Floo Travel is like going down a waterslide, only it's on fire, and the slide itself is fire. It was a fun ride, let me tell you, though it is a bit disorienting. The trick is to not get caught up in the notion of motion and think of it like stepping from one room to another as if walking through a door, elsewise it will spit you out on the other end like a cannonball. Don't get me wrong, that approach has its charm, but you get ash everywhere and it's annoying to clean smudges out of your clothes all the time. Also, sooner or later it will spit you out head first and you will be using your face as a landing pad. Not something I'd recommend.
I took a look around once I stepped out of the fireplace and found myself in a huge room filled with nothing but fireplaces and packed full with people coming or going through them in some sort of organized chaos that I'm sure made sense to the people here. The room itself was constructed out of polished gray stone and lit by giant iron chandeliers but was otherwise unadorned to my eyes. I supose they don't really need signs and such for Floo Travel.
"Well, come on, don't stand there gawping like an idiot, I don't have all day," Joe called out where he was standing by one of the doorways to the room, having apparently moved there while I stood around gawping like a bumpkin.
I quickly gathered what was left of my pride and followed my guide out into the sunlight and the magical district beyond. My first impression of Whimsic Alley was... big. All of the magical districts I'd visited so far had followed the basic mold of Diagon Alley, that is to say, a narrow set of alleyways lined with shops, with cultural elements contributing to most of the differences in esthetic and architecture. Narrow was not a word I would use to describe the Alley. Modern might be more accurate, if only just. The alley beyond was wide, with a central cobbled road, flanked by sidewalks and the customary shops. So far it was not too dissimilar to what I'd come to expect.
But that's where the similarities ended.
Because on that road there were god's honest cars!
I admit I stood there gawping for the second time in as many minutes. It didn't end there though. While the houses that surrounded the street were ordinary-looking brownstones American wizards apparently didn't think that ground-level shops were enough. The wizards had used the old fire escape terraces as a foundation for broad wooden walkways that spanned the sides of the alley above the sidewalks, the pedestrians used the stairways of the fire escapes to move between the levels, that looked a bit like scaffolding now that I had a chance to study it a bit closer. There were even bridges at roof level that connected the two sides of the street so shoppers didn't have to descend all the way to the street to get across. I had a feeling that there might be shops on the roofs as well.
"Hey, kid. You got any local currency?" Joe asked.
"I have galleons and dollars," I answered absently.
"That goblin crap won't cut it here, real people use Dragots," Joe said scathingly. "We'll have to swing by the bank and get that stuff exchanged for real money. Come on!"
"Don't like goblins much?" I asked him as I hurried to catch up.
"Not much to like," Joe said disdainfully. "Hypocritical, greedy, untrustworthy little shits. You know about their view on property right?"
"Anything they make is theirs and you only rent it?" I hazarded.
Joe nodded grimly. "Yeah, that's right. But you know that extends to all things they consider their possession, which also includes things they steal from others. They believe that something can only be owned properly by goblins. And you idiots let them handle your money." He said the last while giving me a pointed look.
I just smiled in return. "Don't look at me like that. I haven't even been inside the place." I told him, which was true. I didn't trust those grubby wart-infested piles of pond scum with my money. I barely trusted the banks back home to handle my money, I sure as hell wouldn't give creatures that despised me on principle any say on what happened to my money. "I keep my cash with people I can trust. Myself!" I told him brightly.
Joe looked a bit surprised before a smile broke out on his face and he laughed shortly. "Good on you, kid. I suppose Flash would find the one Brit with some sense in his head."
"I'm Swedish actually, I only go to school in Brittain, though I guess that's not much better all things considering." I finished lamely.
Joe looked interested. "Sweden, eh? It true what they say, about the women?"
"Blond, blue eyes and stacked like a brick shithouse?" I asked wryly.
"Thereabouts," Joe confirmed.
I vacillate for a moment. "Well... I'd be lying if I said that wasn't the case." I admitted, before adding. "But lederhosen and yodeling is not a thing, nor penguins for that matter." I don't know why, but people thinking those things were a thing really irritated me. There was no yodeling, there had never been any yodeling. And no self-respecting Swede would ever be caught dead dressed in little boy pants with suspenders! We are Vikings! With axes and bearskin, we eat magic mushrooms and go on rampages! We don't jump around in meadows and sing... AGH! How did that ever become a thing?
Joe just chuckled. "Whatever you say, kid."
"I do say," I told him resolutely.
Joe just shook his head and led me up to and into a large ostentatious building that looked to have been constructed out of black marble and gold. Guilded statues in classical greek style decorated both the outside and the inside and grand golden chandeliers lit the place brightly. All the gold in there gave the whole place a warm glow that seemed to be reflected off the polished marble walls and adds to the ridiculous opulence the whole place seemed to exude from every atom.
"And here we are Aurecator First National Bank," Joe told me blandly.
"Woah. Anyone ever teach you guys what "too much" is?" I asked rhetorically.
"Go big or go home, that's the American way." Joe retorted before he walked up to a seemingly random man that was manning a desk and leaned down. "Hey there Charles, how ya doin?"
The now named Charles was a man somewhat older than me, dressed in a suit that looked like it was twenty years out of fate, with God's honest monocle resting over his right eye. His hair was perfectly coifed, and he had a faintly disdainful expression on his face until he recognized Joe, at which point it immediately morphed into a warm smile. "Uncle Joe, what brings you to Aurecator? The shop's not in trouble is it?"
Joe gave the younger man a hairy eyeball to which Charles raised his hands in a placating gesture. "The Shop's just fine, thank you. But you know that seeing as you handle my money, you little shit."
"So I do Uncle," Charles responded unrepentantly. "Very well, I might add."
"Don't get too full of yourself. If it wasn't for me an my money you'd still be runnin' errands insteada' sitting behind this here fancy desk." Joe noted and stabbed a stubby finger down on the desk in question.
"As you like to remind me every time you come here," Charles said agreeably, the found smile never leaving his face. "And I'm very grateful."
Joe grunted. "So... how your old man then? Still a waste of good air?"
"He's gotten into woodcarving now," Charles responded evenly like he'd heard it all before and was used to it.
Joe gave him an incredulous look. "Woodcarving? What happened to the distillery?"
Charles winced and adjusted his tie nervously. "There might have been a little fire."
Joe gave his nephew a flat look. "How little is a little?"
"They have to build a new barn," Charles admitted, embarrassed.
Joe facepalmed as he groaned. "Of course..."
Apparently desperate to change the subject Charles spotted me standing behind his Uncle, watching them with undisguised interest.
"Hello there! Can I be of assistance?" He asked with forced cheer.
Before I could answer Joe did it for me. "He needs to exchange his monopoly money for real cash." He explained shortly. "He's newly arrived from Europe and an old friend of mine asked me to help him settle in so he didn't get into any trouble."
Charles raised a single eyebrow and gave me a quick look before refocusing on his uncle. "That's not really my department, you'll have to take it to one of the tellers."
"Don't give me lip, son. I don't have time to wait around in no lines, you hear. I have a business to run and I can't hang around here all day while those incompetents figure out how to pull their thumbs out of their asses and get the job done."
Charles visibly had to stifle a laugh, hiding it behind a chough. "Fine. How much do you have?"
I shrugged before pulling out two pouches, one big, containing two hundred galleons, and a small one, containing fifty gold coins. I still had a larger one tucked away in a hidden pocket for emergencies. "There are two-hundred galleons in the bigger one, the smaller one has fifty gold coins in it. I'd like the galleons exchanged into Dragots, I want to use the rest to open an account."
Both Joe and Charles looked surprised, probably not about the galleons, but because of the gold. Charles moved the pouch filled with galleons to the side before opening the smaller bag and fishing out a single golden coin and examining it closely. The coin wasn't much to look at as far as workmanship was concerned, uneven and rather ugly. On one side showed a king, sitting on a throne and holding a scepter and apple. There was something written on it to but it was so degraded that I could only make out the roman number for 3. The flipside was dominated by a cross that neatly split the coin in four quarters, each quarter decorated with a flower. There were things written there as well that I couldn't read.
Charles frowned in consideration before he laid the coin down on the desk and then opened one of the drawers to the left and pulled out a big leatherbound tome and started to flip through it rapidly, stopping at times to reexamine the coin before continuing. What little I could see from where I was standing the books was filled with pictures of what looked like coins, and a lot of text I couldn't read. Finally, once he had gone through most of the book he stopped at an entry and after a few back and forths between the book and the coin he finally looked up at me.
"This is a Henry the Third Gold Penny," he stated, somewhat incredulous. "Where did you get this?"
"They special or something?" I asked, avoiding the question.
"You could say that," Charles told me evenly. "They are vanishingly rare. Most of them were melted down shortly after they were minted making them highly valued amongst No-Maj collectors. One of these coins goes for around 80.000 dollars at auction, and you have fifty of them!"
Joe let out a slow whistle.
I smiled slowly. "Well... isn't that interesting."