Charles, or the bank, ended up buying my coins, at well below market value, of course, both because the value of the coins would decrease if they were released too fast, which made them problematic to sell, and because some of the coins weren't in the best of conditions. Still, by my estimate, I still got sixty thousand dollars per coin as I sold the whole lot to the bank for a cool three million dollars, all of which was put into my brand spanking new account, under the management of Charles, of course. I had a feeling that a good portion of the money from the sale of those coins would find their way into his own pockets, but I was fine with that. Greed was not a sin I had ever been guilty of.
Besides, I still had a lot of gold coins, of various designs, back at Hogwarts, some of which looked even older than the ones I'd found with the crown jewels. Well, older to my untrained eyes anyway.
After that, we left the bank which brought me face to face with something that had been bugging me since I'd seen it. The cars. It was anachronistic, it didn't fit. What use did a wizard have for a car? Okay, so I know Arthur had one, but Arthur was a cook, a muppet, a statistical outlier.
"So..." I said loudly, bringing Joe's attention to me. "Cars."
Joe looked at me with a raised eyebrow "Yes?"
"What's up with that?" i asked ernestly
Joe looked at me, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"
"Why are there cars in the Alley?" I clarified.
Joe squinted at me in confusion. "Where else would they be?"
We looked at one another puzzled looks for a moment before I realized that we were talking past each other. "Okay. What are wizards doing with cars? Back in Brittain, I don't think there is a wizard that owns a car; even the muggleborns don't use them. I wouldn't be suprised if some of 'em don't even know what a car is, or have ever seen one."
Joe rolled his eyes and snorted. "I don't know if you noticed, but this is the damn United States of America!"
"Yeah, that explains nothing," I said, scratchingly. "What use are they?"
Joe shrugged. "Same as for the No-Maj's?"
"I can't see that being the case, not with Floo, Apparation, and Portkeys," I argued as we made our way through the alley.
Joe snorted again before he stopped suddenly and looked thoughtfully up into the air before he spoke slowly as if he was getting his thoughts in order even as he spoke. "I think it's scale."
"Scale?" I asked.
"Mmm." He hummed with a nod as if he came to a decision. "Things here are both bigger and smaller then I think yer used to, kid. First thing, we can't shut ourselves away from the No-Maj's like you do, at least not in the cities. We have to live in the same houses and apartments that they do. You ever seen a fireplace in an apartment? You can get one fitted, but that will cost you a damn arm and a leg. A car is damn useful when you don't have a Floo. I was damn lucky to find my place; it was old and had a fireplace. Most ain't that lucky."
"Second, this is a big place, kid. "Great" Britain ain't all that great when compared to the US, we have states that are bigger than your whole country. We are mighty spread out here and if ya want to get around then a good enchanted car is the way to go, because those other ways are either not gonna get you out of the city, or will be one big hassle as you can't just jump wherever ya want all willy-nilly."
"Oh," I said while mulling it over in my head. Personally, it still seemed a bit flimsy and I suspected that there were probably some other factors at play. Maybe it was just cultural. Cars were a big part of American culture, to a far greater degree than anywhere else in the world. I suppose Joe might have a point in it being an issue of scale if you think about it. I refocused on Joe and asked an important question. "Can they fly?"
Joe gave me a look like I was touched in the head. "Of course they can fly. Now stop asking stupid questions, I still have some places I need to show you before I leave. Come on!"
"Coming, coming. Jeez, calm down; slow down before you'll break a hip or something." I muttered.
"I'll break your jaw if you don't stop trash-talking, ya little punk." Joe threatened.
---
Joe ended up showing me around the Alley for another hour, pointing me to useful shops and giving me a basic rundown on things I shouldn't do to keep the government off my back. Most of it was just regular stuff like using a wand in front of muggles and such things. Additionally, I was not allowed to go hunting for magical creatures without a special license. After he left I spent another half hour just looking around to see if I could find anything interesting to buy before I located the exit to the muggle world. Unlike in England the exit turned out to not be a place of business, but an actual gate that served just that purpose. It was made out to be much like the portal to the Hogwarts Express, that is to say, a plane stone wall that you had to walk through to be transported to the other side.
I found out that apparently the Alley was located in Brooklyn near Prospect Park. The gateway into the Alley didn't look like much, just a plain brick wall at the end of a blind alleyway. The only notable about it was that it didn't have any graffiti on it due to the muggle repelling charms placed on the alleyway to keep people out. I looked up and noted that there were alot of windows facing into the alley, I wondered if they were occupied by wizards or muggles. The first would make sense, but then wizards didn't have much use for sense. That might be trouble in a few decades.
I recast my concealing charm before I floated off the ground and into the air. I didn't go to high, staying about twelve feet off the ground as I slowly flew through the streets, taking in the sights I'd ignored when I was looking for Joe's shop. This was New York City, the epicenter for pretty much every alien invasion that has ever occurred in fiction. Okay, so that was an exaggeration, but it good hit a lot. It was almost a tradition now. It was here that Newt had his first little dustup with Grindelwald back in the day. Pretty rad.
I quickly made my way back to Manhattan, passing over the Brooklyn Bridge, of course. The place of death of Gwen Stacy of Spider-Man fame. In the distance, I could see the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center being constructed, by the looks of it they were about halfway done already. I'd have to do something about that once 9/11 swung around. I wonder how Muslim Terrorists would react to a wizard making their lives a living hell. I wonder how they would like to spend the rest of their lives as pigs. A little karmic punishment is good for the soul, I think.
After that, I flew out over the bay to the Statue of Liberty and stood on her head for a while before I decided to deface the monument a bit and etched "Killroy Was Here" along with the iconic image before continuing my little tour. The first thing I found that I recognized was the Flatiron Building. The first time I'd seen it I'd been young, watching The Neverending Story, it was the place where Bastian had hid from his bullies. I did a little flyby of the Empire State Building before I hit Time Square, where Steve Rogers first ended up after he woke up in our time, in the movies anyway, and from there I headed for St. Patrick's Cathedral, which I'm almost certain is where Spider-Man went to get rid of the Symbiote that one time, I might be wrong. I passed over Rockefeller Center that was nearby, the location of more than one romcom before heading past Central Park, a place that was featured in pretty much any film that ever took place in the Town, if only in the background.
Once I hit Harlem I turned around again and started to search for Broadway. The theater district lay just of Time Square, but I'd missed it on my first flyover. As I descended down near to the ground something caught in the corner of my eye.
A ghost.
It was hovering beside one of those fortune tellers you ran into every now and again, even hand a crystal ball. Very classy. Now, a ghost on Broadway alone might have been worth a raised eyebrow and a bit of curiosity. But in this case, I knew the ghost. I'd recognize that ridiculous clown hair anywhere. I don't know what bout of insanity caused him to think that flat greased hair on top and curly at the sides was a good look for him, particularly with a head that looked like an upside-down egg. He was dressed in al old fashioned suit.
Suddenly the ghost did a gesture and I saw the table jump a bit, and so did the burly looking girl that was sitting opposite the fortune teller. The girl flew to her feet and yelled something; I couldn't catch it over the traffic, before hauling back and punching the medium hard enough that she flipped head over teakettle off the chair she was sitting on. The robust woman then gathered her money and storm off.
I didn't care about that though, what I cared about was that the ghost had somehow affected the table, something it shouldn't have been able to do. The only things I'd known ghosts to be able to interact with, in some manner, were fire, water, and air. That interaction was generally very feeble, though even as I thought about it I couldn't help recall that Myrtle was able to flood the bathroom she frequented when she wanted to. That was not a feeble influence.
I felt a sudden feeling of excitement. I didn't know what was going on, but I felt like I might have accidentally stumbled over something new. I floated over to the ghost who was new smirking smugly to himself as he floated over the insensate fortune teller. Hidden beneath the disillusionment charms as I was he didn't notice me float down behind him.
"Well, well. Harry Houdini, still debunking fake mystics, even after death. If this isn't irony, I don't know what is." I whispered, causing the ghost to flinch away from me. He floated away and spun around, his eyes searching for the one that snuck up on him.
"Who goes there!" he demanded as he searched for me, he eventually zeroed in on the distortion caused by the spell. "A wizard."
"Righto..." I confirmed quietly before I started to float upwards slowly. "I don't think this is the place to talk, our fraudulent friend seems to be coming around, why don't you meet me on the roof above."
Said and done I flew up to the rood on one of the buildings above before landing and canceling my concealment charm. The ghost of Harry Houdini joined me moments after, giving me a truly baleful glare. I was kinda impressed.
"What do you want, wizard," he asked with a note of disdain in his voice when he said the last word.
I raised an eyebrow. "What's with the attitude? It's not like you weren't one when you were alive."
"I was certainly not." Harry denied.
"Hate to break it to you H, but only wizards can become ghosts," I informed him.
"Of that, I am well aware." Harry sneered. "However, I was never trained, as such, I was never a wizard."
"Semantics." I countered. I suppose it was strictly true in a sense, but wizard was as much as a racial identifier as it was a description of someone that was trained to use magic.
"Yet true, nonetheless." he countered in turn. "Again I ask you, what do you want?"
"Right to the point then," I said and clapped my hands. "I saw what you did to that fraud down there."
"And you come to reprimand me for it, hah!" Harry laughed proudly. "What can you do to one that is already dead?
"Couldn't care less," I told the ghost of the Breakout King. "She deserved that, and more, for deceiving people like she likely does."
If Houdini found my answer pleasing he made no indication of it, keeping his disgrunted expression firmly in place. "On this one thing then, we agree. But my question remains unanswered, wizard."
"I wanted to know how you did that," I told him. "Ghosts normally can't affect the world of the living in any meaningful way. Yet you obviously can."
Harry's expression shifted into something that looked to be a combination of smug satisfaction and something shifty. "You wish to learn my secrets, well, that is unfortunate, for such things do not come free."
"Alright," I said, knowing where this was going. "What do you want?"
Houdini gave me another self-satisfied smirk. "As I said, it is unfortunate. What I desire you can't acquire, little wizard. It would seem you have to languish in ignorance."
"Or I could just bind you to this rooftop and leave you here until you talk." I threatened lightly.
A mistake, as it turned out, as Harry immediately, quick as a striking snake, trust out his hand upon hearing my threat. A force, like a blast of high-pressure air, slammed into me and sent me flying into one of those odd-looking air ducts that decorate the rooftops of American buildings, hard enough to leave a sizable dent.
"You arrogant little child, you think to threaten me with imprisonment. I am Harry Houdini, there is no lock that can hinder me, no chains that can bind me and no box that can contain me!" he proclaimed loudly. "And only in your dreams will you find my secret," he said before fading even from my view.
I stared in disappointment at the spot where the ghost had previously floated. I'd bungled that right and proper. "Well, fuck."