Before leaving, Louis grabbed a secondhand wand from Ollivander's shop and handed Garrick a list.
"Collect the materials on this for me, and send them over in September." Louis tapped the brim of his hat as he spoke.
Garrick glanced over the list. "These are… some very strange things."
"Doesn't matter, I'll be the one using them." Louis set his hat firmly on his head. "Goodbye."
"Why not stay for dinner?" Garrick checked the time. "Can you even make it home by now?"
"Of course I can. I've still got time to buy books."
It was already six in the evening. Normally, it would take two hours to get home from central London. But Louis wasn't normal—he could fly back.
After leaving Ollivanders, Louis stopped by Flourish and Blotts to buy a full set of Gilderoy Lockhart's books.
Even though the official book list for the coming term hadn't been released yet, Louis had a good idea. First, Lockhart's complete series, then only Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2.
That shameless Lockhart would definitely force every one of his books into the curriculum, making a fortune in the process. A set was already absurdly expensive—and once Hogwarts confirmed the book list, prices would soar even higher.
Louis felt annoyed, but it didn't matter. He'd be seeing plenty of Lockhart next term, and he'd settle the score then.
He left his address with the shopkeeper and arranged for the books to be delivered to his home. Carrying nothing but his new wand, Louis set out for home.
The wand was once again encased in elder wood, its core a dragon's nerve—Garrick's fallback attempt at making something close to the Elder Wand.
The combination wasn't particularly special; in fact, its casting power was a little weaker than most. But Louis wasn't picky. He didn't rely on magic anyway.
Invisibility—takeoff—Louis sped back home at supersonic speed. But just as he landed at his doorstep, ready for dinner, something in his spiritual vision caught his attention.
There was a patch of unnatural refraction, like a half-transparent dwarf shifting about nervously.
Invisible to the naked eye, but in his spiritual sight, nothing could hide.
Louis frowned and instinctively swept it with his spiritual power.
Perception was different from scanning. The former was undetectable, but the latter gave the target the sensation of being watched.
Once swept, the transparent silhouette began trembling violently. Within moments, the magic failed, revealing a small, shabby-looking house-elf.
Clutched in its hands was an owl—clearly Confunded, its eyes glassy with confusion.
The Confundus Charm was a precursor to the Obliviate. Obliviate erased memories; Confundus scrambled the current ones, leaving the victim unable to recall what they'd just done.
This poor owl had been intercepted mid-flight, its letter stolen.
The elf had intended to release it, but under the pressure of Louis's mental sweep, it froze—forgetting to let go.
The owl finally came to its senses. Seeing the elf still gripping it tightly, it flew into a rage, stabbing its sharp beak into the elf's arm and tearing a hole.
The elf cried out in pain and instinctively released it. The furious owl squawked curses as it fled.
Not that it mattered. The letter was already gone, and the owl had been tricked into thinking its delivery complete.
But now the elf felt a much greater danger looming over it. Something terrifying had fixed its gaze on him—something far worse than a dragon.
He had to run—fast!
...
"That was Dobby, huh? Already stirring up trouble this early?" Louis watched the sneaky little house-elf scuttle away but made no move to stop him.
Dobby was the Malfoy family's house-elf. Out of gratitude to Harry Potter—who had slain Voldemort and changed the lives of house-elves from utter misery to barely scraping by—he had come to repay him… or perhaps avenge him.
"Well, calling it revenge isn't wrong either. His brain doesn't exactly work right, and he thinks in ways no one else does. Even among house-elves, he's an oddball," Louis muttered to himself as he watched Dobby Disapparate in a hurry.
A house-elf, a wizard's slave, the Malfoy family's full-time steward—Dobby's days were always piled high with work. Yet he still found time to "help" Harry, which was no small effort.
Too bad his way of helping was far too brutal—like intercepting Harry's letters in an attempt to make him despair of the wizarding world and never return.
But how could Dobby know? For Harry Potter, the wizarding world was salvation. There was no way he would ever give it up.
And Dumbledore would never allow him to, either.
"…Wait. Could Dobby's magic affect me too?" Louis frowned, tapping his forehead in annoyance.
Harry would be warned for using magic outside school, especially in front of Muggles, because of Dobby. But Louis lived just across the street—could the Ministry mix up their positions?
That seemed very possible…
"Troublesome. If it's near my house, I can't let Dio Brando or the Dark Assassin show up. Am I going to have to handle it myself?"
Still frowning, Louis went home, ate an ordinary dinner, and flopped down on his bed.
"Ugh, forget it. Worst case, I'll just go to Dumbledore. He can't possibly expel a descendant of Merlin, right?"
With that half-joking thought, Louis gave up worrying.
Over the next few days, once he finished his summer homework, Louis continued practicing stage magic in his spare time.
According to Mr. Wilson, in another two years Louis could try performing on stage. Since close-up tricks weren't suited for large audiences, Mr. Wilson was already teaching him the essentials of big-stage magic.
Stage performances, huh… That could be a good way to earn Trick Points. Muggles might give fewer points individually, but there were so many of them. A flawless show in front of a thousand people could rival the points he'd earned in the last semester's grand scam.
So Louis studied diligently.
In between practice sessions, he often sensed Dobby's presence.
The elf came nearly every day. Though his bond would summon him back for chores, whenever he had free time he rushed over to intercept letters.
Diligent, hardworking—and utterly unreasonable.
This constant meddling left Harry depressed for quite a while. It also worried others.
Because none of them were receiving Harry's replies.
On Louis's birthday, he got a card from Ron Weasley—along with a letter asking if he knew how Harry was doing.
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