Vernon Dursley had no way to stop Harry from going to Hogwarts—especially since Hagrid had already decided to take him to Diagon Alley the next morning to buy his school supplies.
Tonight, Hagrid wasn't going anywhere. He was going to stay right there and keep an eye on them.
Charles Gold wasn't a particularly harsh man. Seeing how cold it was, he conjured up a fire to warm the place. The warmth spread quickly, making both Harry and the Dursleys feel much more comfortable.
The next morning, Hagrid was ready to take Harry to Diagon Alley. However, once he found Harry, he couldn't use magic himself anymore.
"Hey, Charles, d'ye think yer Pidgeot could carry me?" Hagrid asked sheepishly.
"Of course," Charles replied with a chuckle. "But it'll have to grab you by its claws. You're… a bit big for its back."
Pokémon strength was nothing to doubt, but Hagrid's sheer size meant there was no way the bird could fit them all on its back.
"Come on up, Harry."
Charles released his Pidgeot, beckoning Harry to climb up behind him.
At eleven, Harry was still quite small.
As he touched the soft feathers on Pidgeot's back in awe, the bird suddenly let out a sharp cry—
"Caw!"
The next instant, a rush of wind hit Harry's face, whipping through his hair.
"Whoa—we're flying!" he shouted, stretching out a hand to touch a passing cloud.
Before long, they arrived at Diagon Alley. Everywhere Harry went, people stared, whispered, and welcomed him with curious excitement.
Charles noticed, however, that Quirinus Quirrell was nowhere to be seen.
Apparently, word had already reached Voldemort—that Charles had publicly handed over that secret package to Dumbledore two days ago.
It was a small deviation from the original timeline, but Charles didn't care much. Dumbledore would surely still find a way to let Harry learn about the Philosopher's Stone, one way or another.
In truth, Charles had told Dumbledore about the Horcruxes years ago—every single one of them, along with their locations. Yet Dumbledore hadn't taken any direct action.
He already knew that Harry himself was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Eliminating Voldemort could have been simple, but destroying him while keeping Harry alive—that was another matter entirely.
Charles had once proposed the simplest solution: to remove Harry as well, ending Voldemort completely. Predictably, Dumbledore had rejected the idea.
Now, despite knowing so much, Dumbledore seemed destined to follow the same path as before—using the Horcruxes not just as obstacles, but as tools for Harry's growth.
Still, it wasn't only Harry who drew attention that day. Charles found that he, too, had suddenly become something of a celebrity. Many people glanced at him in secret, but none dared to approach.
"They all seem kinda scared o' yeh, Professor Gold," Harry asked curiously.
At that, Hagrid burst into laughter before Charles could even reply.
"'Course they are! Anyone who can take on a dozen pure-blood families at once and walk away without a scratch—well, that'll make folks nervous. But don't yeh worry, those lot aren't exactly good people anyhow."
"Let's not tell that to the kid," Charles muttered. The last thing he wanted was for his "legendary exploits" to spread through Hogwarts and inspire imitators.
Afterward, Hagrid took Harry to Gringotts to withdraw some money, but he seemed rather carsick from the goblins' wild cart ride.
"Charles, yeh take Harry to get his robes done first. I'll nip into the Leaky Cauldron fer a drink—clear me head a bit."
So Charles led Harry to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. When they arrived, a pale-faced boy was already standing on a stool, being fitted for his robes.
—Draco Malfoy.
Charles remembered that among the pure-bloods he had recently defeated, Lucius Malfoy had been one of them.
It hadn't originally been any of Lucius's business. During Charles's school years, there hadn't even been a Malfoy enrolled at Hogwarts.
But Lucius—perhaps seeking influence among the other pure-bloods—had chosen to get involved.
Charles wasn't sure if Draco knew anything about it. Still, as a teacher who had just beaten up his student's father, he couldn't help feeling a little awkward.
Draco soon noticed Harry and Charles. He shot Charles a puzzled glance, not recognizing him, then turned his attention to Harry—someone his own age.
Perhaps he assumed Charles was Harry's guardian and took it for granted that Harry wasn't from a Muggle family.
He began speaking to Harry, his tone dripping with casual arrogance.
"Hey, you're going to Hogwarts too?"
"Yes," Harry said.
"My mother's next door buying my books. My father's been busy lately—important Ministry business. Otherwise, he'd have come with me." Draco spoke lazily, as if boasting.
He clearly believed his father was away on some grand errand. In reality, Lucius Malfoy was lying in a hospital bed. Charles suspected Narcissa had deliberately kept that from him—and had hidden the latest Daily Prophet as well.
"Is he your brother?" Draco asked, nodding toward Charles.
Harry shook his head.
"Actually," Charles replied mildly, "I'm your professor this term."
"You came with a professor?" Draco blinked in surprise, then said loftily, "Well, that's not too unusual, I suppose. My father's a Hogwarts governor, you know. I'll bet I can get him to let me bring a broomstick in my first year."
"You have your own broomstick?" Harry asked.
"No."
"Have you played Quidditch before?"
"No."
"I have," Draco said smugly. "Father says if I don't make my House team, it'd be a disgrace—and I agree. Do you know which House you'll be in?"
"No idea."
"Of course, no one knows for sure until they arrive," Draco continued. "But I know I'll be in Slytherin—everyone in my family has been. If I got put in Hufflepuff, I'd probably leave school altogether. Don't you think?"
Harry had no idea what he was talking about. The more Draco spoke, the more Harry felt just how little he knew about the wizarding world—an uncomfortable, shrinking feeling.
"There's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff," Charles said calmly, raising an eyebrow.
Draco ignored him entirely.
Charles sighed inwardly. No wonder Harry and this kid never became friends. He really was insufferable.
If this had been back in his own school days, Charles would've "taught him a lesson" already. But now, as a proper, respectable professor, he couldn't very well bully his own students.
Just then, Draco turned to glance out the window.
"Look—my mother's here."
Moments later, Narcissa Malfoy stepped inside.
"Mother!" Draco called eagerly. "I've met a classmate! He's here with a professor. Can Hogwarts really have professors this young?"
His words drew Narcissa's attention. Her elegant face turned toward Charles—
—and instantly went pale as parchment.
"I think he's too young to be a professor, don't you?" Draco continued, oblivious. "If Father were here, I'd ask him to have a word with the Headmaster about Hogwarts' hiring standards."
"Shut up, Draco!"
Your father?Your father's lying in the hospital—because this is the man who beat him up!
(End of Chapter)