CHAPTER TWENTY

Two weeks flew by like they were two days, and why wouldn't they?

During that period, Magnus hardly had any time to idle or even satisfy the many curiosities that plagued his mind upon finding himself in a fictional world.

Every single moment seemed to be reserved for something, down to the seconds.

On the bright side, his hard work had yielded a handsome amount of Galleons.

In that period, he had amassed a hundred Galleons, and that was without including his original forty-eight.

That figure had, however, quickly fallen back to thirty Galleons by the last Friday of August. Just as he had anticipated, his shopping took quite a bit more than half of his savings.

The shopping list was slightly similar to what he had seen in the films. I mean, there were robes, cauldrons, protective gloves, a pointed hat, and a wand—which happened to be among the most expensive items on the list. It had cost him seven Galleons.

Having been one of the things Magnus was most looking forward to buying, it fell quite short of his expectations.

Maybe because, just like so many young wizards and witches coming from Muggle families, he had unrealistic expectations.

I mean, Magnus already knew they weren't allowed to do magic outside school, but... he had expected to at least feel a little bit special.

Instead, it hadn't taken Ollivander more than five minutes to match him with a wand—a 10¾-inch vine wood wand with a dragon heartstring core, slightly springy.

"Quite common," Ollivander had said, but upon seeing the disappointment on Magnus's face, he had gone ahead to reassure him.

"Wands do improve, just like their owners," he had said encouragingly.

"Not once have I seen wizards like yourself rise to do amazing feats."

Magnus knew the man was just being modest. Still, he wasn't really bothered; he would do incredible feats, all right—maybe just not with the wand.

The books, too, included the usual lot, except for two notable exceptions. The book by Newt Scamander was now called Fantastic Beasts and Pokémon and Where to Find Them.

That, and A Beginner's Guide to Training a Pokémon by the same author.

Magnus's copy was at the top of his reading list, but due to the kind of weeks he had just had, he hadn't found the time to check it in depth.

However, based on what he had seen in the Pokémon battles, he was willing to wager that whatever the author had to say didn't amount to much.

I mean, if Charizard and Gyarados—two of the most powerful Pokémon—were that poorly trained, yet their handlers were in the most elite league in this world... well, that just went to show the lack of information.

On the morning of September 1st, he woke up way after the sun was up, feeling like he had been asleep for ages. His body had already become accustomed to rising early, so seeing the sun's rays hit him in bed felt like a crime.

Tom had, however, excused him from any duties for three days now, giving him enough time to carry out his shopping and rest.

It hadn't taken long for Tom to figure out that Magnus was just seeking a place to stay until Hogwarts opened. Thankfully, he wasn't nosy about it.

Magnus even found him to be good company, making his stay more fun than he had anticipated.

By now, Magnus had even become well acquainted with many of the pub's frequent patrons, so much so that he was practically part of the pub. In fact, most people even assumed he was a relative of Tom's, and he never bothered to clarify.

That was not all, though. By now, Magnus had also encountered most of Hogwarts' students and their parents, as well as many familiar faces from the Harry Potter world.

I mean, the fact that the Leaky Cauldron was the entry to Diagon Alley ensured that he would see those who entered and left it—at least for those who didn't Apparate.

Just that week, as he helped Tom in the evenings, he had served Hermione and her parents, Harry and Hagrid, Neville and his gran, the Weasleys (twice), had even glimpsed the Malfoys as they left through the barrier, and countless other faces of Hogwarts students he had never known. Though he could hardly expect to know everyone.

Lying there, listening to the hum and chatter of customers below that seeped into the room, Magnus was amazed. Just to think that a few weeks ago, he was roaming the streets of a different London, where no one other than a few of his fellow street kids even knew his name.

A few nights ago, he wouldn't have dared sleep this late. All the bins would have been combed through, and finding something to munch would have been a hell of a business.

I mean, all the things that looked normal and obvious at the moment would have been a luxury he could only dream of. Indeed, it only took a blink for fate to turn the tables.

Speaking of breakfast, Magnus could smell the sweet aroma of freshly baked pumpkin pasties wafting up from the pub below. Throwing off his blanket, he rubbed his eyes and, with a hungry yawn, left the room.

"I was almost thinking you expected me to bring you breakfast in bed," Tom jested, causing a roar of laughter among the several customers, many of whom Magnus was already familiar with.

"Can't have that now, can we?" another older man interjected amidst the laughter.

Magnus smiled as he called greetings before grabbing the mug of tea and a warm pumpkin pasty, its flaky crust still steaming.

The conversation lingered around him for a while before slowly drifting to other things. After his breakfast, Magnus helped Tom around the pub for the rest of the morning, despite Tom insisting that he should be getting ready. There was, however, nothing else that Magnus could do. He had taken care of everything the previous day.

Around ten, however, Magnus stood at the center of the pub, shaking hands and saying goodbye to people he had hardly known for more than two weeks, but who now felt like the family he had never had.

"He'll be back soon enough," Tom was telling anyone who would listen, though it sounded like he was reassuring himself more than the patrons.

"You be a good lad, won't you?" people called as Magnus carried his trunk to the barrier outside.

There seemed to be a huge lump stuck in his throat as he turned his back on the place that had given him a home for that brief period.

Magnus knew then that goodbyes were certainly not his strongest attribute. But if all went according to the plan that had begun taking shape in his head, he certainly would be back, just as Tom had said.

For now, though... well, he was headed to the right place. He could feel it—the place where those plans would begin to take shape.

***

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