Generally speaking, Marcel had little interest in the Weasley family. As mentioned before, he had never been fond of such boisterous scenes.
It was just that Ron, as a member of the future Golden Trio, was entangled in so many stories. Although Marcel couldn't remember many of the details, it didn't stop him from wanting to get to know Ron. In his view, this was the closest breakthrough he had to befriending Harry and Hermione.
Of course, there was no need to get too deeply involved.
That day, Marcel and Luna had lunch at the Weasleys' home, spent the afternoon playing at The Burrow, and then returned to the Lovegoods' house.
It was worth noting that he had already made plans with Mrs. Weasley to go to Diagon Alley together at the end of the following month to buy the necessary school supplies. Ron had also received his Hogwarts acceptance letter.
The days at the Lovegood house passed quickly. Marcel and Luna talked about everything under the sun each day. Sometimes their conversations were completely at cross-purposes, but most of the time they got along splendidly.
However, happy days always seem fleeting. Time flew by, and soon it was the date he had arranged with Mrs. Weasley. That morning, Marcel bid farewell to Luna and her father, then, carrying his suitcase, he stepped back into the Lovegoods' fireplace.
He had already stayed at Luna's home for nearly a month. No matter how thick-skinned he was, Marcel figured it was about time to say goodbye. Of course, before leaving, Marcel helped Mr. Lovegood repair his dilapidated fence, leaving a good impression.
At their final parting, Luna showed a hint of reluctance for the first time. Marcel wondered if this could be considered a decent start. To be honest, he had a good impression of this girl who was at times clever and at other times completely off-the-wall, though it hadn't yet reached the level of a crush.
BOOM!
Just as Marcel arrived in Diagon Alley, Luna and her father were staring blankly at the empty fireplace. It was clear that this time, someone had finally noticed the strange phenomenon of Marcel's Floo travels. They were completely startled.
The towering green flames had shot past right before their eyes, nearly licking Mr. Lovegood's tattered robes. If he had been standing any closer, he probably would have gone to Diagon Alley with Marcel.
…
Marcel had arranged to meet Mrs. Weasley at Potage's Cauldron Shop, which was located just behind The Leaky Cauldron. According to Ron, he didn't need to buy anything because he would be using all of Charlie's old second-hand things.
"Except for a new cauldron, because Charlie's one has a hole in the bottom," Ron had said at the time, looking rather reluctant. "I'd rather it was The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 that had a hole. That's more expensive, and it wouldn't look so stupid."
But when Marcel stood at the entrance of the cauldron shop and glanced inside, he realized he was probably a bit early.
"I'll go to Gringotts first," Marcel decided, looking around and sticking to his original plan.
Gringotts was the only bank in the wizarding world, run by goblins, with branches all over the world. The goblins offered services for storing money and renting vaults, as well as odds and ends like currency exchange.
With a bow from the goblins at the entrance, Marcel walked into the marble hall of Gringotts. The moment he entered, he was stunned by the busy yet orderly scene inside.
About a hundred goblins sat on high stools behind a long counter, some weighing coins on brass scales, others examining gems with eyepieces, all the while scribbling in large ledgers. There were countless doors in the hall leading to different places, with many goblins guiding customers in and out.
Honestly, it was a rare sight. Marcel stood by the door for a while longer before walking over to the counter with a plaque that read "Muggle Currency Exchange."
"Time is money, my friend," Marcel said, unable to resist quoting the famous line to a young goblin on a high stool. He then asked, "What's the exchange rate for pounds?"
"Oh, yes, yes!" The goblin's eyes lit up upon hearing this, as if he had just heard a great truth. He carefully scrutinized Marcel before answering, "Today's exchange rate for the pound is 5.01, esteemed customer. Do you need to make an exchange? The service fee is 1.5 percent."
Marcel quickly took out most of his money from his suitcase. After completing the exchange, he deposited it all into Gringotts, leaving himself only 100 Galleons for personal use.
"It was a pleasure to serve you, sir. May your vaults overflow!" At the end, the goblin bid him farewell in a high-pitched, cheerful voice.
As Marcel reached the main entrance, he faintly heard a familiar cry from behind him.
"Time is money, my friend!"
"Truly touching," Marcel grinned, leaving with a cheerful spring in his step.
"Alright, where to next? Maybe I'll just wander around for a bit?"
As Marcel was considering which way to go, his gaze was drawn to another branching path opposite Gringotts.
The shops in Diagon Alley were already crowded enough, but that alley looked even narrower. The light was mostly blocked by oddly shaped buildings, giving it a gloomy feeling.
Marcel hesitated for a moment, then walked toward it.
The first three shops at the entrance were tightly shut, their windows covered with heavy velvet curtains. The shop names on the signs above the doors were hard to read, clearly abandoned for some years.
A few steps further in, a small shop called "The Giant Spider" had its door wide open. Inside, it seemed to be filled with all sorts of strange creatures in cages. This reminded him of an item on his shopping list: "Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad."
Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to take a look inside. He was early today anyway, with plenty of time to spare.
"Welcome, young customer," an old witch wearing a wide-brimmed, pointed hat said in a low, sinister, and raspy voice from the back of the shop. "...Feel free to look around."
Marcel glanced in her direction, then began to examine the creatures in the cages on either side.
To be frank, he was just looking. He didn't recognize most of the creatures, but that didn't stop his curiosity.
Suddenly, he saw a black owl. It was huge, at least two sizes larger than any of the breeds he had seen at Eeylops Owl Emporium.
"What kind of owl is this?" Marcel turned and asked the old witch at the back.
"A Sumatran Talisman-Owl," the old witch said menacingly, her dry, chapped lips opening and closing to reveal a crooked, gap-toothed set of yellow teeth. "Originating from Sumatra, it excels at hunting and vigilance, and is skilled at predicting the arrival of earthquakes and tsunamis."
Marcel looked at the owl in the cage again. Seeing it staring quietly back at him, he couldn't help but ask, "How much?"
The old witch grinned, a stiff smile that was utterly terrifying. "Twenty Galleons, my good sir."
Marcel glanced at the old witch, his expression unchanged. "Come on, madam. I'm not one of those snot-nosed kids from Hogwarts."
The old witch looked Marcel up and down dubiously, then slightly straightened her perpetually hunched back. Her voice grew a little louder. "Alright, sir. Fifteen Galleons, final price."
This time, Marcel didn't even look at her. He turned and walked out, his pace so quick it was as if he were fleeing something foul.
"Wait, wait, sir! Ten... no... eight! Eight is the lowest!" the old witch suddenly shouted upon seeing this.
Marcel turned his head back but didn't haggle any further. He figured that while there was still a hefty profit margin at this price, it was probably about right. If he tried to push it lower, he likely wouldn't be able to buy it at all.
"Deal." Marcel took out eight Galleons, placed them on the counter, then picked up the cage and walked out of the shop.
"Wait! The cage costs extra!" the old witch yelled, chasing him to the door, only to find that Marcel had already disappeared into the crowd on the street.
Standing at the entrance, one would be astonished to discover that this old witch was a full two meters tall!
"Damn it! What a detestable little squirt, just like those vampires from America!" The old witch looked left and right but couldn't find her target, so she muttered curses as she went back inside.
Marcel, of course, hadn't gone far. He had just walked a few quick steps and ducked into a shop called "Merlock's Emporium of Wonders."
"Welcome to Merlock's Emporium of Rare Wonders! We have everything here, you can take your time choosing!" A short man, even smaller than Marcel, suddenly popped out from behind a shelf, his shrill voice half a tone higher than the goblins at Gringotts.
"I'm just looking."
Marcel said casually, pulling a... oh, not a wand, but half a wand from a large basket next to the shelf. The half-wand was covered in scars, with several deep scratches on its body. At the broken end, you could even see the dirty wand core peeking out.
"This is a rare wonder?" Marcel asked, a strange expression on his face as he looked at the half-stick in his hand.
But the short wizard seemed to think it was a treasure. He waved his hands and exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, yes, yes! The wand Grindelwald used in his student days! Yew, dragon heartstring, fourteen and three-quarter inches... I mean, it used to be."
Marcel sighed and tossed the half-wand back into the basket.
After that, Marcel picked up a few more trinkets from the shelves to examine. The short man danced around him, spouting a series of stories that sounded fake enough to be laughable, seemingly hoping to attract Marcel's attention.
Just as Marcel put down the item he was holding and prepared to leave, his eyes suddenly caught an inconspicuous flash of blue light from a gap between the shelves.
Marcel immediately looked away, pretending to crouch down to examine other goods, but a plan was already forming in his mind.