Chapter 33: Really Don’t Want to Be Friends with the Chosen One

Leonard had made a small mistake—one he should never have made.

In his previous life as a scavenger in the gray zones, he'd always known to avoid the spotlight. But the sudden quest had rattled his focus, and he overlooked one simple truth.

In a bar where everyone—patrons, the owner, even the cleaning staff—was beaming at Harry Potter and rushing to shake his hand, a lone boy sitting in the corner, lost in thought, stuck out like a sore thumb.

And those who didn't blend in were the ones more likely to catch a child's eye.

"Oh! Merlin's beard, that's Harry Potter!" Tom the barman exclaimed, setting off the oddest kind of welcome party.

Wizards all over the pub leapt to their feet, crowding around Harry, thrusting out their hands to shake the Savior's.

Harry flinched at first, startled by the flood of enthusiasm. But the warmth of the crowd quickly eased his nerves, and soon he had the presence of mind to glance around.

That was when he noticed Leonard.

Others overlooked him, a quiet figure in the corner. But from the center of the crowd, Harry spotted the boy his own age who sat apart, expression blank, calmly sipping his soup. Compared to the frenzy around him, Leonard seemed—cool.

So when the crowd finally dispersed, Harry tugged on Hagrid's sleeve.

"Hagrid, is he a Hogwarts student too?"

Hagrid bent down, glanced at Leonard, his eyes lingering on the boy's plain robes, and nodded. "Aye. Looks like a first-year."

"A first-year?" Harry's face lit up. He thought he might have just found his very first friend in the wizarding world.

"Time to go, Harry. We've still got plenty to do," Hagrid reminded, giving his head a fond pat.

"Wait, Hagrid—can I have a few minutes? I want to meet him," Harry asked hopefully.

"Course you can." Hagrid smiled. "Believe me, no one here would turn down the chance to be your friend."

Buoyed by the warmth he'd just received, Harry squared his shoulders, gathered his courage, and walked over to Leonard.

"Hello," he said, eyes full of expectation. "Are you a first-year at Hogwarts too?"

Leonard looked up at him, then past him at Hagrid, whose expression was full of encouragement. His mood sank further.

"Obviously," Leonard said, gesturing at his unmarked robes. "What do you want?"

Harry blinked, caught off guard, his face shifting from awkwardness to something pale.

Leonard's reaction wasn't at all what he'd expected.

The truth was, Harry had no real sense of the legend surrounding his name. He instinctively ignored it.

And without that halo, he was just a boy—fresh out of a miserable home, raw and sensitive.

"Uh, sorry, I thought you knew me," Harry Potter said awkwardly.

"I really don't. I'm a... Muggle-born wizard. I don't know much about the wizarding world. Are you some kind of famous star?" Leonard asked on purpose.

"Muggle-born wizard?" Harry blinked. "What's that?"

"A wizard born to Muggle parents. Before I got my Hogwarts letter, I didn't know a thing about the wizarding world."

Leonard spread his hands. "So who exactly are you?"

Harry froze, then blurted out, "I'm Harry Potter. Same as you—I didn't know about wizards either."

"But you're not Muggle-born, are you? The way those adults were acting, it was like you'd saved their lives." Leonard shoved his bean soup aside and hopped down from his chair.

"I don't remember anything. They say I defeated You-Know-Who, but I don't even know who that is," Harry admitted, frustrated. "Oh—what's your name?"

"Leonard. Leonard William," Leonard said, introducing himself. Then he dropped a hint: "You're running late. You'd better hurry and buy your school supplies."

"School supplies? That can wait. I think we've got time to talk a bit more. What do you think of the wizarding world? Isn't it amazing?" Harry asked eagerly.

Leonard's eyelid twitched. He barely resisted the urge to cover his face.

This kid was still just a child. Growing up in a hostile home hadn't taught him how to read a room—his relatives never bothered to hide their cruelty.

So Harry simply couldn't pick up on hints.

Which meant Leonard had no choice but to be blunt.

"I think you'll find it more fun to see for yourself," Leonard said with a shake of his head. "Besides, I'm pretty sure Mr. Ollivander's been waiting for you. Don't keep him waiting."

"Mr. Ollivander?" Harry repeated blankly, completely missing the point. He looked utterly confused. "Who's that?"

"A master wandmaker. Very well-known in Diagon Alley," Leonard said with an inward sigh. "He's been expecting you for a while."

Now hurry up and go. Stop talking to him. Leonard couldn't shake the feeling that Voldemort—or Quirrell—was watching Harry from the shadows.

Just then, the innkeeper returned with a key.

"Hagrid, here you go. The Savior of our world will be staying upstairs, second door on the left," Tom called, tossing the key over.

Second door on the left? That was right next to his room.

Leonard's eye twitched.

"Thanks, Tom," Hagrid said, handing the key to Harry. "Come on, Harry, we need to move. We've still got important things to do."

"Alright." Harry gave Leonard a reluctant nod before following Hagrid toward the Leaky Cauldron's back door.

That damn reluctance.

Leonard rubbed his face, sighed again, and thought, He really didn't want to end up friends with the Chosen One.