"Master Altair, what were those mice for?" Fruska curiously asked after he came out of his trunk and sealed it.
"A serpent."
"Serpent? Serpents can be dangerous, Master Altair."
"I am aware, Fruska." He gently patted his House-elf's head, and she leaned into his touch. "Shall we go?"
She happily nodded and took his hand, teleporting them directly outside Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions in Diagon Alley.
Their sudden appearance caught the attention of several people, especially given the House crest on Fruska's uniform, but Altair paid them no heed and entered the shop.
Fortunately, Madam Malkin was personally present, and Altair discussed the details with her regarding the uniforms for Slytherin students who would be coming to collect their supplies in the future.
He was requesting a significant discount for the premium materials, but as he intended to cover the costs himself, she readily agreed.
They were almost finished with their discussion when he instinctively looked towards the door, sensing a very potent magic.
Outside stood a couple, evidently without magic, Muggles, but with them was a girl of about eleven, bushy brown hair almost like a mane, a trait of a certain Pure-blood family, and she had buck teeth and a pale complexion.
He frowned, frowning more deeply when he sensed a very familiar and familial magic from her. His eyes narrowed as he observed her speaking to the Muggle couple as though they were her parents.
Altair could not explain why sadness gripped his heart, but he kept his expression under control and turned back to Madam Malkin just as she finished the paperwork.
"Thank you." He smiled, and when he saw the girl enter the shop from the corner of his eye, he asked the old lady to lean closer. "The girl who is here to get her robes for Hogwarts, give her what you prepare for Aurelia, Cho, and me. Do not tell them the true price, I will cover it. Charge them the standard rate for the uniform."
The old lady glanced at the family, frowning.
"They are Muggles, Master Altair."
"The girl isn't a Muggle-born," he said mysteriously, and she looked at him in surprise. "Don't mention it to anyone." He smiled innocently, but Madam Malkin saw the same coldness in his eyes as in his mother's, and she knew better than to disobey such an order.
"Yes, Master Black."
"Excuse me..." the Muggle man nervously called out, and Madam Malkin put on a polite smile, bowing to Altair before walking over, an act which made the family uneasy, unaccustomed as they were to wizarding etiquette and customs.
The young Black glanced their way, meeting the eyes of the girl, who was looking at him in confusion, and he smiled as he approached her.
He leaned in, to the curiosity of the adults, and looked right into her brown eyes, which were being masked by powerful magic. Her true eyes were truly beautiful and familiar to him.
When she started glowering at him for no reason, he gently flicked her nose and smiled.
"Need some help, Little Kitten?"
"No. And I am not little. We are the same age." She narrowed her eyes at him, and he smiled.
"You are younger than me by several months, and since you are holding this letter, it means you were born between September and December 1979."
She looked at him in surprise, and he grinned when her mouth dropped open.
However, insecure about her large front teeth, she quickly closed her mouth again, which amused him.
"May I?" He asked for the letter, and before she could answer, he took it and walked over to the desk, picking up one of the papers and writing something after cross-checking the supplies.
When he returned, she was glaring at him, and he gently patted her head and handed her the letter and the other paper.
"Here, I have listed the shops you need to visit for these supplies, the standard prices, their addresses, and a few extra things you'll appreciate having at school."
She looked at the paper, then back at him, feeling a little embarrassed.
"You're a First Year at Hogwarts?" she asked as she accepted the paper, and when he nodded, she held out her hand to him. "I'm Hermione Granger."
"Granger?" He smiled as she nodded. He shook her hand, then lifted it to kiss her knuckles. "Do you have a middle name, Hermione?"
"Jean."
"Is that your mother's name?" he asked gently, nodding when she shook her head.
"You're not going to give me your name?"
"I am Altair Cillius Morvaine-Black." He bowed politely before straightening. "You may call me Altair when we see each other in the future."
"What are you, some sort of nobility?" she asked nervously, hearing his name. For some reason, it sounded ancient and magical.
Altair did not answer, but simply patted her head again, truly treating her like a kitten. He glanced at the Muggle couple, nodded, and then looked at Madam Malkin, who nodded back and bowed to him.
"What's that?" Hermione asked, sounding nervous, and when he glanced in the direction she indicated, he smiled.
"Fruska." He called gently to his House-elf, who was curiously observing the young girl. She came over and stood at his side, inspecting Hermione with her large eyes. "Please introduce yourself to Hermione."
The House-elf bowed to the girl and then smiled brightly.
"My name is Fruska, and I am Master Altair's House-elf," she said happily, leaning into Altair's touch as he lovingly patted her head.
"House-elf?"
Fruska nodded enthusiastically.
"You'll find out more about them in the supplementary books that are recommended on your letter," Altair informed her, then extended his hand to his House-elf. "Thorne & Feather, Fruska."
As soon as he said the name, the House-elf teleported him away at once, leaving Hermione screaming in shock and making the Muggle couple go a little pale.
"House-elves are powerful creatures, Miss. They can teleport much more easily and swiftly than wizards and witches," Madam Malkin informed Hermione as she began taking her measurements.
"Is he really a noble?" Hermione asked nervously, and the old witch smiled.
"The only ones as noble as him are his own family, Miss. Both Morvaines and Blacks are ancient, or rather, it is fair to call them Immemorial. You cannot imagine how far back their family goes. And they are all powerful, very powerful, and Pure-blood wizards and witches."
"Oh..."
Meanwhile, Altair and Fruska entered the shop of magical creatures, inspecting the owls on the ground floor.
The attendant was extremely nervous and quiet, recognising both the House crest and the boy whose image had appeared in the newspapers and Hogwarts Weekly. The true reason for his silence was that Altair had requested he not speak.
After looking for a while, the young Black stopped before a snowy owl, a male with beautiful white feathers and intelligent golden eyes, which gazed at him as if trying to see into his soul.
"He will do. Send him to the counter," he instructed, and the attendant quickly bowed and took up the cage.
Altair then went up to the first floor, where truly magical creatures were displayed.
He looked around before stopping in front of a beautiful half-Kneazle: big amber eyes, large ears, a doll-like face, tufted tail, and a moderately spotted, creamy-brown, fluffy coat. More than anything, the kitten was super intelligent and affectionately leaned into his touch.
It was not an adult, but a kitten, about three months old, though already quite big and fluffy.
"You are a gift from me to a family member. Be good to her. She will be good to you."
The cat understood his words and obediently listened, letting out a soft meow.
He brought the cage down to the counter, paid for both pets, and told the man at the desk that these were for a girl with bushy brown hair, almost mane-like. He also left a letter for Hermione with the cat's cage, asking them to prepare the pet supplies and put them inside a storage bag.
Next, he visited the stationery shop and prepared another gift for the girl.
Once finished, he teleported away with Fruska to Ollivanders to do what he had actually come to Diagon Alley for.
The old man looked up in surprise when he entered, then smiled brightly.
"Mister Black, I wonder what brings you to me this morning. I hope it is not about a new wand, but seeing that wand in your holster, my worries are for nought."
"Good morning, Lord Ollivander." Altair bowed politely and approached the desk. "I am curious if you are interested in making wands with truly special cores, not lacking in comparison to those you typically use."
Garrick raised a curious brow at him, and the young Black smiled.
"What is it that you desire, Mister Black?"
"I wish to see you craft a wand. Any wand. I wish to observe the wandcrafting process myself."
"Interested in Wandcraft, I presume?"
"Wandlore," Altair corrected, and Garrick regarded him for a while before smiling again.
"I would agree to your request if you truly have a wand core that could tempt me to create a wand at once, Mister Black."
"Well then, I will hold you to your promise, Lord Ollivander." He smiled as he took out a vial containing four unicorn tail hairs. "Silvers."
The old man smiled as he picked up the vial and closely inspected the hairs inside.
"Truly unique, rare even among unicorns, but I have created several wands from the tail hairs of this very family..."
"These are a gift," Altair said, and the old man watched with interest as he took out another vial. "And this is a favour: Thestral hair. I hope you can create a wand from it. Ebony, thirteen inches. The wand and wood are a perfect match for Laetitia Roxana Rosier, who will visit your shop at the start of the New Year."
Garrick looked at him in surprise, then frowned at the core.
"Is it truly the best fit for her?" he asked.
"I am sure you will only give it to her if the wand would accept her, Lord Ollivander."
His words made the old man smile, and he nodded, examining the hair in the vial, which most people could not even see.
"A tricky core, and tempting. I do not use them because finding someone whom such a wand would choose is very rare. Ebony, yes, it fits. Perfect, in fact..." he mused. "I will do it, Mister Black, but this core is still not enough to tempt me to let you peek at my secrets."
Altair chuckled at his words.
"Thestral tail hairs are rare, very rare, and evaporate quickly. But I have already crafted a couple of wands with them before. One of them was your father's wand. Blackthorn, thirteen and a half inches."
"Which is why I am entrusting you with this request, Lord Ollivander. But do not worry. I have cores you have never worked with before; or so I hope." He smiled.
Now truly intrigued, he watched as Altair took out an ornate chest with serpentine patterns.
Altair drew his wand and cast an isolation barrier, then tapped the chest, which opened with a click.
Garrick froze when he saw a pair of iridescent emerald-green horns radiating oppressive magic.
He leaned closer to inspect them, sensing the powerful magic they contained. These were truly wand cores he had never used.
"The magical creature they belong to still lives."
"Yes, it shed these horns while still young. A natural process, and the horns have grown stronger over the years. They are more than thirteen centuries old."
Altair smiled at the shock on Garrick's face.
"A basilisk does not live so long."
"This one is special, I suppose. I do not know exactly when my ancestor collected these horns." He smiled at the horns. "They will do, right?"
"Tricky cores, truly tricky and fascinating." Garrick smiled and nodded. "Yes, they will do, Mister Black, but may I ask if you have your family's permission to give them to me?"
"Yes, I do." He assured the old man, whose smile brightened.
"Very well, I shall allow you to observe me craft a wand."
"Thank you, but I have another request; and perhaps a core you will never see again in your life."
"Oh?"
"The antithesis to the phoenix. The feather of the Noctis Corvum, the Death Raven." He smiled and watched the old man freeze.
Altair allowed him time to process the words, then took out a paper from from his pocket, containing the sketch and specifications of a wand.
"Thirteen inches, silver lime. I want the wand made exactly as I have designed it. Precisely as shown." He stressed, and Garrick stared at the design in awe, especially the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.
"May I ask who this wand is for, Mister Black?"
"It is for a girl who will visit your shop in February 1992," he informed the man but offered no further details.
"The core?"
Altair smiled as he reached inside his pocket and produced another small chest.
He handed it to Garrick, who opened it, stunned to see the magical feather of the Death Raven, preserved inside a small orb.
His hands trembled as he looked at it, appearing several years younger in an instant.
Seeing how excited the old man was, Altair laughed inwardly. He had been just as shocked when he discovered it in the chest alongside the two basilisk horns.
Salazar was truly fortunate to have come across such a precious wand core, and Altair was immensely grateful to his ancestor for permitting him to use it.
Old Garrick was still in a trance when the bell on the door chimed, and he instinctively closed the chest and looked up at the girl who entered.
"Ah, Miss McKinnon, what a pleasant surprise…"