Inside the shop, a pale, thin boy stood on a stool while a witch pinned his robes.
Madam Malkin placed Harry on the stool beside him and began fitting his robes, glancing over.
"Mr. Morin, any suggestions?"
"For school, standard is fine," Morin said calmly. "Students should focus on studying. But add a few sets suitable for movement."
"Robes for movement?" Madam Malkin's interest was clearly piqued.
"Yes."
"Could you elaborate? Perhaps leave some design sketches?"
"Of course."
"My design studio is this way."
After finishing Harry's measurements, Madam Malkin led Morin away. When the other witch finished with the pale boy, she also left.
Only Harry and the boy remained.
"Hey, are you going to Hogwarts too?" the boy asked.
"Yes," Harry nodded.
"My dad's next door buying books. Mum's gone to get my wand," the boy said in an exaggerated drawl.
Something about his tone made Harry uncomfortable. It sounded practiced. A performance.
How ridiculous.
Harry had met Dumbledore. Truly powerful people were always relaxed. This kind of posturing was just irritating.
"Do you have your own broom?"
"No. School doesn't allow it."
"Yeah, I don't get that. I'm going to make my dad buy me one and sneak it in."
Dudley flashed through Harry's mind.
His irritation grew.
The boy kept talking-about Quidditch, about houses, about things he clearly enjoyed hearing himself say. Harry was quietly grateful for the lessons Morin had given him these past two days. Otherwise, he would've been completely lost.
Then the boy crossed a line.
"Was that your servant earlier?" he drawled. "Weird skin and eyes. Looks fine, but talks too much. Always pretending to be impressive. You should be careful-people like that might-"
"Shut up!"
Harry snapped.
"You are not allowed to talk about Morin like that!"
Power surged out of him.
The boy's mouth sealed shut.
He couldn't open it. He couldn't make a sound.
"Mmm!"
Panicking, the boy jumped off the stool, twisted his ankle, and fled the shop.
"Oh no," Harry thought.
"I've messed up."
He turned to find Morin-just as Morin and Madam Malkin emerged with a perfectly fitted robe.
"Morin!"
Harry called out, then froze.
What was he supposed to say?
That he accidentally made someone unable to speak?
"Oh?" Morin raised an eyebrow. "Looks like something happened."
Harry had never been so grateful for Morin's... awareness. He'd always assumed Morin could read situations too well and usually found it annoying.
Right now, it was a relief.
"At least I don't have to explain," Harry thought.
"There's nothing embarrassing about this," Morin said calmly. "You did the right thing."
"As for that child-if his family won't teach him how to speak properly, someone else will."
"What happened?" Madam Malkin asked.
The boy soon returned, still clutching his mouth. Anger and smugness twisted his expression. Beside him stood a tall, thin wizard with blond hair, gray eyes, and a snake-headed cane.
"Was it you who attacked my son?" the wizard demanded, pointing the cane at Harry.
Harry's heart leapt.
"Silence," Morin said.
This time, neither the boy nor the wizard could open their mouths.
"Accio wand," Morin said calmly.
He didn't use a wand.
The snake-headed cane writhed like a living thing before tearing itself free and flying into Morin's hand.
"Eighteen inches. Elm. Dragon heartstring. Embedded in a cane."
Morin examined it briefly.
"Questionable taste. But snakes... Death Eaters..."
He looked up.
"Voldemort?"
At the name, the wizard's pupils shrank. Terror flashed across his face as he staggered back.
"Halt."
The wizard froze from the waist down, upper body wobbling uselessly.
"Now listen carefully, Mr. Lucius Malfoy," Morin said evenly. "Whatever your son told you, this incident is his fault."
"If you want to use influence, I'll gladly teach you manners with strength. Never doubt a top-tier wizard."
"If you prefer to settle this with strength, I'll be waiting at Hogwarts."
"Oh. Introductions."
"I'm Morin. From China. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
"I welcome your revenge."
"You're on the school board, aren't you? Before you act, I suggest thinking carefully."
"Otherwise..."
Morin's gaze sharpened.
"As a former Death Eater, I wonder how much contact you still have with your master."
He waved his hand.
The spell lifted.
Lucius collapsed, robes disheveled.
"Oh-and this."
Morin tossed the cane back.
"Your technique is sloppy."
Lucius said nothing.
He fled with his son, who looked utterly broken.
"Mr. Morin," Madam Malkin said gently, "the Malfoys are very influential."
"I know," Morin shrugged. "But it's all built on bubbles. A former Death Eater?"
"If his family had nothing to hide, I'd be shocked."
"You're very bold," Madam Malkin said, shaking her head. "Saying that name outright."
After paying, they left the shop.
"Did I cause huge trouble?" Harry asked anxiously. "He's on the school board."
"Yes," Morin replied.
"And?"
Harry shook his head.
"Before acting, always consider the consequences," Morin said calmly. "And whether you can bear them."
"Do you know why Dumbledore commands such respect?"
"Because... he's strong?" Harry guessed.
"Yes."
Morin nodded.
"That's why he holds power. If he wanted, he could be Minister of Magic. He simply doesn't want it."
"When strength reaches a certain level, your options expand."
"The Dark Lord. Dumbledore."
"Both prove that."
"Of course," he added lightly, "it's better to do good."
Morin pointed ahead.
"We're here. Your final stop."
Harry looked up.
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