“Naming a cat Jerry…
just how twisted is this shopkeeper’s sense of humor?”
Shiro looked at the massive ginger cat, which couldn’t even be bothered to stretch, and sighed inwardly.
Tom and Jerry did exist in this world, but wizards living in the magical community rarely interacted with televisions or other electronic muggle devices.
The shopkeeper likely had absolutely no idea that the most famous Jerry in the world was actually a mouse.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Shiro said, scanning the shop layout.
“Do you have any animals large enough to ride?
Preferably something that can fly.”
A sweep of the premises revealed that almost all the creatures were relatively small.
Getting them to deliver letters would be easy enough, but trying to ride them would probably crush them to death.
“I’m terribly sorry, young man,” the spectacled witch replied apologetically, hauling the chubby ginger cat out of its cage and setting it down in front of Shiro.
“We aren’t permitted to sell medium-to-large magical beasts to underage wizards.
If I did, the Ministry of Magic would shut my shop down before sunset.”
She patted the feline gently.
“Why don’t you take a look at Jerry?
Don’t let his rather plump figure fool you; his mother was a purebred Lightning Leopard, so he has inherited quite a few unique, magical traits.”
Jerry cracked one eye open, spared Shiro a lazy glance, let out a massive yawn, and went straight back to sleep.
“…”
*You call this a Lightning Leopard?
A ‘Pig Leopard’ sounds more like it.*
However, hearing that the cat possessed the bloodline of a genuine magical creature piqued Shiro’s interest.
In the world of Harry Potter, a wizard’s power was almost entirely inherited through bloodlines.
If a person’s ancestors were all muggles, the probability of a wizard emerging from that lineage was exceptionally low–though when it did happen, they often proved to be extraordinary magical prodigies.
But where did the very first wizards obtain their magic?
Back in his previous life, many theorists believed that the primal source of wizarding magic originated from ancient magical beasts.
Even in the upcoming generation of students, there would be a young witch who possessed distinct Veela blood.
“So, what exactly can he do?” Shiro asked, poking Jerry’s round, spherical belly.
“Er…
well, he can temporarily transform into a brown mouse.
That’s actually the reason I named him Jerry,” the witch admitted with an embarrassed cough.
The ability didn’t seem particularly practical.
At most, it offered customers the novelty of feeding two distinct pets for the price of one.
The main issue was that Jerry was intensely lazy; unless he was absolutely starving and forced to turn into a mouse to scavenge for scraps, he refused to initiate the transformation.
“An animal Animagus?
If he truly were an Animagus, there’s no way he’d be sitting unsold in a shop.
Collectors and researchers would be fighting over him,” Shiro noted, surprised by the fat cat’s hidden potential.
After all, registered Animagi across the entire British wizarding community were exceedingly rare.
While many wizards could perform the Transfiguration Charm to turn one object into another, the Animagus transformation was a highly specialized, innate branch of magic.
It required no wand, allowed the caster to shift forms instantly, and imposed absolutely no time limit on how long the animal shape could be maintained.
Furthermore, every Animagus was legally required to register with the Ministry of Magic.
Unlike standard Transfiguration, an Animagus transformation could not be detected or reversed by conventional sensory spells.
Their biological structure became entirely identical to a real animal; short of utilizing Legilimency to read the creature’s complex human emotions and memories, there was no way to expose them.
“Oh, goodness, no!
If Jerry were a true Animagus, I’d be a wealthy witch by now,” Pavla laughed, finding the idea amusing.
“Turning into a mouse is simply an inherited trait from his unique bloodline.
Who knows?
Perhaps one of his distant ancestors was a mouse.”
“Fair enough.
I’ll take him,” Shiro said earnestly.
Even if it wasn’t a true Animagus transformation, studying a magical creature that possessed an innate, bloodline-based shape-shifting capability could provide valuable insights for his future magical research.
As for securing a mount, if worst came to worst, he could always venture into the Hogwarts Forbidden Forest to tame a few creatures.
Rumor had it that beautiful unicorns resided within those woods.
With his current level of martial strength, taking a stroll through the Forbidden Forest would be reasonably safe.
“I’ll take that owl as well.
I doubt this fat cat is going to be delivering any letters for me anytime soon,” Shiro added, pointing to a snowy owl perched on a branch.
Meanwhile, Jerry had already made himself comfortable, curling up directly on top of Carrefour’s head.
If Carrefour weren’t a sturdy puppet anchored by spiritual energy, the cat’s sheer weight might have snapped his cervical vertebrae.
“An excellent point.
Well, I leave these two sweethearts in your capable hands.”
Upon exiting the Magical Menagerie, Shiro set off to purchase his own wand.
As a spoils-of-war asset, Carrefour’s wand was perfectly functional, and Shiro was capable of channeling magic through it.
However, setting aside the fact that a mismatched wand felt clunky and resisted his movements, there was a major bureaucratic hurdle: the Ministry placed a magical tracker known as the Trace on every underage wizard’s wand.
If a young wizard cast magic outside the school grounds, the Ministry would detect it instantly, resulting in an official reprimand or, in severe cases, expulsion from Hogwarts.
Therefore, it was imperative to secure a clean, primary wand to keep himself from being completely shackled by tedious school regulations.
Shiro arrived at a narrow, unassuming storefront tucked away at the far end of Diagon Alley: Ollivanders, Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
He had arrived slightly late, as another young customer was already inside.
An elderly man was leaning down to retrieve a discarded wand from the floor, speaking softly to a thoroughly bewildered young witch.
“No, not that one.
It seems that particular wood isn’t a proper match for you.
Let’s try this one instead.”
The elderly man was none other than Mr.
Ollivander, one of the most renowned wandmakers in the entire European magical community.
“Is magic always this dangerous?” the young girl asked, her bushy brown curls bouncing as she took a newly offered wand from his hand.
“Of course not, Miss Granger.
That small mishap occurred simply because the wand’s properties clashed with your natural disposition.
It caused your magical reserves to panic, resulting in an uncontrolled burst that disturbed the surroundings.
These delicate instruments possess temperaments of their own; they actively choose the master they wish to serve,” Ollivander explained with a patient shake of his head.
This time, as the young witch held the wand, the atmosphere remained perfectly serene, showing no signs of volatile magical fluctuations.
“Ah, yes.
It seems we have found a match,” Ollivander noted with a warm smile.
“Vine wood, ten and three-quarter inches, with a dragon heartstring core.
You are bound to be an exceptionally ambitious, brilliant, and studious young witch.”
He watched with satisfaction as the young girl waved her wand with immense curiosity.
Each wand’s alignment and requirements varied drastically depending on the materials used in its construction.
For instance, Carrefour’s previous wand utilized a dragon heartstring core.
In the wizarding world, if a practitioner defeated the original owner of a dragon-core wand, the instrument’s allegiance would switch entirely to the victor, offering an exceptionally high level of compatibility to its new master.
“Are you an incoming first-year student too?”
The young witch turned around, her eyes landing on Shiro.
He had been standing patiently by the entrance, ensuring he remained well clear of any stray magical backfires while her father settled the bill.