Chapter 7: Chapter 7: The Letter

Professor McGonagall stepped into the foyer, her keen eyes taking in every detail of the modest but well-appointed home before settling on Arthur, who had risen from his place at the kitchen table.

“Ah, you must be young Mr. Hayes,” she said, her Scottish accent becoming more pronounced.

Arthur nodded politely. “Yes, Professor.”

McGonagall studied him with a slight frown, clearly surprised by his calm demeanor. Most Muggle-born children were shocked or disbelieving upon first contact with a representative from Hogwarts. Arthur’s composed reception was unusual.

“You seem remarkably… unsurprised by my presence,” she observed.

Arthur hesitated, then replied, “I’ve had some… prior exposure to magic, Professor.”

“Is that so? That makes my job easier,” McGonagall said, then turning towards Aurora she asked, “Are you Mrs. Hayes?”

“No. Agent Aurora Thatcher, MI6. I’m Arthur’s guardian.”

Professor McGonagall’s eyebrows rose slightly, her composed demeanor momentarily disrupted by surprise. “Guardian? I was expecting to meet with the boy’s parents.”

“Some things happened recently and there’s been a change in circumstances,” Aurora said carefully. “Perhaps we should discuss this privately.”

McGonagall nodded, her sharp eyes taking in the situation with keen assessment. “Yes, that would be prudent.”

Aurora led McGonagall to a small study adjacent to the entryway, closing the door behind them. Arthur remained at the kitchen table, not bothering to look up from his book. He could guess what they were discussing—his parents’ deaths, his unusual living arrangement, his first encounter with magic through violence. He was happy Aurora would handle the necessary explanations so that he did not have to.

Ten minutes later, the women emerged from the study. McGonagall’s stern face had softened slightly, though her posture remained rigid as ever. She approached Arthur, her eyes now carrying a hint of that familiar sympathy he had grown to detest.

“Mr. Hayes,” she greeted him, her Scottish accent becoming more pronounced. “I am Professor McGonagall. Agent Thatcher has informed me of your… situation.”

Arthur set his book aside and stood, offering a polite nod. “It’s nice to meet you, Professor.”

“Well,” McGonagall said, reaching into her purse and extracting an envelope of thick, yellowish parchment. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Arthur accepted the envelope, feeling the weight of the heavy paper in his hands. His name and address were written in emerald green ink on the front:

Mr. A. Hayes

The Large Bedroom

27 Wisteria Lane

London

He broke the purple wax seal bearing the Hogwarts coat of arms—a lion, eagle, badger, and snake surrounding a large letter H—and removed the letter inside. The contents were exactly as he expected:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Hayes,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

While Arthur read through his letter, McGonagall and Aurora moved to the side of the room, speaking in hushed tones about practical matters—guardianship forms, special considerations for his situation, the necessary arrangements for a muggle-born student with no magical parent or guardian to guide him. Arthur ignored them, examining the list of required books and equipment with careful attention to detail.

After several minutes of discussion, the two women seemed to reach an agreement. McGonagall approached him again.

“Mr. Hayes, I understand you’re already somewhat familiar with the magical world. Agent Thatcher and I have worked out the formalities of your enrollment. Given your circumstances, I’m prepared to escort you to Diagon Alley today to purchase your school supplies, if that’s amenable.”

“That would be convenient,” Arthur replied, setting the letter down. “Will you be joining us, Aurora?”

“Yes,” Aurora interjected before McGonagall could answer. “I wouldn’t say no to seeing the magical world any day.”

“Very well,” McGonagall said crisply. “Shall we proceed? Diagon Alley can be quite busy, and we have much to accomplish.”

The journey was short and efficient. Since Arthur had already been to Diagon Alley before and possessed galleons, they skipped the Gringotts visit. While Arthur headed to Ollivanders for his wand, Aurora and McGonagall handled the other items on the list.

The wandmaker’s shop was exactly as Arthur had imagined—dusty, narrow, and filled with an almost tangible magical energy. Yet the process of finding his wand proved unusually prolonged. Wand after wand was placed in his hand, only to be snatched away as Ollivander shook his head in quiet dissatisfaction.

“Tricky customer,” the old wandmaker muttered, his pale eyes gleaming with the challenge. “Very tricky indeed. Perhaps… yes, let me try something unusual.”

He disappeared into the depths of the shop, returning with a slender, dust-covered box. Inside lay a wand of pale wood, its surface subtly patterned with shifting whorls in the dim light.

“Elder wood, thirteen inches, with a core of Thestral tail hair,” Ollivander explained, holding the wand with unusual reverence. “A rare combination. Elder is notoriously difficult to master, and Thestral hair… well, it has certain affinities with those who have confronted mortality.”

Arthur took the wand, and immediately felt a surge of warmth travel up his arm. Silver and gold sparks erupted from the tip, briefly illuminating the shadowy shop.

“Fascinating,” Ollivander whispered, his expression a mixture of awe and unease. “I’ve only made one other wand with these exact specifications in my lifetime. Its owner became… quite remarkable.”

Arthur noticed the wandmaker’s discomfort but chose not to press for details. He paid the seven galleons for his wand and rejoined Aurora and McGonagall outside.

Their final stop was Flourish and Blotts, where Arthur selected his required textbooks along with several additional volumes on magical theory and defense. As they prepared to leave, Aurora surprised him with an unexpected gift—a handsome snowy owl with intelligent eyes.

“Happy birthday,” she said, almost shyly. “I thought you might need a way to send letters while you’re at school. Especially since you promised to keep me updated.”

Arthur was genuinely touched by the gesture. “Thank you,” he said, reaching through the cage bars to stroke the owl’s soft feathers. “I think I’ll call him Mercury.”

The owl hooted softly, as if in approval.

As they prepared to depart, McGonagall provided Arthur with his ticket for the Hogwarts Express and detailed instructions for reaching Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on September 1st. She confirmed with Aurora that she would ensure Arthur reached the platform safely, then bid them farewell with a promise to see him at the start of term.

Later that evening, after Aurora had left and Arthur was alone in the townhouse with his new school supplies spread across his bedroom floor, he felt a strange mixture of anticipation and caution. The wand at his side hummed with potential power, yet Aurora had warned him firmly against using it before school.

“The Ministry monitors underage magic,” she had explained. “And after what happened… they’ve placed special wards around your home to detect any magical activity. Best not to give them any reason to interfere with our arrangement.”

Arthur had agreed readily. He had no intention of drawing unnecessary attention before his magical education truly began. Instead, he planned to spend the remaining months before September studying his textbooks, preparing mentally for the challenges ahead, and continuing to manage his investments with an eye toward the future.

The path before him was now clearer—if more complex—than he had originally anticipated. He would attend Hogwarts, master magic, and build the foundation of magical knowledge he would need. But he wouldn’t lose sight of his original goals either. The Marvel universe was still out there, with all its technological wonders and potential dangers. Somehow, he would navigate both worlds—magical and mundane, wizardry and technology.

It was a daunting prospect, but as Arthur carefully arranged his new books on his desk, a surge of determination welled up within him. His parents’ deaths had shown him just how vulnerable even the most carefully laid plans could be. He would not make the same mistake again. He would become powerful enough in both worlds that no one could ever threaten him again.

And perhaps, when he was ready, he would finally discover who sent those men to his family’s home—and why. Some debts, he knew, demanded payment, no matter how long it took to collect them.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep