A gentle breeze drifted through the air outside, carrying with it the warmth of sunlight and the scent of wild grass.
Beneath the plane tree stood a girl with long, messy dark golden-brown hair that reached her waist. Her eyebrows and eyes were very pale in color. She wore earrings made from Dirigible Plums, and around her neck hung a necklace strung with Butterbeer corks.
"How did you know I was in the study? The front door and my room are both on the other side," Matthew asked, a little puzzled that she had called out to him from beneath the study window.
"I saw Wrackspurts flying into that room, so I thought you'd be there," the girl said dreamily, her voice drifting like a soft melody.
"Wrackspurts?"
Luna replied in her usual airy tone, "Wrackspurts… they're invisible. They fly into your ears and make your brain go fuzzy."
"Matthew, the Thunderbird egg you gave me is about to hatch."
Suddenly remembering why she had come, Luna opened the box in her arms. Inside was a golden Thunderbird egg.
Cracks had already spread across its surface, and through them, faint hints of feathers could be seen.
Matthew examined the egg closely, a hint of surprise crossing his face.
"That's no easy feat."
He had picked up this Thunderbird egg from a Dark wizard and given it to Luna as a birthday gift. More than six months had passed since then, and despite trying many methods, neither of them had managed to hatch it.
Luna said cheerfully, "I wrote to Grandpa Newt. He told me to apply sunflower pollen to the egg every day. If I do that for three weeks, it will hatch."
Matthew raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Newt Scamander? The magizoologist who wrote Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?"
Luna nodded. "Grandpa Newt used to submit articles to The Quibbler. I asked Dad for his contact information and sent him a pair of Dirigible Plum earrings."
…That was very much like her.
At that moment, movement came from inside the box.
The cracks on the golden egg rapidly widened. Through the gaps, a small creature could be seen struggling to break free. Faint chirping sounds could even be heard.
After a short while, a beak shaped like that of an eagle broke through the shell, and a tiny Thunderbird pushed its way out.
Luna beamed with delight at the sight of the hatchling.
"We should build it a nest up there," she said, pointing to the plane tree nearby.
Matthew hesitated slightly. "Why here? I'm heading back to school next week—I won't be able to take care of it."
Tilting her head, Luna looked at him with a gentle smile.
"I think it will like it here. I can come visit it every day."
Matthew looked into her pale eyes, half-hidden beneath crescent-shaped lids, and replied softly:
"Alright."
...
The next morning—London, Charing Cross Road, Westminster.
With a faint distortion in the air, Matthew appeared at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron.
Though a person had just appeared out of thin air, the nearby pedestrians paid no attention at all.
He stepped inside.
The bar stood straight ahead. The place was hot, noisy, dim, and worn with age.
The moment Matthew entered, the chatter inside fell silent for a brief second.
Old Tom stood behind the counter, polishing a glass. He waved at Matthew.
"Hey! Black! You're here. Fancy a drink?"
Matthew nodded with a smile. "A Butterbeer."
In the wizarding world, Butterbeer was a non-alcoholic drink, suitable for all ages—more like a soft beverage than actual beer.
Tom poured him a glass and said, "This one's on me. Thanks for the Cure for Boils."
Then, Tom glanced around cautiously and leaned in slightly.
"Someone's got their eye on you."
After saying that, he returned to polishing his glass as if nothing had happened.
Matthew looked at him in confusion, but Tom gave no further reaction.
Matthew silently took a sip of his Butterbeer.
Someone was watching him?
He carefully thought back to anyone he might have offended.
…That list was far too long.
Though he was a descendant of the Black family, his grandfather had been disowned.
After being sorted into Slytherin, trouble had followed him constantly. Many Slytherin students were descendants of Death Eaters, while his parents had been killed by Death Eaters. The result was predictable—extortion, isolation, bullying—one after another.
Fortunately, Matthew had a certain talent for magic.
While his peers were still limited to simple pranks, he had already mastered quite a few offensive and defensive spells.
By his first year, he had beaten down those who tried to cause him trouble. By second year, no one in his year has the guts to provoke him anymore.
And in Slytherin, strength was respected. Once he had established himself, he had even gained a small following.
Finishing his Butterbeer in one gulp, Matthew headed to the small courtyard behind the pub.
There was nothing there but a rubbish bin and some weeds.
After confirming no one was around, he took out a bottle of dark green potion and drank it.
A sharp, irritating sensation spread through his mouth and throat, eventually turning into a nauseating taste. It was utterly foul.
His face immediately twisted.
Something seemed to writhe beneath his skin. His eyes, nose, mouth, and ears began to melt and shift. His entire face warped and reshaped.
Then his bones began to change as well, accompanied by a series of faint cracking sounds throughout his body.
Moments later, Matthew had transformed into a thin, sharp-featured red-haired man with a sinister gaze.
He tried a few expressions and movements, adjusting to his new body.
Taking out his wand, he first Transfigured his clothes into a fitted black wizard's robe. Then he tapped a particular brick above the rubbish bin twice.
The brick trembled.
Soon, the surrounding bricks shifted as well. Within moments, the wall rearranged itself into a wide archway, revealing a winding cobbled street that stretched out of sight.
Diagon Alley bustled with activity.
Every shop window displayed all manner of magical items—strange alchemical devices, unidentified creature parts, vividly colored fur, even eyeballs as large as a human head.
Matthew wandered through Diagon Alley for a while before turning into Knockturn Alley.
He needed to offload a batch of potions.
The alley was dimly lit, its entrance near Gringotts. Though adjacent to Diagon Alley, the atmosphere here was entirely different.
The moment he stepped in, a faint sour stench lingered in the air. Moss clung to the walls, many surfaces were peeling, and dirty water pooled along the ground.
The wizards here all carried an unmistakable air of danger.
In a corner on the right side of the street, a short, stocky wizard with a scruffy beard crouched low. When he saw Matthew, his face lit up.
He stood up, shaking his short, bow-legged legs, then glanced around furtively.
Seeing no one paying attention, he muttered,
"Been waiting a long time—I thought you weren't coming. You brought the goods, right?"
=====================
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