"Professor Vinda, I'm here." Isaac greeted Professor Vinda, who was trying on clothes, then nodded to the impeccably dressed man standing nearby.
Professor Vinda was being attended to by the shop assistants. When she heard Isaac, she turned around, and the assistants serving her moved with her without interrupting her in the slightest.
Professor Vinda nodded slightly, then looked Isaac up and down.
At last, her expression turned disapproving.
"Look at you. Dumbledore didn't even buy you any decent clothes." Vinda called to the man standing nearby. "Twilfitt."
"I'm at your service, Ms. Rosier." Twilfitt bowed slightly, wearing an ingratiating smile.
"Take Mr. Waldore's measurements, and from now on, send him the latest styles from your shop every quarter.
The Rosier Family will pay all the bills."
"It's our honor, Ms. Rosier." Twilfitt's smile grew even wider, and he immediately waved his hand.
More shop assistants appeared from who knew where and set to work on Isaac.
As for Mr. Twilfitt... when he looked at Isaac, his eyes were clearly full of relief and satisfaction.
Seriously, man, what was with that look?
Isaac was a little baffled, though he could guess who Mr. Twilfitt was.
After all, the sign outside Twilfitt and Tattings read "Twilfitt and Tattings," and since Professor Vinda had called the man "Twilfitt," those two names were presumably the names of the shop's founders.
In other words, Mr. Twilfitt was one of the owners of Twilfitt and Tattings.
But owner or not, Isaac still couldn't figure out why Twilfitt was looking at him so strangely.
The reason was simple: Isaac had an account at Madam Malkin's Robes, with Dumbledore paying his bills.
Dumbledore was willing to pay for his "illegitimate son" at Madam Malkin's Robes. What an incredibly effective endorsement!
Dumbledore was practically the biggest celebrity in the Wizarding World, and his influence was felt in every corner of it.
More importantly, a large portion of Twilfitt and Tattings' customers could buy their clothes at either Madam Malkin's Robes or Twilfitt and Tattings.
If Dumbledore's endorsement brought in more customers, wouldn't Twilfitt and Tattings lose a lot of business?
In Muggle society, Twilfitt would be a luxury-store owner. And Dumbledore? He was a political academic as well as a powerful military figure.
What could a man like Twilfitt do? What could he dare do?
All he could do was fret.
Then, just as Twilfitt was worrying himself sick, Ms. Rosier from France brought him wonderful news, like rain from the heavens.
The Rosier Family was willing to pay Mr. Isaac Waldore's bills at Twilfitt and Tattings. Never mind whether the Rosier Family or Dumbledore actually paid them.
The respected Mr. Waldore could now charge his clothes at Twilfitt and Tattings, too.
Twilfitt planned to wait until Isaac and Professor Vinda had left, then send someone to Diagon Alley to spread the word: Twilfitt and Tattings would make Mr. Waldore a new wardrobe every quarter.
As for who was paying, he cunningly decided to leave that part out.
Unlike Twilfitt, who was over the moon, Isaac didn't feel much of anything. Having new clothes was nice, of course, but Madam Malkin's shop made clothes to measure too.
The only difference was that the fabrics at Twilfitt and Tattings looked more expensive.
The shop assistants at Twilfitt and Tattings worked for nearly two hours before Isaac finally changed into a new outfit.
Don't ask how clothes that expensive could be ready on the spot—magical tailors, kid!
The assistants had even thoughtfully given Isaac a new hairstyle.
Looking at himself in the mirror, Isaac couldn't help feeling a little speechless. Seriously, I was a perfectly good young Grindelwald—how'd you turn me into Draco Malfoy?
So Malfoy had always been at the forefront of fashion, huh...
After they were done, Isaac and Professor Vinda headed for the door of Twilfitt and Tattings. Twilfitt warmly saw the two "honored guests" off.
Just as they were about to leave, a bright burst of flame suddenly erupted inside the shop.
The next moment, a flash of red appeared on Isaac's shoulder.
"What is that?!" Twilfitt was horrified. If anything happened to these two honored guests in his shop, would he even be able to keep it open?
The next second, the curse on his lips died before he could utter it.
A phoenix was perched on Isaac's shoulder.
To be honest, Twilfitt had never seen a phoenix in his life, but the moment he saw Fawkes, he knew what it was.
Fawkes had brought Isaac a letter from Dumbledore, but for now, he was admiring Isaac's new hairstyle.
After flapping his great wings over Isaac's head a few times, Fawkes let out a cheerful chirp.
Every shop assistant who heard the phoenix's call felt a genuine surge of happiness.
Isaac could only sigh. All right, all right. Fawkes didn't like Grindelwald—he liked Draco Malfoy, huh?
You little rascal!
Isaac opened Dumbledore's letter, and a golden key fell out.
There was nothing else inside.
Dumbledore seemed to understand how to communicate with a Seer. He didn't need to tell Isaac Harry Potter's address or his family's vault number.
Isaac could "see" those things for himself.
Still, he needed the key to the Potter family vault. Unless he planned to take Britain's Chosen One to rob Gringotts.
As for Fawkes... Dumbledore had sent him to Isaac as "transport."
"Come on, Professor Vinda. We've got to go to the next stop."
Isaac gave Fawkes an address, then took Professor Vinda's hand. The next moment, amid a bright burst of flame, the phoenix, Isaac, and Professor Vinda vanished.
"You all saw that, didn't you?" Twilfitt's throat felt tight. He spoke to the shop assistants beside him in a hoarse voice.
"Yes, boss. We all saw it." One of the assistants nodded repeatedly.
"Commanding a phoenix... that's a gift of the Dumbledore family..." Twilfitt swallowed the rest of his words. That wasn't something he could afford to say.
He didn't know Fawkes, but he could recognize a phoenix.
And Isaac had just been able to command one to do his bidding.
Twilfitt immediately clammed up and even ordered the other shop assistants to keep quiet.
But what good was a gag order against gossip?
Before long, the latest "rumor" spread through Diagon Alley.
Mr. Waldore had a real, live phoenix. Lots of people had seen it!
The shopkeepers in Diagon Alley suddenly realized something: They'd all treated the rumors about you as nonsense.
But you really were the real deal???