Capítulo 6: Shopping
Chapter 6: Shopping
Heather walked into Madam Malkin's Robe Shop and took in the room. The warm glow from the lanterns highlighted the colorful fabrics that lined the walls and tables. The shop owner was busy attending to a young boy with platinum blonde hair who looked to be about her age. Neither he nor the witch noticed her at first, which made Heather smile. After Grognak's warning, she had practiced suppressing her magical aura. It seemed to be working, and she now felt confident moving among other witches and wizards without causing a scene.
Madam Malkin's eyes finally landed on Heather, and her eyebrows shot up. "Oh my goodness, dearie. What are you wearing?" she said, her tone a mix of concern and disapproval.
Heather glanced down at her worn, mismatched clothes, a small grin on her lips. "Just some clothes I stole from Muggles," she said casually, shrugging. "I could definitely use some new ones."
Madam Malkin's eyes widened at the blunt admission, and the blond boy snorted, barely holding back a laugh. The matron's frown deepened. "I expect you're planning to pay for these clothes?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of warning.
Heather nodded. "Yeah, don't worry. I've got plenty of money now. I want the best of everything," she said, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
The boy turned to her, an arrogant smirk on his lips. "And how does someone dressed like a homeless Muggle suddenly have a bunch of money?" he sneered, as Madam Malkin finished measuring him.
Heather tilted her head and met his gaze with a bored expression. "A bunch of families that lost the war had to pay reparations to my family vaults," she said, her voice nonchalant.
The boy's smirk disappeared, and his brows furrowed in confusion. Before he could retort, the door to the shop swung open, and an elegant older witch with the same platinum hair stepped inside. She carried herself with a grace that made everyone in the room pay attention.
"Are you finished, Draco? It's time to get your wand," the woman said, her voice smooth and commanding. Her eyes then drifted to Heather, and she stiffened slightly, a look of recognition crossing her features. Heather wondered why she reacted that way. Wasn't she suppressing her aura?
"Hello, dear," Draco's mother said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Might you be Heather Potter?"
Heather nodded. "That's me. Do I know you?"
The woman's lips curved into a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "No, we haven't met. I'm Narcissa Malfoy. Word travels quickly here in Diagon Alley, especially when it concerns the youngest archmage in history."
"Archmage!?" Draco sputtered, eyes wide with disbelief. "That's impossible!"
Heather smirked and let a small sliver of her aura slip free. It wasn't visible, but from the way Draco paled and stumbled back toward his mother, it was clear that magicals could sense it. Narcissa's eyes widened, and her face turned ashen.
"I apologize for my rudeness earlier… my lady," Madam Malkin said with a slight stutter. "As an apology, I can offer you a 50 percent discount on everything."
Heather waved off the offer. "That's okay. I have a lot of money," she said, suppressing her aura once more.
Narcissa raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "You do? I was under the impression that the Ministry seized the Potter family vaults."
Heather's expression darkened at the reminder. "They did, and they're going to answer for that someday soon—"
Narcissa visibly tensed at Heather's casual declaration. But before the tension could grow, Heather continued.
"—but my goblin account manager is really good at his job. He got all the families that went to war with mine to pay 10 percent of their wealth in reparations."
Narcissa's face turned pale, and Heather noticed her hands clenched tightly at her sides. "I–is that so?" Narcissa said, forcing a tight smile. "And what families were those?"
Heather shrugged. "There were a lot of them, so I don't remember all the names. But the big ones were the Black, Malfoy, and Lestrange families. They each paid over a million galleons. Wasn't that nice of them?" Heather said with a giggle.
Draco's mouth fell open, and he was about to shout something when Narcissa grabbed his arm and shushed him. "Y–yes… that was indeed nice of them," she said, her voice strained. "I'm afraid Draco and I need to make a stop at the bank ourselves now. Good day, Lady Potter."
Heather watched as Narcissa practically dragged Draco out of the shop. The boy's eyes were still wide with shock as he glanced back at her.
…
Heather spent the next couple of hours getting fitted for a whole new wardrobe. Madam Malkin seemed genuinely excited about the order, bustling around with enchanted measuring tapes and fabric swatches. Heather ended up ordering a large assortment of robes and outfits—some for everyday wear, others for special occasions. She even got some regular Muggle clothing. She had no idea where she'd be storing all of this, but that was a problem she could deal with later.
For now, Madam Malkin had some basic black robes ready, which Heather changed into immediately. She glanced in the mirror and smirked. 'There,' she thought, 'now I don't look like a homeless Muggle, as Draco so kindly put it.' She paid Madam Malkin and left the shop, ready to tackle the rest of her shopping list.
Her first stop was the bookshop, where she quickly found all the textbooks on her Hogwarts list. Then, as she wandered through the aisles, she noticed an entire section dedicated to someone named Neville Longbottom—the so-called "Boy Who Lived." Heather remembered Grognak mentioning him; the Longbottoms were supposed to be allied with her family. There were dozens of books in the aisle with titles like Neville Longbottom and the Evil Dragon and Neville Longbottom and the Vampire Menace.
Heather couldn't help but snicker as she skimmed the titles. 'Neville Longbottom,' she thought, 'the magical world's answer to Nancy Drew… except he's real.' She figured she'd probably meet him at some point, especially since they'd both be at Hogwarts.
After grabbing a few extra books on magical history and law, Heather made her way to the potions shop. That was a quick stop; the shop had Hogwarts supplies pre-bundled for each year, so she picked up her bundle and was out within minutes.
By now, her arms were loaded down with bags, and she noticed people giving her curious looks. She knew she probably looked ridiculous carrying so much, but thanks to her cultivation, she had strength far beyond even a dozen strong men. Even with bags weighing her down, she could easily carry more. Still, she needed a better solution for all this stuff.
That was when she spotted a shop selling trunks. She made her way inside and immediately found the most expensive one they had on display. It was a dark, polished trunk with intricate gold clasps and a special feature that caught her interest: it could shrink down to fit in her pocket with a simple verbal command, and anything inside would stay perfectly preserved and safe.
As long as she didn't lose the tiny trunk of course…
Heather's last stop was Ollivanders to get her wand. As she pushed open the shop door, a bell jingled softly. The shop was dim and smelled faintly of old wood and dust. She had barely stepped inside when she felt the presence of someone hiding just behind the door. She rolled her eyes, not particularly impressed, and looked over.
"Oh, come on!" came a disappointed voice as the figure stepped out—a short, old man with wild white hair and intense eyes. "It's no fun when my little prank is ruined."
Heather smirked. "Sorry, you're going to have to try a bit harder with me."
Ollivander seemed to accept this quickly enough and shrugged it off, a small smile forming on his face. "Welcome, Heather Potter, to Ollivanders. I must say, I'm rather pleasantly surprised to hear that the rumors of your demise have been greatly exaggerated. And even more surprised to hear the rumors of your... unusually advanced magical power are true."
His eyes seemed to glint with something more, and Heather got the impression he could see things most others couldn't. "I'm here for my wand," she said, her excitement bubbling beneath her calm expression.
"Ah, of course," Ollivander said, clapping his hands together. "I've been quite curious to see what wand will pair with you. If the rumors are right, only something equally remarkable will do." He practically buzzed with excitement as he moved through the shelves, picking out various boxes and setting them on the counter.
Heather reached out for the first wand, a delicate-looking one made of silver birch, but as soon as she held it, she felt a strange, sharp recoil, like a buzzing in her hand. She shook her head, setting it down quickly. "Feels like it's... afraid of me," she muttered.
"Curious," Ollivander said with a thoughtful nod. "Let's try another."
They went through wand after wand, but none of them seemed right. Some wands trembled in her grip, while others actually seemed to make things explode when she waved them. She was about to make a comment when Ollivander shook his head, a small grin on his face.
"Wands can be a bit finicky," he said, unfazed by the mess in his shop. "But I may have one in the back that could be just the thing for you." He disappeared into the rows of shelves, mumbling something to himself as he searched.
After a few minutes, he returned, holding a long, thin black box. He placed it gently on the counter and opened it, revealing a pitch-black wand with a deep green handle. Heather felt a pulse of energy in her chest as she looked at it. Without even touching it, she knew that this was her wand. Her magic practically hummed, as though it were resonating with the wand.
She picked it up, and immediately an aura of pure darkness surrounded her. She felt powerful, complete, like her magic and the wand had fused perfectly.
Ollivander clapped, smiling wider than ever. "Oh, splendid! This wand was actually crafted by my father, a unique creation with a rather... special core."
Heather glanced at him, her curiosity piqued. "What's so special about it?"
"Keep this between us, will you?" Ollivander leaned in. "The core is basilisk heartstring—a very rare and very illegal wand ingredient in Britain. If anyone asks, just say it's dragon heartstring. They're not going to pop the wand open to check," he added with a wink.
Heather grinned. "Got it."
She paid him the seven galleons and threw in a little extra to get a wand holster as well. She secured her new wand, thanked Ollivander, and stepped out of the shop, feeling more powerful and complete than ever. She couldn't help the big grin spreading across her face.
Her smile quickly faded when she saw a small crowd waiting just outside, blocking her way. At the front of the group was a man with a sour expression, his eyes narrowed at her. He looked her up and down as though sizing her up—and not in a friendly way.
Heather's eyes narrowed right back at him. She hadn't done anything wrong, but she could already tell this guy wasn't here to welcome her to Diagon Alley...
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