Hmm...
Harry had also thought about what he should give the professors.
Not just the professors, but also classmates, and cousin Dudley; everyone should receive a gift.
It's just that Professor Snape is a bit tricky. All Harry knows is that he's a Master of Magical Potions; if he sends potions, they probably won't be as good as what Snape can brew himself.
What should he do?
Lying in bed, Harry struggled for a long time before he finally thought of a non-solution solution.
That's it!
Since Professor Snape was good friends with mom and dad, why not give him a photo of mom and dad as a Christmas gift?
With this thought, Harry made up his mind.
The photo of his parents was a gift from Hagrid, who was considerate enough to give Harry several copies, fearing he'd lose them.
Let's give this!
When setting off the next day, Harry didn't forget to bring a shopping list.
Besides gifts for professors and friends, there were materials for potions, like Ageing Potion; and clothes suitable for when aged.
Ageing Potion is a potion that, depending on the dosage, determines the extent of the user's age increase; it was crucial for Harry's upcoming plans.
Being a little older would mean more freedom and less attention even when entering Diagon Alley.
After all, Diagon Alley is like an underground marketplace, and an eleven-year-old young wizard without a guardian wouldn't be able to enter freely.
In Diagon Alley, you can buy things that aren't sold outside, like Biting Kale seeds.
Although Harry wasn't lacking in courage, after being with friends for so long, he had inevitably grown a bit more cautious.
Let's bring more Biting Kale to make up for the current lack of combat ability, Harry thought.
Upon arriving at the Broken Cauldron Bar, Mr. Granger agreed to meet them in the afternoon, then rushed off to the bank.
Harry and Ron wandered around Diagon Alley, buying everything they needed.
Unexpectedly, at the entrance of Zoko's Joke Shop, Harry saw a sign that said Ageing Potion was for sale.
However, the price was several times higher than the raw materials.
Harry gritted his teeth, bought a bunch of joke products, and mixed the Ageing Potion among the prank items to make it less conspicuous.
After buying everything, Harry and Ron visited Mr. Olivander's Magic Wand Shop.
Clearly out of the school season, the Magic Wand Shop was in a lull, and Mr. Olivander didn't notice visitors until Harry called out several times.
"Young wizards visiting at this time are rare." Mr. Olivander came out and, seeing Harry, reached out and stepped forward: "Hello, Mr. Potter, we meet again."
"Mr. Olivander, hello." Harry, pulling Ron along, said, "This is my good friend Ron. I want to buy him a wand as a Christmas gift."
Mr. Olivander shifted his gaze, and Ron lowered his head awkwardly.
"The youngest Weasley, I presume." Mr. Olivander smiled, saying no more, but asked: "May I see the wand you are currently using?"
Ron took out Charlie's old wand and handed it to Mr. Olivander.
Mr. Olivander took the wand and said, "Ah yes, this wand, I remember—pear wood, unicorn tail hair, twelve inches... I imagine Mr. Little Weasley experiences quite a bit of resistance when using magic spells?"
"Yes, sir," Ron replied, feeling tense.
"That's right. Unicorn tail hair generally creates the most stable magic, with the least likelihood of fluctuations or obstructions," Mr. Olivander said, before changing his tone: "But they are the most loyal of all wand cores, generally clinging closely to the first wand owner, regardless of whether the owner is a highly skilled wizard."
"If you weren't your wand's first owner's brother, the sense of resistance would be much stronger." Mr. Olivander looked at Harry, warmly saying, "Mr. Potter's timing is impeccable; otherwise, this wand would greatly hinder your spell-learning progress."
"So it really is like that..." Ron murmured.
He had initially thought that Harry was just looking after his feelings by saying as much, but Mr. Olivander's words made him understand Harry's sincere intentions.
"Thank you, Harry," Ron said gratefully.
"We're best friends, right?" Harry replied with a smile.
Mr. Olivander adjusted his glasses and took out a tape measure to measure Ron before saying, "Here, Mr. Weasley, try this."
He handed over a wand: "Acacia wood, dragon heartstring, nine inches."
Before Ron could accept the wand, Mr. Olivander took it back.
"No, no, young wizards like you aren't suited for this... Uh, this one, walnut wood, dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches." He handed Ron a new wand.
Ron tried the wand, and a gust of wind swept across the table.
"No, no, no, try this." Mr. Olivander snatched the wand and handed Ron another: "Willow wood, unicorn tail hair, fourteen inches."
A miracle occurred when Ron grabbed the wand; its tip blossomed with brilliant light.
"Yes, that's it! That's the one!" Mr. Olivander exclaimed, stamping his foot joyfully, "Go ahead, Mr. Weasley, you can try casting a spell with it."
Without hesitation, Ron swung his wand and cast a spell.
"Expelliarmus!"
A red light hit a stone inside the Magic Wand Shop, making a dull sound.
"Cool..." Ron held the wand, grinning foolishly as if looking at a treasure.
Harry was equally happy that his friend got a wand suited to him, and after paying Mr. Olivander seven Galleons, he and Ron walked out of the shop together.
"Let's have lunch," Harry said, while discreetly tucking the bottle of Ageing Potion into his jacket.
"Alright," Ron replied, still buzzing with excitement, seemingly eager to cast more spells.
Even in the British Magic World, the best restaurants were still French cuisine.
Harry and Ron entered a restaurant and grabbed a seat against the wall.
Ron couldn't stop gazing at his new wand affectionately, having completely ignored the old wand.
After a few bites, Harry whispered to Ron, "Ron, I'm heading to the restroom."
"Oh, okay," Ron answered reflexively.
In the lavatory, Harry took off his clothes and packed them away, downing the Ageing Potion in one swig.
Accompanied by the cracking of bones, soon a nineteen-year-old Harry appeared where he stood.
The familiar feeling...
He changed into clothes suitable for his aged self, and exited the lavatory.
Seeing Ron still lost in admiration of the wand, Harry kept quiet, popped his collar, and strode out of the restaurant.
Diagon Alley was a mess, its squalor worse than the slums of London.
Tattered brick roads, filthy walls, and black wizards leaning against walls as gaunt as a Yin Corpse; it was clearly not a proper place.
Almost as soon as Harry stepped into Diagon Alley, he was eyed by the dark wizards.
Harry ignored them, showed no fear, and walked forward on his own.
He intentionally turned into a small alley, where sure enough, a skinny wizard with large black teeth and a vicious look appeared before him.
"Kid, this place isn't for you." The wizard sneered, sizing up Harry: "Hand over your money, and I, Davima, will guarantee your safety!"
What he didn't expect was that the green-looking kid was not afraid; he flashed a meaningful smile at him.
Since you've come to me, you can't blame me! Harry thought.
He placed his hand by his mouth, staring straight into the wizard's eyes.
"Imperio!"
(Please vote for the monthly ticket, thanks, brother, and invest more in the book, please, the more people investing looks better, right? Let others know we can afford it!)