HP :Pokemon In Horgwart

He felt his heart hammering against his chest as he stared at the steaming parcel in his hands, his breath was coming in short, disbelieving gasps.

'What the hell just happened?'

His fingers trembled as he turned the takeout box over, inspecting it for any signs of trickery.

There were none.

The logo of the fish-and-chips shop was stamped neatly on the lid, and the heat radiating from the container was unmistakable.

He pried open the box to find exactly what he had imagined—golden, crispy chips, seasoned to perfection, with a small packet of spicy sauce tucked neatly to the side.

Magnus gulped. 'This can't be real.'

He shook his head, trying to dispel the thought but no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, the evidence was literally in his hands.

"This is it," he whispered to himself in a shaky voice. "This is the proof."

It was unlike anything he'd experienced before. Sure, his so-called mojo had always felt like miraculous—random acts of kindness from strangers when he needed it most. But this... this was different. This wasn't just luck or a twist of fate.

Magnus glanced back at the shop, half-expecting someone to burst out and accuse him of theft but the place remained quiet, the windows fogged up from the heat inside.

The cashier behind the counter didn't even glance in his direction. It was as though no one had noticed a thing.

His thoughts raced as a thousand possibilities crashed into his mind all at once.

Magic!

It has to be magic. What else could it be?

His logical side resisted the idea, scrambling for another explanation, but it was futile.

He couldn't ignore what had just happened. He hadn't walked into the shop or begged someone for food.

He had summoned it—thought about it, and it had come to him.

"I'm not crazy," he muttered, clutching the box tighter. "This just happened. It's real."

A surge of adrenaline shot through him, making his legs jittery and his palms clammy.

For a fleeting moment, panic crept in.

If this was real—if he really had magic—what did it mean? What else could he do? And more importantly, what would happen if anyone found out?

He glanced around.

No one seemed to be paying him any attention, but paranoia was already taking root.

 Unfortunately for him, someone had seen.

It was a gang of street teens.

For a second, he wondered just how much they had seen. But judging from the greedy look in their eyes, he guessed—not the magic part.

Their gazes were locked on the package in his hands. It was too late to hide it.

Magnus had survived this long by knowing which fights to pick and which to avoid. Logically, this was a fight he should avoid.

He knew these guys—if only by reputation. Once they marked you, they turned your life into hell. It was always best to ditch the area and move far away.

Ideally, he should just hand over the food and hope they kept the beating to a minimum.

But his mind wasn't bowing that easily. Worse, it had the full support of his rumbling belly.

The day was already fading, and in a couple of hours, darkness would set in. He couldn't go back to sleeping through yet another night on an empty stomach.

"Oi, bruv!" One of the teens, a buzz-cut kid, called out. "What you got there? That's some tasty lookin' grub, innit?"

Magnus clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on the warm box.

"None of your business.".

He tried to play calm but a slight tremor in his voice betrayed him

"Oh, I think it is, mate," Buzz Cut drawled, stepping closer. "Sharing is caring, yeah? Hand it over, and maybe we'll let you walk outta here with your pretty face intact."

Magnus took a step back, his heart pounding. "Not gonna happen."

The group exchanged glances, their smirks turning into sneers.

"You got a death wish or somethin'?" the scarred one asked, cracking his knuckles.

"Yeah, you reckon you're hard enough to take us all on?" another chimed in.

Heat rose in Magnus's chest, anger battling with fear. He wasn't going to let these pricks take what little he had.

Not this time.

Buzz Cut's grin faded when he saw Magnus wasn't backing down.

"Alright then. Have it your way." He nodded to his crew, and they closed in.

The first shove nearly sent him sprawling, but he managed to keep his footing.

He swung wildly, his fist connecting with one of the boys' shoulders, but it only seemed to amuse them.

"Look at him!" the scarred teen jeered. "Proper scrapper, ain't he?"

Another blow caught Magnus in the side, making him stagger. He gasped for breath, clutching the takeout box like his life depended on it.

"Give it up, mate. You're outnumbered," Buzz Cut taunted.

Magnus's stomach growled loudly, and the sound made the gang laugh. But their laughter was cut short when the leader pulled out a rusty, jagged blade.

"Alright, joker," he said, his voice cold now. "Let's see how brave you are when I take that box off your corpse."

Magnus froze.

The world narrowed to the knife and the sneering face of its wielder.

Time slowed.

He saw the leader lunge, the knife making a beeline for his belly.

Then—something inside him snapped.

A blinding wave of energy exploded outward, throwing everyone backward like ragdolls.

Someone was screaming.

Another was moaning nearby.

Magnus lay sprawled in the center of the chaos, chest heaving, vision swimming.

Around him, the gang lay scattered—groaning or unconscious.

'What have I done?'

From a distance, he heard sirens growing louder by the second.

His mind raced with a single, desperate thought: I need to get the hell out of here before the cops arrive.

There was no way he was escaping juvie after this.

Then, everything dissolved into blackness!