He’s the One Who Beat Him Up 8: Chapter 8: Still Bragging About Your Dad?
He’s the One Who Beat Him Up Dursley had no way of stopping Harry from going to Hogwarts, and Hagrid had already decided to take him to Diagon Alley early the next morning to buy his textbooks.
He wasn’t going anywhere tonight; he would stay right here to keep an eye on them.
Charlen wasn’t a particularly harsh person, and it was quite cold here, so he conjured a campfire to warm up the place.
Both Harry and the Dursleys found it much more comfortable.
Early the next morning, Hagrid prepared to take Harry to Diagon Alley.
However, now that he had found Harry, Hagrid was no longer allowed to use magic.
“Hey, Charlen, do you think Pidgeot could carry me?” Hagrid asked, looking rather bashful.
“Of course, though it’ll have to carry you in its talons,” Charlen said.
The strength of a Pokémon was naturally beyond doubt—someone as heavy as Hagrid was nothing to it.
But Hagrid was simply too large; Pidgeot’s back couldn’t fit that many people.
“Hop on, Harry.” Charlen released Pidgeot and motioned for Harry to climb onto its back with him.
At eleven years old, Harry was quite small for his age.
Harry was still stroking the feathers on Pidgeot’s back in wonder when Pidgeot suddenly let out a sharp cry.
*Kee-aargh!* A moment later, Harry felt a rush of wind whipping past his face.
“Whoa, we’re flying!” Harry cried out in amazement, reaching out his hand to try and touch a passing cloud.
Before long, they arrived at Diagon Alley.
Here, Harry received an unprecedented level of attention and welcoming enthusiasm.
Charlen noticed, however, that Quirrell, who should have appeared here, was nowhere to be seen this time.
It seemed that the news of Charlen handing over that secret package to Albus Dumbledore in public two days ago had already reached Voldemort’s ears.
He didn’t care much about this minor deviation.
In any case, Albus Dumbledore would bound to drop hints about the Philosopher’s Stone to Harry, intentionally or otherwise.
Over the past few years, Charlen had actually told Albus Dumbledore about the Horcruxes, including the exact location of every single one.
Yet Dumbledore had taken no action whatsoever.
Dumbledore already knew that Harry was one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes.
Getting rid of Voldemort might have seemed simple on the surface, but completely destroying Voldemort while keeping Harry alive was extraordinarily difficult.
Charlen’s initial suggestion had been to eliminate Harry directly—the simplest way to destroy Voldemort once and for all.
Unsurprisingly, Dumbledore had rejected this plan outright.
Dumbledore now possessed a wealth of information, yet he had poetically chosen the exact same path as in the original timeline.
It wasn’t that he lacked the means to destroy those Horcruxes, but rather that he needed to use them as stepping stones for Harry’s growth.
In truth, besides Harry drawing endless stares, Charlen had seemingly become a major celebrity overnight as well.
Many people stole glances at him, but not a single person dared to approach.
“They seem really afraid of you, Professor Gold?” Harry asked curiously.
Hearing this, Hagrid burst out laughing, speaking up before Charlen could even open his mouth.
“Of course they are!
Anyone who took on over a dozen pure-blood families single-handed and walked away without a scratch would inspire fear in people.
But don’t worry, none of those blokes are good news anyway.” “Don’t fill a child’s head with that,” Charlen said.
He didn’t want his exploits spreading like wildfire at Hogwarts and prompting kids to try imitating him.
Hagrid took Harry to Gringotts first to draw some money, but the wild ride in the Gringotts cart left Hagrid looking a bit motion-sick.
“Charlen, why don’t you take Harry to get his robes tailored first?
I’m gonna head over to The Leaky Cauldron for a drink to settle me stomach.” Charlen accompanied Harry to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.
When they arrived, a pale-faced young boy was already inside trying on robes.
—Draco Malfoy.
Charlen recalled that among the pure-bloods he had defeated two days ago was Lucius Malfoy.
Originally, his business had nothing to do with the Malfoy family, as no member of their house had been attending school during his own student years.
But whether Lucius Malfoy was trying to gain influence among the other pure-blood families or something else, the man had actually barged right into the mess on his own initiative.
Charlen wasn’t sure if Draco Malfoy knew about this.
As a teacher, having beaten up one’s own student’s parent was, after all, a little awkward.
By now, Draco Malfoy seemed to have noticed Harry and Charlen.
He cast a puzzled glance at Charlen first, apparently failing to recognize him, before shifting his eyes back to Harry, who was the same age as him.
Perhaps assuming Charlen was Harry’s guardian or something, Draco had already jumped to the conclusion that Harry wasn’t a Muggle-born wizard.
He struck up a conversation with Harry at once, though his tone remained utterly arrogant.
“Hullo.
Are you going to Hogwarts, too?” “Yes,” said Harry.
“My mother’s next door buying my books, and my father went out on some urgent business two days ago,” Draco Malfoy said drawlingly.
“He’s very influential at the Ministry of Magic, otherwise I would’ve had him come along with me to buy my things.” He still believed his father was away on business, when in reality Lucius Malfoy was currently lying in a hospital bed.
Charlen guessed Narcissa had deliberately kept it from him and hadn’t let him see the recent issues of the Daily Prophet either.
“Is he your older brother?” Harry shook his head.
“Actually, I’m your professor for this term,” Charlen replied promptly upon hearing his question.
“You came with a professor?” Draco Malfoy was clearly a little surprised, but he quickly added, “Well, it’s no big deal really.
My father is a Hogwarts school governor.
I think I can make him let me bring a broomstick to school even in my first year.” “Have you got your own broomstick?” “No,” said Harry.
“Play Quidditch at all?” “No.” “I do.
Father says it’s a crime if I’m not chosen to play for my house team, and I must say, I agree.
Know what house you’ll be in yet?” “No idea.” “Well, nobody really knows until they get there, do they?
But I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been—I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you, if I were placed in Hufflepuff?” Harry couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was saying.
Feeling more and more ignorant about the magical world, he even felt a surge of inadequacy.
“There’s nothing wrong with Hufflepuff,” Charlen raised an eyebrow and said.
But Draco Malfoy didn’t seem to take him seriously and didn’t even bother to respond.
*This brat.
No wonder he never managed to become friends with Harry—he really is a bit obnoxious.* Had this been back when Charlen was a student himself, he would have taught the boy a proper lesson long ago.
But now that he was a respectable professor, he couldn’t go around bullying his own students.
Just then, Draco Malfoy glanced out the window.
Outside, however, wasn’t Hagrid, but a woman.
“Look, there’s my mother.” A moment later, Narcissa walked in.
“Mother—” Draco called out to Narcissa.
“I met a schoolmate.
He came with a professor.
Are Hogwarts professors really this young?” Draco’s words drew Narcissa’s attention, prompting her to turn her frowning gaze toward Charlen.
Her face turned pale instantly.
“I don’t think someone his age is suited to be a professor, do you?” Draco was still rambling.
“If Father were here, I’d definitely have him thoroughly inspect Hogwarts’ teaching standards.” “Shut up, Draco!” *Your dad?* *Your dad was beaten half to death by this very man and is still lying in the hospital right now!*