"Three up... then two across..." Jon muttered, gently tapping the brick with his finger.
But nothing happened.
The wall remained solid and unmoving—no shifting bricks, no magical archway, nothing.
"What the hell?" Jon frowned. He could've sworn this was how Hagrid opened the entrance to Diagon Alley in the original story.
"Let me try," Eric offered. He stepped up and tapped the bricks three times, copying the pattern.
Still nothing.
Then it hit Jon—of course. Hagrid had used his umbrella... which secretly housed his wand. And Jon didn't have a wand yet.
He was just about to turn back and ask Tom, the barkeep at the Leaky Cauldron, for help when—
Clack, clack, clack.
The sound of leather boots echoed down the stone path.
A middle-aged man in glasses, carrying a briefcase and dressed in a suit, strolled toward them, humming "Rule, Britannia."
"Dr. Granger?" Eric blinked in surprise.
"Oh, heavens—Mr. Hart!" the man adjusted his glasses, equally astonished. "Fancy seeing you here."
"The surprise is mine!"
The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries like old friends.
After a brief chat, Dr. Granger seemed to remember something. He opened his briefcase, pulled out a slim wooden wand, and gave the wall a light tap.
At once, the bricks began to tremble. A small gap formed, then widened rapidly, unfolding into a large arched entrance that opened onto a winding cobbled street bustling with activity.
"I assume you're heading to Diagon Alley as well, Mr. Hart?" Dr. Granger asked.
"Looks like it," Eric said with a chuckle. "Dr. Granger, I had no idea you were a wizard."
Eric turned to Jon to introduce the man properly.
Wendell Granger—well-known London dentist. Eric had been to his clinic a few times and even helped him settle a dispute with a patient once. The two had been on good terms ever since.
"Me? A wizard?" Granger laughed, shaking his head. "Not at all. The witch is my daughter. That wand I used? Hers. I imagine it's the same for you, Mr. Hart?"
"Exactly," Eric confirmed with a smile. "This is my son, Jon. He was just accepted into a wizarding school called Hogwarts."
"Pleasure to meet you, young Mr. Hart," Granger said warmly, leaning down to shake Jon's hand. Then to Eric: "My daughter's at Hogwarts too—she started last year. I brought her today to pick up new robes and a few textbooks. She told me to grab a drink at the Leaky Cauldron and meet her at Madam Malkin's by three."
He checked his watch. "I've got about half an hour left. Mind if I give you two a quick tour of Diagon Alley?"
...
They stepped through the Leaky Cauldron.
Two men in business suits and a boy in casual athletic wear stood out like a neon sign among the robed witches and wizards, drawing more than a few curious stares.
Mr. Granger didn't seem to mind.
"Wizards don't run into people like us often. We confuse them. They call us 'Muggles.' Honestly, I find the term a bit rude..."
"Mr. Hart, I'd recommend starting with Gringotts—the wizarding bank. You can exchange Muggle currency there. They'll convert up to 100 Galleons per visit, which is the standard limit," he added, clearly speaking from experience.
"100 Galleons?" Jon latched onto that detail.
"That's right—five pounds per Galleon, with a cap at 100," Granger explained. "Here we are—Gringotts, straight ahead!"
They approached a towering white building that gleamed in the sunlight, rising above the surrounding shops. A goblin in a crimson and gold-trimmed uniform stood near the heavy bronze doors.
He was shorter than Jon, dressed formally, with long, spindly fingers peeking out from his sleeves.
"Welcome, Mr. Stan Shunpike. Making a vault withdrawal today? Please, step right in..." the goblin said in a shrill, nasal tone as he greeted a wizard ahead of them.
"Oh. Muggles..." The moment his gaze landed on Jon's group, his tone shifted noticeably, laced with disdain.
"This is Mr. Jon Hart," Granger said smoothly, ignoring the tone. "He's just been accepted into Hogwarts. He needs to exchange some Muggle currency."
"See Borg. Sixth counter on the left," the goblin replied curtly.
"Let's go," Granger said, flashing a faintly resigned smile. "Told you—we're not exactly welcome here."
...
The sixth counter was manned by a younger-looking goblin.
"Excuse me..." Eric began.
"Obviously here for a currency exchange," the goblin muttered without glancing up. "Name."
"Jon Hart."
"Name's on the list..." The goblin tapped his ledger once. "No problem."
He extended two fingers and dropped a small coin pouch onto the counter—carefully, like the act of handing it over might contaminate him.
Eric took it stiffly, then pulled a crisp £500 note from his wallet.
The goblin snatched it without a word, tossed it into a drawer, and slammed it shut.
"Only 100 Galleons?" Jon asked, eyeing the pouch.
"Yes, Mr. Hart," the goblin replied—this time more politely. "This exchange is covered by Hogwarts. From first to seventh year, you're eligible to redeem the same amount once per year, around this time."
Then he smirked, adding with a sneer, "Surely you don't think that silly Muggle money means anything to us?"
He wasn't wrong. For a full-grown wizard, acquiring Muggle currency—legally or not—was trivial. Allowing free conversion from Galleons to pounds could wreck the economy.
...
They stepped out of Gringotts into the sunlight.
Granger checked his watch again. "Almost half past three... Mr. Hart, would you care to join me at Madam Malkin's? Perhaps your son and my daughter could get acquainted."
"I'd be honored, Mr. Granger!" Jon said brightly, flashing a smile that was half charm, half childlike sincerity. "But it's getting a bit late. I was hoping my father could handle the robes and textbooks while I go pick out a wand... I overheard someone say that choosing the right one can take a while."
He gave an apologetic chuckle. "I'm sure I'll run into Miss Granger at school soon enough. Just a bit short on time today—sorry about that."
"No problem at all," Granger said warmly. "Go get your wand. It really can take a while. If I remember correctly, the shop's just over there..."