The Basilisk Wizard of Hogwarts

Harry Potter

"Mom, Dad, stop arguing. Let's just call them Kate and Lisa."

Ever since leaving the Owl Emporium, his parents had been bickering nonstop about the names for their two new owls.

Yes, two owls—one Eurasian eagle-owl and one snowy owl.

Unsurprisingly, the eagle-owl was chosen by his father Daniel, who insisted "bigger is better" when selecting pets. The majestic creature, with its 90-centimeter body and two-meter wingspan, was undeniably captivating—a fact Samel wholeheartedly agreed with. After all, none of the "Four Giants" in their home were shorter than 9 meters, with the 15-meter-long Rebecca being his personal favorite.

The snowy owl, of course, was his mother Claire's choice. Its snow-white feathers and regal demeanor had enchanted her at first sight. The compromise? Buying both: one to accompany Samel to Hogwarts, and another to stay home for correspondence.

As their naming dispute threatened to draw a crowd on the street, Samel decisively settled the matter.

The family continued their shopping spree. Samel lingered only briefly at the bookstore, grabbing essential textbooks and an extra copy of Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2. There would be plenty of time to explore the wizarding world later.

Purchasing cauldrons and potion ingredients proved uneventful, though Daniel became oddly insistent on a gilded self-stirring model—a gaudy contraption Samel deemed impractical. He could already imagine Professor Snape dunking his head into a cauldron if he dared bring that to Potions class.

"Mom, I still need robes. Let's go check."

Claire's eyes lit up at the mention of clothing. She practically dragged him to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions—after accidentally passing it three times due to her enthusiastic detours.

The tidy shop came as a relief after the chaotic wand shop, noisy pet store, grimy apothecary, and overcrowded bookstore that had given them a rather... authentic first impression of Diagon Alley.

"Dear, what can I do for you?"

"Three plain black Hogwarts robes, please."

"Of course!"

Madam Malkin measured Samel with practiced efficiency. He couldn't help noting that Ollivander had essentially done a robe-fitter's job during his wand selection. Simple charcoal-gray fabric flew across worktables under wand guidance, soon transforming into finished garments.

While Claire marveled at magical sewing techniques, Samel ignored his father's pleading looks and selected a sapphire-blue evening gown for her. The retro design accentuated her figure perfectly, enchanted with permanent Stain-Repelling Charms.

"Excuse me? I need Hogwarts robes..."

A timid voice interrupted their wait. They turned to see a scrawny boy in oversized clothes—emerald eyes peering through round glasses, a lightning-shaped scar visible beneath messy bangs.

"Harry Potter?"

"You know me?" The boy blinked as Samel instinctively uttered his name.

"Samel Gaunt. Hogwarts first-year. Pleasure." Samel extended his hand with easy confidence.

"Harry Potter. Also a first-year..." Harry shook it awkwardly, clearly unaccustomed to introductions.

As they chatted quietly during the wait, Samel subtly steered conversations. He felt neither particular fondness nor dislike for the Boy Who Lived—but Harry's innate talent for attracting trouble aligned perfectly with Samel's "Achievement System," which rewarded dramatic exploits. Whether they became genuine friends or mere allies depended entirely on how useful Potter proved to be.

To Harry, Samel seemed like sunlight personified—charismatic, mature beyond his years, and standing a full head taller. If I looked like that, Harry thought bitterly, Dudley wouldn't dare push me around.

The Gaunts watched their son's social maneuvering with hidden smiles. They knew better than anyone the icy calculation beneath Samel's warm exterior—it had taken three years of unwavering care to earn his trust.

"You must be Harry Potter! Is that oaf outside your servant?"

A drawling voice cut through the conversation. A pale, blond boy approached, hair slicked back with enough gel to withstand a hurricane.

"Draco Malfoy. You should learn to choose friends who... matter." The boy sneered at the Gaunts' Muggle-style clothing.

"Perhaps Malfoys should learn basic manners first," Samel retorted coolly, his gaze shifting to Narcissa Malfoy entering behind her son. Unconsciously, he activated his newly acquired skill—"Snape's Glare."

A bone-chilling aura enveloped Narcissa. She staggered back under the pressure, meeting eyes as cold as cursed ice.

"I think I know who matters, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said firmly, though Samel's sudden intensity unnerved him.

"Samel Gaunt. Send my regards to Lord Malfoy." Collecting his finished robes, Samel added to Harry: "Visit me at Royal Berkshire Wisteria Villas if you need an escape. We could travel to Hogwarts together."

As the Gaunts left, Daniel and Claire exchanged proud smiles. Their son had just announced the Gaunts' return to Britain's wizarding elite—using the Malfoys as his megaphone. Though the ancient family had declined, their residual influence guaranteed Samel a future seat in the Wizengamot, regardless of merit.

The game was afoot.