This is super new and I was going to hold off posting it but I ran out of other things to post and this was a full first chapter so I figured why not. Hope you all enjoy!

PS: I am not a scientist so if anything... sciency is wrong, I apologize. I will try and do research on anything that needs it but feel free to correct me politely if I'm wrong.

PSS: And it might get a bit confusing pronoun-wise initially. To simplify things, OC was female "Angela" and is now male "Benjamin."


Children screamed joyfully as they ran around the yard of the foster home, chasing one another as they played tag or tossed a ball around. Only one was doing anything different, covered in dirt and over in a far corner of the yard; their messy blonde hair streaked with more dirt, twigs, and leaves from the tree hovering over them. The other children ignored them and didn't even notice the caretaker stepping into the yard with a couple behind her.

She spoke with them for a minute and turned to show them some of the children playing before she spotted the blonde boy. Her face flushed in embarrassment as the woman behind her spoke, gesturing to him and she hastily tried to say something but the couple was adamant and she offered a tight smile and led them into the house before hurrying back out. She made a beeline for the young boy playing in the dirt, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him to his feet as he complained.

"I was in the middle of something very important! It's vital that I monitor—"

The caretaker ignored his fussing, continuing to haul him towards the home. "I've told you not to play in the dirt and mud, especially when we are having potential adopters visiting!"

"They never want me anyway! Just tell them no!"

"I tried," she hissed at the boy with a glare. "They insisted on meeting you. Damn bleeding hearts."

The boy groaned. "Just tell them I'm not interested."

"It's not up to you, Benjamin. Change your clothes quick and do something about your hair," she ordered, storming off and muttering under her breath. "If we're lucky, they'll take you so I won't have to deal with you anymore."

Benjamin watched her go before rolling his eyes and hiking up the stairs to his room in the attic. The room was small and a bit of a mess. Papers were scattered around and there was a table covered in various cups, a pot or two, and a few torn apart toys. Something was growing in the pot, which he took a brief look at, bringing a hand to his chin in thought before clicking his tongue.

"Damn, even the attic isn't humid enough, but the caretaker won't let me in the basement. Britain just isn't like the states."

He huffed and went to a pile of clothes at the edge of his bed, throwing some over his shoulder and stripping from his mud-splattered shirt and pants as he found what items he needed. While they were clean, spending so much time on the end of the bed left them wrinkled, not that Benjamin cared. He sighed, setting the shirt aside, and moving to the water bin on a smaller table on the opposite side of the room. He grabbed a cup and scooped some water out to pour over his head, cleaning his hair a bit before using a small towel to dry himself off and wipe his face.

He glanced at the cracked mirror leaning up against the wall on the table, dull blue eyes staring back at him in mild annoyance. Benjamin was only ten years old and had been stuck in foster care since he was five. If anyone had asked him why, he'd simply reply, "Because I'm weird." This was a fact well-known through the various homes he'd been placed into. Benjamin simply wasn't normal, though it wasn't his fault.

Benjamin, after all, once went by another name: Angela Leese. Angela was a 32-year-old woman holding a number of PhDs and Master's degrees in various science-related fields. She'd been born in the early 90s and powered her way through school far faster than her two elder brothers. Grades were skipped, college was almost too easy, and her only goal was to learn. This meant long nights spent doing whatever she felt like doing. She had free access to a lab, given her job doing research on the various unexplainable things in the world. She wondered about everything from life after death, to physics, to astronomy, to quantum mechanics. She was never bored, though this often meant she never really stopped.

That was how she met her end. Nothing dramatic. No random car accident, no airplane crashing or street mugging. She simply worked too hard, passed out at her lab table, and never woke up. Her family mourned, then moved on just as everyone did. She, however, didn't move on in the way she expected. She woke up in the body of a small infant, new from the womb, and not even able to see. She wasn't pleased, of course. No one would be, but it brought a new perspective on life that made her curiosity burn. Soon as she could, she was moving and learning and taking everything in while mentally building theories.

This worried her new set of parents. A young blonde English woman who'd married a mildly well-to-do businessman. They were uncertain about her initially. The pregnancy hadn't been planned and they were awkward with their first child. As Angela grew though, a few things started to get noticed. Things that just weren't quite right.

For one, Angela was no longer a woman. She was now Benjamin Cooke, a young boy who toddled around a bit too early for his parents to be comfortable. A few doctor trips told the new parents nothing other than him being a healthy, growing baby that was developing just a tad faster than others. Then, he started speaking too soon. He hadn't known better. Angela wasn't one to really entertain children, so other than the few facts she knew from book reading, it hadn't seemed odd that she—as Benjamin—was able to speak in full, comprehensible sentences a few years too soon.

These things among others—reading college-level books, speaking of things no child should know or understand, educating adults, even—led to the inevitable. His parents abandoned him. Brought him to a park, bought him ice cream, and never returned. His mother had been pregnant with his younger sibling, so they would just try again in the hopes this one would be normal. Benjamin didn't blame them. It made sense to him. He was strange and strange hadn't been accepted when he was Angela, so why would it be so now?

So, Benjamin went to a police station and was moved into foster care. He never bothered to hide himself. It's just who he was. He was smart, blunt, and could honestly care less about others and what they thought. The only thing he ever lied about was telling the police who his parents were. They hadn't wanted him so he wouldn't try going back. Not that the foster people he dealt with wanted him either, but that was neither here nor there.

Foster care just worked for him. Once the carers realized he wasn't about to get adopted anytime soon and did perfectly fine on his own, they left him be. Forgot about him, actually, but as a child with the mind of an adult, Benjamin took care of himself… Or thought about it, anyway. Meals were occasionally skipped if he wasn't reminded in some way and curfews were the only real reason he attempted to sleep. Attempted because it seemed Angela's insomnia carried over into this body too.

There were a few people who were interested in him though, such as the couple he was on his way to meet now. They were always the same type of people. Those who were looking for a specific appearance—Benjamin's blond hair and blue eyes were often prized by some couples—and those who were, as the caretaker said, bleeding hearts. It was the latter who didn't always take the hint.

Benjamin's goal was to ease through foster care and "graduate" into society without being adopted. He was perfectly fine on his own and rarely enjoyed the company of others, given those his age were mentally behind and adults were too busy being unsettled by his personality. Sooner he grew up, the better. He didn't want to think how high school would go, having survived it once and only because of two protective older brothers.

Benjamin sighed and pulled on his shirt, heading down the stairs toward the dining room where the couple and caretaker were waiting. The caretaker gave him a tight smile, grabbing his arm once more and putting him in a chair across from the two. He resisted the urge to sigh as the caretaker introduced him and gave a brief rundown of how long he'd been in foster care and how many families returned him.

It was typical of her and most caretakers once they understood his strangeness. They wanted rid of him for as long as possible and those couples who wanted to rehabilitate the quiet children tended to latch onto him until he did something too concerning for them to ignore. It never took much either. Dissecting a frog on the kitchen table, calling out the obvious divorces waiting to happen, getting caught mixing cleaning chemicals in an attempt to—

"Benjamin?"

He blinked, tugging himself from his daydreaming to face the wife of the man across from him.

"We were wondering if you'd like to come home with us."

"Not really," he replied bluntly, making the caretaker pinch his side as she smiled to reassure the surprised couple.

"Oh, don't mind him. Of course, he would love a new home. Any of the children would."

"Well, we don't want to force him if he's not comfortable," the husband said, giving me a small smile. "Though we're willing to do our best to make you happy if you choose us."

Benjamin raised a brow. "Anything?"

"Oh, no," the caretaker breathed, leaning over and hissing in his ear. "Don't ruin this."

Benjamin ignored her and the bruising grip she had on his arm. "Are you rich, Mr…?"

"Carlisle," he hummed, "and while I wouldn't say I am rich, I run a good business and am considered a part of the… wealthier side of things."

The wife leaned forward. "We'd be able to get you your own room, your own toys, whatever you want."

"So, you'd be able to get me a full laboratory setup? Bunsen beakers, gas powered burners, chemicals for analysis, a library of books for my research, and all of the latest technologies to study with?"

The couple stared in shock and the husband stuttered.

"I-I'm sorry?"

Benjamin sighed with a roll of his eyes. "I do a lot of research and need the right equipment to study what I need. Technology during this time is bare basic anyway, but using only what I have here is obviously not very helpful to my studies. If I'm to learn anything about this world, I'm going to need access to the proper methods and tools."

The caretaker was immediately pinned by the frightened and worried expressions on the couple's faces as the husband held his wife slightly.

"Perhaps that other child we were talking about would be better."

Benjamin scoffed, standing. "Oh, of course. Offer the world to a kid then pull it out from under him the second he starts making sense of—"

He was cut short as the caretaker covered his mouth with her hand, speaking apologies to the couple and hauling him out of the room. Once out, she released his mouth and snapped a hand across his cheek. Benjamin grimaced, glaring at her as she scolded him.

"I told you to watch that mouth of yours when you're with potential adopters."

"They weren't going to take me anyway," he bit out.

"That doesn't matter. You make me look bad and ruin it for the other children."

"If anything I make it easier for them to get picked," he grumbled as she aimed a stern finger at the stairs.

"Straight to your room and don't be expecting supper either. I don't want to see you the rest of the day."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I've got an experiment I need to deal with anyway."

She bristled. "If y-you blow something up again—"

"I'll clean it up, it's fine."

"I-It's not fine!"


Strange things started happening right around Benjamin's 11th birthday. Small things at first. A kid tripped after throwing a ball of mud at Benjamin's back when there was nothing to trip on. A once-healthy rosebush died overnight when Benjamin had been pushed into it after school. The caretaker's crisp white apron turned a vibrant pink when she destroyed his lab set-up in his room after a… potentially dangerous experiment… exploded. No one was harmed since everyone had been sent downstairs to play, but Benjamin had been moved out of the attic and down into the basement. This wasn't really a punishment to him, given he'd wanted the humidity of the basement for other tests, but his "room" was downgraded to nothing more than a bed and a wardrobe for clothes. No experiments allowed… not that this rule stopped him.

It was on the way home from the last day of school that the biggest incident occurred. Benjamin hadn't really believed any of the previous instances to have been because of him. Anyone could've mixed the caretaker's apron with other clothes in the wash. Kids were clumsy and tripped over their own two feet every day, and it wouldn't take much to kill off a bush if one wanted to. However, on this particular afternoon, someone had finally made Benjamin angry.

This might not sound surprising but Benjamin had a very good hold on his temper. Having the mentality of a 32-year-old in a 10-year-old's body was part of that, but being a scientist was another. Patience was key. Experiments went wrong all the time. Results often took long periods of time only to give you the opposite of what one was looking for. Things blew up, mixtures were ruined, things went bad and whole hypotheses were thrown out in the process of looking for an answer. Losing your temper meant thousands of dollars of equipment being put at risk. It meant more mistakes, more failures, more problems. Benjamin knew better and had the experience to know that a temper was detrimental when it came to science.

So, Benjamin didn't get angry. He got mildly annoyed, sure. Getting bullied by the kids older than him in school and at the foster house was usually what did that, but Benjamin had lived through it once before and this was nothing new. Nothing mattered to him except the science. So, when he slipped away from the rest of the students going home on the last day and went to his small sanctuary tucked in the trees on the outskirts of the local park, it didn't matter that his knees were skinned from being pushed on the playground during recess. The slight stinging of the wounds and the echoing laughter of children mocking him ringing in his ears didn't matter, because it was the last day. The last day of his experiment that had taken all year to get perfected until the results would be ready today.

Upon rounding the trunk of a tree though, his joy immediately fell. A group of kids from school and the foster home were standing around where the experiment had been. Everything was trampled, broken, destroyed and for once, Benjamin felt furious. He stepped out of the trees and the group turned to him with smug grins and mocking words. He pushed past them even as they shoved and jostled him, dropping his bag and sinking to his knees for even a scrap of a result from the destroyed test. Nothing. Not a single specimen survived the rubber soles of the tennis shoes worn by a group of bullies.

"That took a year," he muttered, not caring that the boys had since upturned his bag and dumped its contents on the ground behind him, putting dirty footprints on textbooks and test sheets.

"Huh? What'd you say?"

"It took a year to find the right environment, the right amount of light, protection from the elements, diligent watering a-and soil churning, and the right chemicals to make a proper growth formula to add to the fertilizer that was handmade."

"They're just stupid mushrooms."

Benjamin's hands tightened into fists as he stood. "They were Panaeolus cyanescens. Uncommon mushrooms in Great Britain that I was growing to test the hallucinogen effect they can cause and how their properties can be potentially beneficial for those suffering from depression."

The kids glanced at each other, having little to no idea what he was saying. One of the older kids sniggered though, drawing all eyes to him.

"And? What are you going to do? You gonna cry about it, ya weirdo?" The boy stepped closer to him, towering over the smaller Benjamin by a good few inches. "Playing in your dirt and mucking about with your dumb experiments or whatever. It's 'bout time someone taught you to—"

The boy was cut off when Benjamin whipped around and landed a solid hit to his face, making him cry out and fall back as the others stared in shock. The shock didn't last long because, as they soon found out, testing the patience of someone who appeared to keep a good hold on their temper was a poor decision. It meant that all that frustration simply built and piled up until it was all released in one fell swoop. Namely, when all of his hard work cultivating those mushrooms was ruined by the stupidity of a couple of children.

Benjamin tackled the boy he'd punched, swinging madly at his face until the others snapped out of their shock enough to turn the tables. He ended up back in the dirt with four older boys beating the shit out of him as he tried various ways to fight back. Then, one of the boys screamed. The barrage stopped and Benjamin lifted his head to stare with wide eyes at the eldest boy. Mushrooms had started popping up all over him and as he scrambled to try and rip them off, more would appear. Benjamin wasn't sure what to make of this, nor were the other boys. After another moment of the older boy's panic, he thrust a finger at Benjamin.

"M-Make it stop!"

Benjamin opened his mouth but wasn't sure what to say.

"I said make it stop! Make them stop popping up!"

"I-I don't know how!" Benjamin finally said, mind whirling at the physically impossible thing that was happening.

The boy continued to try and pry at the mushrooms before screaming curses at him and rushing off with the others. Benjamin hadn't been sure what else to do but start to gather his things and begin his slow trek back to the foster home. He felt the smallest hint of worry when he made it back, expecting the caretaker to come rushing out at the sight of him to question him on the state of the other boy, yet… nothing happened.

The caretaker never questioned him. The boy himself was surprisingly mushroom free by morning—Benjamin hadn't bothered to step in for dinner the night before given the beating left him more tired and achy than actually hungry. The only change was the quiet murmurs and fear that now enveloped a majority of the other children. He ate in peace, went outside, and worked in peace collecting what medicinal herbs he could from the large yard and the plants pressing against the back fence. No one pushed him, no one mocked him. Everything was just… quiet.

He wasn't surprised. A kid sprouting mushrooms out of nowhere would spook anyone and knowing he did it would make them keep their distance. Benjamin had an itch to find out what occurred, but given the wide berth the other kids had given him, that was never going to happen. He wanted to know where the mushrooms went though. As suddenly as they appeared, the fact that they were gone and no one alerted the caretaker was a downright miracle. One Benjamin didn't believe in.

This only proved to frustrate him as time passed and the incident wasn't mentioned. He still had no idea how the mushrooms had appeared or where they went. In the end, he was left with nothing but frustration at the lack of answers. That, and no more strange instances were happening. He hadn't thought about them being strange initially but this new development made him wonder if they were all interconnected. Connected with him even. Then, proof.

"Benjamin."

The boy lifted his head and caught the small ball he'd been bouncing off the ceiling of his room in the basement, having been grounded for flooding part of the yard for an experiment.

"Upstairs. My office."

He frowned, wondering what sort of scolding he was going to get this time, but pushed himself up and trailed after her. He held tight to the ball in his hand, squeezing and releasing it idly until she opened the door to her office and waved him in. Someone was there waiting for them, though Benjamin was immediately suspicious. Potential adopters weren't brought into the caretaker's office unless it was to sign paperwork. Yet, he hadn't even met this person.

She was tall and slim, an older lady with her hair tied back in a perfect bun. She looked strict, but behind her spectacles laid a set of amused green eyes that matched her shimmering green cloak. Benjamin's gaze lingered on the fabric as it wasn't something normally worn. The woman turned to the caretaker then, who'd been waiting by the door.

"Thank you, Maria," this woman said, "If I could have a word with him alone, please."

The caretaker nodded and stepped out, closing the door and stepping away to tend to the children. Benjamin eyed the door for a second before the woman smiled at him and gestured to a chair.

"Have a seat, Mr. Cooke."

Benjamin frowned, but sat. He hadn't told anyone his last name to prevent his parents from being contacted. So, who was this woman and how did she know? Not a cop, obviously. Looks more like someone dressed in their nightgown or trying to be a witch for Halloween. Still, he said nothing and she offered him a smile as she reached into her cloak and handed him a letter.

He hesitated on taking it. No child received a letter here. Everyone was abandoned or orphaned. There was no one to send them letters. He took what was offered though, and was mildly surprised at what was written on the front.

Benjamin Cooke

Basement of Willow Street

Foster Home

Suspicion welled up in him at that. It wasn't the proper way of writing an address and knowing even where he slept made him uneasy. He was also curious though, flipping the letter over and giving the crest on the wax seal a glance before peeling it open. Inside was a letter that he read over… then reread it with a frown before giving the woman a look.

"Is this a joke?"

"While it may seem like it, I assure you, it is not," she replied calmly as he looked back down at those words again.

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Witchcraft and wizardry?" He questioned again, giving her a look. "You mean like magic?"

She nodded. "Exactly so. I am Professor McGonagall who is to be your Transfiguration teacher at the school."

"Right," Benjamin replied dubiously. "I don't believe in magic."

"Most people don't," she answered with a smirk. "Which is why I was sent to explain things. Surely odd instances have been occurring around you, have they not?"

Benjamin perked up a little at this, seeing the answers to his previous suspicions just within reach. "I tripped a kid without touching him, killed a rose bush, and caused a boy to break out in mushrooms."

She raised a brow at the mushroom comment but didn't question it. "Those were all forms of magic. As a young witch or wizard reaches 11 years of age, they begin to experience their first traces of magic that tend to come out in short, uncontrollable bursts during times of need."

"Or the kid tripped over his own two feet. The rose bush was dying anyway, and I shouldn't have dabbled in hallucinogenic mushrooms," he countered, drawing a surprised and suspicious glance from McGonagall.

After all, what 11-year-old would have the slightest idea about hallucinogenic mushrooms?

"Yes, well, while that might be true, how would that then explain this?"

She drew a stick from her cloak and twirled it once, shifting into the much smaller form of a cat. Benjamin stared for a long moment, brain slowly trying to comprehend what he saw as she then shifted back with a smirk.

"That, Mr. Cooke, was just a taste of what may be learned while studying at Hogwarts. Now, normally I would be discussing things with your guardian, however, your caretaker has assured me there will be no issue in you joining us for the start of term in September. You will have one winter break where you may decide to return here for a moment and the term ends the following year. Before the start of classes, I will return here to help you purchase your school supplies.

"However, there are rules you need to keep should this remain a secret from those who do not have our abilities. Magic is prohibited outside of Hogwarts and is monitored at all times by our Ministry. Therefore, you must take care to hide your school supplies from the prying eyes of the other children here. Should anything occur, someone will be dispatched to deal with the situation and you will be expelled. Is that understood, Mr. Cooke?"

Benjamin was still eyeing her but glanced up at the mention of his name, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How does that work?"

McGonagall raised a brow. "Excuse me?"

"Turning into a cat, because you can say magic all you want but I know there's gotta be rules to explain it. Magic isn't a thing. Not really, so from a scientific standpoint how did you do it? Genetic manipulation? DNA splicing? Some sort of optical illusion? Was I actually seeing a cat or were you just making me think I was?"

McGonagall let out a soft sigh. "Oh, if you're not put in Ravenclaw I will eat my hat," she muttered under her breath. "Mr. Cooke?"

"Yes?"

"Will you or will you not be attending Hogwarts?"

A wild grin stretched over his face. "A chance to get away from here and manipulate the laws of the universe? Sign me up."


True to her word, McGonagall did reappear to take Benjamin to get his school supplies. He was eager to go for multiple reasons, one being the fact that the children had gotten over their fear of him and were being particularly nasty. If McGonagall noticed the bruising on his face and how he awkwardly carried himself, she didn't mention it, just occasionally gave him sympathetic looks as she led him out of the foster home. She then offered her arm and he glanced at it with a curious look.

"Take my arm, if you would, Mr. Cooke. It will be easier to Apparate to where we need to be than walk."

"You can call me Benjamin," he said first, eyeing her arm. "There's a reason I don't use my last name. Also, Apparate as in appear? Are we teleporting?"

"In a way. It's magic that allows us to appear instantly to any place we've been before."

"Yeah, okay, but how?" He pressed, reaching up and grasping her elbow. "I mean, do we break down into atoms and get put back together at the desired location? And how do you ensure you get to the right place? Is it based on what you remember because what if you remember wrong or—"

McGonagall rolled here eyes and Apparated away while he was speaking, cracking a small smile as they landed just outside a tavern and the boy immediately took a step away to vomit.

"Apologies Mr—Benjamin," she corrected herself as she stepped toward the door. "However, we are on a schedule."

"Are you kidding?" He breathed, making her wonder if he was about to be a problem, but the boy looked even more excited than before. "That was great! There's definitely some strange law of motion thing going on and not the breaking down of atoms like I thought. I won't call it magic though. Just altering the laws of physics through a means I don't yet understand."

McGonagall eyed the young boy for a moment getting an uneasy feeling about him. It wasn't often they received students who were this intelligent at this age and while that wasn't normally a concern, he reminded her eerily of a certain someone who was equally intelligent but also cruel. She managed to force the thought away, noting that she should still mention the child to Dumbledore, and managed a smile.

"Yes, well, you are free to try your best to figure it out. Stick close now, it can be a bit crowded and I don't need you wandering off or getting lost."

Benjamin hummed, not really listening and she sighed softly as she led him into the tavern. They were greeted welcomingly and McGonagall led Benjamin to the back room where a plain brick wall lay. She drew her wand, tapped a few select bricks, and the bricks in the walk shuddered and came to life, moving out of the way to form a passage into the bustling marketplace on the other side.

"Whoa," Benjamin awed and McGonagall glanced down, expecting him to be at her side gaping at Diagon Alley.

The boy, however, was too busy gawking at the brick wall.

"Is it some sort of spatial-temporal link? A sort of universe packed in a small space? There's no way it's just a magic marketplace smack in the middle of England. The bricks were somehow animated too! Professor—You are a professor, right? How does this work?"

McGonagall sighed lightly. "It is magic, Young Benjamin, as I've already explained."

"Yeah, yeah, alright. But does the magic alter things chemically? Genetically? Is it an illusion?"

"If you remain persistent in getting me to answer all your questions, we will never get your school supplies," she chided, leading him into Diagon Alley with him eagerly catching up.

"You can just tell me you don't know, you know," Benjamin replied, making her glance at him cautiously. "Just means I have to figure it out myself. It's fine not knowing things, even if people say otherwise."

"You're rather wise beyond your years, Young Benjamin," she commented, making him shrug.

"I just like learning."

"Well, some of the other students could do with your passion for learning. For future reference, many witches and wizards don't know a lot about the muggle world, or the non-magic world. Machinery and science are often not dealt with when we can do the same or better with magic."

"That's a bit of a blinkered way of thinking," Benjamin stated bluntly, making her brow twitch. "I mean, trading concepts to apply them and create even better things would be more beneficial, I would think."

"Quite the opposite, actually. What few muggle contraptions that are tested with magic tend to… do as they please after a while."

Benjamin perked up and went to question her on that but she lifted a hand and stopped him.

"Before you bombard me with more questions, let it be known I know very little about that sort of thing. You'd be better off asking someone from the Department of Muggle Studies at the Ministry."

"Politicians? Ugh, no thanks."

McGonagall considered informing him they weren't politicians but decided against it as they entered the first store. Thankfully, Madame Malkin was willing to answer his many questions about magic used in robe-making—giving him a discount even for his interest—and they were soon out of the robe shop and on the hunt for books and potion equipment.

"Potions?"

"Yes. Professor Snape is in charge of teaching that, so don't expect me to be fully versed in potion-making either," she warned, understanding now that a warning was necessary in order to prevent Benjamin from asking the impossible from her.

"Is it like cooking or chemistry?" Benjamin asked; a rather simple question that she could answer… sort of.

"I suppose one could compare it to cooking and baking, though I've no clue what this 'chemistry' is."

"It's mixing chemicals and elements at a basic level to get reactions or use them to alter things. Like vinegar and baking soda."

Yes, well, given I've never done chemistry I could not compare the two. Now, let us get your cauldron and scales."

From there they got his books with only a few more questions he'd pulled out of nowhere just by looking at the titles of them. It was time for lunch then, and she brought him to a small shop to eat and hoped to steer his questions towards Hogwarts.

"Do you have any questions regarding the school?" She asked as he prodded at a cherry tomato on his plate.

"About the school?"

"Yes. Such as… ah, I've yet to mention the sorting process. As a first-year student, you will be sorted into one of four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own traits and once sorted, you can earn house points from your professors. At the end of term, the house with the highest amount will win the house cup."

Benjamin hummed, not seeming interested.

"There's also Quidditch tryouts. First years tend to not make it into a team but it's never impossible."

"I'm not into sports," Benjamin replied, sipping his drink and settling back in his seat, plate already empty.

"Yes, well… there's also a large library you're welcome to use, though some books are restricted for higher year students and those that need the professors' permission. Given the castle itself is imbued with magic, there are also plenty of secrets in Hogwarts for you to discover," she sighed softly, finishing her food as well. "Now, there's a few last things we need to get before you return."

Benjamin frowned mildly but got up and followed her into a dingy store full of various creatures.

"You are not required but as a muggle-born student using the funds provided by Hogwarts, you are allowed to choose an animal to bring with you. Hogwarts allows cats, rats, frogs, and owls. You are free to choose one."

"Are they magic too? Are they bred to be smarter? More… tame? Can they do magic?"

McGonagall sighed. "They have slightly above average intelligence. Owls are used to relay letters to one's home and to others if you need to contact anyone and while cats naturally have enough intellect to get by even without being magic them and the other creatures here are perfectly capable of some self-care."

"Well, I don't really have anyone to write to. They won't get bored, will they?"

"They will find things to do."

The boy wandered over to where the cats were and grimaced before letting out a loud sneeze. "Ugh, guess cats are out. Not really a fan or rats or frog either unless for lab purposes," he muttered, earning a concerned look from McGonagall and the more intelligent rats who were quick to cower in the back of their cage.

She relaxed as he moved over towards where the owls were. A majority were napping as it was still daylight and there was one small one zipping around its cage eagerly. He bypassed that one quickly, much to its displeasure, and stopped before one that peered an eye open with an almost distasteful glare. Benjamin faced the smaller, red Eastern Screech-owl, holding its gaze until it closed its eye with a huff and Benjamin pointed.

"That one."

McGonagall sighed, taking one look at the wizard who would have to handle the bird and understanding immediately that they were both relieved he was taking it and about to hate the next few moments of trying to put it in a cage.

"He doesn't need a cage," Benjamin declared then, making the wizard hesitate and look to McGonagall.

"He can't go in the train without it."

"It's fine. He can just fly there, right?"

"Sir," the wizard started, warily eyeing the owl. "He's not usually cooperative and could just fly off. Having him in a cage until you're home could help build that initial bond and—"

Benjamin cut him off, jabbing a finger at the rest of the birds not in cages. "If he wanted to leave, he'd fly right out the door. If any of them wanted to, they'd do the same. Some cheap leather strap won't stop them and if he flies off, then it'll be my problem, not yours. So, no cage."

He hesitated once more before giving in with a sigh and moving to unlatch the leather strap trying the owl to the perch. The second the strap was loose the owl bolted up and just as the wizard went to scramble for the door, the owl simply landed on Benjamin's shoulder with another huff and fluffed its feathers so it could return to napping.

"For someone running a shop full of smart animals you sure don't understand them well, do you?" Benjamin grumbled under his breath as he stepped out and McGonagall apologized, paid, and went out after him to scold him.

"Benjamin, I understand that you do not know much about our world, but like any other human being, you need to have some form of respect for—"

"Nobody smart likes being locked up," Benjamin explained simply, reaching up and brushing his fingers through the feathers on the bird's chest. "Just because people don't understand them doesn't make it right."

McGonagall sighed softly, understanding the message he was trying to send, and calmed herself down. "Well, do at least try not to act in such a manner at school, please. The professors there are experts in their crafts and even the caretaker understands what's for the best. If you have any disagreements on things, you can discuss it with your head of house, myself, or the Headmaster."

Benjamin was quiet for a moment before finally turning to look at her. "Where to next?"

McGonagall withheld another sigh as she started to lead the way once more. "To get your wand."

"My wand? Aren't wands just sticks?"

McGonagall couldn't stop the sigh this time. "Wands are extensions of ourselves and help witches and wizards utilize the magic they hold into casting spells. Each wand is unique and the type of wand you receive can even affect how you do magic. For example, some perform Dark Arts poorly or some are better at Transfiguration spells."

"So they're like gardening tools."

Her brows furrowed as they reached the wand shop. "Gardening… tools?"

"Yeah, like hoes used to till the ground, shovels to dig, trowels for finer work. Each tool is for a different purpose."

"No, no. You only receive one wand."

"But if it doesn't perform certain magic well—"

"Then, it is a reflection of what magic you are more likely to excel in."

Benjamin frowned as they stepped into the shop and Benjamin's owl flew to rest in the eaves. "So, I can end up with a useless stick then."

"I wouldn't say useless," someone hummed, making Benjamin turn to eye Ollivander uneasily. "Another new Hogwarts student then, Minerva?"

McGonagall nodded. "A muggle-born who seems to have endless questions. I will step outside, Benjamin, as the wand choosing process can be very personable."

Benjamin shrugged as she left and looked back to Ollivander as he hummed and looked around at some of the boxes they had.

"Benjamin, was it? A curious one. Try this."

Benjamin blinked at the box holding a wand that was held before him. He took it out and twisted it around, eyeing the slightly crooked wand and giving the smiling Ollivander a look.

"What do I do with it?"

He waved his hand. "A twirl, a flick."

Benjamin shrugged and twirled it, jumping when a box nearby seemed to explode, throwing up papers and making the owl above screech in annoyance. Benjamin didn't even notice the wand getting snatched from him until Ollivander was across the room digging through other options.

"No, no. Didn't think so. Unicorn horn core isn't flexible enough. Ah, here. Dragon heartstring core. Chestnut. Nine and a quarter inches."

Benjamin took this one curiously, twirling the wand at a stack of papers that burst into flames.

Ollivander snuffed the fire out quickly and passed him a few more wands with similar responses. "Curious. You're very particular. Perhaps something for your intelligence, your curiosity, to support your mental age over your physical."

Benjamin whipped to him in shock as he approached with a box longer than the others. Ollivander continued to smile in a polite manner with a hint of mischievousness.

"Dragon heartstring, pine wood, 15 inches. Excellent for testing and toying with spells, useful for such an intriguing owner such as yourself."

Benjamin hesitated before shrugging. "Whatever you say, old man."

He took the wand and flicked it away from anything important, relaxing when nothing exploded and the chair turned into a bouquet of flowers.

"Perfect!" Ollivander said with a clap, moving behind his desk and taking the money Benjamin offered with a hum. "Do take care, young Benjamin. Your intelligence and experience could get you into trouble one day. Though I look forward to how your magic grows."

"Thanks, I guess," Benjamin replied as his owl flew down to land on his shoulder. "Sorry about the mess and I'd ask you to keep the whole older-than-I-look thing a secret but do what you want, I suppose."

Ollivander chuckled in amusement as Benjamin stepped out and gave McGonagall a look.

"That old guy is weird."

She just sighed with a shake of her head. "Let's get you home."