Diagon Alley – Magical Pet Shop
Orsaga pointed at a cage and casually asked the shopkeeper,
"How much for this one?"
The shopkeeper glanced at the cage and replied with an awkward expression,
"That's the most ill-tempered animal in the shop. It's not for sale—it's got a high chance of injuring soone."
[Gyrfalcon: A rare avian species revered in parts of Asia as the 'God of All Hawks.' Among Muggles, it is considered the creature closest to divinity. Known for its sharp instincts, fierce pride, and intense aggression, it is notoriously difficult to ta.]
That was what the label on the cage read.
Orsaga glanced at it briefly and ignored the shopkeeper's warning. Staring at the majestic creature inside—jet-black feathers and a noble appearance—he said indifferently:
"No problem. I want it."
Still visibly concerned, the shopkeeper added:
"This species is incredibly aggressive. It could seriously injure you. I can't sell it."
Truthfully, the shopkeeper did want to sell it. The gyrfalcon had been expensive to acquire and required high-quality fresh at daily—its upkeep wasn't cheap.
But once sold, if the creature hurt a child, angry parents would certainly cause trouble. That was a risk he didn't want to take.
And after seeing Orsaga's appearance, deanor, and attire, the shopkeeper felt even less inclined to take that gamble.
He might risk conning a commoner, but this child was clearly from an extraordinary background—even a blind man could see that. If he sold it and sothing went wrong, the parents might raze the entire shop.
Greedy toward the weak, cautious toward the strong—a hallmark of intelligent beings.
Still ignoring the warning, Orsaga said casually:
"It's fine. It won't hurt ."
Being sothing of an appearance enthusiast, he found the bird aesthetically pleasing. Whether as a pet or potential food source, it suited him just fine.
As he spoke, he stretched out a hand toward the cage.
The shopkeeper's heart jumped—he wanted to stop him, but he was still several steps away and couldn't get there in ti.
The high-and-mighty gyrfalcon, of course, didn't take kindly to such brazen behavior.
It imdiately prepared to jab its sharp beak into Orsaga's hand—to teach this arrogant brat a lesson.
But just as it lifted its head to glare nacingly—
—it t Orsaga's gaze.
His blood-red pupils, like rubies soaked in fresh blood, pierced into the falcon's very soul.
"The eyes are the window to the soul." While perhaps overly poetic, the saying had truth to it.
For beasts, sizing up an opponent often depended not just on size or posture—but on eye contact.
One second of eye contact.
And the falcon's primal instincts kicked in.
It suddenly beca very aware of its place in the food chain.
It also realized—if this human wanted to violate its dignity a little, that was fine.
---
One minute later.
Looking at the once-defiant bird now docile as a chick, the shopkeeper exclaid in astonishnt and delight:
"It's actually behaving! You must be its destined master!"
He was shocked by how quickly the wild creature submitted—but delighted that he could finally offload a burdenso pet.
And just a little bitter.
After all his failed attempts at taming it, Orsaga had succeeded in a matter of seconds.
Thus, while the falcon trembled like a leaf, Orsaga paid and led it out of the store.
It wanted to fly away imdiately but didn't dare.
The mont he stepped outside, Orsaga injected his will directly into the creature's body.
Its original consciousness was erased, and with it, its fear.
It beca an obedient pet, now fully under his control.
So pets may still live in body, but not in spirit. To so, that makes little difference.
---
anwhile, elsewhere in Diagon Alley...
Other Purgators were also busy preparing.
Given that this was an open combat mission world, most of them were hiding in the shadows.
In their minds, this situation resembled the infamous Dark Forest theory:
Everyone is both a hunter and prey.
They all skulked through the alleys, afraid to step into secluded areas, fearing ambush.
They looked like rats lurking in drains—terrified of the light.
Pathetic and cowardly.
Still, after so difficulties, most of them managed to gather what they needed for Hogwarts enrollnt.
---
Train Station Platform
The station was crowded with students and their parents, all waiting to board the train to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
But all the Purgators were "orphan-type" characters—no parents, no guardians.
They stood alone, each trying not to attract attention.
They lingered in corners, pretending to admire the view while secretly scanning their surroundings for other Purgators.
'Ugh… everyone's probably hiding. Finding them won't be easy…'
Just as one Purgators was thinking that, he saw Orsaga.
"Damn it… That aura…"
He clenched his fists bitterly.
There was no need for explanation. From the mont he laid eyes on him, the Purgator felt like a frog staring up at a swan.
The gulf in status was instantly apparent.
It was clear—Orsaga had to be a fellow Purgator.
Because in the original Harry Potter story, no one this outstanding had ever appeared.
'Damn it! I'm so jealous…'
Intense envy surged within him.
While other Purgators crept about like sewer rats, Orsaga stood proudly in the open on the train platform.
His wand hung at his hip. His luggage was casually packed into a small case, carried and managed by his pet-slash-servant—the gyrfalcon.
Surrounded by curious little girls who clearly wanted to approach but were too shy, Orsaga lifted his chin proudly.
"Damn, I'm irresistible."
He had also noticed the bitter, jealous stares from the other Purgators.
But he didn't care.
Those trash-tier rookies were barely worth his attention.
This was a beginner-level training world—everyone here was in their second world at best, and practically all of them were dirt poor.
Even if he killed them all, they probably wouldn't drop many points.
Not even as valuable as so wild monsters.
So from the very beginning, Orsaga had no intention of bothering with them.
He just wanted to enjoy his single-player ga.
___
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