Chris stood in the grand entrance hall of Ambrosia Manor, flexing his fingers as he adjusted the silver bracelet on his wrist. The goblin-crafted glamour settled over him like a second skin, creating the bizarre sensation of existing in two bodies simultaneously, the powerful sixteen-year-old frame he now possessed and the eleven-year-old appearance others would see. He ran a hand through his hair, still startled when it appeared shorter in his peripheral vision than it actually felt between his fingers.
"Like wearing someone else's clothes," he murmured to himself, his voice sounding childish to his ears despite the adult resonance he felt in his chest. Two days after the ritual, he was still adapting to the dissonance.
The marble floor gleamed beneath his feet, reflecting the morning light that streamed through the tall windows. Chris checked his reflection in a nearby mirror, smiling at the familiar eleven-year-old face that looked back at him, a perfect disguise concealing the transformation that had taken place. He wore simple but high-quality robes in deep blue, tailored to fit his actual dimensions but appearing appropriately sized for a child on the bracelet's illusion.
Two soft pops announced the arrival of Jilly and Bouncy, the former holding a piece of parchment while maintaining her usual dignified posture, the latter literally vibrating with excitement as he bounced from one foot to the other.
"Master's Hogwarts list," Jilly said, handing the parchment to Chris with a small bow. "I suggest beginning at Ollivander's. A wizard's first wand is the most important purchase."
Chris nodded, scanning the familiar list of required items. "Good idea. We'll need to visit Madam Malkin's as well, and the Apothecary for potions supplies."
"Bouncy has already purchased all Master's books!" the excitable elf announced proudly. "Every book on the list plus extras for advanced reading! They're all waiting in Master's study!"
"Thank you, Bouncy," Chris smiled, genuinely appreciative of the elf's thoughtfulness.
Jilly stepped forward, producing a flat wooden box from within her uniform. "Before we depart, Master, I have something for you." She opened the box with reverent care, revealing an elegant leather wand holster nestled on blue velvet. The Ambrosia family crest was embossed on its surface in silver thread, the Eastern dragon curled protectively around the tree.
"This is the Ambrosia Wand Holster," Jilly explained as Chris lifted it from the box. "Crafted by the finest goblin leather-workers over fifteen hundred years ago for your ancestor. It contains powerful enchantments."
The leather felt buttery-soft in his hands yet possessed an underlying strength that suggested extraordinary durability. Small runes were etched along its edges, barely visible unless caught in the right light.
"What enchantments?" Chris asked, turning it over in his hands.
"It becomes invisible to all eyes but yours once worn," Jilly explained. "It will summon your wand directly to your hand with a mere thought. Most importantly, it prevents anyone from summoning or disarming your wand while it remains in the holster."
Chris whistled softly, impressed. "That's some serious magic."
"Merlin himself enchanted it," Jilly said simply, as if that explained everything, which, in a way, it did.
He strapped the holster to his right forearm, watching with fascination as it adjusted perfectly to his size before fading from view, becoming completely invisible yet still tangible beneath his fingers.
"Can we go now? Can we go now?" Bouncy asked, practically levitating with anticipation. "Bouncy can apparate Master Chrissy to Diagon Alley super-quick!"
"I think not," Jilly replied firmly. "Master should learn to use the Floo Network. It is the common method of wizard transportation, and knowledge of it will prevent awkward questions at school."
Bouncy's ears drooped momentarily before perking up again. "Bouncy will meet Master at the Leaky Cauldron then! Bouncy can carry all Master's packages!"
With another pop, the excitable elf vanished, leaving Chris alone with Jilly.
"The Floo Network," she began, leading him toward the ornate fireplace that dominated one wall of the entrance hall, "connects wizarding locations throughout Britain. It allows instantaneous travel between any two connected fireplaces."
She gestured toward a small silver pot on the mantelpiece. "Floo Powder. Take a pinch, no more is needed."
Chris took a small amount of the glittering green powder, feeling its magical properties tingle against his skin.
"Step into the fireplace," Jilly instructed. "Then throw down the powder while clearly stating your destination. In this case, 'Diagon Alley.' The clarity of your enunciation is crucial. Mumbling has sent many wizards to unintended locations."
"Should I be worried?" Chris asked, eyeing the fireplace with newfound wariness.
"Not if you speak clearly," Jilly assured him. "Keep your elbows tucked in, your eyes closed, and do not panic. The sensation is... unpleasant for first-time users."
Chris nodded, his stomach tightening with nervous anticipation. He had known this moment would come eventually, his first real step into wizarding society beyond the sanctuary of Ambrosia Manor.
"Diagon Alley, purchase supplies, return home," he repeated, organising his thoughts. "Seems straightforward enough."
"Indeed, Master," Jilly agreed. "Bouncy and I will assist with your purchases, though we will remain mostly invisible to avoid drawing attention."
Chris stepped into the spacious fireplace, ducking his head slightly though there was plenty of room for even his true height. The ash beneath his feet was warm but not hot, another magical accommodation of the manor.
"Speak clearly," Jilly reminded him one final time. "And remember, you appear eleven years old to everyone else. Conduct yourself accordingly."
Chris took a deep breath, centring himself. "Diagon Alley," he pronounced with perfect clarity as he threw down the powder.
Emerald flames erupted instantly, engulfing him in harmless fire that tickled rather than burned. Then came the sensation Jilly had so inadequately described as "unpleasant", a violent pulling behind his navel as he was sucked upward into a spinning vortex.
The world became a blur of motion and sound. Chris spun wildly, glimpsing dozens of other fireplaces as he whirled past them at impossible speed. Soot filled his nostrils, and he quickly closed his eyes as Jilly had advised, struggling to keep his elbows tucked against his sides as the magical tornado flung him between destinations.
Just when he thought he might be sick, the spinning stopped abruptly. Chris pitched forward, instinctively throwing out his hands to break his fall as he tumbled out onto a stone floor. His adult reflexes saved him from a complete face-plant, but he still landed in an undignified heap of limbs and soot.
"First time on the Floo, dear?" came a sympathetic female voice as a hand appeared to help him up.
Chris accepted the assistance, rising to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster. He found himself in a busy public Floo station at one end of Diagon Alley, surrounded by witches and wizards coming and going with practiced ease. A plump witch in lime-green robes smiled kindly at him as she released his hand.
"Thank you," he said, brushing soot from his clothes. "Is it that obvious?"
"Everyone tumbles their first time," she assured him before hurrying on her way.
Chris straightened his robes, taking a moment to collect himself. Beyond the Floo station, the magical shopping district of Diagon Alley awaited, his first real taste of the wizarding world beyond the protected boundaries of Ambrosia Manor.
Chris stepped onto the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley, his senses immediately bombarded by a world he had only briefly glimpsed the last time he was here. Sunlight caught on colorful shop signs that hung over twisted, leaning buildings that seemed to defy gravity. The air hummed with voices, excited children, haggling shoppers, street vendors calling out their wares, while the faint melodies of enchanted instruments drifted from an open shop window. Scents mingled in the warm summer air: the earthy aroma of fresh potions ingredients, the sweet perfume of cauldron cakes, and the distinctive tang of magic itself, a scent he couldn't have named at the beginning but now instantly recognized.
His throat tightened with unexpected emotion. In his previous life, this place had existed only in books he'd read to his children, in movies they'd watched together on rainy weekends. Now it spread before him, vibrantly real, more detailed, more alive, more magical than any portrayal could capture. The dissonance between memory and reality momentarily overwhelmed him again, rooting him to the spot as wizards and witches streamed past. "Even better than last time." He thought.
A soft touch at his elbow broke his reverie. Though invisible to others, Jilly had maintained contact. "Master should move along," came her whispered voice. "Standing still in a busy thoroughfare draws attention."
Chris nodded slightly and began walking, forcing his feet to move at an eleven-year-old's pace rather than with his natural longer stride. The alley seemed unusually crowded today, with families moving in packs between shops, many accompanied by wide-eyed children clutching parchment lists identical to his own.
"Hogwarts letters must have gone out to everyone at the same time," he murmured, understanding the crowd's composition. Future classmates surrounded him, though he recognized none. He wondered briefly if Harry Potter had come to the alley yet, if Hagrid had already made his dramatic entrance.
Navigating the throng required careful attention. Though his glamoured form appeared small, Chris's actual body occupied more space, creating an odd sensation when people passed too close. He felt like a large dog convinced it was still a puppy, constantly misjudging clearances.
He paused outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, where a crowd of children pressed their noses against the display window. Inside, a broomstick rotated slowly on a velvet cushion, its polished handle gleaming in the sunlight that streamed through the glass.
"The new Nimbus 2000!" a freckled boy exclaimed, his breath fogging the window. "Fastest broom ever made!"
"Dad says it costs more than our entire house," his companion replied with equal parts awe and resignation.
Chris smiled, remembering his own Comet 180 practicing sessions at the manor. The Nimbus was impressive, certainly, but perhaps once he'd proven himself at Hogwarts, he could arrange an "anonymous gift" of a Nimbus for himself, just as Dumbledore and McGonagall would do for Harry. The thought amused him as he continued down the alley.
He passed Flourish and Blotts, where books were stacked in towering displays that swayed but never toppled. Through the windows, he glimpsed shelves that stretched beyond what the building's exterior dimensions should allow, and moving photographs on book covers that winked and waved at potential customers. Bouncy had already purchased his required texts, but Chris made a mental note to return later for browsing. Public bookstores often carried volumes that weren't automatically added to the Ambrosia collection.
The crowd thickened near Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, where harried parents tried to corral excited children sticky with rainbow-colored treats. Chris sidestepped a young witch in emerald robes who gestured emphatically with a dripping ice cream cone, narrowly avoiding having his sleeve decorated with Fizzing Whizbee Surprise.
As he walked, Chris observed the fashion of the wizarding world with greater attention than he'd been able to give the books or films in his past life. Robes came in every imaginable colour and style: practical brown work robes with reinforced pockets, elegant dress robes in shimmering silks, conservative black everyday robes worn by older wizards, and wildly patterned creations that seemed to change colour with their wearers' moods. Pointed hats bobbed above the crowd, some floppy, others starched to rigid perfection.
Finally, he spotted his destination, a narrow, shabby-looking shop at the end of a side lane. Peeling gold letters over the door read "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.
Chris felt his heartbeat quicken. In this world, a wizard's wand was an extension of himself, a partner in magic more intimate than any other tool. The wand chooses the wizard, he knew this intellectually, but was about to experience it first hand.
"Bouncy is already inside," came Jilly's whisper. "We will observe but not interfere."
Chris nodded imperceptibly and approached the shop, each step bringing him closer to a defining moment in any young wizard's life. The worn wooden door seemed to hum with an energy he could feel across the final few feet of separation.
His hand hesitated briefly on the tarnished brass door handle. Drawing a deep breath, he pushed it open, a small bell tinkling somewhere in the depths of the shop to announce his arrival.
The interior was tiny, dimly lit, and seemingly empty of people. Thousands of narrow boxes were piled neatly to the ceiling, each containing a wand waiting for its destined owner. Dust motes danced in the thin beam of sunlight that penetrated the window, and the air felt thick with a silent, waiting magic that made the hair on Chris's arms stand up beneath his robes.
The door closed behind him with a soft click, shutting out the noise of the alley and wrapping him in a silence so complete it seemed to press against his eardrums. Chris felt as though he'd stepped into a space between moments, where time moved differently. The scent of polished wood and ancient magic filled his lungs as he breathed deeply, centring himself.
Somewhere beyond his sight, shelves creaked. Something was stirring in the shadows at the back of the shop, a presence moving with deliberate quiet among the thousands of wands. Chris stood still, waiting, knowing without being told that in this place, at this moment, patience was required.
He had come for a wand, but more importantly, a wand had been waiting for him.
"Good afternoon," came a soft voice from the deepest shadows of the shop. Mr. Ollivander stepped into the thin shaft of light, his pale silver eyes gleaming like coins in the dimness. He moved with the silent grace of someone who had spent decades navigating narrow spaces filled with precious, delicate objects. Those unsettling eyes studied Chris with an intensity that suggested he was being measured in ways far more significant than mere physical dimensions.
"Hello, sir," Chris replied, suppressing a shiver at the wandmaker's penetrating gaze. Despite his preparation, there was something unnerving about those silvery eyes that seemed to look through his glamour rather than at it.
"A new student for Hogwarts, I presume?" Ollivander tilted his head slightly, his wispy grey hair catching the light. "Yet you seem... more, somehow." He blinked, as if clearing his vision. "Your name, young man?"
"Christopher Emrys, sir," Chris answered, deliberately omitting his full name. "Though I generally go by Chris."
Ollivander went very still. "Emrys," he repeated, the name falling from his lips like a forgotten prayer. "A name that sounds familiar, though can't quite be placed."
"My family has been... abroad," Chris offered vaguely.
"Indeed." Ollivander seemed to recover his professional demeanour, though his eyes remained fixed on Chris with renewed curiosity. "Well then, Mr. Emrys, let us find you a wand. Or rather, let the wand find you."
He snapped his fingers, and a slender tape measure with silver markings sprang to life, floating toward Chris of its own accord.
"Which is your wand arm?" Ollivander asked, pulling a small notebook and pencil from his pocket.
"I'm right-handed," Chris replied, extending his arm.
The measuring tape set to work with enthusiastic precision, measuring from shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor. It circled his head, measured the distance between his nostrils, and even the circumference of his wrist where the invisible glamour bracelet sat. All the while, Ollivander observed and occasionally murmured notations in his book.
"Every Ollivander wand contains a powerful magical substance, Mr. Emrys," he explained as the tape now measured between Chris's eyes. "We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
With another snap of his fingers, the tape measure collapsed into a neat coil on a nearby counter. Ollivander began pulling boxes from the shelves with deliberate movements.
"Try this," he said, opening the first box and presenting a light-coloured wand. "Beechwood and unicorn hair. Nine inches. Nice and flexible."
Chris took the wand, immediately sensing it wasn't right. It felt cold in his hand, like a simple stick rather than a magical instrument. Nevertheless, he gave it a wave as expected.
A few weak blue sparks sputtered from the end, disappearing before they hit the floor.
"No, no, that won't do," Ollivander snatched it back, already reaching for another box. "Here, oak and dragon heartstring. Ten and a quarter inches. Quite rigid."
This wand felt marginally better, but still wrong. When Chris waved it, nothing happened at all, not even a spark. The wandmaker reclaimed it before Chris could lower his arm.
"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find your match. Try this one, willow and phoenix feather, eleven inches, swishy."
The third wand produced a stronger reaction, but not the one either of them wanted. As Chris moved it through the air, a nearby vase shattered, water and flowers spraying across a stack of papers.
"Definitely not," Ollivander said, taking the wand back, though his expression had shifted from professional interest to genuine excitement. "How fascinating... I wonder..."
The wandmaker disappeared into the shadowed recesses of his shop. Chris heard the sounds of moving boxes, a muttered "where did I put it?" and finally an "Aha!" of triumph. When Ollivander returned, he carried not a narrow box but a small wooden trunk, its surface carved with symbols Chris recognized as ancient protection runes.
"I never thought..." Ollivander murmured, setting the trunk on the counter and producing a tiny silver key from around his neck. "But your aura... perhaps this time."
The lock clicked open, and Ollivander reached inside with reverent hands. He withdrew a wand case unlike the others, made of polished ebony wood with silver clasps. When he opened it, a soft blue light spilled from within, illuminating his face from below.
"Eleven inches, Yggdrasil wood with an Eastern Dragon Emperor heartstring core," Ollivander said softly. "One of my ancestor's creations, not mine. Found in ruins that predated the Roman occupation of Britain."
The wand was beautiful, white wood that seemed to contain swirls of blue within its grain, polished to a lustrous sheen. The handle was carved to resemble an Eastern dragon, its sinuous body wrapping around to form a perfect grip. Its eyes were tiny sapphires that caught and reflected the light. Chris noticed with a jolt that the dragon matched exactly the one on the Ambrosia family crest.
Before he could reach for it, the wand moved of its own accord. It rose from its case and flew directly into Chris's outstretched hand as if called.
The moment of contact was electric. Warmth surged up his arm and spread throughout his body, a sensation of rightness so profound it brought unexpected tears to his eyes. The wand connected with his magical core like completing a circuit, power flowing between them in perfect harmony. Without any conscious intent from Chris, without even being waved, the wand released a fountain of golden sparks that showered down like a miniature fireworks display, reflecting in every surface of the shop.
The torrent of sparks didn't fade quickly but continued for nearly ten seconds, growing brighter rather than dimmer. Every wand box in the shop rattled slightly on its shelf, as if the wands within were acknowledging a long-lost superior. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the resonance of the match.
When the display finally ended, Ollivander's expression was one of awe mixed with professional satisfaction.
"Extraordinary," he whispered. "I have sold wands for over seventy years, Mr. Emrys, and I have never seen such an immediate and powerful response. The wand has been waiting... for centuries."
Chris looked down at the wand in his hand, still warm and vibrating subtly with magical energy. "It feels like it was made for me," he said honestly.
"I believe it was," Ollivander replied cryptically. "Yggdrasil wood is exceedingly rare, the World Tree of Norse mythology. Only three wands with this wood have ever been documented. And an Eastern Dragon Emperor heartstring... well, such dragons were thought to be merely legends even among wizards."
He closed the empty case with a reverent touch. "This wand was created for great magic, Mr. Emrys. I expect remarkable things from you."
Chris carefully passed seven gold Galleons to the wandmaker, the standard price despite the wand's apparent rarity. "Thank you, sir."
"Would you like a holster for it?" Ollivander offered, gesturing to a display of leather wand holsters.
"No, thank you," Chris replied, thinking of the invisible Ambrosia holster already on his arm. "I have other arrangements."
As he stepped back into the sunlight of Diagon Alley, Chris slipped his new wand into the enchanted holster, feeling it secure itself against his forearm. The sensation of rightness persisted, as if a missing piece of himself had finally been restored.
"A perfect match, Master," came Jilly's invisible whisper beside him. "The wand recognized your bloodline immediately."
Chris nodded slightly, allowing himself a small smile of satisfaction. Of course this particular wand had chosen him, it had been waiting for the return of Merlin's heir, for the awakening of ancient magic in a bloodline long thought extinct, perhaps even arranged by the One Above All.
The first essential tool for his Hogwarts journey was acquired. Now for the rest.
Chris slipped his new wand into the Ambrosia holster, feeling it secure against his forearm as he pulled the Hogwarts supply list from his pocket. The parchment had become slightly crumpled in his pocket, but the emerald ink remained clear and bright against the cream-colored background. With Bouncy having already purchased his books, he decided to tackle Madam Malkin's next for his school robes, then the Apothecary for potions supplies. The crowd in the alley seemed to be thickening rather than diminishing as the day progressed, witches and wizards of all ages jostling between shops with packages and parcels floating behind them.
"Bouncy will meet Master at the Apothecary," came Jilly's whispered voice near his ear. "To transport purchases back to the manor."
Chris nodded slightly in acknowledgment as he made his way toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. The shop's display window featured mannequins that periodically changed poses to better showcase the garments they wore, from standard black Hogwarts robes to elaborate dress robes in jewel tones that rippled like liquid when the mannequins moved.
A bell chimed softly as he pushed open the door, stepping into a space that smelled pleasantly of new fabric, lavender sachets, and the faint metallic tang of magical tailoring needles. The shop was mercifully less crowded than the street outside, with only one other customer, an elderly witch being fitted for robes in a violent shade of fuchsia that made Chris's eyes water slightly.
"Hogwarts, dear?" came a friendly voice as a squat witch dressed all in mauve approached him. Madam Malkin herself, pins stuck in the cushion strapped to her wrist, her hair arranged in elaborate silver curls beneath a matching mauve hat. "Got another young man being fitted in the back, but plenty of room for you too. Come along."
She led him to a fitting area separated by curtains, where a second witch was adjusting the hem on black robes for a round-faced boy Chris didn't recognize. He was guided to a footstool beside the other boy, who gave him a nervous smile but remained silent, apparently too intimidated by the proceedings to attempt conversation.
"Stand up straight now," Madam Malkin instructed, slipping a voluminous black robe over Chris's head. "Arms out to the sides, please."
An enchanted tape measure, similar to the one at Ollivander's but marked with different symbols, began flitting around him, taking measurements that Madam Malkin recorded with a self-inking quill on a floating notepad.
"I'd like the highest quality materials available," Chris said politely but firmly, projecting the confidence of someone accustomed to the best. "Not the standard student package."
Madam Malkin paused, reassessing him with newfound interest. "Certainly, young man. We have several grades of materials. The premium option uses Acromantula silk blend for better durability and comfort."
"That sounds perfect," Chris nodded. "And I'd like several magical enhancements as well."
The round-faced boy beside him looked over curiously, clearly not having considered that school robes could be customized.
"Such as?" Madam Malkin prompted, her quill poised.
"Cooling and warming charms for comfort in all weather," Chris began, recalling options he'd read about in the Ambrosia library. "Automatic resizing to accommodate growth. Water and fire resistance for protection during potions classes. And undetectable extension charms on all pockets."
The seamstress's eyebrows rose higher with each request. "My, my. Those are quite sophisticated enhancements for a first-year." She peered at him more closely. "Your family must be..."
"Old," Chris supplied with a polite smile that discouraged further questions.
"Indeed," she replied, making additional notes. "These modifications will increase the price substantially, you understand."
"That's not a concern," Chris assured her.
The other boy was now openly staring, though he quickly looked away when his seamstress tutted at him for moving.
With the measurements complete, Madam Malkin summoned several bolts of fabric that flew from shelves to hover before her. She selected a black material that seemed to drink in the light, its surface subtly shifting like liquid when touched.
"Acromantula silk blend with Egyptian cotton," she explained. "Extremely durable while remaining comfortable against the skin."
What followed was a display of magical craftsmanship that fascinated Chris. Enchanted silver needles threaded themselves and began stitching at remarkable speed, the fabric cutting itself to pattern with precise magical slices. As the pieces came together, Madam Malkin moved her wand in intricate patterns over each section, murmuring incantations that left the fabric briefly glowing with different coloured lights.
"The blue glow is the temperature regulation charm," she explained, seeing Chris's interest. "Green for water repelling, red for fire resistance. The pocket extensions are particularly tricky..." Her brow furrowed in concentration as she performed a more complex series of wand movements over what would become the robe's pockets.
Within twenty minutes, three sets of school robes hung completed on a nearby rack, along with the pointed hat, winter cloak, and protective dragon-hide gloves required by the supply list. To the casual observer, they looked like standard Hogwarts uniforms, but Chris knew they contained magic that would make his school year considerably more comfortable.
"Will that be all?" Madam Malkin asked, checking her notes. "Dragon-hide boots are not on the official list, but many students find them preferable to standard shoes, especially during Herbology lessons."
"Add those as well," Chris agreed. "Same enhancements where applicable."
When the final bill was tallied, it came to nearly five times the cost of standard Hogwarts robes, but Chris handed over the Galleons without comment. Money was the least of his concerns, and these investments would pay dividends in comfort and convenience throughout the school year.
"Shall I box these for you?" Madam Malkin offered, already waving her wand to fold the garments with practiced precision.
"Yes, please," Chris replied. "And if you could shrink the package, that would be helpful."
With his robes reduced to a parcel small enough to fit in his pocket, Chris thanked the seamstress and headed back into the crowded alley, not before handing them to Bouncy. His next destination, the Apothecary, stood further down the street, its dingy window display featuring dried bundles of herbs, jars of preserved animal parts, and crystals that pulsed with subtle coloured light.
As he approached, Chris recalled a theory he'd read in Harry Potter fanfiction during his previous life, that pure-blood Slytherins received better service and superior ingredients at certain shops by using code phrases or simply projecting the right attitude. It had always seemed plausible to him, an unspoken system of privilege typical of the wizarding world's hierarchical structure. Now he had a chance to test it.
The Apothecary's interior was dimly lit and filled with pungent smells: bitter herbs, preserved animal parts, earthy roots, and the metallic tang of powdered minerals. Shelves lined every wall from floor to ceiling, holding hundreds of jars and containers of all shapes and sizes. The shopkeeper, a stooped man with yellowed fingernails and eyes that had acquired the watery, bloodshot look of someone who spent decades amid potion fumes, regarded Chris impassively from behind a high counter.
"Hogwarts supplies," Chris said, deliberately adjusting his posture to project aristocratic entitlement rather than his usual approachable demeanour. He allowed a slight drawl to enter his voice, reminiscent of Draco Malfoy's speech patterns. "I'll take the Slytherin special."
The shopkeeper's watery eyes narrowed, assessing Chris with newfound interest. After a moment's consideration, he nodded almost imperceptibly. "Of course, young sir. First year, I presume?"
"Obviously," Chris replied with just the right amount of boredom and condescension.
"Very good. If you'll wait a moment." The man disappeared into a back room, leaving Chris to wonder if his gambit had worked or if he'd just made a fool of himself.
When the shopkeeper returned, he carried not the standard ingredients package but a larger, more elaborate kit. "Our premium first-year collection," he explained, his tone notably more deferential. "Double quantities of standard ingredients, plus several supplementary components useful for more... ambitious brewing."
Chris examined the contents with satisfaction. Not only were the ingredients of visibly higher quality, fresher, more vibrant colours, better preserved, but the kit included items not on the standard supply list: unicorn hoof shavings, powdered moonstone, essence of belladonna, and several others he recognized as components for second and third-year potions.
"I'll also need cauldrons and equipment," Chris said, maintaining his haughty persona.
"Certainly, sir." The shopkeeper produced a set of nested cauldrons in varying sizes and materials, along with crystal phials instead of glass, silver scales instead of brass, and a set of stirring rods in different woods and metals.
Chris paid the asked price, which, remarkably, was the same as listed for the standard first-year package on the sign beside the register. The theory had proven correct; purebloods with the right attitude received superior goods at standard prices, a quiet form of discrimination thoroughly in keeping with wizarding society's unstated rules.
"Shall I have these delivered?" the shopkeeper asked.
"No need," Chris replied. With perfect timing, an invisible Bouncy relieved him of the packages, which seemed to disappear into thin air. The shopkeeper's eyes widened slightly but he made no comment, likely assuming some form of family magic.
With his shopping complete, Chris considered visiting Florean Fortescue's for ice cream, but the crowds had only increased as the afternoon wore on. Better to return to the manor and come back another day, perhaps after making some friends at Hogwarts who could accompany him.
He made his way back toward the Floo station, satisfied with his productive first venture into the wizarding world. The bracelet's glamour had held perfectly, and he'd acquired everything needed for his first year, plus a few special advantages that would make his time at Hogwarts considerably more comfortable than the average student's experience.
More importantly, he'd confirmed that the wizarding world operated on exactly the kind of unspoken rules and prejudices he'd anticipated. Knowledge he could use to his advantage in the months and years ahead.
A wooden table and chair sat beneath a shaded canopy on the outdoor training ground of Ambrosia Manor, surrounded by the vibrant green of summer foliage. Chris spread his materials across the table's surface: his new wand, textbooks opened to specific spells, and various objects for practice, feathers, twigs, cups, and small wooden targets. It was July 3rd, and with nearly two months before the Hogwarts Express would depart from King's Cross, he had set himself a rigorous schedule to master not just the theory he'd studied for six months, but the practical application of first-year magic.
The weight of the Yggdrasil wand felt perfect in his hand, as though he'd been holding it for years rather than days. Drawing a deep breath, he focused on a white feather placed in the center of the table, recalling the precise wand movement and incantation from his theoretical studies.
"Wingardium Leviosa," he pronounced clearly, executing the swish-and-flick with deliberate precision.
The feather rose immediately, hovering steadily about three feet above the table. Unlike the wobbling, uncertain levitation he might have expected from a first attempt, his control felt natural and confident. Six months of practicing the movements with a wooden stick had built muscle memory that transferred perfectly to actual spellcasting.
"Remarkable," he murmured, guiding the feather in a figure-eight pattern before gently setting it down. The spell had required barely any conscious effort, confirming what he already suspected, the combination of his mature magical core and months of theoretical preparation would make basic spells almost trivially easy.
Encouraged, he moved quickly through other first-year charms. Lumos illuminated his wand tip with a brilliant white light, brighter than he'd intended. Alohomora unlocked the small padlock he'd brought for practice, its mechanism clicking open so forcefully the lock nearly fell apart. Incendio created not just a small controlled flame but a brief jet of fire that singed the edge of the table before he hastily ended the spell.
"Control," he reminded himself, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. "Power means nothing without precision."
He placed several branches of varying thickness on a stone slab and tried again, this time with Diffindo, the cutting charm. His first attempt sliced not just through the intended twig but halfway into the stone beneath it. With each successive attempt, he focused more on restraining his magic, imagining a valve he could adjust to regulate the flow of power from his core to his wand.
By midday, he had moved on to transfiguration, successfully turning matches into needles, buttons into beetles, and water into wine. The last one was just for kicks. Each transformation happened more completely and quickly than would be expected from a first-year student, but he was gradually learning to moderate his output, to use exactly the amount of magical force required rather than overwhelming each spell with raw power.
The real test came when he turned to defense and offensive spells, knowing they would be crucial given what, or rather, who, awaited at Hogwarts. Voldemort would be attached to the back of Quirrell's head, presenting a danger far more immediate than most first-years ever faced. Chris set up a line of training dummies, similar to those he'd used for physical training but enhanced with basic movement charms to provide moving targets.
"Stupefy," he called out, aiming at the central dummy.
The jet of red light that erupted from his wand was blindingly bright and struck with such force that it didn't merely stun the target, it obliterated it completely, sending splinters of wood flying in all directions. Chris stared in shock at the destruction. A simple stunning spell shouldn't be capable of that kind of damage.
"Merlin's beard," he muttered, lowering his wand. The Second Maturation Ritual had enhanced his magical power beyond what he'd anticipated. Even basic spells were emerging at the strength a fully qualified wizard might produce. This would require careful management at Hogwarts, where such power from an apparent first-year would raise unwanted questions.
The afternoon sun climbed higher as Chris continued practicing, gradually developing the fine control needed to modulate his magic. He found that visualization helped, imagining his spells not as explosions of power but as precisely focused tools, like using a scalpel rather than a sledgehammer.
A soft pop announced Bouncy's arrival, the excitable elf carrying a tray laden with sandwiches, fruit, and a pitcher of cold pumpkin juice.
"Master Chrissy is doing amazing magic!" Bouncy exclaimed, setting the tray on a corner of the table not covered with practice materials. "Bouncy was watching from the trees! Master made the dummy go BOOM!" He mimicked an explosion with enthusiastic hand gestures.
"A bit too boom, actually," Chris replied with a rueful smile, accepting a glass of pumpkin juice. "I need to learn restraint."
"Master will be the most powerful wizard at Hoggy-warts!" Bouncy declared, bouncing on his toes. "Even the tall big students won't be able to do what Master can do!"
"Which is precisely why I need to be careful," Chris reminded him, taking a bite of sandwich. "I can't draw too much attention too quickly."
After lunch, he returned to practice, focusing on magic that would serve him well against potential threats. Expelliarmus became a particular focus, the disarming charm seemed simple but could be extraordinarily useful in a confrontation. He set up a dummy holding a stick, enchanting it to resist disarming attempts with varying degrees of force.
"Expelliarmus!"
The first attempt sent not just the stick flying but the entire dummy tumbling backward. Again, too much power. He tried repeatedly, gradually refining his control until he could precisely target just the "wand" without affecting the dummy holding it.
Similar practice with Protego, a spell from the upper years, produced shields of varying strength, from barely visible barriers that would deflect minor jinxes to dome-shaped protections that shimmered with such intensity they hurt the eyes. Rictumsempra, Flipendo, and other basic combat spells rounded out his repertoire.
The days fell into a steady rhythm as July turned to August. Mornings devoted to practicing spellwork, afternoons to brewing simple potions to develop the precise technique required, evenings to studying advanced magical theory in the Ambrosia library. While his classmates would be discovering magic for the first time, Chris would be carefully pretending to do the same, all while possessing the knowledge and skills of a much more advanced student.
Bouncy continued his role as enthusiastic cheerleader, often appearing during practice sessions to squeak excitedly when spells worked particularly well. Jilly provided more measured guidance, especially with potions, where her centuries of accumulated knowledge proved invaluable.
By mid-August, Chris had mastered the entire first-year curriculum and begun exploring second-year spells as well. He supplemented his combat focus with practical household charms, cleaning spells, mending enchantments, and grooming magic that would make daily life at Hogwarts more convenient. The ability to magically tie his shoelaces or instantly dry his hair after a shower might seem trivial, but such minor conveniences added up to significant quality of life improvements.
On August 31st, the night before his departure for Hogwarts, Chris lay in bed reviewing his preparations. His trunk was packed with all necessary supplies, each book and piece of equipment enhanced where possible with additional charms for durability and functionality. His wand rested in its invisible holster, ready to be summoned with a thought. The glamour bracelet sat comfortably on his wrist, maintaining his eleven-year-old appearance.
His thoughts then drifted to the Harry Potter fanfiction he'd read with his children in his previous life. Many stories had portrayed Dumbledore as a manipulator who arranged events to test Harry, guiding him toward an ultimate confrontation with Voldemort and sacrifice Harry for the greater good. Others depicted him as genuinely benevolent, if sometimes misguided in his methods. Which version existed in this reality remained to be seen.
Chris had devised a simple test for tomorrow, he would watch carefully for signs that the meeting between Harry and the Weasleys at King's Cross was a deliberate setup. In the books, it had always struck him as suspicious that Molly Weasley would loudly discuss Platform 9¾ in public, drawing Harry's attention. Any wizarding family could simply Floo directly to the platform, requiring young children to navigate the Muggle station seemed an unnecessary complication unless it served some purpose in Dumbledore's plans.
If the Weasleys appeared to be strategically placed to intercept Harry, that would suggest the more manipulative version of Dumbledore was at work. Such information would shape Chris's approach to the Headmaster and to Hogwarts generally.
A soft knock at his bedroom door interrupted his thoughts. Jilly and Bouncy entered, carrying a tray of hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies.
"A small celebration before Master's journey tomorrow," Jilly explained, setting the tray on his bedside table.
"Bouncy wanted to bring a whole cake with fireworks," the energetic elf added, "but Jilly said that was too much for bedtime."
Chris smiled, sitting up to accept a mug of chocolate. "This is perfect. Thank you both."
As they enjoyed the midnight snack together, Chris felt a surge of gratitude for these loyal companions who had guided him through his preparation. Whatever challenges awaited at Hogwarts, he would face them with knowledge, power, and strategy that few could match.
"Master is ready," Jilly said softly, as if reading his thoughts. "The heir of Merlin returns to the wizarding world tomorrow."
"And Hogwarts won't know what hit it!" Bouncy added with gleeful certainty.
Chris took another sip of chocolate, the warmth spreading through his chest like the confidence that had grown within him these past months. Yes, he was ready, not just for classes and spells, but for the game of influence and power that awaited.