The cool afternoon air was filled with the bustling hum of Diagon Alley. Wizards and witches weaved through cobblestone streets, chattering about cauldrons, potion ingredients, and the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. Shops glowed with enchanted lights, owls hooted overhead, and a few young Hogwarts-bound students clutched their supply lists with excitement.
Among them, however, a rather bizarre figure drew more than just curious glances.
"WAAH?! WHERE IS THIS?!" Inosuke shouted, arms raised high as he stood in the middle of the street, spinning slowly with awe.
Professor Minerva McGonagall, walking beside him with a slightly stiff expression, clutched her handbag tighter as passersby gave them a wide berth.
"Do try not to shout," she said, adjusting the Translator Amulet that glowed softly against Inosuke's chest. "You're drawing attention."
"Hah! LET THEM LOOK! I AM INOSUKE HASHIBIRA! THE MOUNTAIN KING!" he shouted, pointing at a wizard in striped robes.
The wizard blinked once, then pulled his child behind him and hurried away.
Minerva sighed. She had conjured a new set of robes for him—but Inosuke had immediately discarded them with a grunt of disapproval. "Too stuffy," he had declared through the translator amulet he is wearing. Now he strode through Diagon Alley proudly bare-chested, the sunlight catching the faint scars across his torso like badges of honor. The boar's head still covered his face, though he had—after much hissing and protesting—allowed Minerva to clean it. Slightly.
They arrived before a narrow, crooked building with a faded sign: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
The door creaked as McGonagall pushed it open. The dusty shop smelled of wood polish and old magic. Towering stacks of long, narrow boxes lined every wall, as though the wands were keeping secrets.
"Come in, come in," came a reedy voice.
A silver-eyed old man emerged from the gloom like a ghost—Garrick Ollivander himself. His eyes immediately locked onto Inosuke, pausing just long enough to process the boar head, expose upper body and brimming chaos in every fiber of the boy's being.
"Oh…" he whispered. "Oh dear."
"Mr. Ollivander," McGonagall said, ever the composed professor. "This is Inosuke Hashibira. He'll be attending Hogwarts."
Ollivander blinked once. "...Oh, how curious."
Inosuke was already prowling through the shop, nostrils flaring beneath his mask.
"SO THESE ARE THE WANDS, HUH? LITTLE STICKS OF MAGIC?"
He grabbed a wand from a nearby display without warning and gave it a swift swing.
BOOM!
A stack of wand boxes exploded in a burst of purple sparks and shrieking bats. McGonagall immediately cast a Shield Charm to deflect the fallout.
"NO! Not that one!" Ollivander cried, rushing forward. "Absolutely not!"
"COOL! IT TRIED TO BITE ME BACK!"
They tried wand after wand. Some hissed. Some zapped him. One set his pants on fire. Through it all, Inosuke was laughing, battling each magical item like it were prey to be hunted.
Ollivander wiped sweat from his brow. "He is… challenging."
Eventually, the wandmaker pulled out a dusty, long-forgotten box near the back.
"Pine wood, thirteen inches. Dragon heartstring. Flexible… unpredictable." He eyed Inosuke. "Much like yourself."
The moment Inosuke grabbed it, the shop went silent. A wind blew through the cracks, rattling the windows. A faint hum vibrated in the air like distant drums.
Inosuke tilted his head. "Huh. This one's not trying to kill me."
Ollivander smiled faintly. "That is a bond."
But then—Inosuke looked at his other hand. "Do I get a second one?"
McGonagall opened her mouth to protest—but Ollivander held up a hand. He disappeared again into the back, returning with a second box, this one wrapped in an old leather strap.
"Unusual request," he murmured. "But… not impossible. This is Blackthorn. Ten inches. Core of Basilisk horn shavings. Very rare. Very… aggressive. It only responds to those who meet its fury head-on."
Inosuke grabbed it and for a second, his whole body tensed. Sparks burst from both his hands. The boar mask flared with light.
Then silence.
The wand accepted him.
"WHOOOOOO!" Inosuke whooped. "I GOT TWO!"
He leapt onto the counter and thrust both wands skyward like twin swords. "NOW I'M READY TO FIGHT WIZARD DEMONS!"
They paid generously and left the shop with Inosuke spinning and swiping at imaginary enemies with his new wands, causing street performers to duck and shoppers to dive for cover.
"I'M GONNA MASTER THIS MAGIC THING AND BECOME THE WAND-BEARING KING!"
"You'll be lucky if you make it to school without setting your trousers on fire again," McGonagall replied coolly.
Next was Madam Malkin's.
Inosuke refused to stand still as he was measured, instead doing push-ups on the stool and challenging every child he saw to a duel.
"You! Yeah, you with the glasses! Fight me with your eyes!
Harry Potter, in line with Hagrid, blinked once before looking away quickly.
Minerva tugged Inosuke by the ear as they left.
He cackled all the way down the alley.
At Flourish and Blotts, he attempted to eat a spellbook.
In the Magical Menagerie, he tried to fight a cage full of puffskeins.
By the time they sat down at Florean Fortescue's for some ice cream, Minerva looked five years older.
"You are not to headbutt anyone once term begins," she warned, sipping tea.
"If they challenge me, I will DESTROY THEM WITH HONOR!"
She pinched the bridge of her nose.
Despite his feral behavior, Inosuke's presence had stirred a quiet ripple of intrigue through the magical community. A Muggle-born child, appearing in the forest, no known family, speaking only Japanese, yet possessing powerful magical energy. His wand responded to him like flame to dry tinder. There was no doubt—he was a wizard.
And more than that, he would be a handful.
_____
It was supposed to be a short last stop at the apothecary for the last material in the list.
Professor McGonagall had asked Inosuke to wait outside while she negotiated for powdered bicorn horn—something she didn't want him "accidentally chewing." But when she returned moments later with her purchase neatly tucked into her handbag, Inosuke was gone.
"Of course he is," she muttered under her breath, glancing left and right. "One minute. One blasted minute."
Meanwhile, a few streets away, Inosuke Hashibira crouched atop a crooked rooftop ledge, squinting at the twisting, shadowy path ahead. He had chased a strange smell down a back alley and found himself in a place very different from Diagon Alley.
There were no laughing children. No colorful storefronts. Only grimy windows, flickering lamps, and the scent of rot and wet stone.
"Hmm…" Inosuke grunted, peering around a rusted pipe. "This place smells like something died here... I like it."
He leapt down, landing with a soft thud in the middle of Knockturn Alley.
The wizards here were not friendly. Most wore heavy cloaks and walked with their heads down, muttering incantations or whispering deals through cracked teeth. A few stopped to stare at the half-naked boy wearing a boar mask and carrying two wands in his belt like knives.
Then came the old woman.
She hobbled out from the shadows, hunched and wrapped in black rags. Her face was more skull than skin, her eyes sunken and sharp with hunger.
"Well, well… what have we here?" she croaked, her voice like rusted hinges. "A lost little cub?"
Several more figures emerged behind her. Men with pockmarked faces. Pale witches with crooked wands and dark rings under their eyes. They circled slowly, like wolves.
"You smell like nature, boy," the woman hissed.
Inosuke didn't move. His head tilted slightly beneath the mask.
"You talk weird."
"You'll fetch a fine price, once we carve you open," another whispered, raising his wand.
Inosuke didn't wait.
With a roar, he launched forward.
"Beast Breathing, Third Fang: Devouring Slash!"
He slammed both fists into the nearest wizard's chest, sending the man flying into a wall. Bones cracked. Wands clattered. Dust exploded into the air.
"WHAT THE—?!"
Before they could react, Inosuke spun, ducked beneath a hex, and grabbed two rusty iron rods from a broken scaffolding nearby. He twirled them once and smirked beneath the mask.
"Ahhh! These'll do."
He dashed forward again.
A curse missed his shoulder by inches. Another wizard screamed as Inosuke swung the first rod like a club, slamming it against the man's ribs. The second rod cracked a wand in half mid-spell.
One of the witches shrieked and tried to Disapparate.
Too slow.
Inosuke grabbed her arm and flipped her over his shoulder, planting her hard into the cobblestones. She groaned once and didn't get back up.
"Beast Breathing, Fifth Fang: Crazy Cutting!"
He spun like a cyclone, metal rods whirling through the air. Sparks flew as they collided with magical shields and shattered them. He cracked knees, elbows, and jaws with brutal precision. His movements were too fast, too primal. They had wands. He had warrior beast instinct.
Blood splattered the stones.
The last wizard raised his wand, hand shaking. "Stay—stay back!"
Inosuke's response was to scream and leap.
The man fainted before he even landed the blow.
For several long seconds, there was only the sound of heavy breathing.
Then… silence.
Bodies groaned on the ground. None were dead, but none were standing. Several would need St. Mungo's—ironically—for broken bones and likely trauma counseling.
Inosuke stood in the middle of the ruined alleyway, steam release in his boar nose, chest heaving.
"Cheh. Weaklings."
Then
A voice echoed behind him.
"Inosuke Hashibira."
He turned.
Professor McGonagall stood at the alley's edge, wand raised, eyes hard as steel. Her cloak fluttered behind her like a storm cloud, and the light from her wand cast long shadows down the brick walls.
She glanced at the crumpled dark wizards, then back at the bare-chested boy with two metal rods.
"You… were gone for five minutes."
"I followed a weird smell."
She looked up at the smashed window. "You brawled with wand-wielding criminals. With your fists. And scaffolding rods."
"Yeah," he said proudly, slinging one rod over his shoulder. "They were weak."
McGonagall sighed, deeply and painfully.
"You realize those were members of the Black Market coven? Known for cursing people's insides into snakes?"
Inosuke snorted. "They should've tried harder."
"I am going to develop a migraine," she muttered.
He pointed the rod at her dramatically. "WHERE'S NEXT?! I WANT TO BATTLE A DRAGON!"
"You're going back to the Leaky Cauldron to rest," she snapped.
"Rest is for the weak!"
She jabbed her wand toward him. "You'll march, Mister Hashibira, or I'll petrify you and carry you home in a suitcase."
He blinked behind the mask.