pause, sparking a thought that had often crossed his mind.
"Why are there poor wizards?" he asked, voicing the question that had quietly puzzled him for some time. "I mean, if you can do magic, how could you possibly be poor?"
Marilyn's expression softened, and she gave him a thoughtful look. "Magic doesn't solve everything, Nico," she explained. "Just like in the Muggle world, there are those who struggle, and there are those who thrive. Some wizards lack resources, some lack opportunity, and others…" She paused, her gaze drifting to the young wizards outside. "... There will always be a divide between the rich and the poor, no matter how much magic is involved."
Nicholas absorbed her words, nodding slowly. His family, the Gryffs, were among the wealthiest in the wizarding world—an ancient, noble house that had only grown richer with each passing generation. The thought gave him a sense of responsibility, though he wasn't sure yet how he could help those less fortunate. He resolved to ponder it further, but his musings were soon interrupted as they approached the entrance to Ollivander's Wand Shop.