Kapitel 29: Arrival of the Hogwarts Letter

Raja's heart raced as he read the Hogwarts acceptance letter, and he couldn't help but grin. He had known about this world, but now it was real. That evening, his grandmother Eleanor gathered the Powers family to break the news gently.

After a lot of whispered conversation and exchanged glances, Mr. and Mrs. Powers finally agreed, albeit with bewildered expressions. "Well, if Raja's meant to be a wizard," Mr. Powers said, scratching his head, "who are we to argue?"

The following morning, Professor Minerva McGonagall arrived at the Powers residence to guide Raja through his preparations. Dressed in formal robes, she exuded an aura of authority, though a small smile softened her usual stern demeanor as she greeted Raja and his family.

"Ready for Diagon Alley, young man?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am!" Raja replied, holding up a small satchel of his essentials. They Apparated to Diagon Alley, and Professor McGonagall warned, "Prepare yourself; Apparition can be a bit disorienting."

However, Raja landed perfectly steady, unfazed.

"Not bad," she said, mildly impressed. "Most young wizards empty their stomachs after their first Apparition." She gave him a small nod of approval. "It seems you've got a bit more constitution than most first-years."

Raja only smiled, following her through the magical shops of Diagon Alley, where the bustling crowds, colorful displays, and curious smells created a whole new world. From enchanted brooms to potion ingredients, everything seemed to pulse with energy.

Finally, they arrived at Gringotts, the massive, white-marble wizarding bank. As they entered the grand hall, McGonagall offered a quick lesson on wizarding currency. "In our world, we have three main denominations: Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. Seventeen Sickles make a Galleon, and twenty-nine Knuts make a Sickle."

"Interesting," Raja murmured, noting the exchange rate as they approached a goblin.

The goblin, who was currently scowling at his ledger, looked up with a barely disguised frown, casting a disapproving glance at McGonagall before eyeing Raja suspiciously.

"New student account request," McGonagall stated. "Two hundred Galleons for school supplies."

Raja, however, wasn't satisfied. "Actually, can I open my own account instead?"

McGonagall raised her brows in surprise, but the goblin's reaction was far more dramatic. He let out a harsh, dismissive snort. "And how, exactly, do you intend to fund this account, hmm? Muggle currency is as useful to us as mud."

Raja met the goblin's glare with an easy smile, pulling out his bag. "Who said anything about Muggle currency?" He upended the bag onto the counter, and out clattered five-kilogram bars of pure 24K gold, gleaming in the bank's enchanted light.

McGonagall's eyes widened, and the goblin's gaze became fixated on the pile of gold as his greedy instincts kicked in.

"That's twenty-five kilos of gold, at current Galleon rates," Raja added casually, tapping his chin. "Let's see... 5,000 Galleons?"

The goblin, eyes now narrowed, let out a low grumble. "Your math is nearly correct," he replied. "But I don't suppose you Muggles understand the fluctuating values of magical gold…"

"Oh, I understand it," Raja said with a smirk. "But I'm not here to haggle—I want a solid account balance. Call it ten thousand Galleons to start."

The goblin's greedy irritation turned into complete surprise, but he tried to hide it, muttering to himself while scribbling furiously. "Fine, fine. But that still doesn't make you less of a Muggle-born…" he grumbled under his breath.

Raja narrowed his gaze and spoke with fierce determination. "I may be a Muggle-born now, but I will revolutionize the wizarding world. Mark my words!" He took a deep breath and shouted, "I'm the man who will become the king of wizards!"

As he said this, an intense magical fluctuation rippled from him, creating a brief but powerful aura around his body that even the goblin and McGonagall felt—a potent presence, like the magical equivalent of Haki. McGonagall's eyes widened in astonishment, and even the goblin seemed momentarily taken aback, a mix of respect and reluctance flickering across his face.

The goblin quickly resumed his work, muttering, "Impressive… for a Muggle-born." Under McGonagall's protective supervision, the account was processed quickly and honestly, with ten thousand Galleons deposited.

"Well, now that's settled," McGonagall said, her tone tinged with pride. "Let's continue."

With five hundred Galleons in hand, they started shopping. Each shop was like a different chapter in the wizarding world: books that whispered on their shelves, potion ingredients that bubbled in jars, and enchanted quills that danced across parchment.

When they reached Madam Malkin's for his robes, Raja switched into his "adorable grandson" persona, a trick he'd perfected for charming his grandmother's friends. "Madam," he said, eyes wide, "have you considered adding modern touches to the school robes?"

Madam Malkin chuckled. "And what would you suggest, my dear?"

"Well," he said, tapping his chin, "perhaps a slim cut, maybe a charm for color shifts, or even a 'summer breeze' enchantment for warmer days?" He gave her a smile.

"Why, you're a little fashion genius!" she said with a laugh. Even McGonagall looked amused, noting Raja's adaptability.

Finally, they arrived at Ollivanders, the oldest wand shop in existence, with Ollivander himself greeting them enthusiastically.

"Professor McGonagall!" he exclaimed before his gaze fell on Raja. "And you must be Mr. Powers. Now, a wand is a highly personal item…"

He immediately began trying different wands. The first was too stiff, the second sparked, and the next three rejected Raja outright. Ollivander, now puzzled, shot Raja a suspicious glance. "Are you sure you have magic, young man?"

Raja, unimpressed, calmly lifted Ollivander into the air with a casual wave of his hand. Ollivander yelped, waving his arms wildly.

"Alright, alright! Put me down!" he cried, squirming in mid-air.

Professor McGonagall chuckled softly. "Perhaps he's got a touch more magic than we thought."

Raja set Ollivander down unceremoniously and walked deeper into the shop, feeling an odd pull from within. He stopped before the back wall, closed his eyes, and spread his arms wide.

"Come forth, O wand of magic destined to be my partner!"

The room fell silent as a distant thud echoed from the farthest wall. The bricks began to tremble, and part of the wall shifted aside, revealing an ancient compartment. A black box adorned with OM and swastika symbols sat within, wrapped with a sacred yellow thread.

Ollivander's jaw dropped, while McGonagall's eyes widened in disbelief.

Raja knelt reverently and made a traditional namaskar, his hands joined in respect. The box floated to him, landing in his open palms.

When he opened it, both McGonagall and Ollivander gasped. Inside lay a sleek, black wand, its surface etched with intricate golden lightning patterns.

A folded parchment was tucked beside the wand. Ollivander gingerly unfolded it, reading aloud:

"To the Descendant of Ollivander,

Before I founded this shop, I journeyed across the world to discover the finest woods and magical cores. My travels brought me to the mystical land of Akhand Bharath, where sages live as true masters of the arcane, caring little for material wealth. I took branches from sacred trees and sought cores to match, yet none aligned with the Western magic.

Before I left, a sage appeared, his amber robes and deep gaze holding me in place. He gestured to a sacred banyan tree and beckoned me to follow. As I opened my satchel, two objects floated to him: a branch from the Divine Banyan Tree and a feather stained with the blood of the mythical Black Thunderbird.

He created a black rudraksha, and the three objects circled him, merging into this wand. He blessed it, saying, 'One day, the true bearer will arrive. Seal it in your shop walls until then.'

This wand, the Shadow Tempest, was crafted with intentions beyond our world. Only a soul in perfect harmony with nature and lightning may wield it."

Ollivander's voice trembled as he finished reading, his hand lightly resting on the wand.

McGonagall whispered, "This is beyond even the Elder Wand's power… a true relic."

Raja extended his hand toward the wand, and as his fingers brushed it, golden sparks burst forth, wrapping around his wrist and forming into a bracelet—a black band with golden lightning bolts.

Maya's voice echoed in Raja's mind. "The wand is imbued with the spirit of the Black Thunderbird. It seems this wand has been waiting for you for centuries."

Raja smirked, running his fingers along the golden lightning patterns. Shadow Tempest, he thought, feeling the name resonate through him.