HP: The Son of Tom

Diagon Alley vibrated with a life of its own. Excited voices, children's laughter, the clinking of galleons, the scent of magical ink and new leather filled the air. It was high season: prospective Hogwarts students were invading the stores with excitement and haste.

Aurelian walked at a controlled pace, slightly behind Dumbledore, who strode forward with a carefree air, greeting shopkeepers and citizens with a serene smile and a nearly untouched ice cream in one hand.

"First things first" said Dumbledore without turning around "You'll need books and Lots of them."

They arrived in front of the grand facade of Flourish & Blotts, where a stack of copies levitated in an enchanted dance next to a banner announcing:

The Best Magic Texts for Bright Young Minds!

Inside, the store was an orderly chaos: high shelves with titles sparkling, books muttering to each other, shoppers pushing magic carts. Aurelian calmly scrolled through the list of materials:

. Elemental Transformations by Emeric Switch .

. A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi .

. History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot .

. Advanced Magic Theory by Adalbert Waffling .

. Defense Against the Dark Arts: Introduction to the Shield .

. Guide to Basic Charms (Vol. I) .

. Stars and Constellations: Astral Navigation in the Magical World.

As the books piled magically into the floating basket, Dumbledore stopped beside a thick volume with an enchanted leather cover. He peered curiously, but without touching it.

"Avoid the ones that try to bite you, unless strictly necessary" he commented in an amused tone.

Aurelian laughed softly, at the Archmage's mixture of solemnity and humor.

Next came a visit to Obscurus Books, where they purchased some supplementary texts and moisture-resistant parchment, later to the small but well-stocked quill store The Silver Quill, where Aurelian chose two self-inking quills, one of faux phoenix feather and one of thestral, "just in case".

Next, they stopped at Madame Malkin, the magical robes store. Dumbledore sat in a purple velvet armchair while Aurelian stood on a dais surrounded by mirrors and floating wands that took measurements with mechanical precision.

"Do you like traditional black or do you prefer some more custom detailing?" asked the witch attending him.

"Black is fine" replied Aurelian "But... if it could have silver-gray interior stitching, I'd like it."

"Subtle style. Good choice" said the witch with a complicit smile.

After the last enchanted stitch and packing the new robes, they went out into the bustle of the Alley once more.

"There are only two important things missing" commented Dumbledore "Your wand... and cauldron. But I think the wand should go last. Wands always reserve the right to close the day."

Aurelian nodded with an enigmatic smile.

The dusty sign for Ollivanders: Wand Makers since 382 B.C. hung crookedly over the small, narrow store between two more bustling businesses. The interior, however, was engulfed in reverent silence, barely interrupted by a soft magical hum, as if the thousands of wands stacked expectantly awaited the arrival of the next chosen one.

Dumbledore held the door for Aurelian to enter first.

"One of the most important decisions of your life," he murmured, still smiling.

Behind the counter, old Garrick Ollivander emerged between columns of stacked boxes, his trademark tousled white hair and silver eyes shining like mirrors.

"Ah... Mr. Gaunt," he said without preamble, his voice soft and almost hypnotic.

Aurelian stopped dead in his tracks - had he called him by his last name? He had given his full name only once at Gringotts, that piece of information wasn't officially recorded yet. No one in the Alley was supposed to know.

"How did you...?" he started to speak, but stopped.

Ollivander watched him with a faint smile that was neither entirely friendly nor entirely mysterious. An odd mixture of respect and caution.

"Wands whisper more than many realize, young sir. Some names leave seals... even unspoken" he replied, his gaze still fixed on him.

Aurelian swallowed saliva. He felt a tingle of recognition, as if that store was speaking to him in a hidden language. He did not insist. He knew that Ollivander was not lying... that his way of understanding the world was closer to art than to logic.

The ritual began. Ollivander offered him one after another: wands of willow, oak, spruce, fir, walnut... with cores of unicorn hair, phoenix feather or dragon heart nerve. Some made sparks, others refused altogether. None seemed suitable.

Until Ollivander stopped dead in his tracks. His fingers brushed over an older looking, slightly dusty box. He stared at it for a few seconds before speaking, more to himself than to those present.

"Curious...I don't often offer this wand."

He pulled a jet black wand from the box, carved with an elegant yet organic design, like branches gently twisting in a spiral. It had a faint glow that absorbed light rather than reflected it. Its hilt was slender, almost skeletal, with curved lines that evoked stylized snakes.

"Yew, thirty centimeters exactly. Flexible. Horned snake horn core. Very powerful. A somewhat temperamental wand... but if it accepts you..."

Aurelian felt a strange shiver. He reached out his hand and as he took it, the air changed.

A wave of energy enveloped him, as if an invisible barrier had given way. The loose leaves floated for a few seconds, dust danced in the air, and the wand gave off a soft but deep flash. It was not explosive. It was... intimate. As if he recognized it.

"Oh, yes..." whispered Ollivander, fascinated "There it is. Very... very interesting."

Dumbledore said nothing. His expression was thoughtful.

Aurelian stared at the wand, feeling it part of his body. Not a tool, but an extension.

"What is the history of this wand?" he asked in a low voice.

Ollivander cocked his head to one side.

"As you must already sense it has belonged to no one before. But it is... related to certain dark currents of ancient magic. Not dangerous in its own right, of course... but intense. If its bearer is not ready, it can consume rather than empower him."

Aurelian nodded slowly. He accepted her. Not with fear, but with conviction.

"I'll take it."

Ollivander smiled, more to himself than to them.

"Then let magic be your ally... and not your chain."

As they walked out, Aurelian felt the warmth of the wand still flowing down his arm. Then, silently, he thought:

"Wands should not limit the wizard... but accompany him, propel him. They are not the beginning of magic, but they can be the channel where it becomes sublime."

Inside him, something awoke. A certainty.

Magic would not dominate him. He would elevate it.

________

After leaving Ollivanders, Aurelian thought his tour of the Alley was over. However, Dumbledore took a detour, leading him down a narrow side alley where a small store stood almost hidden, with a barely legible sign that read:

"Enchanted Locks and Magical Luggage."

"One last stop," said the manager with a smile.

Inside, the shop smelled of old leather and beeswax. Rows of trunks floated on high shelves, some emitting strange sounds from within, others with locks that sparkled softly. The owner, a squat warlock with a monocle and a gravelly voice, greeted them without much enthusiasm.

Dumbledore chose a dark wooden trunk, with antique bronze fittings and a lock with runes engraved on it. After a few muttered incantations, he handed it to Aurelian.

"Magically expanded, with hidden compartments and protection from prying eyes" he explained "Ideal for someone who will likely want to store more than just books."

Aurelian touched the trunk and nodded. He didn't ask how much it cost. He knew it wasn't just any gift, but one with intent: a tool for his future.

When they got outside, they walked a little further before Dumbledore stopped in front of a magical pet store. He looked at Aurelian with an affable expression.

"Would you like a pet? A companion for Hogwarts, perhaps?"

Aurelian hesitated. His mind filled with images: snakes in his dreams, the cold isolation of his training, the tasks he had yet to accomplish... A creature at his side would be a risk. Not for him, but for the world that still didn't understand him."

"I appreciate the offer, Professor... but I'd rather not have one for now."

Dumbledore did not insist. He only nodded slowly, as one who understood more than he appeared to.

As they walked back towards the orphanage through the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, with the enchanted trunk loaded with magical supplies and his new wand resting in a protected compartment, Aurelian turned to Dumbledore with a measured, yet clearly hopeful expression.

"Professor, considering that I already have everything I need and the Alley is safe... would it be possible for me to stay here until the first of September? At the Leaky Cauldron, for example?"

It was a reasonable proposal. There was no emotional urgency, no pleading. Just a well-articulated strategy. But Dumbledore, like him, was also a master at reading between the lines.

The wizard stopped dead in his tracks, looking at him intently. His face, young and serene as in the golden days of his time in the International Confederation, needed no frown to convey tenderness.

"A well put suggestion, Aurelian... but the answer must be no" he replied calmly "The Ministry keeps records, and although I am authorized to accompany you, you are still officially under the guardianship of the St. Emeric Orphanage. A change of residence without prior formalities would raise unnecessary questions."

Aurelian nodded only once. Not with disappointment, but as one who takes note of a boundary he cannot cross... for now.

"I understand," he said, without losing his serenity.

Dumbledore seemed satisfied with his reaction. After a brief silence, he reached into his inner robe and pulled out a small black leather pouch, inconspicuous but clearly heavy.

"Nevertheless, it seems only fair that you should be able to enjoy your last few weeks of freedom before school. Diagon Alley is open to you as long as you travel it discreetly."

He handed her the bag unceremoniously, almost matter-of-factly. Aurelian took it and as he felt the weight, he understood that it was not mere courtesy. It was confidence.

"Don't abuse the ice cream" Dumbledore added with a half smile "And always return to the orphanage before dark. A young Gaunt disappearing without explanation would attract too many stares."

Aurelian put the bag away wordlessly. He did not need to show his gratitude effusively. His look, brief but direct, was enough to communicate respect... and understanding.

"I'll keep that in mind, professor."

And so, amidst enchanted lights and the gentle vibration of a world on the brink of a new school year, the two continued on their way to the orphanage. The future awaited.

"This is your ticket for the Hogwarts Express, Platform 9¾, on the first of September. I will be waiting for you at the castle."

Aurelian held the golden ticket carefully. The moment was real. The future was no longer a dream: a railway was waiting for him.

"Thank you, Professor," he said, lowering his gaze respectfully.

Dumbledore gave him one last smile.

"I trust you, Aurelian. I will see you very soon."

With a subtle flash, the Archmage disappeared.

Aurelian stood in the doorway for a few more seconds, gazing up at the violet-tinted sky. Then he pressed the ticket and his wand to his chest, took a deep breath... and entered the orphanage for the last time like an ordinary child.