Hogwarts: I, Tom, am really not Voldemort!

“This is…?! ”

Dumbledore looked at the neatly arranged rows of wands, clearly mass-produced, and felt a sense of dismay.

“Ah, it’s the White Demon King! Would you like to buy one? This is our meticulously crafted Savior-style wand, upgraded version.”

“We use carefully cultivated French materials, redesigned by famous Italian wand designers, processed with precise German craftsmanship, and finally hand-assembled by our English… gay… land craftsmen.”

“Today, it’s only 3 Galleons a piece, buy two get one free! You can use two as chopsticks and one for casting spells. It’s a real bargain, sir! Would you like one?”

The salesperson tirelessly promoted the wands to Dumbledore, who was stunned. There were too many issues to even know where to begin.

The White Demon King thing was fine, he was immune to that, but France, Italy, Germany, English 'gay' land… this was all nonsense! It looked like it came from some unknown workshop under the name of a Death Eater. More importantly…

“Didn’t you say the core was phoenix feather? Why do these cores contain various feathers, but no phoenix?”

Suspecting he might be mistaken, Dumbledore checked again, and after reaching the same conclusion, his mind was full of question marks, but he was also secretly relieved that it wasn't from plucking Fawkes.

Isn't this blatant false advertising? Aren't you afraid of getting your shop smashed?

“The core is of course 'phoenix' feather, Professor.”

Tom, who had lagged behind a few steps, caught up with Dumbledore.

“Professor, the magical creatures that provide these feathers are all called Phoenix.”

“'Phoenixes' providing phoenix feathers, it’s perfectly logical, isn’t it?”

“……”

Dumbledore, having lived for a century, had never seen such a shrewd merchant and nearly had his worldview shattered.

“Moreover, Professor, it’s not like we don’t have wands with real phoenix tail feathers. Here, bring one over to enlighten Professor Dumbledore.”

Hearing Tom say this, the salesperson hurried into the store and soon returned with an exquisite box.

Opening it and presenting it to Dumbledore, he saw two extremely familiar wands.

“This is?!”

“Yew, phoenix feather, 13.5 inches.”

“Holly, phoenix feather, 11 inches.”

“The cores are all from Fawkes’ feathers. Given the difficulty of the materials and production, only 7 sets were made, and once they're sold out, they're gone forever. Oh, right, these are sold as a set, not individually. They also come with Voldemort and Harry's signatures, definitely worth the price! But only customers who reach the highest VIP level in our store are eligible to purchase them.”

“……”

Good, good, good, you'd abandon all principles for a little money. No wonder Fawkes has been looking a little bald lately. In the end, he couldn't escape someone's clutches.

Also, playing it like this, what 'Voldemort and Harry are destined enemies' and 'twin wands'… Sybill Trelawney’s prophecy is going to be ruined by you.

“Tom, the magical world is truly 'blessed' to have you!”

Tom pretended not to hear the gnashing of teeth in Dumbledore's words and proudly raised his chin.

“Oh, right, taking advantage of today's special, I also bought a new wand for Ron, so he doesn't have to use Charlie's old wand anymore. Thank you, Tom.”

Tom nudged Dumbledore with his mouth, the meaning was obvious: See, I told you I was right.

Mrs. Weasley then noticed that Dumbledore was also there, hesitated, and finally said, “Professor Dumbledore, they all say you are the White Demon King now, the mastermind behind the magical world, the new master of the Death Eaters, you….”

Another one. Tired, let it be destroyed. He, Dumbledore, is innocent and has never bothered to explain the dirt that a certain little rascal splashed on him.

The last stop of the tour was Ariana Avenue, which is at the end of Knockturn Alley.

“Dumbledore Square, in memory of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (1881 – ) for his outstanding contributions to the magical world.”

Seeing these words, the still-living Dumbledore felt a little embarrassed to face people.

What made Dumbledore even more embarrassed was yet to come.

In the center of the square was a huge statue: Dumbledore holding the Elder Wand, sitting on a throne, with Grindelwald personally crowning Dumbledore.

“What is this?!”

Dumbledore's voice trembled a little. As he approached Tom, he saw a line of small words engraved on the base: In memory of Albus Dumbledore defeating Grindelwald in 1945, and thus being crowned the White Demon King.

Why the White Demon King again? Tom, are you going to war with the White Demon King?

So, this White Demon King, he has to be it even if he doesn't want to? He felt like he had been pinned to this position by someone's series of crazy operations.

He, who has always liked to calculate, how did he end up in such a state? Where did things start to go wrong?

Just as Dumbledore was questioning his life, many people gradually began to gather nearby.

“Let us begin the afternoon prayer.”

With the leader's words, the accompanying personnel knelt on one knee in front of Dumbledore's statue and began to chant the 'Dumbledore Scriptures', at first glance seeming like they had stumbled into some unspeakable scene.

This operation attracted passersby who didn't know what was going on, to stop and watch.

“……”

Dumbledore grabbed Tom and left directly. He really couldn't stay in this broken place for even a moment.

Returning to Hogwarts, Dumbledore hadn't recovered from today's New Knockturn Alley when he noticed a figure limping towards him.

“Albus, I've finally waited for you.”

“I found it… found it…”