Chapter 5 Harry Potter

"Mr. Constantine, to be honest... your outfit is quite unique among children your age," Professor McGonagall remarked as she took John's hand. She couldn't help but comment on his detective-like appearance, complete with a small suitcase.

John smiled slightly. "I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall, but this outfit helps me avoid a lot of unnecessary trouble."

McGonagall's mind conjured up an image of young John dressing maturely to prevent unwanted attention due to his age and appearance. She felt a pang of sympathy.

"I'm sorry, John. But I can assure you, at Hogwarts, no student will treat you unfairly. And if they do... I will make sure they understand the meaning of rules!"

Her authoritative tone, reminiscent of a strict headmistress, spread an intimidating aura.

John smiled faintly. He had referred to potential issues with clients underestimating him due to his age and appearance. However, the well-meaning but slightly misguided professor misunderstood his concerns.

"Professor, I'm looking forward to life at Hogwarts. Though, I should apologize in advance if it's not as pleasant as expected."

McGonagall, touched by his politeness and maturity, smiled warmly. She couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and sorrow for the young boy who had to grow up so fast.

"John, hold my hand tightly. The next part might be a bit uncomfortable..."

Without further ado, the world around John seemed to warp, as if the side of an airplane had suddenly opened mid-flight, sucking him into a dizzying whirlwind. When his feet finally steadied, he found himself in a small, somewhat desolate alley.

"This is a high-level spell called Apparition. It allows wizards to travel quickly without using the Floo Network. However, it's quite dangerous as there's a risk of incomplete transference," McGonagall explained professionally.

John, slightly pale, marveled at the magic. Despite his experiences with exorcisms, he had never encountered a spell that allowed such rapid movement.

"Professor McGonagall, I must admit, I'm now incredibly intrigued by magic," John confessed.

McGonagall, pleased with his enthusiasm, led him further into the alley. Soon, a familiar yet shabby tavern came into view: The Leaky Cauldron.

As they stepped inside, John's senses were immediately overwhelmed by the cacophony of clinking glasses, loud laughter, and a blend of strange smells—potions, and something else less pleasant.

"Good heavens..." John muttered, instinctively covering his nose with his sleeve. Despite living alone, his enchanted butler, Wesker, ensured his home was always immaculate. The castle grounds might be wild, but his living quarters were pristine.

The odor in the tavern was worse than anything he had encountered, even from a D-grade wraith. McGonagall, familiar with such reactions from young wizards, was about to explain when the doorbell rang again.

"Come on in, Harry. This is The Leaky Cauldron. You'll soon see the wizarding world for yourself..." boomed Hagrid's voice as his large frame filled the doorway.

Hagrid's large figure caught John's attention immediately—giant's blood! Meanwhile, Harry, who had just entered The Leaky Cauldron, noticed John with Professor McGonagall. His face lit up with excitement.

"Mr. Constantine! I didn't expect to see you here! Are you also going to Hogwarts?" Harry exclaimed, rushing over.

John's display of the Sacred Flame Spell a few days earlier had left a deep impression on Harry. Seeing John here now, he was thrilled. In Harry's eyes, John Constantine embodied the image of a true wizard even more than Hagrid, who had rescued him from the Dursleys.

"You know each other?" Hagrid asked, blinking in confusion at John, who was being escorted by Professor McGonagall.

Just as Harry was about to excitedly recount John's magical prowess, a soft cough interrupted him. Professor McGonagall addressed Harry with concern.

"Harry, why are these people looking at you so...strangely?"

Harry turned to notice that the once noisy tavern had fallen eerily silent. Wizards, ranging from scruffy-looking individuals to those dressed like villains from fairy tales, were all staring at him—specifically, at his forehead.

"Merlin's beard! Professor McGonagall, is it true that Harry Potter is joining Hogwarts this year?" one of the patrons exclaimed.

"The Boy Who Lived...my goodness, that scar...it's really him..." another murmured, awestruck.

"Mr. Potter, it's an honor to see you here..."

The flurry of admiration and complex gazes of reverence overwhelmed Harry Potter, leaving his mind in a daze. If not for Hagrid's imposing presence, he might have been swarmed by the excited wizards.

In the current era of the British wizarding world, if there were any top-tier celebrities, they would undoubtedly be Gilderoy Lockhart, consistently topping bestseller lists, and Viktor Krum, the Quidditch star. But "The Boy Who Lived," Harry Potter, was certainly among them.

Watching Harry and Hagrid surrounded by enthusiastic wizards, John's lips curved into a slight smile. While his identity as an exorcist couldn't remain hidden forever, he relished the opportunity to see the shocked expressions of Hogwarts' professors and students when the truth eventually came out.

"John, how do you know Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, curiosity evident in her tone.

John shrugged. "I recently visited the home of Harry Potter's neighbors, the Lawrences, on some business. When I was leaving, I received my acceptance letter at the same place. At that time, Harry also received his."

McGonagall nodded in understanding and was about to lead John towards the alley behind The Leaky Cauldron when a hesitant, almost fawning voice called out from behind them.

"Pr-Professor McGonagall... it's wonderful to see you here."

John turned to see Professor Quirrell, his head wrapped in a turban like a garlic bulb. His gaze instinctively fell on the peculiar headpiece.

McGonagall's nose wrinkled slightly at the unpleasant odor emanating from Quirrell. "Professor Quirrell, I understand you had some unfortunate experiences during your travels last year, but please try to maintain a more respectable appearance. Hogwarts doesn't hire just anyone, especially for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

McGonagall's usually composed demeanor was notably colder, making Quirrell tense up.

"I-I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall..."

As McGonagall prepared to lead John away, John couldn't resist giving some advice. "Professor Quirrell, I suggest you try some Muggle shampoo. The smell seems to be coming from your turban. You might consider removing it altogether."

Quirrell's expression tightened, and he quickly stammered, "N-no, thank you. My turban is soaked in a medicinal potion."

John's polite smile concealed his amusement. He glanced at the turban again, wondering. 'Voldemort is hiding in that turban, but the system hasn't alerted me to any demonic presence. It seems even in his spectral form, Voldemort doesn't count as an evil spirit.'

With McGonagall now leading the way, accompanied by Hagrid and Harry, they moved towards the alley behind the pub. Quirrell watched them go, his seemingly nervous eyes fixed intently on John.

Inside Quirrell's mind, Voldemort's sinister voice hissed, "That boy is not ordinary. Have someone keep an eye on him. I sense he possesses something that could greatly benefit me."

Quirrell's face paled. "M-master, do you mean the Philosopher's Stone?"

.....

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