The cobblestones of Diagon Alley were much slipperier than the concrete floors of the orphanage.
By the third time Evelyn nearly crashed into Severus Snape, he finally ground to a halt.
“Are the soles of your shoes slathered in grease, or are your motor skills simply underdeveloped?”
“Neither.
I’m wearing flip-flops.” Evelyn lifted her foot to show him.
“Orphanage issue.
Zero tread.”
Severus Snape cast a brief glance at the cheap plastic flip-flops, said nothing, and turned into a shoe shop nearby.
Five minutes later, Evelyn walked out wearing a pair of new black ankle boots.
Her heels clicked crisp and sharp against the cobblestones.
“Professor, how much did these shoes cost?”
“Deducted from your performance after school starts.”
“And what if I don’t perform well?”
“You will perform well.” Severus Snape kept walking, his tone so absolute it sounded like a threat.
Evelyn looked down at her new boots.
The fit was perfect.
She didn’t bother asking how he knew her shoe size; asking would only invite another round of sarcastic remarks from the man.
In her mind, she quietly prioritized her trouble-making checklist: First, buy a wand.
Second, anger Severus Snape until his blood pressure spiked.
Third, figure out exactly which timeline she had been dropped into.
The second objective was actually progressing at a steady pace.
As the two passed a pub with a sign depicting a smoking cauldron, Severus Snape pushed the door open and entered.
He sat down in a corner and jerked his chin at the bar.
A cup of black coffee floated over, landing smoothly on the table.
“Sit,” he ordered Evelyn.
Evelyn pulled out a chair and sat down, taking in her surroundings.
This was The Leaky Cauldron.
It was dim and noisy, the air thick with the smell of butterbeer and cheap tobacco.
With some time left before the start of the term, Severus Snape clearly intended to conduct the new-student talk right here.
“Valentine.” He picked up the coffee, though he didn’t drink.
“How much do you know about why Headmaster Dumbledore sent me to fetch you?”
“Muggle-born, no guardian, needs someone to show her around to buy school supplies.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Your orphanage records show that over the past two years, you were responsible for twelve inexplicable incidents.”
Severus Snape glared at her.
“Including causing the headmistress’s wig to spontaneously combust, making the cafeteria mashed potatoes crawl up to the ceiling, and sending a locked iron gate flying thirty feet.”
None of those had been done by Evelyn, of course; they were the work of the body’s original owner.
But since she had transmigrated here, she had to inherit the full estate—including this colorful record of misdeeds.
“Those were all accidents,” Evelyn said without batting an eye.
“Twelve accidents?”
“Bad luck.”
“Spontaneously combusting a wig counts as bad luck?”
“That wig’s material wasn’t fireproof to begin with.”
Severus Snape set his coffee cup down, his fingers resting on the rim.
“I will ask you once more.
What is the extent of your understanding of magic?”
Evelyn tilted her head.
This was a test.
Severus Snape was gauging whether she was merely a Muggle-born genius or something far more complicated.
The fact that Dumbledore had sent him proved the old bumblebee was uneasy about her background.
“I know that when waving a wand, it’s best not to tape fireworks to it,” she said.
Severus Snape’s eyelid twitched.
“Besides that, you blew up half of Ollivander’s shopfront!”
“But I’m being very sincere, Professor.
Look at me—aren’t I sitting here quietly?”
“You call this quiet?”
“At least I haven’t blown anything else up.”
“Because the fireworks on your person have already been confiscated by me!”
Evelyn glanced at him.
“When did you search my pockets?”
“The second time you almost tripped and grabbed my sleeve.”
“…Professor, in the Muggle world, that’s called pickpocketing.”
The corners of Severus Snape’s mouth tugged downward, though it was hard to tell if he was suppressing anger or amusement.
“Let us discuss your wand situation.” He dragged the conversation back on track.
“Ollivander said your constitution is rather unusual.”
“What do you mean by unusual?”
“Your magic cannot form a stable resonance with any wand currently in his possession.”
“So it explodes?”
“So it explodes.”
“Then what do we do?”
“Dumbledore said he would handle it.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning it has exceeded my scope of duty.”
Severus Snape downed his coffee in a single gulp.
“Nor do I wish to know from which godforsaken corner he plans to unearth a non-explosive wand for you.”
“Your sole task right now is to follow me quietly and finish buying the rest of your supplies.
No touching flammables, no approaching explosives, and no talking to strangers!”
“Professor.”
“What?”
Evelyn pulled her hand from her pocket, placing a plastic cup onto the table.
It contained a milky white liquid with a pile of black spheres settled at the bottom.
“Boba milk tea.” She pushed the cup across.
“A Muggle drink, super delicious.
Want a sip?”
Severus Snape stared at the cup of liquid for five full seconds.
“Why would I drink a beverage of unknown origin, produced out of thin air from your pocket, that potentially contains unidentified substances?”
“Because you just bought me shoes.”
Severus Snape’s fingers paused on the tabletop.
“Where did you obtain this milk tea?”
“From a milk tea shop next to the orphanage.
I bought two cups before leaving—drank one, saved this one.”
“How long has it been sitting?”
“Half a day.”
“A fresh milk beverage left out for half a day.” Severus Snape picked up the cup, observing the black spheres inside.
“What are these black items?”
“Boba.
Made from tapioca.”
“Texture?”
“Chewy.”
Severus Snape set the cup down.
“I do not consume such things.”
“Then I’ll take it back.” Evelyn reached out to grab it.
Severus Snape was faster.
He slid the cup over to his side of the table.
“I did not say you could take it back.
Just because I will not drink it does not mean this beverage may be consumed by anyone without proper testing.”
“I need to take it back for a chemical analysis.”
Evelyn blinked.
“…Professor, you’re going to analyze a cup of boba milk tea using Potions?”
“For safety’s sake.”
“Alright then.” She leaned back in her chair.
“Remember to give it back to me once you’re done analyzing it.”
“A beverage subjected to analysis is no longer suitable for consumption.”
“Doesn’t that just mean you’re going to drink it?”
Severus Snape stood up, the boba milk tea already swept into the folds of his robes.
“Let’s go.
Time to buy your textbooks.”
Evelyn stood up to follow.
As she passed his side, she caught the faint, subtle clinking of ice inside the plastic cup.
[Emotional fluctuation detected from key character “Severus Snape”.
Mischief Points +80!
Current total: 230.]
She stepped out of the pub in her new boots.
Sunlight washed over Diagon Alley, and crowds bustled across the cobblestone street.
Severus Snape walked half a pace ahead of her, one hand resting inside his robe pocket—right where the milk tea was stowed.
“Professor.”
“What now?”
“That milk tea is at room temperature.
If you don’t drink it soon, the boba will get hard.”
Severus Snape’s stride faltered for a beat.
He abruptly picked up his pace, pulling three steps ahead, and ducked through the entrance of Flourish and Blotts without looking back!