They spent forty minutes in Flourish and Blotts.
Severus Snape checked the textbook list at the counter.
Evelyn leaned over the second-floor railing, flipping through a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, shutting it after reading just three pages.
Too dry—all theory!
She was far more interested in knowing just how far a Disarming Charm could knock a wand flying.
By the time she went downstairs, Severus Snape had already packed up all the textbooks.
The bookbag floated in midair, following closely behind him.
“Next stop?” Evelyn asked.
“Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.
You need three sets of school robes and a pointed hat.”
“I’m not wearing a pointed hat.”
“All first-year students are required to wear one!”
“That hat is ugly.”
“Aesthetics are outside my jurisdiction.”
…
Madam Malkin’s shop wasn’t large.
Robes of various colors were displayed in the shop window, illuminated by magical lamps that made the fabrics gleam.
Pushing the door open, they saw a squat witch holding a tape measure, taking measurements for a boy.
The boy stood on a footstool, his blonde hair slicked back immaculately.
He had a pointed face, and the angle at which his chin was slightly raised was remarkably precise—evidently the result of strict aristocratic training.
A single glance was all it took for Evelyn to recognize him.
Draco Malfoy.
Pure-blood scion, canon’s official bully early on, and official coward later on.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco Malfoy noticed the entrance.
He glanced at Severus Snape first, then shifted his gaze to Evelyn.
“Are you going to Hogwarts too?” he asked first.
“Yeah.”
“Which family are you from?”
“No family.”
“Pure-blood or half-blood?”
“Neither.”
Draco Malfoy’s expression changed.
“Muggle-born?”
Evelyn stuck her hands in her pockets and stepped onto an adjacent footstool.
Madam Malkin’s assistant immediately came over to help her.
“Yep.”
The corner of Draco Malfoy’s mouth curled up in the innate sense of superiority typical of the privileged class.
“My father says Hogwarts shouldn’t admit people like you.”
“What else did your father say?”
“He said Muggle-born witches and wizards don’t understand tradition and drag down the standard of the whole wizarding world!”
“Uh-huh.
And then?”
Draco Malfoy froze.
He had expected her to get angry or show a hurt expression.
But Evelyn merely tilted her head and looked at him, as though listening to a joke that wasn’t particularly funny.
“And then?” Draco Malfoy puffed out his chest.
“You ought to know that some people are born higher than others.
I am the heir of the Malfoy family!”
“Malfoy,” Evelyn said with a nod.
“Got it.
How old are you?”
“Eleven!”
“Same as me, then.”
Evelyn pulled a matching tape measure from her pocket, holding it by one end, and aimed it right at Draco Malfoy.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a measurement.”
“Measuring what?”
“Measuring whether your ego is proportional to your height.”
Before Draco Malfoy could react, the tape measure whipped forward!
This wasn’t magic—it was a purely physical attack.
With a textbook whip-crack movement, Evelyn sent the tape measure wrapping three times around Draco Malfoy’s waist, pinning his arms tightly to his sides.
“You!”
“Don’t move.
I’ll let go once I’m done.”
Evelyn gave the end of the tape measure a sudden tug.
Draco Malfoy wobbled on the footstool, nearly falling off.
“Let go of me!
Do you know who my father is?”
“You just told me.
A Malfoy.”
Evelyn glanced at the markings.
“Waist size, twenty-one inches.
Are you really eleven?
How are you so thin, like a ferret?”
Draco Malfoy’s face instantly flushed red.
“What did you say?”
“I said you’re too skinny.”
Evelyn yanked the tape measure to spin him around, scrutinizing him like a piece of clothing being fitted.
“Shoulders are weak too—can’t even fill out a robe.
Doesn’t the Malfoy family feed you?”
“My house has seventeen house-elves taking care of our meals!”
“Then their cooking leaves a lot to be desired.”
“You!”
Draco Malfoy struggled desperately.
But the strength of an eleven-year-old aristocrat was no match for the grip strength Evelyn had honed in the orphanage—the disparity was all too clear.
“Valentine.”
Severus Snape’s voice came from behind.
Evelyn turned her head to look.
Severus Snape was standing by the door, one hand holding the doorframe and the other squeezing the milk tea cup.
The cup was empty, and the tapioca pearls were gone too.
“Release Mr.
Malfoy.”
“I’m done measuring.”
Evelyn let go, and the tape measure slithered down with a clatter.
Draco Malfoy stumbled off the footstool, taking three quick steps back.
He glared intently at Evelyn, his face and ears beet red.
“Just you wait!”
He dashed toward the door, braking abruptly as he reached Severus Snape, and offered a stiff bow.
“Professor Snape.”
Then he bolted out the door.
The shop fell into dead silence.
Madam Malkin and her assistant remained half-crouched, their measuring tapes trailing on the floor.
Evelyn stepped back onto her footstool and adjusted her collar.
“Please continue.”
Madam Malkin slowly straightened up and cleared her throat.
“My dear, that boy’s father is a Hogwarts school governor.”
“Oh.”
“He’s also one of the most influential donors to the Ministry of Magic.”
“Mm.”
“Aren’t you worried?”
“Madam Malkin,” Evelyn said, looking down at her, “I came from an orphanage.
The only property I own is this pair of boots.”
“What can he do to me?
Expel someone who owns nothing?”
Madam Malkin opened her mouth, then crouched back down to continue measuring the hemline.
Severus Snape leaned against the doorframe, crushed the empty plastic cup, and slipped it into his robe pocket.
“Valentine.”
“Yes?”
“That word you used just now.”
“Which one?”
“Ferret.”
“What about it?”
Severus Snape lowered his eyes, a faint crinkle sounding from the cup being crushed further in his pocket.
“Do not call him that at school.”
“Why not?”
“Because it is far too accurate!
If word gets out, his father will bring trouble to my door.”
Evelyn bit her bottom lip hard to keep from laughing out loud.
Madam Malkin finished taking the last measurement and patted the dust off her knees.
“Three sets of school robes, to be delivered by Tuesday.
The Sorting is decided by the Hat, so we won’t embroider the house crests yet.”
“Thank you, Madam Malkin.”
Madam Malkin stowed away her tape measure, glanced at Severus Snape, and lowered her voice.
“Next time before you tie someone up, make sure there isn’t a professor standing nearby.”
“He was there the whole time.”
“I know,” Madam Malkin patted her shoulder.
“That’s why Malfoy only walked away blushing today instead of crying to his father.”
Evelyn jumped off the footstool.
Severus Snape turned and walked out, his stride brisk as usual.
But as he took his second step, he perceptibly slowed his pace.
The evening glow stretched their shadows long across the ground.
“Professor.”
“Silence.”
“The boba was tasty, wasn’t it?”
Severus Snape paused briefly.
“I told you, I brought that beverage back for chemical analysis.”
“The cup’s empty.”
“Analysis requires consuming samples.”
“All the samples?
Including the tapioca pearls?”
Severus Snape resumed walking, his pace quickening even more!
Evelyn jogged to catch up, her new boots clicking a crisp rhythm against the cobblestones.
“Professor, after we get to school tomorrow, will you still look after me?”
“That depends on which house you are sorted into.”
“What if it’s Slytherin?”
Severus Snape’s footsteps hitched for a split second.
“Then you had better pray you survive your first term in my house.”
He kept walking forward.
Evelyn watched his retreating back, the sweet taste of butterscotch still lingering in her mouth.
Translucent text popped up on her retina.
[Main Quest Updated: Enroll in Hogwarts and cause sufficient chaos at the Sorting Ceremony!]
[Reward Preview: Unknown.]
She blinked the text away and caught up.
The setting sun bathed Diagon Alley in warm gold.
The silhouettes of the two vanished through the back door of The Leaky Cauldron.
…
Farther off, in a corner of Flourish and Blotts.
A blonde boy clutched the crumpled hem of his robes, staring intently in that direction, his lips pressed tightly together.