Harry Potter's : Fantastic Beasts Guide

The heavy door to the vault creaked open as Gonubi, the goblin, turned the key in the lock. Inside, piles of shimmering gold Galleons sparkled in the dim light, accompanied by silver Sickles, bronze Knuts, and stacks of magical items and rare materials.

Hermione's eyes widened in amazement. "Is this the currency of the wizarding world?" she asked in awe.

David picked up a gold coin and placed it in her hand. "Yes, this is a Galleon. Goblins craft them, and no one else can imitate their work. They're very proud of that."

The goblin standing nearby puffed up his chest at the compliment, his long fingers drumming lightly on the doorframe.

Newt filled a pouch with several handfuls of coins, and soon they were riding the rattling cart back to the surface. Hermione handed the Galleon back to David as they exited Gringotts, where Mr. and Mrs. Granger waited anxiously near a stone pillar.

"Dad! Mom!" Hermione called, waving enthusiastically.

The Grangers hurried over, and Hermione eagerly shared her excitement about Gringotts, magical coins, and goblins. Newt smiled at her energy before suggesting, "Shall we get your school uniforms next? It'll take some time for them to be tailored, so we can shop for the rest of your supplies in the meantime."

Everyone agreed, and Newt led them through the bustling streets of Diagon Alley to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

As soon as they entered, a cheerful, plump witch emerged from behind a row of robes. "David! It's been ages since you visited. Are you heading to Hogwarts this year?" she asked warmly. Her eyes sparkled as she noticed his outfit. "Oh my, is this a new design from Queenie? It's stunning!"

David nodded. "Yes, my aunt sent it yesterday. She's been working on some new designs lately."

Madam Malkin clapped her hands. "Could you ask her if I might sell her designs in my shop? I'd love to carry them."

"Sure, I'll write to her as soon as I can," David replied with a grin.

"Wonderful! As a thank you, I'll add self-ironing and self-repairing charms to your robes. Free of charge!"

David chuckled. "Deal!"

Madam Malkin set to work, measuring both David and Hermione with a magical tape measure that zipped around them, recording their sizes. "You can collect your robes in two hours," she said cheerfully.

Outside the shop, the Grangers offered to pay for Hermione's uniform, but Newt gently declined, saying it wasn't necessary. Instead, Mrs. Granger bought ice creams for David and Hermione, which thrilled Hermione, as her parents rarely allowed her to indulge in sweets.

Licking their ice creams, Hermione and David followed Newt toward a small, shabby-looking shop. The faded sign barely read:

Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.

David entered first, followed by Hermione, and they both looked around at the towering shelves packed with thin, rectangular boxes. The shop was eerily quiet, save for the faint rustle of the wands stored within.

"Good afternoon," came a soft voice. An old man with silvery hair and piercing pale eyes glided down a ladder that leaned precariously against the shelves.

"Mr. Scamander," Ollivander said, his eyes focusing on Newt. "Ash wood with lime, shell, and bone, a core of mother-of-pearl. A wand perfectly suited for one who loves magical creatures. You've taken care of it, I hope?"

Newt looked sheepish and handed over his worn wand. "Well… it's seen better days," he admitted.

Ollivander's expression turned slightly reproachful. "I'll repair it after we're done here."

The wandmaker turned to David. "Little David! You've grown," he said fondly. David nodded respectfully, remembering past visits with his mother, Tina.

Finally, Ollivander faced Hermione. "Ah, a new customer. Welcome, Miss Granger."

"Thank you," Hermione said nervously.

"The wand chooses the wizard," Ollivander explained as he measured her arm length and finger span. Then he began pulling boxes from the shelves, handing Hermione wand after wand to try.

The first produced a weak spark. The second let out a loud pop. After several attempts, Hermione finally waved a vine-wood wand with a dragon heartstring core, and the tip emitted a soft, golden glow.

"Ah, perfect," Ollivander said. "Nine and three-quarter inches, vine wood with dragon heartstring—a powerful wand. Its owner is often a visionary, destined for great things. You'll be an exceptional witch, Miss Granger."

Hermione beamed as she paid for the wand.

"Now, David, your turn," Ollivander said, retrieving his tape measure again.

David stepped forward and was handed a wand. When he waved it, the magic within the wand rebelled, sending a sharp blast that scattered boxes across the shop.

Ollivander remained calm. "Not to worry, not to worry," he said, handing David another wand. But the second wand exploded a vase, and the third caused sparks to fly in all directions.

The shop soon looked as though a tornado had swept through it.

"Tsk, tsk," Ollivander muttered, rubbing his chin. "A strong magical talent—and a picky wand. But we'll find the right one."

David sighed inwardly, thinking, Is this part of his sales pitch? Does every kid leave here thinking they're a prodigy?

Finally, Ollivander retrieved a dark box from a high shelf. "Let's try this," he said, handing the wand to David.