attention! this chapter contains mentions of drugs and child abuse. for a complete list of possible triggers, please look up this story on ao3 :)

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be able to attend Hogwarts."

Professor McGonagall stared at him. Really stared. It was unlike the way the neighborhood children would stare at him as he watched them from his window. The professor wasn't staring at the mask (a key difference) and she was looking at him with something other than disgust.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Dupont?" Her tone was incredulous.

"I didn't mean to offend you, madame." He looked away, uncomfortable with the growing attention on him. "I just… I have stuff. Here."

Professor McGonagall looked even more confused. "You can bring your stuff to Hogwarts, Mr. Dupont."

Erik had to roll his eyes at that. "No, ma'am." He waved his hand, long and thin for his age. Little cuts and burn marks bruised his exposed skin. "I meant that I have important things to do here."

"Like what, pray tell?"

Should he tell her? Should he tell her that he was the one who went to the dark and seedy alleyways to get his mother cocaine? Should he tell her that, if he did choose to go to Hogwarts, he probably won't even be able to enroll himself because he didn't have school records beyond first grade? Should he tell her that every time they put him in an environment with kids his age, someone always ends up hurt and frightened and wishing they were never born? Should he tell her that? Would she understand?

No, she wouldn't.

"My mother is awfully sick, madame." He shrugged apologetically. "I'm her caretaker."

"And her child, too! Why is her own son her only caretaker? You aren't even a teenager yet, Mr. Dupont. Surely her parents would have to step up." Her tone was snappy and impatient, like she was angry at the adults in his life on his behalf.

"Her parents cut her off," he muttered darkly. "I've never personally met them and I never bothered to visit them myself. They live in Italy now, I think? They couldn't be bothered to visit this dusty place."

"Forgive me for asking, Mr. Dupont, but how can you afford this neighborhood or even bring food to the table if you don't have any more family and your mother is incapable of working?"

Erik blinked. He never really thought about that. "I don't eat much-"

"Clearly." She raised an eyebrow, scanning him from top to bottom.

Erik scowled at her and chose to ignore her jab. "As I was saying-" he said irritably. His appearance was a touchy subject for him. "-Neither of us eat often. Household bills and other things are taken from her trust fund." He clicked his tongue. "She's the spoiled brat of a very rich family and a very rich husband. We're fine."

"If that's the case, then why not find a nursing home for her and go to Hogwarts? You don't seem… very fond of her."

"It's different and you wouldn't understand,madame." He spat. He was getting tired with this line of questioning.

She crossed her arms. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't take that tone with me, young man."

The two were quiet after that, not knowing what to say. He didn't want to say anything. Everything was a mess. He knew he didn't want to be stuck here with his mother. He knew he didn't want to be in a classroom with magical brats. Magic or not, kids couldn't be very different from one another. He didn't want more people to ask about his mask. He didn't want to put himself in a position he wasn't familiar with and wasn't even ready for.

This whole thing was so sudden and new to him. Magic schools, wands, wizards… these were things he would have scoffed at less than an hour ago. And now he was expected to throw himself into it all? To just… be happy for the opportunity? To just accept that he's expected to play nice with people who couldn't even respect his damn privacy?

He didn't want change. He was miserable here, but it was the sort of misery he's known all his life. All the hurt and pain in this household were already a part of him. That wouldn't vanish if he went to Hogwarts. No, he'd taint the magic with his darkness. A place of light had no room for him, a shadow stuck in his own mind.

The overwhelming urge to cry was there. He didn't want to cry, especially not in front of his would-be teacher. Erik hasn't cried in years. Not when his mother told him she wished he were dead, not when his classmates ran at the sight of his face, and not when his mother's drug dealers beat him up when he didn't bring enough cash. He wouldn't do it at his worst and he certainly wouldn't do it in front of an old lady who still might just be an escapee from a mental hospital.

"Erik..." She began reproachfully.

He shook his head, but couldn't help letting out a few sniffles. He didn't want to look at her, so Erik kept his head bowed. He lifted his legs on the seat and pulled his knees to his chest in a hug.

"Why don't we have a deal, Mr. Dupont? Would you like that?"

Erik kept his eyes down, but answered nonetheless. "What kind?"

Professor McGonagall walked over and kneeled beside him. She attempted to touch his arm, but stopped when he flinched away. With a sigh, she pressed on. "Well, do you like ice cream?"

"I've never tried it."

"Oh- er, I thought muggles had it… Well, ice cream is a cold dessert in many flavors. If you tell me by tomorrow with certainty that you are not going to Hogwarts, then I shall bring you to Diagon Alley and get you a cone from a lovely ice cream parlor before bringing you back to this house and vanishing forever."

Erik gnawed his lower lip. "And… and what if I tell you I want to go to Hogwarts?"

Professor McGonagall smiled. "Then we will shop for your school things at Diagon Alley and get you that ice cream cone. Two birds with one stone, wouldn't you agree?"

Erik was quiet, but Professor McGonagall considered that a victory. "I'll be here tomorrow at ten in the morning, Mr. Dupont. Do be ready by then."

"Yes, madame." Erik's voice was as quiet as a whisper, but still managing to sound terribly sweet. It endeared the professor and she sighed. She really wanted to hear him say yes tomorrow.

Erik was still torn. His mind was scrambled and he didn't want to do anything except haul himself to the music room and abuse his piano. He hugged himself tighter and the professor noticed.

"Mr. Dupont?"

"Madame?"

"Would you like to see another trick?"

Hesitantly, Erik nodded and finally looked back at her. She was standing several feet in front of him now, prepared to go. With a wink and a final wave, Professor McGonagall vanished with a loud snap into thin air, leaving Erik gobsmacked and disoriented.

He allowed himself one final search for smoke and mirrors before finally giving up and heading to his piano.

The stars shined bright as Erik wrote more notes into a crumpled piece of manuscript paper. His eyes were tired, but his body was jittery and nervous.

He only had a few hours to decide now. The sun would be up eventually and by then he had to have his choice. Go or stay? Leave to someplace he didn't understand or remain where he understood his role far too well? It was a nightmare. He didn't like change, but he wasn't particularly fond of the present, either. What was he going to do?

Maybe it was finally time to ask his mother.

Erik stood up so swiftly that the bench he sat on fell to the ground with a cluttering thud. He ignored it and kicked away the papers and pens strewn on the floor. The music room, large and airy with a grand piano sitting proudly in the middle, was a mess of a genius' playground. He would miss it if he were to go.

He walked up the grand staircase, rickety and loose, before entering the main hall of the second floor. Everywhere he went was dark and dreary, but he was used to it. He could see well despite the total darkness that the night caused. He passed by numerous paintings and portraits, none of which starred him. He didn't like them because they showed the images of scowling figures that used to unnerve him when he was younger. He ignored them, as he always did, while he neared the end of the hall.

The master's bedroom was the largest in the manor. There were two giant mahogany doors that led into it. Softly, as to not startle any of the occupants that might be inside, Erik turned the ornate knob and let himself in. He entered with a quiet grace that he practiced and perfected throughout the years. He turned on the lights because he knew she hated it when he did that.

His mother's room was a mess, much to Erik's disgust. The floors were filled with trash and grime. The whole place smelled of rotten food and alcohol. The wallpaper was peeling and any of the ornate furniture that remained were either broken or buried under other things.

Erik saw his mother sleeping on the bed. It was filled with empty needles, bottles, and some condoms both used and unused. Red dots and scars were on her exposed arms. She was skinny and pale, almost as much as Erik was. Her once beautiful hair was thinning and dry. As Erik approached her, he saw the furrowed look in her brows and the eyebags just beneath them. Erik sighed. It seemed that even sleep could not let her have peace.

"Mother," he said in a whisper. She didn't budge. "Mother..." He sighed and let his voice get louder. "Mother! Mum! Get up!"

When she didn't budge, he hesitantly reached out to pat her on the knee. Before he could do that, her hand shot up and tightly grabbed him by his wrist. Erik jumped back, as if he were burned. His mother, realising who it was exactly that she was touching, let him go with a disgusted snarl.

"Erik," she said coldly. "What the fuck do you want? It's three in the morning!"

"Five, actually." He didn't feel encouraged by the glare she sent his way.

She sat up with an angry scowl, blinking at the brightness of the ceiling lights. Erik stifled a snicker at that. Her arms were crossed now and the harsh angles and dark shadows on her face did nothing to endear her to him. Remarkably, Madeleine was still rather pretty despite the hole she lived in and the monster she was stuck with.

"If you don't tell me what you're doing here in five seconds, I am throwing you out of the street for good!"

Erik snorted. "Who'd give you your crack, then? Does Jerry run a delivery service now? Does he have a loyalty card?"

Instead of answering, she grabbed a cigarette and a lighter next to her and put it in her mouth. She rubbed her eyes as she exhaled the smoke. Erik shuddered, not wanting to think about how he'd ruin his voice if he chose to pick up that particular habit.

When she calmed down, she looked right back at him. Her eyes were a startling blue, much different from his gold. They were tired and bloodshot. "Look, you horrible brat." She lit another cigarette when the first died out. "I am not in the mood to deal with you. Understand?"

Erik nodded.

"Good. Now, tell mummy why she shouldn't throw you off the balcony right now."

Erik glowered at her from beneath his black mask. "The neighbors might see and then you'll be in jail."

"Would you stop avoiding the question, Erik? You're absolutely impossible!" She threw the lit cigarette at him and smirked when it hit his exposed hand. Erik didn't make a sound, he just slightly shook his wrist and stood his ground.

"A… professor dropped by here yesterday."

"Ah," she muttered. "Child Services finally found out you're too stupid to go back to school?"

Erik clenched his fists. "No," he said. "Someone wants me to go to theirs."

Madeleine looked confused at his words. "How the fuck do they even know you exist? I paid good money to make sure you were off the radar."

"I believe that… my father went to that school." He could believe, but that belief didn't have to hold true. His mother had only known his father less than six months before they were married and pregnant. She wouldn't remember nor care about details like this. Lying was easier than explaining what was really going on. He didn't think that his mother, a once devout Catholic, would react well if he told her he was considering going to a school for magic and witchcraft. "He left a recommendation before I was born and they've been waiting for me to come of age since."

She tapped a finger on her chin in thought. "Is that so?" At Erik's nod, she continued. "Where is this school? What's it called?"

"It's in Scotland and it's called Hogwarts." His mother most likely wouldn't find that school or any information about it even if she tried. Erik surely couldn't. "It's a boarding school and I'll be there for seven years. It's pretty good."

"So… so what's that gotta do with me? Do I have to sign anything? Tuition? Hell, how will you enroll if you don't have any IDs or paperwork from your old schools?"

Erik waved his hand before placing it back behind him with his other one. He didn't fancy another cigarette burn, thank you. "I just need money for books and other required school supplies. Father already took care of the rest before he died."

"And then… and then you'll be gone? For ten months a year? For sevenyears?"

He didn't want to admit it, but the direction this conversation took stung. Just a little. Nevertheless, he nodded in affirmation.

In return, his mother laughed. Loudly. It was a mixture of relief and finality, like a large weight was lifted off of her shoulders and she could finally breathe. Erik sunk a little further into himself at the sound of it.

Madeleine stood from her bed and walked to a large walk-in closet to the side. She jumped or stepped on the trash in her way as if it weren't there. She stepped inside the closet filled with laundry and unused clothing. Erik watched her from the outside, unmoving, as she flicked through piles of garbage to find what she was looking for. Erik was thankful that her messes stayed in her room and didn't affect the rest of the house. He could live in a run-down manor, but he wasn't going to live in a dumpster.

After a few minutes of searching, she walked out and approached him with a fat envelope in his hand. Pulling out a few neat bills, she shoved them into Erik's hand and walked back inside to hide it again. Erik counted the money and his eyes widened in shock. He was holding five thousand pounds in his hand!

"Your father wanted to put you in good private schools." His mother answered his unasked question. "You have trust funds I can't even touch, you know? He left some physical money before he died and told me to use it for your studies." She shrugged. "He didn't count on his son being a freak and a dumbass, hm?"

Erik recounted the bills and the amount remained the same. "Why didn't you spend this yet?" He was genuinely curious. From the look of the envelope, there was surely more. His mother always complained about him eating away her money with all the food he's eating, but she could just hand an eleven-year-old five grand like it was nothing?

Madeleine huffed. "My parents left me enough and -Lord help me- I know Charles would hate me if I spent the money meant for his son. Now go. Leave my sight before I change my mind. You thank your ugly ass you caught me in a good mood. Don't bother writing to me while you're gone."

Erik was walking away before she finished speaking. He made sure not to turn off the lights.

By nine, Erik was waiting at their front porch. He kept all his money in different pockets so that he wouldn't lose it all at once. He didn't have many clothes for the outdoors, so he threw on a black hoodie over a black polo shirt while wearing black pants and shoes. They were all small for him, seeing as he simply won't stop growing. Nevertheless, he felt clean after a shower and decent enough to meet the human -er, magic?- race once more.

He still kept his hood up, though. No need to show the mask.

Now he just had to wait. He was going to Hogwarts. He was going to school. Him. Erik. Ha! His old guidance counselor would have laughed if he told her that. He could vividly recall Ms. Wilson telling him that there was no room for him anywhere except a mental hospital. He'd never be good, she said. He'd do his mother a favor if he just took his freakishness elsewhere, she said.

Honestly, he wasn't sure how she wasn't sacked sooner.

Regardless, this was his chance to be good. To show his mother, his teachers, and everyone else that Erik was enough. Hope was a funny thing to have. He didn't experience it often, if ever. Now it was thrust upon him and there was no going back. There was light at the end of the tunnel, it seemed. Even for him.

A familiar loud snap banged against his ears and Erik flinched away from it. Loud sounds were never safe to him, but this time it was just Professor McGonagall. She was dressed similarly as the day before, but with a maroon robe and dark hat that looked like it came out of a Halloween witch costume. Erik had to roll his eyes. How much of their wardrobe was just for theatrics?

"Ah! Mr. Dupont. I see you're ready." She brushed out the dust on her clothes. More out of habit than anything else. There was a knowing smile on her face and Erik wasn't sure what to think of it.

"Yes, madame." Erik's voice was gruff and he was gnawing on his lip again. He was nervous, but he didn't understand why.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, Mr. Dupont, but will you be attending Hogwarts?" She crouched down a little to meet his eye. It wasn't very difficult, seeing as he was rather tall for his age.

"Would my answer affect how much ice cream I can taste?"

Startled, she broke eye contact to let out a laugh. She gently shook her head and straightened herself up. "Of course not, child." Professor McGonagall winked. "Ice cream can be enjoyed by those who go and don't go to Hogwarts."

"Good." Erik flexed his hands on his side. "Because- because I'm going to Hogwarts. I want to." He stood his ground, waiting for her response. A small part of him was scared that she'd laugh in his face for taking the offer. Maybe this was a prank after all. Maybe this was just some sick trick by his mother to make him even more humiliated. Abruptly, he felt the urge to turn back, slam the large doors behind him, and bury himself in the darkness and music once more.

He almost did, if not for the gentle yet firm hand that touched his shoulder before he could move an inch.

"I'm very glad to hear it, Mr. Dupont. You may call me Professor or Headmistress McGonagall when you attend school."

"Yes, Professor." Erik's voice was breathless, almost unwilling to believe what was happening to him. Someone had touched him -Erik!- and she did not die. She did not fall on the floor or scream in fear. And, even when she did, Erik was not groaning from the pain of it. Erik felt that he rather liked being touched like that.

Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall released him and straightened herself once more. Bringing out her wand, she positioned herself in a stance that was both steady and confident. "Take my hand, Mr. Dupont." She reached out to him and Erik hesitantly took it. "We will be apparating. It's the main wizardly way of travelling, aside from floo powder and brooms."

"I-"

Before he could get another word out, he felt a pull in his stomach and they vanished from the porch. With a loud snap, they were gone.

And suddenly, they weren't.

Dazedly, Erik realized that he wasn't in the safety of their large porch. He and the professor were in a secluded corner of a Victorian-esque shopping district. His head hurt from apparating and a consistent heaviness in his chest made him want to puke. But he powered through it, as he always did. He realized, however, that he was very tightly gripping Professor McGonagall's hand. With a yelp and a muttered apology, he let go of it like it burned him. The professor chuckled and just let him be.

"Usually," she said, "we take the muggle-borns here using a cab or the bus. It's easier for them to adjust, you understand. There's a specific area in London where you can access it. I can show it to you when we leave so that you and your… mother may visit whenever you like."

"We- we teleported!"

"I believe I told you it's called apparition, Mr. Dupont."

"Yes, apparition- we just… we just moved from one place to another in the blink of an eye!"

"That's how apparition works, child."

"But it can't be!" Erik waved his hands wildly, his voice obtaining a frantic edge. "I've read Physics books, madame! Countless scientific texts that can tell you very certainly that this shouldn't be anywhere near possible! Erik isn't crazy!"

"Now, Mr. Dupont-"

Erik was breathing deeply and started to pace around the small area. Was it possible to feel claustrophobic in such a large area? Where wizards and witches were bustling about and minding their own business? He was unused to populated areas, yes, but he was much more unused to magical areas. Strange creatures that didn't look anything like a human or an animal were walking around him. It was all so very strange and Erik wanted to mull it over in a locked cabinet or a small hole.

Panic was building up in his throat. He was thinking that maybe he really was insane. Maybe his mother had forgotten to feed him for a few days again. Maybe he was hallucinating this all in his head. Was he dehydrated? Did his mother hit his head too hard? Did one of his mother's friends drug him up like they always threatened to?

Frantically, he pushed up the sleeves of his hoodie to look at his arms. His eyes were wide and his throat was dry as he hurriedly searched for any sign of track marks or bleeding. When he didn't find anything, he let out a screech and sank on his knees. Erik was scratching at his arms now, digging his nails into the skin as if he were looking for something beneath it.

Erik vaguely heard Professor McGonagall shouting his name, but it was too distant for him to acknowledge. He continued scratching his pale flesh until blood was seeping out in little trails. He sighed in relief. Finally, something made sense! As long as there was proof, then he wasn't insane. His mother punished him and put drugs in his body. He wasn't crazy. Just drugged. He was fine.

Golden eyes blinked when his shoulders were being shaken rather roughly. Professor McGonagall was trying to get his attention and he attempted to focus on her voice. His arms were still bleeding, but the warmth the pain provided warmed him and calmed him down.

"Mr. Dupont! Mr. Dupont!" Hazily, Erik remembered where he was and what he was doing. He tried to shake away the hands, but they held firm. Out of seemingly nowhere, a flying bottle made of glass flew to his lips. A blue substance was pushed down his throat and he could do nothing but swallow it all.

Within seconds, his heart rate slowed down and his breathing turned normal. The taste of the liquid was strange, but not entirely unpleasant. The world around him was suddenly less daunting and large. He didn't mind what was going on. Everything was… okay.

"Mr. Dupont?"

"Professor?" Erik warily raised his eyes to meet hers. She had a concerned expression on her face and Erik still didn't know what to feel about it.

"Would you please show me your arms?"

"Why?" He asked before showing her anyway. He felt so peaceful, like he was napping next to a gentle ocean.

The professor brought out her wand and swished it around his arms in a precise manner. With a quickly muttered spell, the new and deep cuts on his skin began to heal in a matter of seconds. Serenely, Erik watched as the injuries he caused vanished into scars and then into nothing at all. It was almost as though they never existed.

"Are you feeling better, Mr. Dupont?" Erik nodded. He did feel better. Better than he's ever had. "Right. That's good. Tell me, does that happen often?"

Erik blinked. "Does what happen often?"

"You had a panic attack, Mr. Dupont."

"Oh." That's what that was? "I'm not sure. I think it's happened before."

"I see." She pursed her lips and somehow, Erik felt ashamed. It was like he wasn't good enough for either world. "Do you take any medication perhaps?"

"No." He was firm on that. Medication was for crazy people, wasn't it? And Erik was pretty sure he wasn't crazy.

"Alright then. I'll make sure you visit the mediwitch's office at Hogwarts. Just a checkup, alright? Nothing serious." Her voice was gentler now.

"Yes, ma'am." Erik was looking at the floor. "What did you make me drink?"

"It's called a calming draught. You'll learn to brew it in your fourth year."

"Oh," he merely said. "I'd like that."

Sensing his mood, Professor McGonagall patted his back and encouraged him to start moving. He followed her into the crowd of the town area, making sure not to be noticed by anyone. His hood was firmly on his head and he slouched so that he'd appear smaller and insignificant.

They walked a little more and Erik let himself admire the area. Little shops and boutiques lined the stone road. It's like he went back in time and switched dimensions. Everywhere he looked it was just so… magical. Things were flying, colorful, and buzzing with an energy he'd never find in his house. The two even stopped several times just so Erik could admire some strange artifact he'd see. He still couldn't grasp how any of this worked logically, but he didn't feel like throwing a fit about it yet.

"I assume you brought muggle currency, Mr. Dupont?" Erik broke out of his reverie and nodded at the woman. She brought him outside what looked like a bank. The open door showed him little people working behind counters and running about. They didn't look very nice, but Erik was happy to watch them. Everything about this world was beyond fascinating. "This is called Gringotts. It's our bank. You can exchange your currency and set yourself an account. Are you amenable to that?"

Erik nodded surely. "Yes, ma'am." His voice was soft, but he excitedly walked into the building before Professor McGonagall could.

The building itself was beautiful. It reminded him of the old kind of banks, not the minimalist and stuffy kind of banks that exist nowadays. Tall pillars surrounded the sides and the high ceiling featured a glimmering chandelier. Erik admired it all with a dreamy sigh. If the wizarding world didn't work out for him, he really wanted to be an architect.

"Come along, Mr. Dupont." Professor McGonagall called out when he was just about to wander.

Suppressing a pout -because how childish would thatbe?- Erik followed her to a desk that featured a small man.

"He's a goblin, Mr. Dupont." The professor leaned down and whispered to him, as if sensing his train of thought. "Magical people and very good with money. Treat them with respect. Understood?"

Erik nodded. As if he had any right to be disrespectful to anyone that looked different.

Professor McGonagall was satisfied with that and brought them to a vicious looking goblin. He saw the Professor and a greedy smile shone on his face.

"Ah, another famous war hero! Back to babysitting little muggleborns, I see. How may Grishak be of service to you?" Grishak took out papers from the cabinet beneath his desk, ready to be of service.

"Mr. Dupont over here would like to exchange his muggle money and open an account." She chose to ignore whatever else he said. Erik was curious about the war hero part of his greeting, though. What was that about? He'd ask about it later.

"Of course, of course!" Grishak looked over at Erik and then raised an eyebrow. He looked him up and down and sent a questioning scowl at the professor. "Now why is the boy wearing a mask?"

Suddenly, reality came crashing down on Erik's back once more. He was in a bank in an outfit a burglar would wear during a heist. He closed his eyes and let out a tired sigh. "It's a medical thing, Mr. Grishak." He clenched his fists. He was never a fan of this conversation."I am severely deformed underneath it and my skin cannot be exposed to light." The latter was a lie, but who'd test him?

"Is that so?" He sneered over at Professor McGonagall who seemed uncomfortable at the turn of conversation. Right. Erik hasn't told her about the mask yet. It was a rather busy day yesterday.

"Mr. Dupont does indeed have a severe medical condition. You may identify him using his blood. This should be of no concern when opening an account here." A knowing glint sparked in her eyes. "Unless, you'd like for us to take our business elsewhere? Somewhere that values privacy more so than here?" She crossed her arms and looked down at the goblin.

Grishak cackled and Erik wasn't too fond of it. Honestly, why would he lie about a deformity? He'd rather be a thief than be uglier than a sewer rat. "That is unnecessary, Headmistress." The goblin smiled up at her. "I will provide you with the best service. Now, boy. How much money are you exchanging?" His attention focused on Erik which he wasn't exactly comfortable with.

Swiftly, Erik brought out exactly three thousand pounds from his inner pocket. He wasn't sure if he'd actually spend it all, but he was sure it would cover the cost of his expenses. Professor McGonagall simply raised a judging eyebrow and left it at that. Erik shrugged.

"This will become four hundred galleons, Mr. Dupont. You're a big spender, aren't you?" Grishak smiled sweetly. "You're opening an account, yes? Do put some blood inside this bowl. We'll need it for your identification. When you're done, I shall give you your vault key and complimentary wallet bag."

Grishak handed him a fancy porcelain bowl with a golden dagger inside. Startled, Erik warily eyed Professor McGonagall who shot him an apologetic wince. Erik sighed and pricked his finger and let it drop into the white metal.

Grishak quickly grabbed both items and brought them to another room. Erik moodily stared at the cut on his finger, ready to wipe away the offending liquid and ignore it afterwards, until Professor McGonagall sent out the same spell she used earlier to heal it. When no trace of it was left, Erik could only wonder how far he could bend magic to his will once he learned how it worked.

The goblin returned with an elongated box and a large velvety coin purse. They were both dark grey in color and expensive looking, with intricate designs in gold. Grishak gave both to Erik who opened the box first. Inside was a key that looked very old, but new at the same time. The coin purse was empty. He looked up questioningly at Grishak.

"That's a complimentary wallet, Mr. Dupont!" Grishak claimed excitedly. "A young child who opens an account with more than two hundred galleons gets it for free. If you tell how much you need, it will appear inside. Only your voice may activate this magic. Please, do try it."

Erik jiggled the small satchel skeptically. "Fifty galleons," he said quietly. Suddenly, a very heavy weight was building up from within its folds. With wide eyes, Erik pulled the string that tied it together and looked inside. Within the cloth, fifty little golden circles appeared.

"All is working I suppose?" Erik mutedly nodded at the professor. "Very well. Thank you for your business, Grishak. We are done here. Come along, Mr. Dupont. We may begin your shopping."

The two walked out without another thought. Erik was very focused on the satchel. He kept opening and closing it as he muttered different amounts. He was still amazed every time fewer or lesser galleons appeared inside of it.

Yes, magic would indeed be very interesting for him to study.

Before he knew it, they entered a bookstore. It was a weekday morning so not a lot of people were inside. As Professor McGonagall instructed the store clerk to get her the First Year package, Erik wandered around.

"I'll arrange for your schoolbooks, Mr. Dupont." She smiled down at him, who was still very fixated with his satchel. "You may pick a few books for yourself to read at your own leisure. I'd like to do that as well, you see. They just updated their stock and I'd like to purchase a few for my own collection. I'll give you fifteen minutes. Just approach the cashier when you pay. We'll have them ship it to your house. Understood?"

Erik nodded distractedly, only then noticing how fascinating the bookshop looked like from the inside. He wandered off from the Professor who wandered off herself.

It wasn't like the bookstores he'd seen. It was… cozy. Very unorganized, but in a warm sort of way. Gaslights -honestly, were these people stuck in the nineteenth century?- brightened very few areas and left the place rather dim. Erik rather liked it. If he didn't have very good vision in the dark, he was sure he'd trip over the hundreds of books that piled on the floor.

He read the spines to know what their titles were. He was in a secluded area, much darker than the rest. The books here were thick and daunting to look at. Wandless Magic: The Beginning, Potions for the Promising, The Dark's Menacing Magic: A Protection Guide. Erik wanted to read them all with a hunger he hasn't experienced since he first heard the hum of a piano.

Erik hid within the shadows to look for McGonagall, who was busily chatting with a heavily bearded man about a book issue. Erik grabbed the three books off of the shelves and quietly made his way to the cashier. He looked young, barely out of high school, and only raised an eyebrow at him and the books he added to his pile. He didn't comment, much to Erik's relief. He didn't see any restrictions from the shelf he took the books from, but it was better to be safe.

The clerk put the books in a box along with the schoolbooks as Erik pulled out a few coins from his bag. Just then, Professor McGonagall appeared next to him with a disgruntled expression.

"Wizards nowadays don't understand Transfiguration," she muttered. Erik didn't think it was directed at him, so he chose to stay quiet. "Come along, Mr. Dupont. We'll get your clothes, your work materials, and then your wand." An excited twinkle appeared in her eye.

Erik followed her out, his mouth almost salivating at the books waiting for him at home. All the endless possibilities magic brought were so tempting! He could create, heal, destroy… He could do whatever he wanted. He would be the greatest wizard this world has ever seen.

Suddenly, Erik heard a light giggle to his right before it faded away. He tried to look for the source of the pretty sound, but it was lost. His eyes focused on a small shop they were passing. On the other side of the window, he saw a flash of curly blonde hair before it vanished deeper within the store.

"What's that shop, Professor?" He halted their pace and pointed. His head was tilted to the side.

Professor McGonagall furrowed her eyebrows. "It's a second-hand store, Mr. Dupont. It's for hand-me-downs. You can buy school materials for a lower price. You don't need it, so I don't find it necessary to enter."

"Oh," he said in return. Erik shook his head. He wasn't sure where that flash of interest came from, but they needed to move.

After several minutes of walking, they arrived at Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. The place was filled with robes and uniforms, as well as casual wear. A lady was knitting a yellow scarf when she saw the pair walk in. She offered them a bright smile and ushered them inside.

"Welcome! I'm Mary and I'll be assisting you today! Going to Hogwarts?" She sent a puzzled look when she finally noticed Erik. Her eyes strayed a bit too long on his mask. Erik scowled, but she couldn't see that.

Professor McGonagall coughed. "We'd like to order a full set, please."

"Of course," she said. "Step on the platform over there, please. Take off your hoodie!" She would still send inquiring glances at Erik's face, but Erik chose to ignore it as per usual.

Erik did as she told, albeit hesitantly. He didn't want anyone to see what he looked like underneath all the layers of clothes. He still had a polo shirt on, but his freakishly skinny frame was enough to disturb any unfortunate onlookers. His skin was very pale, almost grey with blue veins lining it. Hell, he barely had any hair. Erik was just thankful that it wasn't a busy day for the shop.

"I'll just be measuring you, kid." She waved her wand and several tailor's tapes flew over to him. They wrapped around his body while a floating quill and parchment noted down his sizes. Erik tried to ignore Professor McGonagall who was looking at him worriedly.

"Right," he said. He wanted to get rid of the judgemental silence. "What am I going to order here, Professor?"

"Three work robes, a pointed hat, protective gloves, and a winter cloak." The way she said it was automatic, like she had done this before dozens of times. She probably has.

Erik focused on Mary, who was beginning to summon large amounts of cloth from a storage closet. "Mary?" He called out and she looked back at him, her eyes flicking to the black mask on his face. Erik could scarcely contain an eyeroll. Couldn't some people even try to be subtle? "I'd like some casual gloves, please. Black. I'd also like some black slacks and white dress shirts. Seven of each, if you will. Do you have nightwear here?" She nodded. "Ten sets, please. I'd prefer better quality than standard. I'll pay extra."

Erik stepped down from the platform and swiftly wore his sweatshirt once more. Professor McGonagall's expression was rather cross as Mary wrote down the large order. Regardless, she jotted down Erik's address on a piece of parchment and handed it to the clerk.

"You got it, kid!" She already had a needle and thread floating above her. "I'll send it when it's ready!"

After Erik paid the expensive fee, the professor brought him outside.

"We'll be getting your classroom materials next." She ushered him to what looked like an old house that was spilling with strange knicknacks. "Try not to splurge here, okay?"

"I wasn't splurging, Professor McGonagall." Erik shrugged. "I don't have many clothes, especially good ones. If I'm to board with other nosy kids, I might as well present myself well. It's one thing to taunt a freak, but it's another to taunt a rich one." He muttered darkly to himself. The professor didn't respond with anything else.

pThe trip inside the shop was a quick one. Professor McGonagall got what he needed and didn't give him much time to add his bill. When they left, Erik only bought whatever was necessary. He was a bit glum about that. He saw a golden cauldron and was very tempted to buy it until the professor sent him a warning glare.

Erik and Professor McGonagall left. The sun was hot during the summer, but it didn't stop Erik from enjoying Diagon Alley. Either way… he'd be getting ice cream in the end.

"And now," said Professor McGonagall, "for arguably the most important part. We're about to get you your wand, Mr. Dupont. Do follow me."

They approached a curious shop that called itself Ollivander's. Erik could only watch in awe beneath his hood as hundreds of boxes towered in the place. There was an old man by the counter who was writing a letter when they came in.

"Headmistress!" The old man stood with a smile. "How's your 9½ fir wood with dragon heartstring core doing this fine day?"

Professor McGonagall smiled at him fondly. "My wand is as good as ever, Ollivander. I'm here to introduce a new Hogwarts student." She looked at the younger boy encouragingly. "Why don't you introduce yourself, Mr. Dupont?"

Erik nodded at the man, his gold eyes meeting him steadily. Ollivander blinked at the mask, but didn't react any further than that. "My name is Erik Dupont, sir." Erik's voice was quiet, but still maintaining its pretty timbre.

"Erik Dupont..." Ollivander trailed off, head cocked to the side. "I've never forgotten a wand I've sold. I always have a face to match with them, too." He surveyed Erik's form and the boy shifted uncomfortably. "I suppose I won't forget a mask, either." With a shrug, he summoned several boxes over to them. "You're rather tall… Are you left or right handed?"

"Ambidextrous, sir." Erik looked at the wands in front of him, but Ollivander immediately shooed them away when he heard his answer. A new set flew over to him.

"Very interesting! You also have very long fingers… Try picking one up, Erik." He gestured at the wands waiting for him.

Erik did as he was asked. The wand he picked up was brown with circular ends. It was rather plain. Erik could have found a more interesting branch in his backyard. When he tried swishing it, the wand almost snapped in half. He let it go with a silent yelp, afraid to look at the professor and Ollivander. Fortunately, Ollivander simply tutted and shoved another wand down Erik's nose.

"Try this, Mr. Dupont." He held out a dark wand with grey swirls engulfing it. It was rather short, but it looked much better than the previous one.

Erik warily tried to grab it, but the wand flew back into its box before he could even so much as touch it. He frowned indignantly. Surely wands wouldn't be disgusted with him, too? Ollivander simply gave an excited clap and handed him another.

The two went on for a while, much longer than the trio anticipated. Erik was sure he must have tried fifty different wands to no avail. Ollivander's beard was now burnt at the tips, Professor McGonagall was fixing several broken cabinets and chairs, and Erik was gloomily staring at another wand that chose to snap itself in half rather than be his wand.

"Mr. Ollivander?" Erik glared at the freshly broken wand. "Perhaps… perhaps I'm not meant to have a wand. Maybe I'm meant to be a wizard without one."

Ollivander chortled. "Of course not! In fact, you seem like a very powerful one! We simply must look for a wand that can handle your magic."

"Nonsense, Mr. Dupont." Professor McGonagall was busy rearranging the furniture as she spoke. "A wand channels a wizard's magic. It's almost an extension of your soul."

Erik narrowed his eyes as another wand scrambled away from his touch. He was getting a little impatient and more than a little nervous. Was he not worthy of a wand? Was he a subclass of wizard? Even in a new world full of mystery and delights, was he still a freak of nature? "Maybe I don't have a soul," he spat unthinkingly. "Maybe someone chopped it into pieces so that I may suffer without one for the rest of eternity."

He didn't notice how his companions tensed and how they looked at each other when he said those words.

Professor McGonagall laughed nervously. "That isn't true, Mr. Dupont. Your soul is fine. You're just a tricky customer, is all." She nervously adjusted her collar.

"The Headmistress is quite right, Mr. Dupont." Ollivander was now busy opening up large boxes, trying to find something more specific. "Could you try this wand?"

Erik grabbed it, but a pesky cabinet banged open and flew to the other side of the room. Erik sighed and shook his head.

"You are a very difficult customer, Mr. Dupont." The wandmaker discarded the failed wand. "What are your interests, child? Any hobbies?"

"I play a lot of instruments, sir." He crossed his arms defensively. "The violin, the piano… anything with strings, really. I design buildings, too."

"Music… Oh!" Ollivander trailed off once more before dashing to a secret room. Professor McGonagall and Erik stared at his retreating form, not having much else to do.

Professor McGonagall smiled. "I think he's found the one, Mr. Dupont."

Erik resisted the urge to stomp his foot. "Or a conductor's baton."

Before the professor could reply, Ollivander raced back out with a hopeful smile on his face. In his hand was a dark box, much different from the previous ones which were dark green. When he opened it, Erik's breath got caught in his throat.

The wand was beautiful. Its wood was pitch black, almost like a black hole in its depths. It was slim at the beginning, making it look refined and elegant, until it reached the handle. Erik's mouth was agape behind the mask as he looked at the end. The wand's handle was shaped like a violin's scroll without its pegs. It was beautifully silver, a stark contrast to the dark black wood of its body.

Erik shivered, goosebumps riding up his skin, when he actually held it in his hand. The moment his flesh caressed the fine wood, a soft hum that sounded remarkably like a violin resonated in his ears. His throat was dry as he savored the sensation of lightning that was shooting up his arm. The gaslights of the shop burst into life and wind flowed inside the room like a tornado. Every swish Erik did with the wand, a very soft note -different every time- would play. He wasn't sure if anyone else could hear it, but he supposed that didn't matter. This wand was his.

He'd hold off learning wandless magic. Just for a little bit.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" Ollivander was clapping. "You have a very rare wand, Mr. Dupont! Its wood is a mixture of Pine and Hornbeam with a dragon heartstring core. It's very stiff and rather long, measuring about thirteen inches." Ollivander looked very pleased.

"You have a beautiful wand, Mr. Dupont." Professor McGonagall was smiling brightly at him.

Erik blushed, never having heard anyone call anything of his beautiful. "Thank you, madame."

"This was a very lovely sale, Mr. Dupont." Ollivander accepted the money Erik gave him with a gentle grin. "You were one of my trickiest customers, but I'm rather satisfied!"

"Me, too." Erik hesitantly smiled at him, clutching his wand like his life depended on it.

"Farewell, Mr. Dupont. You will do great things with your wand." Ollivander nodded at him as the two left. From the outside, by the windows, Erik waved his hand goodbye while Ollivander could still see him.

Professor McGonagall led the way to what seemed like a pet store. Erik scowled at the vastly interesting creatures that were stuck in cages, waiting for any snooty brat to pick them up.

"Familiars are optional, Mr. Erik." The professor waved a hand at the various animals in the store. "You may only bring an owl, a cat, or a toad."

The boy pondered for a bit, looking at the teacher with an inquisitive stare. "Why are those sorts of pets allowed? Why not dogs or parrots?"

"Owls are used as messenger birds," she said automatically. Erik snorted. Owls weren't an option for him, then. Who would he send mail to? "As for the rest… well, I suppose it's for the aesthetic."

"Charming," Erik said sardonically. Still, he walked around the pet store. He wasn't very interested in a toad. After all, what would he do with them? He'd even make his damn frog feel pretty. Cats left fur everywhere, but at least they were quiet and minded their own business. Erik would get a cat, but none of the felines near him were in any way interesting.

That is until a shadow moved from the corner of his eye.

Erik swerved his body to the right, lightning fast and elegant, as a pitch dark figure from the shadows pounced on him. He braced himself for pain, but instead felt a lump of fur perch itself on his gangly shoulders.

Confused, Erik frowned at the cat that was purring as it rubbed its head on Erik's chin. With a sigh, he scooped it from his shoulders and held it in his arms before it accidentally removed his mask. The cat was slim with pitch black with short fur, making it look elegant and beautiful in a more sinister way. Even Erik was barely able to make out its figure in the dark. Its eyes, however, were a very familiar shade of yellow. Erik wasn't sure what to feel about that.

"Ya got the hissy missy there, lad!" A voice from behind him called his attention. When Erik turned, he saw a man in his forties with scratches all over his body and dirty clothes above it. Erik didn't stop the sneer of disgust at the sight of him. Honestly, when he goes out everyone hides their wives and brings out their pitchforks. The double standard in this world is insane. "She hates everyone in 'ere! Ya gotta taker 'er!"

Erik was sure he was just saying that to make a sale. He was a little gratified, however, when the cat hissed at the presence of the filthy man. "I'm not sure, sir." He shrugged. "I'm not much of a cat person."

"And hissy missy ain't a person-loving cat, but she's lovin' ya!" The smile on the clerk's face was genuine, but it fell a bit at the sight of the mask and scowling eyes. The cat grabbed both of their attention by softly nipping and playing with his fingers. The man laughed. "Ya see? The two of ye would be bonded in no time!"

Erik tried to put the cat down, but it kept jumping back up and Erik was helpless to resist a creature that was begging for his attention. He was also growing soft with the idea of a cat, though. Couldn't Professor McGonagall turn into one? With a groan, Erik nodded at the clerk who rang up the bill. He paid for the cat, some treats, and left with a new companion in tow.

When he left, a familiar cat strutted her way up to Erik's pet. Professor McGonagall's cat form circled the other, taking in its presence with a critical eye. Erik's cat just sat on its hind legs and silently let the professor be, almost ignoring her presence entirely. With a nod that looked far too human to be feline, Professor McGonagall changed her forms as though it were nothing.

"Your cat is a fine specimen, Mr. Dupont." She let a treat fly to the young cat. "What will you name her?"

"Ayesha," Erik said almost immediately. It felt right. "It's from a book I read. I like it."

"Very well. It suits her." Professor McGonagall started walking forward again, letting the two follow her from behind. "Are you ready for ice cream, then?"

"A deal's a deal, Professor."

The two reached an ice cream parlor called Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor in only a few minutes. It was filled with popping colors and bright lights. A row of ice cream flavors was behind a screen of glass. Professor McGonagall picked a complicated flavor, but Erik stuck with a simple chocolate scoop in a cup.

Ice cream in hand, the trio walked to an empty table after the professor paid. When he sat down, spoon in hand and ready to dig in, he had a horrible realization.

He was in his mask.

He flinched violently, throwing back the small spoon into the cup. Erik was breathing heavily, a heavy weight building in his chest.

He was too ugly to eat in front of the kind professor. His whole face was a monstrosity that he would never subject to a person who's been more of a mother to him in two days than his mother had in his entire lifetime. He owed her. Erik couldn't eat simply because he knew Professor McGonagall would throw up if she saw.

"Mr. Dupont? What's wrong?" A concerned tone was dripping from her voice and Erik felt guilty. He doesn't deserve her sympathy or her pity. Had he manipulated her into liking him? Was he enough of a monster to do that? Yes. Yes he was, apparently.

"I can't eat," he said dully. His stomach twisted in sorrow. "My mask is in the way."

"You can remove it."

Erik couldn't help but glare at her. "I can't, Professor McGonagall." He was almost sarcastic. "Medical reasons and all."

"I don't believe that medical reasons are making you keep the mask, Mr. Dupont." She bit into a scoop of ice cream. "Do you plan on wearing that to Hogwarts? The whole time? In the dormitory, in class..."

"Yes," he said. "I'll make sure no one sees." He had no other choice.

"Would you need regular checkups with the school healer?" The professor rested her head on her clasped hands, waiting for Erik to miss a step in his answer.

But of course, Erik was not one to disappoint. "That is unnecessary," he said. "I'll do fine on my own. It's very important that I keep my mask and my privacy. Surely Hogwarts can respect my doctor's orders?"

"Of course," she said slowly. "I shall tell the faculty that we'll be having a student in a mask for… medical reasons."

"Indeed." Erik didn't waver. "Medical reasons." He was protecting his and everyone's sanity by wearing the blasted mask. That/em should count for something.

Professor McGonagall sighed, obviously not believing but choosing to drop the subject. She flicked her wand and Erik's cup sealed itself back. "I've put a preservation charm. It should last until you reach home."

Erik looked at her weirdly. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"I would still like for you to enjoy your ice cream, Mr. Dupont. Even if not with me." Her voice was soft and what she said was so kind. Erik swallowed thickly, ignoring the tears pricking his eyes. He didn't know why that got to him, but seeing her gentleness being wasted on him was like a needle sewing through his ungrateful heart.

Later that night, Erik was reading books on the floor with Ayesha in his large and dimly lit room. He was absorbing everything he could in as little time as possible. He was sure that he'd be awake for several days just to be satisfied.

In the margins of his texts, however, there were various drawings of a cat that stared at him with kind eyes.

Thank you for reading! do leave a review :) i would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. next stop: hogwarts!