HP :Pokemon In Horgwart

Magnus stared at a handful of coins in his palms.

'I should run for it,' he thought.

Looking around, no one seemed to spare even a glance at him. He could disappear, and no one would even bother.

Honesty was a virtue that did not come easy to the likes of him. As a matter of fact, it did not exist in the street vocabulary.

Back there, only necessity ruled. you did what you had to do to beat yet another day.

And right now, what he needed was money, and here was money. Right in his palms.

'He trusted you… the man trusted you,' an alien voice whispered to him.

Consideration.

This too was an enemy of necessity. He shouldn't even spare a thought about anyone but himself.

Besides, it wouldn't be stealing… and he also had places to go. Otherwise, he would have waited for the man to return.

'Huh, like hell you would,' that cocky voice sneered. 'Still, he will find you. This is not your usual London, you know… this is freaking Harry Potter . There is magic in the picture. He will find you.'

The voice had shifted now from consideration to logic, and logic was something Magnus never ignored.

"Damn," he cursed, feeling the excitement that had begun to build deflate like a punctured balloon.

"We wait, then."

"Crack."

Magnus recoiled as the man appeared just a foot from where he was.

'Bless the gods for logic,' Magnus whispered inwardly.

The man now carried both his pouch and the Meowth, which looked limp but whose eyes were surprisingly still glaring at the coins in Magnus's hand as he handed them back to the man.

"Here… I think I got all of them."

The wizard's suspicious eyes studied him for a few seconds before he set the limp Pokémon down and accepted his money.

He was still glancing at Magnus, as if trying to pick any sign of deceit, but he found none.

"Well… you have my deepest gratitude, kid," he said as he handed Magnus a gold galleon.

Magnus stared at him in disbelief. He knew enough about wizard currency to recognize how generous this was.

"It's really not necessary, sir," Magnus said.

He desperately needed the money, but this felt like too much for just helping someone gather scattered coins.

The man could have easily done it himself with some spell, had he not been in such a flustered state.

"A modest lad too, I see. You've got the right upbringing, boy. I, however, must insist."

Magnus was sure his behavior had nothing to do with his upbringing. If anything, had he nicked the coin, that might have been blamed on where he came from.

On the other hand, saying no to money wasn't exactly an option.

Magnus had learned to survive modern life well enough, but now he'd been thrown back into the nineteens. Figuring out how things worked here would take time—time his needs didn't care about. He had to eat. And in a few hours, night would fall, and he'd have to find a way to brave the cold.

"Thank you so much, sir," Magnus said, his gratitude genuine as he accepted the galleon.

The man smiled and turned to leave, but after a few steps, he hesitated, his eyes sweeping over Magnus with the air of someone who wanted to say something but wasn't sure how to start.

For a brief second, Magnus's smile wavered. Maybe the guy had realized something didn't add up. Or maybe he'd just remembered he'd handed over a gold galleon instead of a sickle. Either way, why was he staring so intently?

"Hey, kid, are you waiting for someone? You looked a bit stranded earlier. First time in Diagon Alley?"

Magnus blinked, caught off guard.

That wasn't the question he'd been expecting. His instinct screamed at him to lie—what if someone from St. Mungo's or the Ministry was already after him? He couldn't risk giving away his whereabouts.

"Yes," he answered.

The man's eyebrows rose in surprise, but no one looked more baffled than Magnus himself.

That wasn't what he wanted to say. Somehow, his mouth was working against him.

"Is that so? But how… You're old enough to have been here at least once… unless—" The man trailed off, his expression growing more intrigued by the second.

"You can't be a Muggle; they can't even get through the barriers, can they? Are your parents Muggles, sonny?"

It was a simple question, but to Magnus, it felt loaded.

He'd never known his parents. The story at the children's home was that he'd been left at their gates, and he'd never cared enough to dig deeper.

But now… now it felt worth wondering.

Was his mother a Muggle or a witch? Did she know he had magic? Or was that why she abandoned him—had something happened when he was little? Had he done something that freaked her out?

The thoughts raced through his head before he pushed them aside.

This stranger didn't need to know any of it.

"I never knew my parents," Magnus said flatly. Not like someone who was sad about it—just someone who didn't care.

And honestly, he didn't. But that didn't change the fact that he hadn't planned to share that detail. His mouth, apparently, had other ideas.

Maybe it was the man's disarming kindness, or maybe his survival instinct had kicked in, sensing this guy could help him. Either way, his honesty was running wild, and at this rate, he'd be spilling his life story like he was drunk on Viking mead.

The man's curiosity deepened. In fact, he turned back fully, pulled out his wand, and mumbled something.

The Meowth on the ground stirred, looking completely healed.

To Magnus's surprise, the creature didn't scamper away. Instead, it rubbed its head against the man's robes while staring at Magnus's hand with unsettling intensity.

Not taking any chances, Magnus quickly shoved the galleon into his pocket.

"Sorry about that… So, you live with your grandparents then?"

In all honesty, Magnus couldn't understand why the man cared so much—or why he himself hadn't walked away by now.

Maybe it was fate. That was the only explanation for why he kept talking. It felt like when someone drank Felix Felicis and just knew nothing could go wrong.

"No, I live on the streets, sir. The Muggle streets."

Magnus breathed out slowly. For all his honesty, even he knew there were limits.

No way was he going to mention that those streets belonged to a world where this man was nothing more than a fictional character.

"Merlin's beard… You don't mean you're one of those kids… Why, I've met them myself! Even hired a few to help me harvest berries on my farm."

Magnus wanted to ask if there were homeless kids in the magical world too but quickly realized the answer for himself.

With magic, someone like Mundungus Fletcher was probably as bad as it got.

The man seemed to take Magnus's silence as confirmation and continued, "So… how did you find out? Oh, you must've gotten your Hogwarts letter, didn't you?"

"Yes," he said curtly, hoping to end this disturbing line of inquiry. Even honesty had its limits.

The guy was silent for a while, and Magnus turned to leave.

"Wait."

Magnus turned, looking almost frustrated. He was hungry, and he was dying to use his newly found galleon to find something to eat.

"I was thinking…" The man hesitated, clearly trying to find the words.

"I do have some deliveries here, and truthfully, I am in need of a hand… if you are… I mean, if you want to make some more galleons, I would…"

"Yes… yes, I will… I mean, I will do… anything," Magnus rambled, even before the man was done voicing his request.

God, what was there to think of? A short while ago, he had been about to rob a man. Perhaps the universe was rewarding his honesty… well, it was more fear, but it had ultimately led to honesty. In any case, who was contending?