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Harry had been at Ollivander's for quite a while. He had arrived around noon, and now it was already late afternoon. After taking just a few steps outside, Harry spotted Hagrid scanning the area.
"Over here, Hagrid!" Harry waved enthusiastically, and the giant saw him right away.
"I thought you got lost." Hagrid laughed heartily, handing Harry an envelope.
"Dedalus Diggle sent this to you. They overheard what you said earlier, and everyone was really happy."
"What?" Harry scratched his head in confusion.
"We've forgotten too much. Those heroes are the ones we should always remember."
Hagrid patted Harry on the shoulder and wiped his eyes with his large hand. "You're great too, Harry. You reminded us of something important. Diggle went to the trouble of getting this for you—a photo of your parents."
He pressed the envelope into Harry's hands. "You're a good lad. Honest, righteous, and upright."
"Thank you." Harry accepted the envelope, a bit embarrassed. He smiled awkwardly. "Thanks to you and Mr. Diggle."
"Have you bought everything yet? That backpack looks nice. Dragon hide, right?"
"I spent a lot of time at Ollivander's getting my wand. He gave me the backpack as a gift. He's a really great person. I haven't bought the rest of my things yet, but I'm just about to."
"Hahaha, choosing a wand is definitely worth the time and effort. We've still got plenty of time."
"Go ahead and buy your school uniform first. I just remembered I have something to pick up. I'll meet you later."
Hagrid dropped Harry off at the entrance of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions before striding away with his usual giant steps.
Madam Malkin, a short and plump witch dressed in purple, greeted him with a beaming smile.
"Looking for Hogwarts uniforms, dear?" she asked, not waiting for Harry to speak. "We have plenty in stock. In fact, there's someone trying on some robes right now. Hogwarts uniforms are wonderful, and you'll look even more wonderful in them!"
With twenty-five years of tailoring experience, Madam Malkin had a sharp eye. She immediately noticed Harry's lean, muscular frame—perfect for displaying clothes. She loved customers like this because no matter how good her craftsmanship was, if the person wearing the robes didn't have the right build, they could never carry off the outfit.
Harry glanced inside the shop. In front of a full-length mirror stood a blonde girl, comparing several different robes. Her skin was pale—an unhealthy, almost bloodless kind of pale—that gave her a somewhat sickly, vampire-like appearance.
Harry wasn't particularly drawn to this type of girl. He preferred those who were healthy, radiant, and athletic—qualities that this girl did not possess.
"Hey." The girl caught sight of Harry's reflection in the mirror and frowned. Her tone was laced with irritation. "What are you staring at?"
She shot a disdainful glance at Harry, then sneered as she spat out a word Harry had never heard before, though he understood its meaning: "Mudblood."
"If you're so flat, don't bother with the tight fit. You can't pull it off," Harry retorted, smirking in mockery. "What's there to hesitate about?"
"You rude brat! Didn't your parents teach you any manners?"
The girl, now showing her face fully, bared her teeth in anger, her cheeks tinged with a faint flush. Her words were sharp.
"First of all, my name isn't 'hey.' Secondly, what exactly is there to look at? And lastly, if your parents didn't raise you properly—"
While speaking, Harry had already stepped up to her. With a swift motion, he flicked her forehead with a crisp snap.
"I won't go easy on you."
"What, you think everyone in the world answers to your parents?"
Completely caught off guard by the sudden confrontation, Madam Malkin was flustered. She quickly approached, trying to calm the situation.
"Miss Cassandra…"
But before she could finish, the girl harshly shoved her away, her voice cold. "Get away from me."
Her eyes locked on Harry with a venomous glare, as if she were a snake about to strike. The small red mark on her pale forehead, left by Harry's flick, stood out vividly.
"I'll remember you, Mudblood!" she hissed, lifting her chin arrogantly.
"Who said you could leave?" Harry said, blocking her path with his arm resting against a wardrobe.
"A pureblood witch, right?"
He eyed her finely tailored outfit, guessing correctly without hesitation.
"Cassandra Malfoy," she declared haughtily.
"Cough... What?"
Harry, coughing from surprise, was a little dumbfounded. Something about this felt off.
But it seemed the girl in front of him had misinterpreted his reaction. Cassandra's pride swelled even more. Folding her arms, she scoffed, "If you're scared, then get lost. Stop being an eyesore."
"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time," Harry said, pushing aside his scattered thoughts. His wand, once just a piece of wood, had become ebony and ivory—he should be more accepting of this world now.
"Maybe I should be clearer."
Harry crossed his arms, his chest muscles bulging visibly. This only darkened Cassandra's face with anger.
"Apologize."
"What?!" she exclaimed, looking at Harry with disbelief.
"Me?" She pointed to herself. "Apologize?"
"Ha!"
It was as if she had heard the funniest joke. She burst into laughter. "You think you're worthy of—"
Snap!
Another flick, this one much harder than the first. Cassandra winced in pain, tears springing to her eyes as she staggered back a step. Harry took a deep breath, his muscles swelling, his frame growing even more imposing.
"Your parents should have taught you how to speak to others properly."
Harry stepped forward, the heat of his presence becoming almost overwhelming.
"Mudblood. That's not a very nice word, is it, Miss Malfoy?"
"Do you really think being pureblood means something? Makes you better than everyone else?" Harry's lips curled into a mocking smile. "The less someone has, the more they cling to what they do have. By the way, only animals care about pure bloodlines because it makes them worth more money. Why are you, a human, fighting over it? Or maybe you feel inferior and need to inflate your worth?"
"You—"
"I said, apologize."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "I don't want to say it a third time."
His voice grew cold as he loomed over her.
There was a long silence before a small voice muttered, "I-I'm sorry."
"Hmm?"
"I said, I'm sorry!" she spat, practically grinding her teeth, unable to win verbally or physically. Defeated on all fronts, Cassandra had no choice but to swallow her pride.
"Good. It seems there's hope for you yet."
Harry turned his back on her and walked over to place his backpack on a nearby chair. He removed his jacket, revealing a well-toned torso outlined by his tight black T-shirt.
"Madam Malkin, could you take my measurements? Use high-quality, breathable fabric—the best you have."
The confrontation had finally come to an end. Madam Malkin, momentarily stunned, quickly snapped back to action and began measuring Harry. She cast an awkward glance at Cassandra, who was still clutching her clothes, but the girl didn't notice.
Soon, Harry's measurements were complete. Aside from the robes, Hogwarts uniforms also included a few practical sets for physical activities. Cassandra had been picking out from those earlier.
"I'll take this one," Cassandra said coolly to Madam Malkin, tossing her selected outfit aside. Harry glanced over—it was the third set, the one he had suggested. Though she wasn't particularly curvy, she did have a slim waist.
"Name," she demanded.
"You're asking me?"
Their eyes met again, the cold tension still there.
"Harry Potter. We'll be seeing each other at Hogwarts soon, Cassandra Malfoy."
"I'll remember you," she muttered, narrowing her eyes before turning to leave.
"By the way, just curious—do you have a brother or a cousin named Draco?"
Cassandra paused for a moment, then snorted, lifting her chin. "My brother."
After she left, Harry put his jacket back on and stretched.
"Well, well, the world just got a little more interesting."
(End of Chapter)