That miserable twelfth birthday was finally over.
For a while after that, things were calm and quiet around 86 Eastleigh Road.
The dull and uneventful summer holidays passed by day after day... As before, Jon spent most of his time brewing potions and exploring memory-related spells.
Then one day in late July, Jon went to Mr. Robert Wilson's hardware store and picked up a batch of custom-made silver bullets that Mr. Wilson had procured for him.
There were only thirty bullets in total, but since there would be just one "moderate" werewolf at school, that was more than enough.
While he was at it, Jon discreetly collected some hair samples.
He deliberately chose strands from out-of-town tourists so he could expand his "transfiguration database" while avoiding any chance of overlap with his own form.
The Champion's Elixir and the Enhancement Potion were already complete, and the Polyjuice Potion was entering its final stage.
After adding dried Boomslang skin into the cauldron, Jon watched the bubbling brew release acrid black smoke—he knew it had succeeded. And this time, the potion's potency was definitely stronger than before.
He carefully bottled the potion into glass vials, divided them into two sets, and packed them neatly into his suitcase.
He'd spent over a month using up 100 Galleons' worth of ingredients—there was nothing left to do at 86 Eastleigh Road.
Fortunately, on the last day of July, a letter arrived from Hogwarts.
It was a yellow parchment envelope, the writing in green ink. The letter instructed him to board the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross Station on September 1st as usual, and included his second-year book list:
Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk
The Basics of Defense Against the Dark Arts by Quentin Trimble
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi – Supplement by Phyllida Spore
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration – Volume II by Emeric Switch
Quidditch Through the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp
There were noticeably fewer required books for second-year students than in the first year… and the last title, Quidditch Through the Ages, was written in different handwriting—clearly someone had added it afterward.
After receiving the letter, Jon decided not to stay home any longer.
He explained things to Eric and Judi, said his goodbyes, picked up his suitcase, and boarded the train to London.
...
Charing Cross Road was a bustling street in central London.
It was also world-famous as a haven for bookshops... The classic novel 84, Charing Cross Road by American author Helene Hanff—often called the bible of book lovers—was set right here.
On this clean and orderly street, a grubby and cramped little pub stood out rather starkly.
Though passersby hurried along without sparing it a glance, their attention fixed solely on the nearby bookstores.
Less than a hundred yards from that grubby little pub was the Willow Hill Hotel. From its entrance, a cloaked figure emerged and walked toward the bar.
The mysterious traveler, carrying a suitcase, didn't stop inside the Leaky Cauldron. Instead, he slipped past the patrons and headed straight to the courtyard in the back.
Minutes later, he entered Diagon Alley and walked into a mysterious potion shop.
"Hello, sir!" The shop's proprietress quickly approached as the hooded traveler lowered his hood, revealing soft blond hair and a youthful face. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"I'd like to sell some potions," the blond youth said, eyeing the colorful bottles lining the shelves. His voice carried a rough American accent.
"You're not British?" the woman asked, a little puzzled.
"No, I'm from the United States," the blond young man answered easily. "Name's Anduin Urien."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Urien. I'm Julia Spore, the owner here," she replied promptly. "What are you looking to buy?"
"No…" Anduin shook his head. "I'm here to sell some potions."
As he spoke, he pulled a crystal vial from his pocket and tossed it casually over.
Madam Spore hurried to catch it. She gave it a sniff, examined it carefully, and finally concluded, "This is… Polyjuice Potion… Looks like it's high quality?"
"Of course," Anduin said confidently.
"Polyjuice is a restricted substance…" Madam Spore quickly lowered her voice.
"That's just one of your British Ministry's idiotic laws… In North America, potion brewing and sales are completely unrestricted," Anduin replied with disdain.
Madam Spore didn't know much about American law, but she was clearly tempted...
As a controlled potion, very few Potioneers in the entire British wizarding world knew the recipe and could brew Polyjuice successfully. Combined with the laborious brewing process, it was rare on the market.
"How much can you provide?" she asked softly.
"I can part with five pints," Anduin said seriously.
"Eighty Galleons per pint. How does that sound?" Madam Spore offered cautiously.
"Reasonable enough," the blond man said, clearly not interested in haggling.
He opened his suitcase and lined up dozens of identical crystal vials on the counter.
A small bag of Galleons slid back across to him.
...
Five minutes later, Anduin Urien emerged onto Diagon Alley with a pouch full of Galleons.
Noticing a crowd gathered at the front of the Quidditch Supplies shop, he wandered over out of curiosity.
On a newly installed pedestal stood a broomstick.
A placard read:
"Firebolt—This broomstick represents the pinnacle of modern craftsmanship. The handle is crafted from Ash wood, expertly shaped for aerodynamic performance, with a polished finish as hard as diamond and a hand-engraved registration number.
Each tail twig has been individually selected for ideal streamlining, providing unrivaled balance and precision.
The Firebolt accelerates to 150 mph in under ten seconds and features a top-tier braking system.
Pre-sale price: 800 Galleons."
"Eight hundred Galleons for a damn broom? Are they insane?" the blond young man muttered, shaking his head and walking away.
He stopped first at Flourish and Blotts. Under the astonished gaze of the clerk, he bought several lower-year textbooks. Then he popped next door for ink and parchment. Lastly, at a leather goods shop, he picked up a dragon-hide wand holster.
He packed everything into his half-empty suitcase and headed for a shop called "Magical Menagerie."
It wasn't a large store—every inch of the walls was covered in cages. The place was loud and smelly from all the creatures inside, each making their own kind of racket.
There were all sorts of strange animals: cats in various colors, a cage full of noisy ravens, and a pair of wide-eyed purple toads… On the counter sat a big cage filled with sleek black rats, lazily swishing their long, bald tails.
"I need to buy some rats!" the blond youth called out.
The witch behind the counter rushed over. "Welcome, dear… Have a look here—these are Serbian Galleon Rats. Very clever, they can help wizards find lost items. Ten Galleons each…"
She pointed excitedly at the cage of black rats, which immediately started bouncing around.
The young man muttered under his breath, "That's a rip-off. Even SPF-grade lab rats aren't that expensive…"
"No, no… Just give me regular house mice or field mice," he said quickly.
The witch's bright smile vanished in an instant.
"Don't have any?" Anduin asked.
"We do," the witch replied coolly. "Four Knuts each. How many?"
"Twenty—no, make it thirty. And throw in a bag of rat food."
He tossed her five silver Sickles, grabbed two large cages of mice and the bag of food, and strode out of the shop.
...
Back at the Willow Hill Hotel on Charing Cross Road, the Polyjuice duration was almost up.
Just a few minutes after entering his room, the blond young man's body began to shift rapidly—reverting to the form of Jon Hart.
In his previous life, he'd studied American English from the third grade for over a decade… To his surprise, that effort was now paying off—helping him blend in as a visiting American in London.
Apparently, it was working pretty well.
Jon sat on the bed, already having decided to spend the rest of his summer right here in this hotel.
Because here, he could use magic freely.
According to the Ministry of Magic's Underage Wizard Protection Act, minors were prohibited from performing magic outside of school… But there was a loophole: the Ministry could only detect that magic had been used in an area, not who had cast it.
At home, underage magic use relied on parental supervision. In public places frequented by wizards, the same applied.
So on Charing Cross Road—an ordinary street near Diagon Alley where wizards often passed through—a minor like Jon could cast spells without being caught.
And compared to the crowded Leaky Cauldron, this hotel was clearly much safer.
There were no wizards lurking nearby, so he didn't need to take Polyjuice Potion constantly. Even if something went wrong with his magic, there'd be no one around to catch him... And if he wanted to visit Diagon Alley, it was just a short walk away.
Jon sorted through the things he'd brought and prepared to enjoy the rest of his summer.