Chapter 4: Did Using Unicorn Hair in a Wand Made by Dementors Go Wrong?

The Norton family’s fireplace was not connected to the Floo Network, and Edward felt somewhat uncertain about manifesting his patronus in front of his own attendant.

“I had to retake the exam once, and the examiner added an extra task—making a chipmunk patronus appear. Fortunately, the examiner didn’t notice that the chipmunk lost its tail after manifesting, or I might have had to retake the test again,” Edward shrugged.

“Better to take the car then. At least if there’s an accident, I won’t lose a tail…” Cohen felt a chill somewhere and immediately gave up on the idea of using magic to get to Diagon Alley.

Edward patted Cohen’s head contentedly; today, Cohen was more well-behaved than usual.

“Since you’re about to enter the magical world, your mother and I will go to the Ministry of Magic next month to arrange the Floo Network registration. It’ll make it easier to get around.”

In the past, whenever Edward tried to touch Cohen’s hair, Cohen would always dodge, but Rose never had such issues with Cohen.

Perhaps Cohen’s little head was busy imagining what the magical world looked like.

“On the surface, you seem calm, but inside, you’re probably eager to see the worlds from those fairy tales immediately,” Edward thought with a smile as he tossed the repeatedly deep-breathing Cohen into the backseat.

Cohen’s repeated deep breaths were a form of self-control—social mode was about to activate, which meant entering crowds. And with so many souls nearby, Cohen would feel hungry from their sweet essence.

To avoid sneaking a taste of soul sweets and getting caught by Ministry Aurors, thrown into Azkaban to keep company with pure-blood Dementors, Cohen had to suppress this urge.

The taste of sweet candy was very similar to that of souls—a perfect meal substitute. Cohen always carried a bag of them when going out.

On the way, Cohen finally realized that as an eleven-year-old child with little knowledge of the wizarding world, he needed to show some curiosity; otherwise, it would seem too unnatural.

“Are there… family lineages in the magical world?” Cohen feigned ignorance.

“Of course. Wherever there are people, there are noble families.”

Edward swerved around a slow-moving car ahead and ran a red light.

Yet the nearby traffic officers seemed to pay no attention to Edward’s reckless driving, making Cohen suspect that Edward had enchanted his car like Arthur Weasley had done with his. No wonder Edward had never received a traffic ticket all these years despite his driving skills.

Edward gave a brief introduction to some of the famous wizarding families. There were many, but Cohen only remembered a few names frequently mentioned in the original Harry Potter series.

“Do you and Mom have a family? Like a wizarding family?” This time, Cohen genuinely wanted to know.

“We? We’re considered a wizarding family, I guess. My parents—your grandparents—were both wizards, but beyond them, there’s no wizarding blood,” Edward replied. “But your mother is a bit different. She used to be part of the Bork family. According to some wizards’ ‘pure-blood theory,’ she’s considered nobility.”

“Used to?” Cohen knew about the Bork family. Although one of the ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight’ families, it seemed to have declined.

The only place the Bork name still appeared was the Bokin-Bork shop in Knockturn Alley, but only Mr. Bokin was ever seen running it—no ‘Mr. Bork’ ever appeared.

“She was disowned by her family for dating me,” Edward sighed. “But according to her, even if she hadn’t been disowned, she wouldn’t have stayed there.”

“That family was involved in dark magic dealings, especially thriving under the reign of the Death Eater. They even threatened to throw her, a ‘useless failure,’ into the pile of Inferi. No wonder your mother was sorted into Gryffindor—her courage is something I, a Hufflepuff, could never match.”

“Although you’re a bit lazy, playful, and even forgot me in the zoo for three hours last time,” Cohen patted Edward’s shoulder in the backseat, “you’re still a good dad. I acknowledge that—thank you.”

No matter how many little flaws Edward had, he truly loved his family and Cohen, this dark magic experiment.

One should cherish and enjoy the good that exists, rather than focus solely on imperfections.

Edward was clearly moved by Cohen’s unexpected gratitude. Cohen saw Edward’s scruffy face quiver slightly in the rearview mirror.

“We’ve arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.”

The car stopped between a bookstore and a record shop. Cohen could see a low, worn-down tavern between the two gleaming shops, with a peeling sign hanging above.

[The Leaky Cauldron]

“This is a very famous place in the wizarding world and also the entrance to Diagon Alley,” Edward said quietly as he got out, wiping the corner of his eye. “Back in the day, I was quite well-known in Diagon Alley.”

Pushing open the creaking wooden door, the noise and the mingled smells of food and drink inside the Leaky Cauldron suddenly enveloped Cohen.

Several elderly ladies sat in a corner drinking sherry.

[Soul Strength: 27]

Their soul strength was quite high; these grandmothers didn’t look like people to mess with.

But Cohen couldn’t understand how one of them could smoke while drinking—did she have two esophagi?

Behind the bar was Tom, a middle-aged man with almost no hair, looking like a shriveled walnut. He was wiping glasses and chatting with a patron.

[Soul Strength: 19]

Tom seemed to need more practice; his soul strength was still lower than Rose’s, who had always lived in the Muggle world.

Edward and Cohen’s arrival drew a few glances, but no one recognized Edward, assuming he was just a passing wizard.

This made Edward slightly embarrassed.

“Ha, it seems easy to become a stranger after ten years away…” Edward pushed Cohen through the noisy bar. “Let’s buy the things you need for school first.”

Passing the noisy long table, Cohen was led to a brick wall in the backyard.

From his earlier observations, Cohen had roughly figured out his long-standing question: adult wizards’ soul strength ranged between 15 and 40, and everyone in the Leaky Cauldron fit this. Edward’s 10 was abnormally low, suggesting some special reason, but since Edward and Rose weren’t willing to say, Cohen wouldn’t pry.

Let things develop naturally; he still needed time to grow before settling in this magical world.

Fortunately, Dumbledore tacitly allowed Cohen, a dark magic experiment, to continue existing; otherwise, Cohen might still be troubled by his identity.

“Count two bricks horizontally, then three bricks up…” Edward muttered, following a note Rose had given him, tapping a brick three times with his wand.

Cohen twitched his mouth. Who designed this stone door to require a gesture password to open?

Could Muggles enter the Leaky Cauldron? Was such a secondary security door really necessary?

“The Leaky Cauldron often has drunks causing trouble in Diagon Alley,” Edward said, pocketing the note. “Fortunately, Rose still remembers, or I would have forgotten how to get in after ten years away.”

The brick Edward tapped trembled and began to move, revealing a small hole that grew larger.

Within seconds, a wide archway appeared before Cohen, leading to a winding, seemingly endless cobblestone street.

“Whoa…”

Though Cohen had imagined walking such a street while reading novels and watching films in his previous life, he couldn’t help but exclaim when he truly entered Diagon Alley.

The morning sun glinted off every reflective surface—cauldrons, gilded shop signs, lenses, various metal instruments—amid the bustling voices, street vendors’ calls, and wizards’ laughter. It felt as though the entire world was packed into this street.

Amid the bustling crowd and the sweet scent of souls filling the street, Cohen peeled a caramel and popped it in his mouth to avoid accidentally inhaling some from passing young wizards.

Guided by Edward, Cohen passed through Prince’s Potion Shop, the Flying Broomstick Specialty Store, and Eeyl Owl Emporium.

“Want an owl?” Edward paused in front of the owl shop.

“Is it a fairy?” Cohen was unsure about raising animals.

“I mean, can it just eat and not poop? Or not eat or poop at all—”

“What are you thinking…” Edward found Cohen’s stray thoughts hard to understand. “Of course, it eats and poops—but you don’t have to make raising an owl so complicated.”

“Hogwarts has an owlery; you just need to feed it snacks occasionally to bond.”

“It depends on what animals you like. If you prefer cats, dogs, or salamanders, we can visit the magical creatures shop next door,” Edward quickly added, sensing Cohen wasn’t interested in owls.

“With an owl, you won’t have to run to the post office to send me letters… Owls are easier to take care of than other animals.”

Cohen considered his pet-raising experience and thought raising an owl at Hogwarts was more feasible—after all, Hogwarts had an owlery but no cat or dog shelters.

Speaking of which, animals’ souls were practically useless to Cohen. Though he could absorb them, their taste was bland.

He had once tried to absorb the soul of a small gray mouse that appeared in his room but gave up after a sip—it was like drinking plain water and did nothing to improve his soul integrity.

Owls were probably the same—not suitable as soul-repair aids.

“Let’s buy your wand first, then we’ll pick a pet you like here,” Edward ruffled Cohen’s hair. “If you see anything you like on the street, just say. Your mother left us a shopping budget of seventy-seven Galleons plus a bag of Sickles—”

“Maybe I’ll buy some books. Learning more is never wrong.”

Cohen thought he should compare the magical books easily found in bookstores with those available in the Kindness Shop to avoid redundancy and save some kindness points—since the shop also sold rare magical creatures and artifacts.

Ollivanders, the wand shop, was small and shabby from the outside, but inside, its long, narrow structure dispelled the impression of a cramped store.

Thousands of wand boxes lined the walls nearly to the ceiling. The long room was so silent that even a breath echoed, resembling a strictly managed library.

“It’s bigger inside than outside…” Cohen raised his eyebrows, recalling a certain blue telephone booth.

“Good morning.” Ollivander’s eyes were very pale, contrasting sharply with Cohen’s dark pupils.

“Good morning, Mr. Ollivander,” Edward greeted politely. “This is my son, Cohen Norton.”

“Edward! Seeing you again—last time was thirty years ago… Alder wood, unicorn hair, thirteen and two-thirds inches, moderately flexible. You’re still using it, right?”

“Yes, yes.” Edward showed his wand, signaling he took good care of it—though Cohen noticed Edward secretly cast a silent cleaning spell on it.

“Hmm…” Ollivander seemed to see through Edward’s trick but didn’t reveal it. Instead, he turned to Cohen. “Come, young Mr. Norton. Let me see… which arm do you use for your wand?”

“Right hand.”

Cohen smelled a sweet fragrance in the air—the scent of souls—but it wasn’t just from Ollivander.

The scent grew stronger as many souls approached Cohen’s location.

He immediately understood why.

The wands were selecting the wizard entering the shop. This was some kind of tradition—but Cohen didn’t seem to be a good candidate.

Good heavens, wands really have souls?

Cohen swallowed nervously, as if a delicious cake were held under his nose…

But doing so would surely scare the wands into fleeing—the wands’ souls all shrank back the moment they approached him.

I haven’t even done anything wrong yet.jpg

Ollivander skillfully explained the composition of wands and the principle of “wand chooses wizard,” then began moving between shelves, selecting several long boxes to bring down.

“Try this one first, young Mr. Norton.”

Ollivander picked a box and was about to open it.

“Made from beech wood and dragon heartstring, nine inches, quite flexible—”

“Crackle!”

Before the wand could be drawn from the box, it emitted a sharp crackling sound and a dazzling red flash, then snapped the box shut.

“I didn’t do anything.”

Seeing the strange looks from Ollivander and Edward, Cohen raised both hands to clarify.

“Strange… strange…” Ollivander muttered. “Not this one, maybe this?”

The next victim was a seven-inch maple wand with a phoenix feather core.

“Rip!”

This wand’s reaction was even more intense. The moment the box was opened, it shot out like an arrow, tearing through the box’s paper seal and darting toward the back of the shop.

It only stopped when it was stuck deep in the far wall.

“No, not this one either…”

Cohen suspected Ollivander had no reliable method to identify the bond between wand and wizard. Perhaps every young wizard, like Harry or himself, had to try nearly every wand in the shop before finding their own.

Before long, Cohen and Edward were dozing off in the shop.

Indeed, Mr. Ollivander only had to run around swapping wands, while Cohen and Edward had other matters to consider—when to eat lunch, when Cohen would pick his owl, and when Edward could get to the Hellfire Club’s Dungeons & Dragons gathering…

Finally.

“Phew…”

Ollivander opened the last wand box, relieved not to hear any dreadful shrieks or see the wand fly away.

“Elder wood, unicorn hair, twelve inches—let me rest a moment—an odd combination…”

Cohen curiously stood and peered at the wand that seemed unafraid of him.

Odd... perhaps because elder wood represents death and unicorn hair represents kindness and purity?

No, isn’t it a mistake for a Dementor to have a wand made of unicorn hair?!