The Leaky Cauldron

"I don't consider harassing an incoming student who hasn't even enrolled to be a funny joke!" Professor McGonagall's voice was not loud, but it carried an overwhelming sense of pressure.

Her wand had silently slid into her hand. Though she had not raised it, the threat was unmistakable.

"Disappear from in front of us immediately. Otherwise, I would not mind teaching you what manners are personally, and suggesting to the Wizengamot that they reassess whether you are qualified to hold a wand!"

The wizard's face turned deathly pale. He scrambled to apologize, then quickly squeezed into the crowd and fled without daring to look back.

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and forcibly suppressed her anger before turning to look at the boy behind her.

Skofot was still clutching his books tightly, his body trembling faintly and his face pale.

"It's all right now, Mr. Leoqi." Her tone softened again, though a trace of her lingering anger remained.

"No one can hurt a Hogwarts student. Let's continue. You still need a wand."

She held out her hand, not to touch him, but to signal for him to follow. Her upright figure shielded him from every possible gaze and danger around them.

After the disturbance on the street, Professor McGonagall's expression was still tense.

When she led Skofot into Ollivanders Wand Shop, the aura around her seemed to make even the dust-filled air in the store grow still.

The sound of a ladder sliding came from the depths of the shop. Mr. Ollivander appeared like a ghost from behind the towering shelves, his messy hair disheveled and his large pale eyes especially bright in the dim light.

"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall. Oh... a new customer." His gaze immediately fixed on Skofot as he inspected him sharply.

"Let me see... I don't remember you. You must be a new Hogwarts student. I remember every wand I have sold, and every wizarding bloodline that has yet to own a wand..."

He began rummaging through the mountain of wand boxes, muttering, "Usually, we try some classic combinations..."

He took out several boxes, but the moment the wands inside were touched by Skofot's fingertips, unpleasant reactions occurred.

—Either the empty boxes on the shelves were shaken into flying everywhere, or the books in his own hands nearly slipped free.

Mr. Ollivander looked even more excited. "Interesting, very interesting! Not these... Perhaps something special is needed..."

He disappeared into the depths of the shelves again.

Skofot stood quietly, breathing faintly. The failed attempts seemed to have drained what little strength he had left ([Rabbit Rhymer] debuff effect). Instinctively, he edged a little closer to Professor McGonagall, seeking a hint of safety.

Professor McGonagall noticed his subtle movement and stepped half a pace forward, forming an even more solid protective stance.

At last, Mr. Ollivander emerged carrying a long box covered in dust.

"Try this one." He carefully removed the wand. "Maple wood, Thestral tail hair, fourteen inches, reasonably flexible."

Skofot hesitated. Under Professor McGonagall's encouraging gaze, though her face showed little expression, he reached out and gripped the wand.

This time, the feeling was completely different.

There was no explosion, and nothing flew about.

A warm current instantly spread from his fingertips throughout his body, dispelling some of the weak chill brought by the [Rabbit Rhymer] card, as though his cold blood had begun flowing smoothly again.

A string of soft golden sparks burst from the tip of the wand, dancing around him like tiny stars. Then a steady, milky-white glow flowed from its tip like warm moonlight, enveloping both him and Professor McGonagall beside him. It lasted for several seconds before slowly fading away.

Silence returned to the shop, leaving only the faint scent of sandalwood—or perhaps maple—in the air.

"Oh, wonderful!" Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands in praise.

"A marvelous choice—or rather, the wand chose you! Maple wood symbolizes adaptability and boundaries. Its owners often possess great adaptability and protective instincts. Thestrals... ah, mysterious and noble creatures. Their tail hair favors wizards who walk in the shadows without losing their way, who retain a unique inner resolve. Fourteen inches, a moderate length, suitable for spells requiring precise control... A truly marvelous combination!"

Skofot lowered his head and looked at the wand in his hand. The maple shaft was warm and smooth, fitting his palm perfectly.

He could feel a faint yet steady power pulsing within it, connected to his life.

Professor McGonagall watched the first glimmer in the boy's eyes that was not an act, but truly his own—though still softened by a sense of brokenness.

And as she watched the peaceful glow surrounding them, the corners of her stern mouth softened almost imperceptibly for a moment.

She clearly paid Mr. Ollivander seven Galleons.

"Congratulations, Mr. Leoqi." She turned to Skofot, her voice gentler than ever before.

"You have obtained your wand. This is an important step on your path of magic."

As they left the wand shop, Skofot gripped his own maple wand tightly, his knuckles turning faintly white from the force.

It was not merely a tool. It was power, belonging, the first solid straw he had managed to grasp in this unfamiliar magical world.

With the shopping complete, Professor McGonagall looked at the boy beside her, clutching new textbooks, dressed in secondhand black robes, and tightly gripping his new wand. A plan had already formed in her heart.

She first took Skofot to Gringotts and exchanged a small number of Galleons for some Muggle currency.

"These Pounds Sterling." She handed several banknotes to Skofot and watched him accept them carefully.

"They are for you to take a taxi at King's Cross Station. Of course," she added in an unquestionable tone, "I will personally see you onto the train when the time comes."

She did not take him directly to the station. Instead, she returned to The Leaky Cauldron once more.

She walked straight over to Old Tom and said in a clear, serious voice, "One room, a quiet one. Book it for five days first."

Old Tom looked at Professor McGonagall, then at the boy behind her, who looked exceptionally fragile and clung tightly to her. He seemed to understand something and silently handed over a copper key.

Professor McGonagall's decision was very clear.

She absolutely could not leave this child, who had only just escaped danger and appeared entirely unable to protect himself, alone in that abandoned attic in Muggle Alley—not even for one night.

Given the child's current state—she recalled the unpleasant harassment on the street—she had no doubt that the moment she turned her back, he might be abducted by someone with ill intentions.

After entering the cramped but fairly clean room, Professor McGonagall placed the things they had purchased on a chair.

She turned around, about to explain the arrangements ahead to the boy, only to meet a pair of tearful eyes.

Skofot stood there, his body trembling faintly. The "sense of brokenness" brought by the [Rabbit Rhymer] card was on full display at that moment.

He extended slender fingers and, cautiously, with a timidness that seemed afraid to use any force, gently tugged at the hem of Professor McGonagall's dark green robes.