Harry Potter: The Heir to Hufflepuff

The shopkeeper faded into the background as I picked up the small glass box with both hands. The Bowtruckle tilted its head at me, its tiny eyes watching my every move. Slowly, I unlatched the top of the box and lifted it open.

"What are you doing?!" the shopkeeper shouted, panic rising in his voice. He started rushing toward me, arms flailing in alarm. "Are you mad? Close that right now! That thing'll claw your face off!"

I held up a hand to stop him, my other hand remaining steady as I set the lid aside. "Relax," I said, my voice calm and firm. "I've got this."

The Bowtruckle didn't flinch or retreat. Instead, it cautiously stretched one of its spindly legs forward, testing the edge of the glass. Then, as if it had decided I was safe, it climbed out and onto my hand. Its tiny claws tickled as it gripped my fingers, moving with an almost graceful certainty.

The shopkeeper froze in place, his mouth agape. "Well, I'll be..." he muttered, his earlier panic replaced by disbelief.

I brought my hand up to eye level, the Bowtruckle sitting calmly in my palm. Its twig-like body was delicate but sturdy, its little leafy "head" giving it a faintly whimsical look. I could feel the connection between us, a subtle thread of understanding.

"Hey there, little guy," I said softly. It tilted its head at me, as if waiting.

I thought for a moment before smiling. "How about Twig?"

The Bowtruckle shifted slightly, as if considering the name, before patting my thumb with its tiny hand. It wasn't much, but I took it as a sign of approval.

"Well, Twig it is, then," I said, grinning.

The shopkeeper let out a long breath, shaking his head. "I've been in this business for decades, and I've never seen anything like that. You've got a real gift, kid."

I carefully coaxed Twig back into the glass box, leaving the lid open so he wouldn't feel trapped. "How much for him?" I asked.

The shopkeeper scratched his head, still looking stunned. "For you? Ten Galleons. But only because he seems to like you. Otherwise, I wouldn't even consider selling him."

"Deal," I said, handing over the money without hesitation.

With Twig's box safely in hand, I turned my attention to the owls. It didn't take long to find one—a sleek, snowy white owl with piercing amber eyes. She stared at me with an almost regal air, and I knew immediately she was the one.

"How much for her?" I asked, nodding toward the owl.

The shopkeeper smiled. "Fifteen Galleons. She's a beauty, that one."

"Perfect," I said, handing over the payment.

With Twig's box in one hand and the owl's cage in the other, I rejoined McGonagall near the door. She raised an eyebrow at the Bowtruckle but didn't say anything, her expression somewhere between curiosity and approval.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Ready," I replied, balancing my new companions as we stepped out into the bustling street of Diagon Alley.

--

As the day wore on, McGonagall led me from shop to shop, ticking items off the Hogwarts supply list. Cauldrons, robes, quills, potions ingredients—you name it, I got it. With my new-found wealth, I spared no expense. Why settle for standard when you could get dragon-hide gloves instead of regular ones, or a self-stirring cauldron that made brewing potions look effortless? Even the shopkeepers seemed surprised by my insistence on the "best of the best," though none of them complained once I started pulling out Galleons.

McGonagall, on the other hand, alternated between exasperation and amusement. "You don't need a self-replenishing inkpot, Mr. Hufflepuff," she said at one point, eyeing my purchase skeptically.

"Need?" I replied with a grin. "Maybe not. But it'll save me time, won't it?"

She shook her head, muttering something about impractical extravagance under her breath, but didn't press further.

By the time we finished, my bag—a soft, enchanted leather satchel I'd found in the Hufflepuff vault—was filled to the brim. The bag was one of the best things I'd come across all day. Despite its size, it held far more than it should have, thanks to a bit of magic, and it barely weighed a thing. Everything I bought—books, robes, potions ingredients, even the small, protective cage for Twig—fit neatly inside.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the bustling alley, McGonagall glanced at her watch. "Well, that's everything," she said, her tone brisk but satisfied. "Hogwarts term begins next week. I'll return to fetch you and take you to King's Cross Station. The train departs promptly at eleven o'clock."

"Got it," I said, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder.

She turned toward the street, her gaze thoughtful. "Will you be returning to the orphanage until then?"

I shook my head almost immediately. "Actually," I said, glancing toward the Leaky Cauldron just a short walk down the alley, "I was thinking of renting a room there for the week. It's closer to the shops in case I forgot anything."

McGonagall studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable, then gave a curt nod. "Very well. That's a sensible decision. I'll inform the orphanage that you won't be returning."

"Thanks," I said, genuinely relieved.

As we walked back to the Leaky Cauldron, the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley began to settle down. The golden glow of the setting sun bathed the cobblestones, and shopkeepers started closing up for the day.

Inside the Leaky Cauldron, the warm, the hum of quiet conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the flicker of candlelight made it feel alive.

I approached the bar and spoke with Tom, the innkeeper, who happily rented me a cozy room for the week. The cost was more than reasonable—almost suspiciously so—but I didn't question it. After all, I wasn't exactly short on Galleons anymore.

McGonagall lingered for a moment, watching as I arranged the details. Once everything was settled, she placed a hand on my shoulder. "You'll be all right, Mr. Hufflepuff," she said firmly, as if willing it to be true. "Remember, I'll be back to take you to the station."

"I'll be fine," I assured her.

She gave me one last approving nod before walking away, leaving me standing there with my bag, Twig, and my owl, which I had named Ria.

{Word Count - 1066}