[Note: Read up to Chapter - 80 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]
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"Was I up late, brother?"
Luna tilted her head, glancing at the now-closed door as she spoke.
"Not at all—your timing's spot on," Aris replied with a smile.
"Uncle Henry just had a few things to go over with me. All sorted now!"
"Brilliant!"
Luna giggled and wandered off toward the bathroom.
"Maybe we can have brekkie together?"
"Of course. I'm starving myself!"
Aris watched her go, then turned back and slipped the documents Henry had brought into the drawer of the desk.
Ten minutes later…
The girl reappeared, dressed in a crisp white, long-sleeved dress with a smart blue knitted jacket over the top.
"You're looking much more lively now," Aris said warmly, reaching out to ruffle her golden hair.
"Come on then, let's head down for some breakfast."
"Alright, brother!"
Luna nodded, clearly used to his touch and not the least bit bothered by it.
Before long, the two of them descended the stairs to the Leaky Cauldron's main floor.
Suddenly, a commotion broke out near the entrance—raised voices, surprised gasps, and a ripple of excitement spreading through the room.
"Harry Potter! That's really him!"
"He's back—I knew he'd turn up again!"
"Mr Potter, welcome back!"
"Blimey, Harry Potter—what an honour!"
When Aris reached the bar's main hall, he spotted a crowd gathered near the counter. At the centre stood a boy about his age.
The boy was a bit scrawny, his hair an unruly mess, and his clothes nothing to write home about—yet none of that seemed to matter to the onlookers.
Every pair of eyes was fixed on one thing: the lightning-shaped scar on the boy's forehead.
He was none other than the most talked-about figure in the wizarding world these days—the so-called Boy Who Lived, the saviour of the magical world: Harry Potter.
"Looks like we've just run into Harry Potter," Luna said quietly beside him with a hint of surprise.
"Judging by the timing, he should be starting at Hogwarts too."
"You know him as well?" Aris asked, raising an eyebrow.
It seemed that the only boy known to have survived a killing curse from You-Know-Who really was a household name.
"Mhm. He was on the front page of the Daily Prophet the day he was born. People in the wizarding world never really stopped talking about him," Luna said with a nod.
"Daddy mentioned him to me a few times too."
She paused, then added softly,
"But being famous that early on… I don't reckon it's done him much good. Especially when it's all tied to something so tragic."
Aris gave a thoughtful nod, then smiled slightly.
"Sounds like you understand him better than all the gawkers in this place."
"Hmm," Luna shrugged.
Meanwhile, Harry stood awkwardly at the counter, clearly overwhelmed. He wore the look of someone unused to the attention—his eyes darting nervously while the crowd jostled to shake his hand or ask him questions.
It was clear Harry had never been in a situation like this before.
Just then, a booming voice called out from beside the counter, "Alright, alright—our young Harry's still got to head down to Diagon Alley for his school bits. That's enough for today, yeah?"
The man was enormous—easily three metres tall—and his voice had a rough, gravelly edge to it.
The moment Aris laid eyes on him, he recognised him straightaway.
Rubeus Hagrid.
Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.
A half-giant with a heart as big as his boots.
"Come on, let's grab something to eat," Aris said, giving Luna's hand a gentle tug as they made their way towards the counter.
Meanwhile, Harry—now guided by Hagrid—had struck up a conversation with a nervous-looking wizard in a turban who stammered with every other word.
Aris gave the man a discreet once-over.
If memory served him right, that was none other than Professor Quirrell—the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who, unbeknownst to most, was playing host to the remnants of Lord Voldemort's parasitic soul.
Harry, bless him, hadn't the faintest clue.
Quirrell might've come across as timid and respectful now, but that man would very nearly kill him before the school year was out.
Of course, Harry Potter had the luck of the Chosen One. Even when backed into a corner, fate always found a way to pull him through.
"Hello, Mr Tom! Could you prepare breakfast for the two of us, please?"
Aris had no desire to get mixed up with Harry or Quirrell right now. He wasn't daft enough to reveal his own identity when things were still uncertain.
Let Harry run around duelling evil and saving the world. Aris had his own mess to deal with—namely, the headaches that came with inheriting an old pure-blood fortune.
"Right away, Mr. Shafiq!" Tom, the barman, gave a polite nod before disappearing behind the counter.
Old Tom clearly recognised Aris. With a respectful nod, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the back to prepare their breakfast.
"Hello, Harry Potter!"
As Aris was placing the order, Luna happened to pass by Harry and greeted him with her usual soft-spoken politeness.
"Oh—hello!" Harry replied, still looking a bit nervous.
He probably assumed Luna was just another little witch awestruck by the Boy Who Lived.
Just then, Hagrid's eyes landed on Aris.
"Alright there, lad? You wouldn't happen to be the Shafiq heir that's suddenly popped up, would you?"
There was a note of curiosity in his voice.
Aris raised an eyebrow, puzzled.
Seeing his confusion, Hagrid quickly waved a hand.
"Sorry, bit forward of me! I'm Hagrid—Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Dumbledore happened to mention your name, that's all. Stuck with me!"
"Most of the new first-years get an orientation from one of the professors. I reckon you've already met Professor McGonagall, yeah?"
At that, Aris nodded politely.
"Yes, I had quite the chat with Professor McGonagall."
Luna giggled at that, "Hehe…"
Aris didn't pay any attention to her and simply thought to himself, 'Though truth be told, if you ignored that faint look of frustration on her face when we wrapped up, it might even be fair to call it pleasant.'
"Shafiq, you say?"
Professor Quirrell, who'd been hanging around beside Harry, glanced over with a strange glint in his eye.
And just like that, the atmosphere in the Leaky Cauldron shifted again.
The crowd that had been trailing off turned their heads back towards Aris, conversations picking up in hushed tones.
"The Shafiq heir? So the rumours were true, then?"
"Blimey… a little boy inheriting more gold than he could spend in ten lifetimes—d'you reckon that's lucky or cursed?"
"Word is, half the pure-blood families are sharpening their knives, waiting for the chance to move in."
"Shh! Don't say that too loud. You know how those old families are—they won't want this kind of talk spreading."
"Poor lad… with wealth like that and no protection, who knows what kind of trouble he's in for?"
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Drop power Powerstonessssssssss!
[Note: Read up to Chapter - 80 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]