The early morning sun hung low on the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow that filtered through the small dusty windows at the top of the walls of the practice hall. The room, aged and weathered, wore the years of countless training sessions like an old, comfortable coat.
There was enough to operate but not so bright as to dispel the sense of mystery that clung to every corner. Ancient wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, their grainy texture visible in the soft illumination.
The only sounds that dared to break the silence were the grunts of the solitary figure in the center of the room and the rhythmic thud of punches and kicks thrown at the bag.
There stood Lucien in the midst of his workout. Sweat cascaded from his brow, trickling down his chin like a small waterfall. His unruly hair tumbled over his eyes, adding an extra layer of challenge to his training. His shirt, soaked through and through, clung to his wiry frame, highlighting the contours of his chest and abdomen.
Marlene wolf whistled loudly.
"Bloody hell."
"Fuck."
"Merlin, look at him."
"He is looking so hot. I won't mind him screwing me" Marlene drooled.
"Marl, he's just an eleven-year-old kid," Lily reproached.
"First of all, as Sirius said, you're wrong about him being a kid. Second, even if he is, there that person, he's anything but," she said, nodding towards where Cyril was sitting.
On the other hand, "They haven't seen you in your full glory and they are reacting like that. I think they would die of heart attack if they did." Lips almost touched his ears as a low sultry voice, escaped those sinful lips. "Don't you think so, my lord."
His large veiny hand grabbed her upper thigh, roughly putting enough pressure making her squirm. "Behave, Eva." His voice, low and raspy, was hypnotic enough to dance anyone on his commands. She merely nodded as she bit her lip nervously.
While Daphne merely chuckled thoroughly amused at Eva's situation.
Despite his tender age, Lucien was no ordinary eleven-year-old. He stood taller than most of his peers. His physique was a testament to his determination - a lean body adorned with surprisingly well-defined muscles. Though he might not have been a muscle-bound powerhouse just yet, he possessed an impressive strength that belied his youth.
As the practice session came to an end, Lucien stepped back, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He wiped the sweat from his brow and took a moment to catch his breath before he went to take a bath.
Marlene cursed under her breath.
"Control your hormones, Marls." Lily hissed as Dorcas chuckled at the two.
Lucien stepped out of the shower and toweled himself dry. He looked into the mirror that had few cracks, it was foggy and had black spots, obscuring his reflection. But Lucien wasn't concerned with mirrors or appearances right now; he had a task to complete.
He made his way to his room. With a swift, practiced motion, Lucien lifted the mattress. He removed a particular floorboard revealing the hidden compartment below. A stash of money, some papers, and a few other items were neatly arranged within. His fingers brushed over them as he selected a particular item - a dagger concealed within a sheath. He retrieved the weapon and left the room to go through another ordinary day.
"Yeah, sure just another day in the life of a seemingly ordinary boy," Barty snorted.
"Excuse me, Mr. Bianchi," a Hufflepuff girl spoke, her uncertainty evident in her choice of address. She fumbled for words, nervousness coursing through her as she met his gaze.
After receiving a reassuring nod, she gathered her courage and continued, "I don't mean to pry or overstep boundaries," she stopped again as she bit her lower lip but getting another nod she continued, "If you had this much money, why didn't you spend it on yourself?"
On any ordinary day, he might have dismissed the question with a curt "none of your business." However, he chose to be civil, considering her visible anxiety. She already seemed on the verge of bolting.
"Didn't see the need," he replied, nonchalantly shrugging. "Plus, it was risky."
She nodded slowly, her lips forming a small 'o' as she comprehended his explanation.
In truth, all the money he possessed was earned through his discreet private business or under-the-radar gigs, carefully concealed from the establishment's owner. When he was taken in, he had been offered a place to sleep, meals, and clothing in exchange for his work. He had never earned anything for himself, so acquiring additional clothes or belongings would have raised suspicion. Besides, the money was for his future plans and the clothes he had been provided with were sufficient to last him throughout the year.
"Didn't see the need? How can a bloke survive with the measly number of shirts and jeans you've got?" an obnoxious voice chimed in, its grating tone getting on Cyril's nerves.
But, pleasantly surprised himself, he chose to ignore him.
'Today must be some lucky day for these people.' He thought.
However, Theo, who couldn't stand the tone aimed at Cyril, was less forgiving.
He fixed a steely gaze on the source of the annoying voice. "Watch your mouth unless you don't need it for future use," he warned with a touch of menace, making it clear that he wouldn't tolerate such insolence.
He examined the dagger for a moment, the blade glinting softly in the dim room, before securing it within his clothing.
After exiting the room, Lucien left the establishment. The metal door swung shut behind him, and he approached the formidable shutter that blocked his exit. With a practiced hand, he raised it just enough to slip through, the muscles in his arms flexing with the effort. Then, with a quick, controlled motion, he lowered the shutter back into place, the solid clang echoing in the narrow alley.
As he turned to depart, he was met with the unexpected sight of a woman standing in his path. Her presence was an intrusion as he assessed her with a keen, calculating gaze.
There stood a tall woman with dark skin, eyes, and hair. Her posture was straight and she was staring around the surroundings with some questioning look.
What truly caught Lucien's attention, though, was her choice of clothing. She wore robes with a pointy hat that looked unlike anything he had ever seen in the 'normal' world. They were adorned with intricate patterns and symbols that seemed alien to him.
To him, her clothing as fascinating as was, was perplexing.
Blaise turned towards him with an amused look on his face as he spoke quietly.
"Passing judgements, are we?"
"We all do." He merely shrugged.
"Is this," Her eyes once more raked the alley and the shutter, "the residence of Mr. Bianchi?" She asked.
Lucien regarded her with an inscrutable expression, his analytical mind dissecting the situation. Then, like a sudden revelation, he felt it - an energy, an aura unlike any he had ever encountered, except for one person.
You can feel it?" It was Orion who asked the question.
Cyril had been feeling his eyes a lot on him which he had ignored so far.
"Yes, I can tell if a person is a wizard or not with their aura." He sufficed more than just a mere 'yes'.
It was shocking to a lot of them. Many powerful wizards could sense the magic from some place or a person but being able to tell if the person was a muggle or not, was a sign of extraordinary magical prowess and it was new to most of them.
Her gaze was expectant as she awaited his response. "Well?" she prompted.
Lucien's instincts whispered paranoia, urging him to respond with aggression, to press the knife concealed within his pocket against her throat and demand answers. His fingers itched for the cold touch of the blade. But he resisted, opting for a more civilized approach.
"And who might you be?" he voiced with a blank expression, curiosity hiding under the mask. Though, his tone was enough to convey the answer to the question she asked.
"I am Professor Aurora Sinistra from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she revealed calmly. "I'll be introducing you to the British Wizarding world and assisting you in acquiring the essentials for school. However, it would be best if I could speak with your guardian, Mr. Bianchi."
"YES!" Isabella pumped his fist in the air. "Damn, I am more excited than him." She muttered.
Under the early afternoon sun, Hagrid and Harry strolled through the bustling streets of London.
"Yes, we are back to mini James." Sirius cheered.
"Harry," the young wizard began, "All students must be equipped with... one standard size 2 pewter cauldron and may bring, if they desire, either an owl, a cat, or a toad. Could we find all this in London?"
"You can if you know where to."
Hagrid nodded, a knowing smile on his face. "If you know where to go."
They approached a seemingly ordinary corner store, but as they drew closer, something magical occurred. The sign above the entrance transformed before their eyes, revealing itself as "The Leaky Cauldron." Together, they entered the inn.
Inside, the air was filled with the lively hum of conversation and the melodious notes of music. Patrons mingled, their voices animated. The bartender, Tom, greeted Hagrid with familiarity.
"Ah, Hagrid! The usual, I presume?" Tom inquired.
Hagrid chuckled, shaking his head. "No thanks, Tom. I'm on official Hogwarts business today. Just helpin' young Harry here buy his school supplies."
"Bless my soul. It's Harry Potter!" Tom exclaimed.
The sudden hush that fell over the pub indicated that Harry's presence hadn't gone unnoticed.
"I have never seen Leaky London so quiet." Someone said amazed.
"Never thought Leaky London and quiet would fit in the same equation," Remus commented.
A man approached, extending his hand to shake Harry's.
"Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Welcome back," he greeted warmly.
A witch, Doris Crockford, joined in, her excitement palpable as she introduced herself. "Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter. I can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"Wow, seems like you are famous Harry," James commented.
"But why?" Someone questioned dumbly.
Many looked at him with deadpan expressions.
"Isn't it quite obvious? He somehow made you-know-who disappear and seems like people know about it."
As the buzz of attention grew, a man wearing robes and a turban made his entrance. It was Professor Quirrell.
"Harry P-potter," Quirrell stammered. "C-can't tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."
Hagrid made the introductions. "Hello, Professor. I didn't see you there. Harry, this is Professor Quirrell. He'll be yer Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts."
Almost everybody was appalled.
"Are you sure you haven't mistaken him for DADA Professor, Hagrid?"
"I am sure Dumbledore hasn't gone completely mad to choose him as a professor."
Ron snorted at the comment.
"You would be surprised to know how mad he already is." Fawley whispered.
Harry extended his hand, offering a friendly handshake, but Quirrell hesitated, his eyes lingering on Harry's forehead.
"Rude." Alice pouted.
"F-fearfully f-fascinating subject. N-not that you need it, e-eh, Potter?" Quirrell replied with a nervous chuckle.
Breaking the moment, Hagrid spoke up, sensing the need to move on. "Yes, well, mus' be goin' now. Lots to buy. Heh-heh-heh."
"Why is he acting like he would catch a disease if he touched him?" James questioned with narrowed eyes.
"Who knows. Must have developed trauma after touching hands which had been somewhere-" Sirius trailed off snorting, earning a smack at the back of his head.
Harry bid farewell, and the two left the bustling inn, slipping into a back room winery. Hagrid tapped the brick wall with his umbrella, causing the blocks to magically shift and reveal a hidden, bustling street known as Diagon Alley.
With a broad grin, Harry followed Hagrid into this enchanting world. It was a place of wonder, where shops and creatures abounded.
"See, Harry? You're famous!" Hagrid exclaimed.
Harry pondered the question that had been burning in his mind. "But why am I famous, Hagrid? All those people back there, how is it they know who I am?"
"Poor boy. He doesn't even know why he is famous and he is thrown under the spotlight." Euphemia was at the urge of crying.
Hagrid sighed, his response tinged with uncertainty. "I'm not sure I'm exactly the right person to tell you that, Harry."
Hagrid's umbrella tapped the brick wall in a clockwise motion, a familiar ritual that triggered the magical transformation. The solid blocks began to shift and twist, creating an opening that revealed Diagon Alley, a bustling and hidden street filled with the wonders of the wizarding world.
Harry couldn't contain his excitement, and a broad grin spread across his face as he stepped into this enchanting realm. The air was alive with the flutter of wings and the occasional screech of an owl.
"Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley," Hagrid announced, his voice filled with pride.
As they walked down the cobbled street, Harry's amazement only grew. Shops of all kinds lined the avenue, each one promising magical treasures. Owls, bats, and other mystical creatures moved about, lending an otherworldly charm to the place.
Lily and James watched with sadness and guilt, knowing it wasn't them who were taking Harry to Diagon Alley for his first school shopping. They were gone, and Harry had no close relatives to fill the void. If only they were still alive.
_____💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸