HP :Pokemon In Horgwart

NB: Despite his young age, the mc will display a lot of maturity due to his life on the street. 

***

The streets of London were unkind to anyone who called them home, and for an eleven-year-old like Magnus, they were downright merciless.

The city moved fast, its crowds rushing all around him, oblivious to the child hidden beneath an oversized hoodie and worn jeans.

He had been told more than once that he was too tall for his age, as if he hadn't figured that out himself.

His height made him look older, which out there, was both a blessing and a curse.

The advantage was that it spared him the unwanted pity that was bound to be shown to a child.

Such attention would have certainly landed him back in the system, and he'd find himself stashed back in one of those hellholes they called children's homes.

Of course, he would find a way to escape—he had done that a couple of times—but he would rather avoid getting on the system's radar. He did not wish to end up in juvie.

 From the stories he'd heard, that place made the cold streets sound like paradise.

On the other hand, his tall stature invited a harsher kind of dismissal. To most who saw him, Magnus was just another street rat, hardened by life's cruelties. 

Ugh!", He groaned as he strained to get up.

The mornings were the worst.

Waking up on the cold, rigid pavement left his muscles stiff and beat up. It was like he had been lifting tons of weight all night instead of resting.

His makeshift 'shelter' was wedged between a dumpster and a graffiti-covered wall in a dingy alley.

In terms of comfort—well, let's just say it was no match for the biting London chill.

The damp winter air seeped into his bones, and the constant drizzle often made his thin jacket feel more like a soaked rag. It was a miracle he hadn't gone down with pneumonia.

yet!

He had seen more than one of his fellow street kids fail to wake up.

His stomach growled as he sat up and wiped the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand.

 He glanced at the world beyond the alley.

It was a blur of polished shoes, clicking heels, and the occasional growl of an engine. The smell of freshly baked bread and fried sausages from nearby cafés made his stomach churn painfully.

"Alright, another day," he muttered to himself, forcing his aching body to stand.

Street life was a constant hustle. You learned quickly or… you didn't survive.

Magnus had mastered the art of slipping through the cracks, scavenging, and avoiding trouble. But even for someone as sharp as him, it wasn't easy.

His tall frame allowed him to blend in with the older teens who frequented the same corners, but that also meant he had his fair share of dumpster scuffles.

Street teens saw each other as competition for the dumpster treasure. It all came down to choosing his battles wisely—and thus far, he had.

By midday, Magnus had walked for hours, checking bins behind cafés, keeping an eye on diners who might leave scraps behind, and dodging the occasional policeman.

His luck hadn't turned up anything yet, and the gnawing hunger in his stomach was beginning to make him dizzy.

The freezing weather only made things worse.

He was shuffling through the crowded streets of Camden, his eyes darting around, searching for an opportunity when his gaze landed on a man.

He was seated on a bench outside a fish-and-chips shop, unwrapping a juicy burger with no apparent rush.

The sight of it made Magnus's mouth water.

 He slowed his pace, the growl in his stomach now becoming a wail.

'It would be nice to have that burger', he thought absently as saliva filled his mouth.

And then, it happened.

The man stopped mid-bite and turned his head, locking eyes with him.

Magnus froze.

He couldn't have heard him, could he?

The stranger stood up, walked over, and held the burger out to him.

"Here, kid," he said in a voice devoid of any emotion. "Looks like you need this more than I do."

Magnus hesitated, disbelief flashing across his face. "Uh… thanks," he mumbled, taking the burger with trembling hands.

The man smiled almost mechanically and walked away.

Magnus was left staring after him in confusion.

Maybe it was just kindness… you occasionally came across such people every once in a while.

But even as he thought about it, he knew it wasn't.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

He had long since stopped questioning the strange streak of fortune that seemed to follow him.

He couldn't explain it, but he'd noticed it years ago when he had first run from the children's home.

Whenever he truly needed something—food, warmth, or escape —it would somehow come to him.

He called it his 'mojo'.

It wasn't magic, he told himself. He wasn't a frigging Harry Potter or some superhero with powers.

No.

It was just luck… a freakishly good streak of fortune that came during despair, but still luck.

It, however, didn't always feel that way.

Sometimes it worked so perfectly that it felt like more than coincidence. Other times, when he tried to show it off to his street friends, it failed miserably, leaving him feeling foolish.

Like last week, when Magnus had tried to "summon" a sandwich from a bakery display for one of his friends.

He'd focused all his energy, staring at it like his life depended on it.

After ten minutes or so, nothing happened.

The teen had laughed so hard he nearly fell into a puddle, calling Magnus a crackhead .

But today, as he bit into the burger, Magnus finally felt tired of the uncertainty.

Today… today he would have to settle the issue once and for all.

One part of his brain was howling with laughter at the absurdity—how could he even tolerate the thought that he could have magic? He had to be nuts to even think about it.

But he couldn't ignore the other part.

What if it wasn't luck? What if there was a concrete explanation behind his streak of fortune? It had happened too many times for it to still feel like a coincidence, which meant there had to be some reason behind it.

It was that reason he was after.

The taste of the fresh burger only amplified his hunger. His eyes watched as it quickly disappeared from the huge bites he took, and in no time at all, there was nothing left—only the sweet smell on his fingers.

His gaze slowly went back to where the man had been sitting.

He was hoping to test his mojo on another customer, but the seats were empty.

Magnus felt frustration, fueled by the anticipation in his mind and the lingering taste in his mouth.

He, however, forced himself to calm down.

He would wait… someone was bound to come by, either for a drink or a bite. The weather would make sure of that.

His expectations, however, turned out to be far-fetched.

Almost thirty minutes went by with no sign of customers.

'Maybe I should just move on and check the bins' , he thought.

The day was dwindling, and he hadn't stocked up yet, let alone satisfied his hunger.

He was about to turn his back on the shop when something occurred to him.

The shop!

Magnus stopped.

I mean, why wait for customers when the source of what he wanted was right here?

Well, there was the fact that up to now his luck had only worked on people, but then again, that could be because he always focused his thoughts on them.

What if he tried it on the fish-and-chips shop instead?

His mouth filled up just thinking about a spicy bag of chips in his hand. He had occasionally found those in bins, but they had always been either cold or stale.

He couldn't help thinking of how they would taste fresh and warm… oh, and how it would feel accompanied by a steaming mug of tea.

Magnus almost screamed in shock as he stared at what he was holding.