Adrian followed Claire and Peter out of Madam Malkin’s, carrying his uniform box securely under one arm.
The private alterations catalogue remained carefully hidden beneath the folded layers of his new neutral robes.
Peter glanced down at the box, then looked sideways at Adrian.
“Why did her measuring tape strike your thigh twice?” “A minor professional disagreement,” Adrian said smoothly.
Claire looked at Adrian’s perfectly innocent face, looked back at the closed door of the robe shop, and visibly decided that she did not want to know the real answer.
Minerva stepped around a cluster of returning students and pointed farther down the cobbled street toward Flourish and Blotts.
Before following his parents, Adrian glanced back over his shoulder.
Madam Malkin was watching him from the shop window.
Adrian smiled and tapped two fingers lightly against his robe box before turning away.
Flourish and Blotts was louder than Adrian expected.
Books argued from the shelves, ladders rolled between aisles on their own, and customers shouted questions across three crowded floors.
Towering shelves covered charms, Transfiguration, household magic, dangerous creatures, duelling, Quidditch, magical illnesses, and old family customs.
A curtained staircase led to the upper floor.
The sign above it read: PRIVATE STUDIES — STUDENTS ONLY Claire caught him staring at the sign and pushed The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One into his chest.
Adrian sighed, placed the required text into his basket, and added a practical household-charms book beside it.
A few aisles over, a bushy-haired witch was arguing with her parents while balancing six heavy books against her chest.
Just as she turned to make a point, a massive, iron-bound book on defensive magic slipped from the top of the pile.
Adrian stepped forward and caught it before it could crush her foot.
“Thank you,” she said, pulling the book back against the stack.
“I’m Hermione Granger.” “Adrian Clarke.” He glanced at the stack covering most of her torso.
“Are you buying the entire shop?” “The required list is only the minimum.” Adrian looked at the iron-bound defensive book.
“That one seems heavy enough to defend you by itself.” Hermione adjusted the stack.
“Preparation is sensible.” “Preparation usually works better when you can still see over the books.” Her eyes moved to the household-charms book beneath his required texts.
“That one isn’t on the list.” Adrian glanced at her defensive book.
“Neither is yours.” Hermione considered that, then gave him a small approving nod.
“Hermione,” her mother called from the till.
She followed her parents, still balancing the entire stack.
Adrian watched her go.
The films had understated two things: Hermione’s hair and the number of books she could carry.
Ollivanders smelled of dust, old wood, and sealed boxes.
The wand selection was a disaster.
The first wand Mr Ollivander handed Adrian caused every hair on Adrian’s head to stand straight up in a static shock.
The second wand produced a thick cloud of acrid black smoke.
The third wand made every brass button on Peter’s coat buzz against his chest until he clutched the lapels shut.
Claire took a deliberate step back toward the door every time Ollivander returned with another long, narrow box.
The ninth wand was different.
Adrian felt the wood warm in his hand before he moved his wrist.
It was ash, twelve and a quarter inches, with a dragon heartstring core.
When he gave it a firm flick, a steady stream of pale sparks curled toward the ceiling.
The warmth settled into his palm.
For the first time that afternoon, the wand felt as though it belonged in his hand.
“Ash dislikes indecision, Mr Clarke,” Ollivander murmured, watching the sparks fade.
“And dragon heartstring encourages strong, sometimes reckless casting.” Adrian lowered the wand, choosing to concentrate entirely on the word strong.
[MAGICAL FOCUS ACQUIRED] [Ash and Dragon Heartstring] [Compatibility: 87%] Mr Ollivander placed the wand inside its narrow box, although Adrian found himself reluctant to let go of it.
The apothecary smelled worse than the Leaky Cauldron’s bins.
Claire actively recoiled when something suspended in a murky jar slowly turned around to look at her.
Peter stood near the counter, reading labels and trying to understand why powdered horn came in three different grades.
Adrian used the distraction to test the limits of his system.
He focused his Magical Appraisal on a barrel of dried nettles.
[DRIED NETTLES] [Condition: Acceptable] [Common Uses: Basic remedies and beginner potions] Encouraged, he focused on a sealed, heavy black jar sitting on a top shelf.
[Identification Failed] Adrian frowned and pushed more intent into the skill.
[Identification Failed] [Identification Failed] Adrian stopped before the fourth attempt gave him a headache.
So much for identifying every mysterious object in Britain.
“Severus,” Minerva said from the end of the aisle.
Adrian recognised the black robes before the man turned.
No one else in the shop looked quite so personally dissatisfied by the ingredients.
Snape’s dark eyes moved from Minerva to the beginner kit in Adrian’s hands.
“Another incoming student?” “Adrian Clarke,” Minerva said.
Snape looked at the pewter cauldron listed on Adrian’s supply sheet.
“Try not to melt it before term begins.” He turned and swept toward the counter without waiting for an answer.
The next shops supplied brass scales, bundles of parchment, quills, and a telescope Peter opened twice in the middle of the street.
The pewter cauldron came last, exactly as Adrian had planned.
Inside the trunk shop, Adrian stopped dead in front of a luxury feather-light trunk.
The open display contained a bedroom, study, and private bath.
He wanted it immediately.
Then he looked at the price tag.
Adrian quietly walked over to the ordinary leather trunks and pulled his notebook from his pocket.
He flipped to the back page, wrote BUY WHEN RICH in block letters, and closed it.
Peter collected every receipt.
Claire bought several pairs of thick socks from a nearby stall because apparently even magic had failed to improve cold feet.
Minerva escorted them back through the Leaky Cauldron and stopped outside on Charing Cross Road.
“The platform entrance is between nine and ten,” Minerva reminded them.
“Do not arrive and start running into every wall in King’s Cross.” Peter folded the page on which he had written test barrier carefully.
Minerva looked directly at him.
Peter put the page in his pocket.
Minerva gave them a final nod and disappeared into the crowd.
By the time the Clarkes reached home, Peter’s arms were full, Claire’s feet hurt, and Adrian’s cauldron had struck him in the knee four times.
Adrian carried the trunk upstairs and spread his wand and textbooks across the bed.
A pink screen appeared.
[MAIN MISSION: GO TO HOGWARTS] [Reach Hogwarts on September 1st] [Time Remaining: 36 Days] Adrian picked up the ash wand and tested its weight in his hand.
He raised it toward the ceiling.
Thirty-six days should be enough time to learn at least one spell.
Probably.