The robe shop—Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions—stood just down from Ollivanders, its wide windows gleaming with displays of black Hogwarts robes fitted on headless mannequins. It was bright, inviting, and buzzing with quiet energy. Several customers already filled the space when Myrddin and Professor McGonagall entered.
The bell above the door gave a polite chime, and a plump witch in mauve turned from pinning a hem on a young boy's sleeve.
"Ah, Hogwarts firs year? Come in, come in," she called. "Just a moment—nearly done here."
Myrddin followed McGonagall into the shop, eyeing the neatly organized rows of cloaks and bolts of fabric stacked high on shelves. There was a faint scent of linen and chalk, and the occasional flick of measuring tape flying of its own accord.
He tried not to feel self-conscious, but eyes drifted toward him.
Not because anyone recognized his name.
No one did.
Instead, what people did notice was his height.
He stood at least a head taller than the tallest first-year being fitted nearby. Broad-shouldered, quiet-eyed. He looked out of place, older than he should have been for someone just starting Hogwarts.
A boy with sharp cheekbones and perfectly combed hair looked him up and down with mild irritation. Probably third or fourth year.
"You sure you're first year?" the boy muttered. "You look more like a fifth-year."
Myrddin gave a thin smile. "Just tall."
The boy scoffed but didn't press. Another student, a girl with chestnut curls and sharp eyes, gave him a curious once-over but said nothing. Her gaze lingered a moment longer than polite.
Madam Malkin finally approached, all bustle and measuring tape.
"Well then, let's get you sorted. Arms out, please."
Myrddin obeyed silently. The measuring tape sprang to life and began flitting across his frame, taking notes and adjusting on its own. She hummed thoughtfully.
"You're quite tall for a first-year," she said. "And your shoulders—mm. We'll have to adjust the standard cuts. Something longer through the arms. Broader at the chest."
She disappeared into the racks, murmuring measurements to herself.
As she worked, more students entered. A pair of second-years laughed at a private joke. One of them bumped into Myrddin and paused long enough to glance up, then up further.
"Blimey. You eat giants for breakfast?" he asked, half-joking.
"No. Just had a growth spurt," Myrddin replied dryly.
The boy laughed and moved on.
McGonagall, standing by the entrance, watched it all quietly. Not interfering. Letting him stand on his own.
He was grateful for it.
Madam Malkin returned with several robes and gestured toward the fitting platform. "Hop up. Let's see what we can do with these."
He stepped onto the low dais, and the robe floated around him, folding itself to match his proportions.
As she worked, Myrddin glanced at the other students again. No one else stood out. No blazing foreheads. No bespectacled heroes. Just kids.
Normal, if magical, kids.
And him—a reincarnated soul, holding a wand not made by Ollivander, feeling the whispers of a magic that didn't quite belong.
He exhaled slowly.
Maybe that was the point.
When the last adjustments were pinned and measurements noted, Madam Malkin nodded with satisfaction. "We'll have these ready by tomorrow morning. Be sure to collect them before your departure."
McGonagall stepped forward. "Thank you, Malkin. Come along, Mr. Wyllt—we still have your books and potions to gather."
Myrddin nodded, stepping down. As he passed the other students, a few gave him one last look—curious, speculative—but no one spoke.
No commotion.
Just questions left unspoken.
On to the next piece of the puzzle.
The cobblestones clicked underfoot as they moved further along the winding street. McGonagall said little, but her pace was brisk, purposeful. Myrddin kept close, the oddness of it all beginning to settle into something tangible—not comfortable, but manageable. Their next stop was Flourish and Blotts.
The bookshop loomed like a temple of parchment and leather, its windows crammed with uneven stacks of tomes. A hand-painted sign in the corner advertised "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 – 15% Off with Hogwarts Letter." Another window featured an enchanted quill scratching out its own review of Magical Theory: Revised Edition.
Inside, the air was thick with ink and dust. The walls soared up three stories, every inch crammed with books. Rolling ladders drifted between shelves of their own accord. Somewhere above, a small, excited voice shouted, "I found it!" followed by the sound of a heavy tome thudding onto the floor.
McGonagall handed Myrddin a parchment list. "All standard texts. Let me know if you need help locating any of them."
Myrddin moved through the shop with methodical purpose. A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot. Magical Drafts and Potions. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Some he found easily, stacked in beginner sections clearly labeled for new students. Others required ducking into quieter corners of the shop, where the titles got stranger and more specific.
He reached for The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection just as another hand shot forward. Their fingers brushed the spine at the same time.
"Sorry," said the other student, a boy with sandy blond hair and a badge on his chest—possibly a prefect.
"You take it," Myrddin said without hesitation.
The boy raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Not often someone lets go of a book that easily."
"I'll find another copy."
The boy tilted his head. "You're new."
"Hogwarts first year," Myrddin confirmed.
The boy glanced him over. "Tall for eleven."
"So I've been told."
"You've got the look," the boy said, not unkindly. "Quiet. Watching. You'll be fine. Just steer clear of Peeves if you value your shoes." Then he turned and vanished among the shelves.
Myrddin found a second copy on the next aisle and moved on.
By the time he returned to the front counter, his arms were full. McGonagall stood waiting beside a pile of levitating books already wrapped in brown paper.
"All finished?"
He nodded. "It should be everything."
"Excellent. Let's get your potion supplies. That'll be Slug & Jiggers."
They stepped back out into the street.