Hmm…
Harry had figured out what to give the professors.
Not only the professors, but also his friends and even cousin Dudley; he should get them gifts too.
Professor Snape, however, was a bit complicated. Harry only knew that he was the Potions Master, and if he gave him potions, they probably wouldn't be as good as the ones Snape brewed himself.
What should he do?
Lying on his bed, Harry thought for a long time until a vague idea finally came to him.
That's it!
Since Professor Snape had a good relationship with his parents, why not give him a photo of them as a Christmas gift?
With that thought, Harry made up his mind.
The photo of his parents was one Hagrid had given him before; perhaps Hagrid had been worried about losing it, so he had made several copies.
Perfect!
The next day, as he left, Harry didn't forget to bring a shopping list.
Besides gifts for the professors and friends, there were also some potion ingredients, such as an Aging Potion, and clothes appropriate for an older person.
The Aging Potion was a magical brew that increased the user's age according to the dosage, which was crucial for Harry's future plans.
Being older would give him more freedom, allowing him to enter and leave Diagon Alley without attracting attention.
After all, Diagon Alley was like an underground black market, and an eleven-year-old wizard without parental supervision could not wander in and out freely.
In Diagon Alley, it was also possible to buy valuable items not easily found elsewhere, such as bitter cabbage seeds.
Although Harry was courageous, the influence of his friends had instilled a certain degree of maturity in him.
He decided to buy plenty of bitter cabbage to compensate for his current lack of combat skills.
After arriving at the Leaky Cauldron, Mr. Granger arranged to meet them later in the afternoon and then rushed off to the bank.
Harry and Ron wandered through Diagon Alley for a while, purchasing everything they needed.
To his surprise, outside Zonko's Joke Shop, Harry saw a sign advertising the Rejuvenation Potion.
But the price was several times higher than the ingredients.
Harry gritted his teeth and bought a bunch of joke products, mixing the rejuvenation potion with the props to make it less conspicuous.
After shopping, Harry took Ron to Ollivanders.
The school term had already begun, and the shop was off-season. Harry called several times before Mr. Ollivander noticed someone entering.
"It's rare to see young wizards around here at this time of year," Mr. Ollivander said, stepping out of the shop. Upon seeing Harry, he extended his hand and stepped forward. "Hello, Mr. Potter, good to see you again."
"Hello, Mr. Ollivander," said Harry, pulling Ron along. "This is my good friend Ron. I'd like to buy him a Christmas gift—"
Mr. Ollivander looked away, and Ron lowered his head, slightly embarrassed.
"You must be the youngest Weasley," Mr. Ollivander smiled, asking, "May I see the wand you're currently using?"
Ron took out Charlie's old wand and handed it to Mr. Ollivander.
The wandmaker examined it and exclaimed, "Ah, this wand, I remember—pear wood, unicorn hair, thirty centimeters… I suppose this young Weasley feels significant resistance when casting spells?"
"Yes, sir," Ron replied cautiously.
"That's right. Unicorn hair usually produces the most stable spells, the least likely to falter. However, it is the most loyal element in a wand, usually staying true to its first owner, regardless of skill."
"If you weren't the brother of the original owner, the resistance would likely be even greater," Mr. Ollivander said, glancing at Harry. "Mr. Potter's discovery was timely; otherwise, this wand would have seriously hindered your progress in spellwork."
"I see…" Ron said quietly.
At first, he thought Harry was just being considerate, but after Mr. Ollivander's explanation, he understood Harry's intentions.
"Thank you, Harry," Ron said gratefully.
"We're good friends, aren't we?" Harry smiled.
Mr. Ollivander adjusted his glasses, took a measuring tape from the cupboard, measured Ron's hand, and said, "Here, Mr. Weasley, try this one."
He handed him a wand: "Acacia wood, dragon heartstring, twenty-three centimeters."
Before Ron could take it, Mr. Ollivander quickly withdrew it.
"No, no, this won't suit a young wizard like you… hmm, how about this one? Walnut wood, dragon heartstring, twenty-four and a half centimeters."
Ron tried it. A gust of wind swept across the table.
"No, no, this one," Mr. Ollivander said, taking the wand back. "Willow wood, unicorn tail hair, thirty-five centimeters."
A miracle occurred; the moment Ron held it, the tip glowed brilliantly.
"That's it! This is the one!" Mr. Ollivander stomped his foot excitedly. "Go on, Mr. Weasley, try a spell."
Ron silently cast a spell.
"Expelliarmus!"
A red light struck a stone in the shop with a muffled thud.
"Cool…" Ron held the wand, smiling at it like it was a treasure.
Harry was pleased that his friend finally had a wand suited to him. After paying seven Galleons to Mr. Ollivander, they left the shop together.
"Let's get lunch," Harry said, secretly pocketing the Aging Potion.
"Alright." Ron was still excited, eager to cast more spells.
Even in the British wizarding world, the best restaurants were French.
Harry took Ron into a restaurant and found a table by the wall.
Ron was still staring at his new wand, completely forgetting the old one.
After a few bites, Harry whispered, "Ron, I need to go to the bathroom."
"Okay," Ron instinctively replied.
In the bathroom, Harry removed his clothes and tucked them into his pocket, then drank the Aging Potion in one gulp.
With a snap, a nineteen-year-old Harry appeared.
That familiar feeling…
He dressed in age-appropriate clothes and left the bathroom.
Seeing Ron still fiddling with the wand, Harry didn't call him, lifted his shirt collar, and exited the dining room.
Diagon Alley was chaotic, worse than the slums of London.
Broken brick streets, filthy walls, and dark wizards leaning against the walls, looking as gaunt as infernal corpses—clearly no respectable place.
Almost immediately, Harry was noticed by the dark wizards.
He ignored them, showing no fear, and kept walking.
Turning deliberately into a narrow alley, he encountered a thin wizard with black teeth and a menacing appearance.
"Boy, this isn't a place for you," the wizard said, sizing Harry up. "Hand over your money, and I, Dawima, will ensure your safety!"
To his surprise, the boy showed no fear; instead, he gave a knowing smile.
Since you came looking for me, don't blame me, Harry thought.
He raised his hand, his eyes fixed on the dark wizard.
"Imperio!"
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