Baelon Targaryen carried a full bag of school supplies purchased from Diagon Alley and returned to the Leaky Cauldron once more.
He had entered the wizarding district through this place earlier, and now he pushed the door open with familiarity, no longer needing to scan his surroundings.
Tom, the owner behind the bar, looked up at him.
The silent and steady proprietor, who never spoke much, recognized him immediately.
He put down the cloth he was using to wipe a glass and spoke.
“Hi, lad.
Are you the Baelon Targaryen that Professor McGonagall mentioned?”
“That’s me,” Baelon replied calmly.
“Well, she has already booked a room for you for a month, and the money has been paid.”
As Tom spoke, he pushed a set of prepared copper keys in front of him.
Baelon reached out and took the keys, his fingertips tightening slightly.
After helping him procure all his school supplies and leaving him a train ticket, Professor McGonagall had returned directly to Hogwarts.
Yet, before leaving, she had arranged a place for him to stay for an entire month and even settled the bill.
This thorough and silent care was not ostentatious in the slightest, but it warmed his heart.
He remained impassive, but in his heart, he firmly remembered this kindness from his elder.
He silently vowed to keep this favor in mind and repay it in the future.
“Thank you, Mr.
Tom,” Baelon said with a slight nod, formally making the acquaintance of the Leaky Cauldron’s owner.
Carrying his luggage, he walked alone up the creaking wooden stairs and pushed open the door to his room.
The room was not large, but it was clean and tidy—enough for him to settle down comfortably before school started.
After putting down his bags, he subconsciously walked to the mirror by the wall.
As his gaze fell upon the figure in the mirror, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotion.
This face was perfectly aligned with his aesthetic standards.
Transmigrating to a chaotic, Dark Ages-like Westeros was originally a terrible stroke of luck.
The only thing that made him feel fortunate was this Targaryen appearance.
Dazzling long silver-white hair, a pair of magnificent amethyst-like eyes, and exceptionally handsome features.
The tear mole under his left eye added a touch of soul-stirring charm out of nowhere.
He could almost foresee what kind of stunning presence he would possess once he truly grew into adulthood.
But as it happened, he was only eleven years old now.
No matter how breathtaking the bone structure and features were, when placed on a child’s face that had yet to mature, they could only be described by others as “cute.”
Baelon stared at the young boy in the mirror, a hint of obvious helplessness and disdain flickering in his purple eyes.
Cute?
He was a boy, he was Baelon Targaryen.
The word “cute” was completely incompatible with the persona he wanted to project.
He pursed his lips slightly and raised his hand to brush away the loose silver hair from his forehead, ultimately sighing silently in his heart.
Fine, at least this physical vessel had a promising future.
He took a brief rest first, then turned to the washstand to wash away the fatigue of the journey.
He took off the old robes he was wearing, which were in the style of the continent of Westeros, draped them casually over the back of a chair, and changed into the new clothes he had just bought from Diagon Alley.
A well-tailored, slim-fit Wizard’s robe in an elegant style.
The fabric was crisp and the lines were sharp; wearing it immediately made him look much more spirited.
After tidying himself up, he turned and went downstairs, preparing to have dinner in the main hall of the Leaky Cauldron.
A dinner prepared by the establishment was already set on a small table by the bar.
Baelon looked at the food before him, a helpless twitch tugging at the corner of his mouth.
In front of him were just a few slices of ordinary wheat bread, a portion of fried fish, and a pile of plain chips—the absolute stereotypical image of British food to the outside world.
He sighed inwardly.
He had heard in his past life that British cuisine was monotonous and bland, and now that he was experiencing it for himself, he found that the rumors were indeed true.
Baelon let out a soft sigh and didn’t complain further.
No matter what, the priority was to eat his fill first.
He picked up his utensils and began his meal quietly.
The warm yellow light fell on the tips of his silver-white hair and his purple eyes, blending with the gentle atmosphere of the Leaky Cauldron.
After a simple meal, Baelon did not go upstairs immediately.
Instead, he leaned against the bar and chatted casually with Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron.
Tom was honest and gentle.
He didn’t speak much but was very kind.
Seeing that Baelon was an incoming freshman, he patiently chatted about some minor matters regarding the Wizarding World and Hogwarts.
Before long, a girl with pale blonde curly hair and a hint of curiosity in her eyes came out from the back kitchen.
She was about the same age as Baelon and looked well-behaved and cheerful.
Tom smiled and waved her over.
“Hannah, come here.
This is Baelon Targaryen.
Like you, he’s also a Hogwarts freshman this year.”
The girl immediately showed a friendly smile and proactively stepped forward.
“Hello!
I’m Hannah Abbott!”
Baelon nodded slightly.
“Baelon Targaryen.”
Since they were of similar age and both freshmen, the conversation naturally turned to their upcoming life at Hogwarts.
Hannah had clearly heard many rumors.
Her eyes were bright, carrying a look of nervousness and excitement.
She lowered her voice and poured out all those wildly exaggerated legends about the Sorting Ceremony.
“Baelon, have you heard about the Hogwarts Sorting Ceremony?” Hannah’s voice held a small trace of tension.
“I heard the old Wizards in the pub say it’s not a simple test at all—if you want to get into the house you want, you have to fight for it!”
She became more serious as she spoke, adding fuel to the fire as she described the absurd rumors.
“Some people say you have to face venomous creatures hidden in a secret chamber.
As long as you aren’t afraid and don’t back down, the house will accept you.
Others say even scarier things, that freshmen must face a real troll alone.
You have to defeat it with courage, wisdom, or loyalty, and then the Professors will sort you into the corresponding house based on your performance!”
Hannah grew more nervous as she spoke, her small hands clenching slightly.
“They say if you aren’t brave enough, you’ll be sorted into a house you don’t like.
If you don’t even dare to fight, the whole of Hogwarts will look down on you…
I’ve been losing sleep over it!”
Baelon listened quietly, a faint smile flickering in his purple eyes.
These rumors were pure nonsense, nothing more than horror stories spread by word of mouth in the Wizarding World.
But seeing Hannah taking it all for truth, with fear and anticipation written all over her face, he didn’t debunk it.
He simply let this companion of the same age pour out all her anxiety and curiosity about the magic Castle.
The warm yellow light washed over the tips of his silver-white hair, casting soft shadows beside his cheeks.
The aroma of alcohol in the Leaky Cauldron was rich, and the fireplace crackled.
Two freshmen about to enter Hogwarts chatted about those fantastical legends in such a gentle evening atmosphere.
Unconsciously, Hannah’s words gradually slowed down.
Baelon was patiently listening to her talk about the details of the “troll legend,” but out of the corner of his eye, he inadvertently noticed that Hannah’s gaze was not on his face.
Instead, it frequently lingered on the side of his cheek, as if she were admiring something precious.
The gaze was very light, carrying a bit of cautious observation.
There was no offense, only pure curiosity and wonder.
Baelon looked up slightly, his purple-gold gaze meeting hers with precision.
At the moment their eyes met, Hannah seemed as if she had been hit by an instantaneous freezing charm.
Her pupils contracted sharply.
Beneath her pale blonde curls, her ears quickly turned crimson, and even her neck was tinged with a faint pink.
She hurriedly looked away, her head dropping quickly until it was almost buried in her collar.
Her fingers nervously twisted the hem of her school uniform, and she kept her breathing extremely light, for fear that her hidden thoughts would be caught in the next second.
A knowing curve hooked at the corner of Baelon’s mouth.
Forget the fact that he possessed psychological perception far beyond ordinary people; even with just an ordinary person’s observation skills, he could easily read the emotions behind this bashfulness.
And when his mental energy lightly swept over her, he clearly captured the burning thought in the depths of Hannah’s heart.
[He looks so good…
better looking than anyone I’ve ever seen.]
Delicate, pure, and carrying the clumsy wonder unique to a young girl.
Baelon sighed softly in his heart, the smile in his eyes deepening.
It turned out that even a girl who had just stepped into the magic world could not escape the first-sight heartbeat for beautiful things.
He didn’t deliberately look away, but just quietly watched the tips of her reddened ears.
His tone remained as gentle as the warm light in the tavern.
“Just listen to those rumors for fun.
Hogwarts is much gentler than the legends say.”
Hannah kept her head down, her voice as thin as a mosquito’s hum.
She only gave a soft “Mm,” but the crimson on her ears did not fade at all; instead, it intensified a bit.
Seeing Hannah’s whole face burning red and her head hanging so low it was almost buried in her chest, looking completely at a loss, Baelon knew that continuing to look at her would only make it more awkward.
He shifted his gaze imperceptibly and picked an easy topic, using a humorous tone seasoned with experience to joke along with the rumors of the Sorting Ceremony.
He didn’t expose the girl’s little thoughts, but simply teased the absurd claims of the Wizarding World in a relaxed manner.
With a few words, he dissipated the tense atmosphere, his speech witty yet not lacking in decorum.
Hannah had originally been immersed in the panic of being caught staring, but as she listened, she couldn’t help but crinkle her eyes.
Her crisp laughter rang out in the tavern like wind chimes, clean and bright, sweeping away the previous embarrassment.
She looked up, her eyes curved into crescents.
The blush on her face hadn’t completely faded, but she had relaxed again, excitedly chatting with him about her expectations for Hogwarts, no longer as nervous and shy as before.
This lighthearted laughter soon attracted the busy figure behind the bar.
Tom Abbott was carefully wiping a glass with a clean cloth, his movements steady and practiced.
Hearing his daughter’s cheerful laughter, he instinctively looked up.
His gaze fell in the direction where Baelon and Hannah were talking, his eyes frequently darting over with a father’s characteristic vigilance and scrutiny.
He looked at the silver-haired, purple-eyed boy with outstanding looks, who had managed to make his daughter laugh non-stop with just a few words, and he couldn’t help but take note.
This child was excessively good-looking, and his speech was steady yet humorous.
One really had to be careful, for fear that his own well-behaved little girl might accidentally have her heart stolen by this handsome lad.
The situation was clearly becoming a bit problematic.
Tom no longer hesitated.
He put down the glass, lightly wiped his hands, and walked over slowly.
A gentle smile still hung on his face, but his tone carried an undeniable firmness.
“Hannah,” he spoke softly, interrupting the lively conversation between the two.
“It’s getting late, and it’s pitch dark outside.
You should go upstairs to rest; you still have to prepare your things for school tomorrow.”
The smile on Hannah’s face froze slightly.
She instinctively looked at Baelon, her eyes carrying a hint of reluctance and a small sense of disappointment.
She hadn’t chatted enough with this interesting and good-looking boy.
Tom imperceptibly stepped in front of his daughter and gave Baelon a slight nod.
His attitude was polite but carried a clear sense of distance.
“Sorry, lad.
Hannah is still young and can’t stay up too late.
You’ll have plenty of time to meet and chat at Hogwarts later.”
These words were an explanation on the surface, but secretly they were a declaration—today’s conversation ends here.
Baelon was very sharp and immediately understood the father’s intention.
He smiled slightly and nodded very appropriately.
“It’s no problem, Mr.
Abbott.
Goodnight, Hannah.”
“Good…
goodnight, Baelon.”
Hannah responded in a small voice, her cheeks turning quietly red once again.
She lowered her head and obediently followed her father toward the stairs.
After a few steps, she couldn’t help but look back secretly, stealing a quick glance at him.