Professor Snape set a brisk pace from the moment they left the house, and Adrian had to lengthen his stride to keep beside him.
They walked most of the way to the main road in silence.
Snape acknowledged two passing witches with brief nods but showed no interest in stopping, and neither of them seemed particularly eager to start a conversation.
Adrian found himself looking at him now and then.
His coat was black.
So were his trousers and boots.
Even in summer, there didn’t seem to be much variation.
After several minutes, curiosity won.
“Do you always wear black?”
Snape glanced down at him.
“Is there something objectionable about it?”
“No.
I was wondering.”
Snape seemed to consider that answer before looking ahead again.
They continued down the lane.
A little later, he said, “Your father tells me you spent your early childhood in Arizona.”
“Until I was seven.”
“And yet you’ve retained the accent.”
Adrian had heard that often enough since moving to Britain.
“My mom still sounds American, and Dad never tried to change the way I talked.
It just stuck.”
“Yes.
That much is sufficiently obvious.”
Adrian smiled faintly and kept walking.
The journey into London involved enough Muggle transport that Adrian began to wonder why Snape hadn’t simply Apparated them there in the first place.
He got his answer once they reached a quiet side street away from passing traffic.
Snape stopped.
“We shall Apparate from here.”
Adrian looked at him.
“I’ve never done that.”
“I had already reached that conclusion.
Take my arm, hold on firmly, and do not let go until we arrive.”
That instruction was simple enough.
The experience was not.
For one horrible instant, the world seemed to squeeze inward around him.
Adrian couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, and had the distinct sensation that several important parts of his body had been left behind.
Then his shoes struck pavement.
He stumbled sideways and caught himself against the wall.
Snape remained beside him, apparently unaffected.
Adrian stayed there for a moment until his stomach decided where it belonged.
“That was awful.”
Snape regarded him without sympathy.
“You remained conscious, kept hold of my arm, and managed not to be sick.
For a first attempt, I would consider that adequate.”
Adrian looked at him.
“That can actually make someone pass out?”
“It can.
You, however, appear to have survived the experience without making a spectacle of yourself.”
Snape started towards the end of the street.
Adrian pushed away from the wall and followed, still feeling slightly compressed.
“You could’ve warned me.”
“I told you precisely what was required of you.”
“You told me not to let go.”
“And you did not.
A detailed description of the unpleasantness would hardly have improved your performance.”
Adrian thought about arguing with that, but Snape was already walking away.
He decided there was probably no point and concentrated instead on making sure breakfast remained where it was.
From the outside, the Leaky Cauldron looked like the sort of place Adrian might have walked past without noticing.
Inside was different.
The pub was dim even in daylight, with dark timber, low conversation and enough smoke near the ceiling to soften the edges of the room.
A witch in travelling robes was arguing quietly with a man over a newspaper near the back, while something inside a cage beneath another table scratched steadily against the bars.
Adrian slowed as they crossed the room.
Several people recognised Snape.
A few looked up when he passed, but nobody seemed especially eager to stop him.
Adrian noticed that.
Snape led him through the pub and into the small courtyard behind it.
“Has your father explained how the entrance works?”
“Yeah.”
Snape glanced at him.
“Yes.”
“Then pay attention.”
He tapped a sequence of bricks with his wand.
The wall folded apart.
For a moment Adrian simply stood there.
Diagon Alley stretched away beneath the summer sky, crowded with witches and wizards moving between crooked shopfronts.
Children passed carrying parcels almost as large as they were.
Owls called from somewhere above, cauldrons clanged as a stack outside one shop rearranged itself, and a broom hovered slowly behind the glass of another window.
Adrian had seen magic all his life.
He had never seen this much of it in one place.
Snape had already moved several paces ahead before he noticed Adrian was no longer beside him.
“Mr.
Clarke.”
Adrian pulled his attention away from a display of self-shuffling playing cards.
“Coming.”
He caught up.
Snape handed him the supply list.
“We shall begin with your robes.
After that, books, equipment, your wand, and anything else Hogwarts has seen fit to require.”
Adrian looked farther down the street.
He had already spotted several shops that weren’t on the list.
“Can we look around afterward?”
“If we have sufficient time.”
Adrian nodded.
He intended to make certain they did.
***
Madam Malkin’s was busy with families preparing for the new school year.
Adrian found himself standing on a low stool while a witch adjusted the hem of his new Hogwarts robes.
Pins moved around the fabric on their own as she worked, occasionally tugging the cloth into place.
Snape remained near the entrance.
He had said almost nothing since they arrived and somehow managed to stand completely still while giving the unmistakable impression that robe fittings ranked very low among the ways he preferred to spend his morning.
Adrian looked at himself in the mirror.
There was nothing wrong with the robes.
They were neat, practical and exactly what Hogwarts expected him to wear.
They were also painfully plain.
He shifted slightly to get a better look.
The seamstress clicked her tongue.
“Hold still, dear.”
“Sorry.”
Adrian straightened.
For a moment, Adrian found himself imagining what he might choose if nobody else were deciding what proper wizard clothing ought to look like.
Something darker, perhaps.
A wider hat, heavier sleeves, maybe even some way to shadow his face beneath the brim.
The thought made him smile.
Someday, when he had his own money, he could worry about making it real.
The pins finished their work, and Adrian stepped down from the stool.
Snape looked over from near the entrance.
“Are we finished?”
The shop assistant gave the robes one last inspection.
“All done.”
“Good.”
Adrian collected the parcel and followed Snape outside.
They had barely reached the street before he glanced at the professor.
“You really don’t like shopping.”
“I dislike spending unnecessary amounts of time on simple tasks.”
Adrian adjusted the parcel beneath his arm.
“That sounds pretty close.”
Snape gave him a look that suggested the distinction was obvious and not worth explaining.
Adrian let it go.
Flourish and Blotts changed the entire mood of the morning.
Adrian had barely crossed the threshold before he slowed.
Books filled the shop from floor to ceiling.
New volumes sat beside battered older ones, several shelves held books secured with chains, and uneven stacks had been fitted into practically every space the shopkeepers could find.
Somewhere near the back, two books appeared to be arguing quietly with one another.
Snape took the Hogwarts list from him.
“Your required texts are this way.”
Adrian followed for perhaps half a minute before something on a nearby display caught his attention.
He stopped so abruptly that another customer nearly walked into him.
A green book had been placed face-out among several guides to magical creatures.
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Newt Scamander
For a moment, Adrian simply stared at it.
He remembered another life, another world, and creatures he had loved long before he had ever believed any of them could actually exist.
He reached for the book before he consciously decided to.
Snape noticed his absence a few steps later and returned.
“That is not among your required texts.”
“I know.”
Adrian opened it.
The pages contained classifications, descriptions, habitats, warnings and brief notes on species he already recognised.
Some of the information was familiar.
Far too familiar.
He closed the book slightly.
Snape had been watching him.
“You recognise the author?”
“Yeah.”
One of Snape’s eyebrows rose.
Adrian glanced at him.
“Yes.
I’ve heard of him.”
That answer was safer.
Newt Scamander was famous enough that there was nothing unusual about an eleven-year-old from a magical household knowing the name.
Adrian opened the book again.
He had no intention of leaving without it.
“How much is it?”
Snape glanced at the price.
“You have your own spending money.
I assume your father did not provide it merely for decoration.”
Adrian checked his purse.
He had enough.
The book joined the stack.
Snape made no objection, though Adrian suspected that had less to do with approval than with knowing an argument would take longer than simply allowing him to buy it.
They collected the books Hogwarts actually required next.
Charms.
Transfiguration.
History of Magic.
Potions.
Adrian opened each one as Snape added it to the stack, skimming diagrams, chapter headings and the occasional spell description.
Until now, most of what he knew about Hogwarts magic had come from his father, Cedric, and whatever books he could get his hands on.
Having actual school texts in front of him made September feel considerably closer.
He lingered over the Charms book before Snape took it from his hands and placed it with the others.
“You will have ample opportunity to read it once we leave the shop.”
“I was looking.”
“You were blocking the aisle.”
Adrian stepped aside.
That was fair.
Then he noticed another shelf.
Magical Creatures of Great Britain
Adrian pulled the book free and opened it.
Snape, who had already gathered the required textbooks, looked over.
“You have already selected one book that does not appear on the Hogwarts list.”
“This one’s about British creatures.”
“I had gathered that from the title.”
Adrian turned another page.
“I grew up in Arizona.
There are things here I still don’t know.”
For once, Snape did not answer immediately.
Adrian looked up.
The professor’s gaze moved from him to the book and then to the copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them already tucked beneath Adrian’s arm.
“If you intend to spend your own money on it, I have no intention of preventing you.
I would suggest, however, that you leave enough to purchase what you actually require.”
“I have enough.”
“We shall discover whether that remains true by the end of the morning.”
Adrian put the book with the others.
He was buying it.
Their next stops were less interesting.
Parchment, ink, a brass cauldron, potion supplies and a set of scales slowly disappeared from the Hogwarts list.
Adrian spent longer choosing the scales than Snape considered necessary.
He tested one, frowned and tried another.
By the time Adrian reached the third set, Snape had been standing beside the counter for several minutes.
Adrian tested the balance arm and frowned.
“This one catches.”
Snape’s attention sharpened.
The shopkeeper checked it.
The arm stuck slightly before settling.
Snape’s expression hardened.
“And you consider that suitable for potion work?”
The shopkeeper immediately reached for another set.
Adrian glanced at Snape.
Snape looked back at him.
“You were correct to check.
Now choose one that functions properly and try not to spend the remainder of the morning admiring it.”
Adrian tested the replacement once, found nothing wrong with it, and bought it.
He heard the animals before he noticed the shop.
Wings shifted against perches.
Claws scratched against wood.
Something called from farther inside.
Adrian slowed.
A Kneazle was curled near the back of the front enclosure.
Its head came up when he approached.
He stopped short of the glass and turned one shoulder toward it instead of facing it directly.
The Kneazle watched him.
Adrian gave a low trill.
Its ears moved forward.
He answered with another sound, softer this time.
The Kneazle stood and came toward the glass.
Snape had already gone several steps farther before he stopped.
“Mr.
Clarke.”
Adrian raised one hand and held it near the glass.
The Kneazle came closer until its nose nearly touched the other side.
“Hey.”
He knew the word meant nothing to it.
The sound that followed did.
The Kneazle blinked.
Adrian blinked back.
An owl clicked its beak from inside the shop.
He turned his head and answered it with a different sound.
Another owl shifted on its perch.
The shopkeeper came out from behind the counter and looked around.
“You’ve got their attention.”
Adrian glanced through the window.
Some of them were watching him.
Others weren’t.
One owl kept preening itself.
The shopkeeper opened the door.
“Do you keep creatures?”
“No.”
“Work with them?”
“No.”
Snape stopped beside him.
“He is eleven.
I doubt his professional qualifications are extensive.”
Adrian ignored him.
The Kneazle made another sound.
He answered and lowered his hand.
The shopkeeper looked at him.
“Where did you learn that?”
“I’ve been doing it for years.”
“With Kneazles?”
“With animals in general.”
Snape’s eyes narrowed.
“You communicate with them?”
Adrian looked at him.
“Yes.”
The answer seemed to irritate him.
“And your father neglected to mention this.”
“He knows I’m good with animals.”
“Being ‘good with animals’ generally means one is unlikely to be bitten.
It does not usually involve answering them.”
Adrian looked back at the Kneazle.
“It isn’t that complicated.”
Snape’s expression hardened.
“I assure you, Mr.
Clarke, when an eleven-year-old begins producing species-specific vocalisations and receiving responses, it becomes considerably more complicated.”
The shopkeeper looked between them.
Adrian shrugged.
“I watch what they’re doing.”
“That is obvious.”
The Kneazle’s ears shifted toward Snape.
Adrian noticed the change and smiled.
Snape caught it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Do not waste my time.”
Adrian looked at the Kneazle again.
“It doesn’t like you.”
Snape stared at him.
The shopkeeper turned away.
“I cannot imagine how I shall recover.”
Adrian nodded once.
The Kneazle made another sound.
He answered it.
Snape’s mouth tightened.
“Are you finished?”
“Almost.”
Adrian gave the Kneazle one last sound and stepped away from the glass.
It remained there, watching him.
Snape was already walking.
Adrian caught up.
“We are not purchasing an animal,” Snape said.
“I didn’t ask for one.”
“No.
You merely stopped in the middle of Diagon Alley to converse with one.”
Adrian glanced back at the shop.
“I was curious.”
“That has become painfully apparent.”
They continued down the street.
After a moment, Snape spoke again.
“Your father mentioned that animals behave strangely around you.”
Adrian shifted one of the parcels under his arm.
“He said strangely?”
“His description was less charitable.”
“That sounds like Dad.”
Snape looked at him.
“Did you understand what the Kneazle wanted?”
“Most of it.”
“What did it want?”
“Space when I first walked up.
Then it got curious.”
Snape waited.
Adrian added, “It didn’t like you.”
“I had already gathered that.”
Adrian left it there.
A few steps passed before Snape asked, “What about the owl?”
“It was curious too.”
“And the other animals?”
“I wasn’t talking to all of them.”
“You were watching them.”
“Yeah.”
Snape’s expression tightened at the answer, but he continued.
“The rat appeared distressed.
Did you know why?”
Adrian thought back to the cage.
“No.
Something in the shop was bothering it.”
That faint unease returned as he remembered it.
His Kneazle sense hadn’t warned him of immediate danger, but something about the shop had felt wrong.
Snape noticed him looking back.
“Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know.”
Snape followed his gaze toward the shop.
For once, he didn’t press.
Ollivanders was quieter than the street outside.
Shelves covered the walls, packed with narrow boxes almost to the ceiling.
Dust hung in the light from the front window, and the shop smelled of old wood and paper.
Adrian had barely stepped inside when a man appeared from between the shelves.
“Clarke.”
Mr.
Ollivander studied him.
“Edmund Clarke’s son?”
“Yeah.”
Snape’s eyes moved toward Adrian.
Adrian sighed.
“Yes.”
Mr.
Ollivander studied him for a moment.
“Clarke.”
His gaze shifted briefly toward Snape.
“Edmund Clarke’s son?”
“Yeah.”
Snape looked at Adrian.
“Yes.”
Mr.
Ollivander gave a small nod.
“Your father carried a willow wand, if memory serves.
Ten and three-quarter inches, dragon heartstring.
Rather flexible.”
Adrian looked at him.
“You remember that?”
“I remember every wand I have sold, Mr.
Clarke.”
Adrian wasn’t sure whether that was impressive or unsettling.
Mr.
Ollivander took out a silver measuring tape.
“Which is your wand hand?”
“My right.”
Ollivander nodded and raised the tape.
It began measuring Adrian from shoulder to fingertip, then wrist to elbow, moving on its own while Mr.
Ollivander turned toward the shelves.
“Right-handed, then.”
Boxes began coming down from the shelves.
Adrian watched them gather on the counter.
The first wand did nothing.
He tried another.
A stack of parchment shifted several inches across the counter.
Mr.
Ollivander took the wand back.
“No.”
The third produced a spark near the tip.
That one disappeared just as quickly.
The next wand felt different the moment Adrian closed his fingers around it.
Warmth moved through his hand.
He raised it.
A faint green-gold light ran along the wood and disappeared near the tip.
Snape’s attention sharpened.
Mr.
Ollivander watched Adrian rather than the wand.
“Again.”
Adrian gave it another small movement.
The light returned.
It wasn’t dramatic.
The wand simply felt comfortable in his hand in a way the others hadn’t.
Mr.
Ollivander smiled.
“Yes.
That will do.”
Adrian turned the wand over once.
“What is it?”
“Vine wood.
Eleven and three-quarter inches.
Unicorn hair.
Supple.”
Ollivander reached out and adjusted Adrian’s grip slightly.
“Vine wands are particular.
They tend to choose witches and wizards who seek something beyond what is already in front of them.
Not necessarily power, mind you.
Purpose.
Knowledge.
Something more.”
His eyes moved to Adrian.
“Unicorn hair is rather more dependable.
Consistent magic, generally loyal to its first owner, and less inclined toward the darker forms of spellwork.”
Adrian looked down at the wand again.
“That sounds good.”
“For most people, yes.”
Ollivander’s gaze lingered on him for another moment.
“Though a wand can tell us only so much.
What its owner chooses to do with it remains another matter entirely.”
Snape made a quiet sound from near the counter.
“I would suggest we postpone the philosophical analysis until Mr.
Clarke has managed to cast a spell.”
Adrian glanced at him.
Ollivander smiled faintly.
“A practical man, Professor Snape.”
“A necessary condition when surrounded by children.”
Adrian returned his attention to the wand.
When he finished, Snape asked, “Does it feel suitable?”
“I think so.”
Mr.
Ollivander looked amused.
“You think so?”
“I’ve never had one before.”
“A sensible observation.”
Adrian paid for the wand and returned it to its box.
Snape checked the supply list.
“At last.”
They were nearly finished when Adrian saw Flourish and Blotts again.
Snape noticed where he was looking.
“No.”
Adrian hadn’t said anything.
“I just want to check something.”
“You have already purchased two books which were not required.”
“They’re books.”
“I am aware of what they are.”
“I have my own money left.”
Snape stared at him for a moment.
“Five minutes.
If I am required to come looking for you, you will not enjoy the result.”
Adrian headed inside.
He didn’t intend to buy anything else.
Instead, he returned to the magical-creature section and began looking through the shelves.
Newt Scamander’s name appeared in more places than he expected.
Other books cited his work.
There were references to articles, expeditions, classifications and journals Adrian had never heard of.
He took out his notebook.
By the time Snape found him, Adrian had filled most of a page.
“What are you doing?”
“Writing down things I want to look for later.”
Snape took the notebook from him before Adrian could object.
His eyes moved down the page.
Nearly everything concerned magical creatures or Newt Scamander.
“You intend to find all of these?”
“Eventually.”
“You have yet to attend a single lesson at Hogwarts.”
“I know.”
Snape handed the notebook back.
“Then perhaps you might first attempt to survive your education before designing an independent course of study.”
Adrian tucked the notebook away.
“I can do both.”
“I have no doubt you believe so.”
Snape’s eyes settled on Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them in Adrian’s bag.
“You appear particularly interested in Scamander.”
“Yeah.”
Snape waited.
Adrian corrected himself.
“Yes.
Creatures are interesting, and he seems to have spent most of his life studying them.”
“That is, in fact, why his name appears on the book.”
Adrian ignored that.
“He’s a good place to start.”
Snape looked at him for another moment before turning toward the door.
“Your five minutes have expired.”
Adrian followed.
They returned to the Leaky Cauldron that afternoon with Adrian carrying more parcels than he had expected.
Snape stopped in the courtyard.
Adrian adjusted the bags in his arms.
“Thanks for taking me.”
Snape looked down at him.
“You required an escort, and I agreed to provide one.”
“I know.
Thanks anyway.”
Snape gave a small nod.
His eyes moved to the creature books.
“Mr.
Clarke.”
“Yeah?”
“Hogwarts contains a great many things which are considerably more dangerous than they first appear.”
Adrian waited.
“Your apparent inability to leave unfamiliar creatures alone will become a problem if you cannot distinguish curiosity from stupidity.”
Adrian considered that.
“My mom says something similar.”
“I imagine she has had ample cause.”
Adrian smiled.
Snape did not.
“If something at Hogwarts has teeth, claws, venom, or a Ministry classification warning sensible people to avoid it, do not assume that your peculiar talent makes you immune to the consequences.”
“I don’t.”
“See that you remember it.”
Adrian nodded.
Snape clearly had more questions about the animals.
Adrian had noticed that much.
He didn’t mind.
Adrian had plenty of questions of his own.
Now he also had somewhere to start looking for answers.