“Next are the uniform and the wand.
Where do you want to go first?”
The cold-faced professor kept his quiet attitude the whole time.
Unless it was necessary, he did not plan to have any extra conversation with Flins.
“Professor, let us go see the robes first.”
Over the past few days, the only clothes he had to change into were a whole set of black robes at the house.
The fabric was quite good, but wearing them every single day grew boring.
He remembered the Traveler dressed in very bright colors—either red or gold, with patterns and flowing ribbons.
How come the wizards in this world were all dressed in heavy black?
Could different worlds really have such huge differences in clothing taste?
When they reached Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions to buy the uniform, Snape waited outside by the door as usual.
Flins walked in alone.
It seemed there were already customers inside the shop.
A short, plump middle-aged woman in a purple robe came forward, her face full of warm smiles.
“Buying Hogwarts uniforms, dear?”
“Yes, Madam,” Flins gave a slight nod, his voice serious and polite.
“Besides the uniforms required by the school, I also need some everyday clothes.”
“Right away, little gentleman.”
Madam Malkin teased him with a smile, pointing toward the back of the shop.
“I have plenty here.
You can take a look at the sample clothes over there for everyday wear first.
To tell the truth, there are two young men getting measured in the back right now, both heading to Hogwarts.”
Flins looked deeper into the shop along the line of her hand.
Two boys were standing on footstools.
One had pale blonde hair, very pale skin, and his chin slightly raised, giving off a vibe of “I am better than all of you.”
The other had black hair, wore round glasses, and had a faint, thin scar on his forehead, looking rather uncomfortable standing there.
Judging by the expression on the black-haired boy’s face, the two clearly were not having a pleasant conversation.
Hearing someone come in at the front, both boys turned around at the same time.
The black-haired one was clearly relieved, while the blonde one frowned a little, seemingly unhappy that their talk was interrupted.
The black-haired boy took the initiative to say hello: “Hello.
Are you going to Hogwarts too?”
“Of course, sir.”
Flins gave a polite nod, but had no plan to carry the conversation further.
He turned his gaze back to Madam Malkin and gave calm instructions:
“Madam, please help me prepare a few kinds of fabric—the ones I pointed to when I first walked in.
When I finish getting measured, use those materials directly to make several sets of everyday clothes.”
“No problem, little gentleman,” Madam Malkin answered briskly.
“I can take your measurements anytime.”
Flins nodded, walking unhurriedly toward the back of the shop.
Passing by the two boys, he politely gave a slight nod to the black-haired boy, then quietly stepped onto the footstool on the other side.
He waited for Madam Malkin to come over, his peripheral vision calmly taking in the two people beside him.
“I haven’t seen you before.
Which family are you from?”
The pale blonde boy did not seem to like the quiet atmosphere.
He tilted his head slightly, looking at Flins with an air of pride.
“Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins.
Greetings to you.”
Flins had no intention of arguing with this slightly arrogant boy, so he answered him directly.
Hearing that name, the pale blonde boy’s brow furrowed, as if searching his memory.
After a moment, he spoke with some uncertainty: “Are you…
that orphan from Eastern Europe?”
The moment those words left his mouth, the black-haired boy’s face clearly stiffened, looking embarrassed on Flins’s behalf, and the look he gave Flins carried a bit of “I understand you” sympathy.
Flins, however, showed no emotion at all.
He just said calmly:
“Sir, I do not believe this is a suitable topic to discuss in a public place.”
Flins’s cold yet polite reply clearly made the pale blonde boy feel awkward, and a light pink spread across his pale cheeks.
“Oh, sorry.
I…
didn’t mean to offend you.”
His voice held very little apology.
Flins had seen plenty of similar people in the courts of Snezhnaya before.
This boy had clearly learned the ways of his father very closely, though it was still easy to see through.
Just as the pale blonde boy seemed to want to say something more, Madam Malkin’s voice cut in at the right time: “That’s you done, dear.”
She was speaking to the black-haired boy.
As if freed from a heavy burden, the black-haired boy gave Flins a quick look, jumped down from the stool, and walked toward the door without looking back.
The pale blonde boy called after his back: “Alright, see you at Hogwarts then!”
Flins did not say another word through the whole process.
He stood quietly where he was, letting Madam Malkin’s tape measure wind around him to take his size.
These young children reminded him of Miss Aino.
That young lady who was good at dealing with machines possessed a drive and power that did not match her young age.
After a moment of silence, the pale blonde boy could not help speaking up again: “Do you know which house you’ll be sorted into?”
“I do not know,” Flins said flatly, tilting his head slightly to look at him.
“It seems you have some extra information?”
He had already heard about the four Hogwarts houses from Lumine, but had no special thoughts about it—
After all, for someone who had stayed in Nordkalai and seen all sorts of rival factions, a mere house sorting was not going to make him nervous.
The pale blonde boy made a face, saying with a bit of disappointment: “My parents only told me the sorting isn’t dangerous, but they wouldn’t tell me anything more.”
However, his low mood came and went quickly.
The next second, he lifted his spirits again, his chin slightly raised, sounding very sure of himself:
“Still, I know I’ll be sorted into Slytherin.
Our whole family graduated from Slytherin.”
“Sounds quite perfect,” Flins replied very politely.
“I hope you get your wish.”
The boy narrowed his eyes, a probing smile curving on his lips: “I think you’ll go to Slytherin too, right?”
Just as Flins was about to answer, a sound suddenly came from the doorway.
A man who looked almost identical to the pale blonde boy walked inside.
In his hand was a snake-headed cane, his long hair fell loose over his shoulders, and his whole noble manner was far grander than the boy’s.
Half a step behind him followed Professor Snape, his black robes billowing, his face completely expressionless.
The two men entered the shop one after the other, and the air inside seemed to freeze for a moment.
The pale blonde boy immediately straightened his back, a hint of pride in his voice: “Father.”