Looking down from the tram window, Qin Yu could barely make out the city below—London was lost beneath a blanket of morning mist.
Thick fog in the dead of winter… Classic London, the City of Fog, living up to its name as always.
He watched the ghostly shapes of buildings drift past, unable to resist a mental jab at the weather.
Seated primly beside him, Hermione kept leaning over to chat, her voice bubbling with anticipation as they discussed which shops to visit first.
"Flourish and Blotts is a must," she said, ticking off her list. "And Madam Malkin's, too. You've grown so much, Qin—those robes from last year are way too short on you."
"I wonder if the ice cream shop will be open…" Hermione mused, suddenly distracted by the memory of raspberry-topped sundaes from summer break. She swallowed, almost unconsciously.
Qin Yu grinned. "I didn't even think about that last Christmas. We spent hours wandering the shops, but ice cream never crossed my mind." After all, who in their right mind eats ice cream in the middle of a British winter—unless you're from the far north?
But Hermione was just reminiscing, not seriously planning to hunt down frozen treats. Their real agenda was books, robes, and maybe a little window shopping.
As usual, they'd refused a ride from Mr. Granger, opting instead for the full Muggle experience: tram, then underground, then another tram. By now, they navigated the route like seasoned Londoners.
Between a sprawling bookstore and a record shop stood a shabby, narrow building—unremarkable to Muggle eyes, but unmistakable to those in the know.
The Leaky Cauldron.
They pushed open the worn wooden door, its surface polished smooth by generations of visitors, and stepped into a world buzzing with wizarding life.
Unlike last year, Hermione didn't gawk at the crowd of witches and wizards. She certainly didn't suggest, as she once had, that they go introduce themselves to everyone "since we're all the same kind." That memory still made Qin Yu chuckle—though when he brought it up, Hermione would only bare her perfect little teeth in warning: mention it again, and she'd bite him the minute they got home.
Consider yourself warned!
The pub was a cacophony of voices, snippets of conversation floating through the air. Some made sense to Qin Yu; others were a swirl of names and jargon from a world he was still learning.
"The Magical Congress of the United States… always good for a laugh. Those Aurors must be sleeping on the job!" scoffed a scruffy, thin wizard, his accent pure old-world disdain.
"Right? Letting the G.A. lot stir up trouble, and now they're actually giving them seats in Congress. Just wait—this'll be a circus," a portly wizard chimed in, clearly enjoying the drama.
The mention of "G.A." (the Grindelwald Army) caught Qin Yu's ear. Even Professor Dumbledore was watching that group, whose leader had ties to Grindelwald himself.
But after a few minutes, the conversation devolved into gossip about Abernathy's clever maneuvering, his formidable lieutenants—Mr. Delta the strategist, Hellfire Little John, the ruthless Stanley—and a whole parade of code-named henchmen. In less than a year, the G.A. had gone from notorious outlaws to political power players, now even eyeing seats in the magical congress.
Power struggles and bloodshed on another continent… Qin Yu scratched his ear, feeling none of it had anything to do with him.
"I'm just a kid. Let North America sort out its own mess."
With that, he tugged on Hermione's sleeve. She looked just as bored, and together they slipped out the back, emerging into the famous little courtyard at the threshold of Diagon Alley.
Calling it a "courtyard" was generous—it was really a short, dead-end alley with a brick wall at the end.
This time, Qin Yu decided to let Hermione handle opening the magical gateway herself. He patiently walked her through the sequence, then stepped aside with an encouraging nod.
The little witch's eyes sparkled. She drew her vine wood wand, practically vibrating with excitement—the same way she'd looked that first night she'd snuck up to his attic room.
Hey, hey, enough with the random comparisons!
Refocusing, Hermione steadied herself, then tapped the bricks in the precise pattern Qin Yu had taught her.
With a rumble, the wall split open, revealing the bustling heart of Diagon Alley.
Triumph lit up Hermione's face—a look of pure accomplishment, like a gamer who'd just defeated their very first slime in the starter village.
If she's this happy over a slime, what'll she do when she takes down a proper boss? Qin Yu thought, amused.
"Come on, Qin!" Hermione called, grabbing his arm and charging through the archway onto the cobbled street.
In an instant, the sounds and colors of the wizarding world crashed over them, sweeping them into the vibrant chaos of Diagon Alley.
…
Meanwhile, far away at Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore was accepting the day's newspapers from a patient owl. He handed over ten Knuts for the service, and the owl flapped away, jingling its reward.
Settling beside his tea table, Dumbledore skimmed the familiar Daily Prophet, finding nothing urgent. He set it aside and turned to a North American publication he'd recently taken an interest in: The Wizard's Voice.
He read this one more carefully, especially a feature article that sprawled across half a page: "Rising Star of Magical Politics, or Source of Chaos?"
The piece detailed the meteoric rise of the G.A. group in North America. Dumbledore lingered on the accompanying magical photograph—Abernathy at the center, flanked by his key followers.
One figure drew his gaze. Tall, with dark brown hair and sharp, gaunt features, there was something hauntingly familiar about him. But his eyes were cold, his expression brooding and bitter.
"Ian Stanley…" Dumbledore murmured, brow furrowing in thought.
"So many troublesome matters these days…"
With a sigh, he set the paper aside, no longer interested in the Daily Prophet. Instead, he returned to his desk to finish a reply to a certain boy from the East.
Once the letter was sealed, he added a small trinket from the school's storeroom to the envelope. Summoning a reliable owl, Dumbledore entrusted the letter and gift to its care. The owl soared out of Hogwarts, bound for a quiet Muggle neighborhood in London.
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