The first weekend of July was clear and bright. Sunlight gleamed on yellow lilies, red campion, and blue larkspur. Kevin wore his best dinosaur bag slung across his shoulder, gripped Mr. Jones's hand, walked with Anthony past record shops, secondhand bookstores and cafés to the small side street leading to The Leaky Cauldron.
Mr. Jones walked straight toward the bookstore beside them. Looked completely absorbed by posters in the glass window.
"Dad, this way." Kevin tugged desperately at his sleeve. "Dad!"
"Twenty-Three Spanish Dishes You Should Master... Very interesting. Perhaps I should learn..." Mr. Jones muttered to himself.
"Dad!"
"What is it, Kevin? How about squid rice tonight?"
Pedestrians passed them. Didn't spare the Jones father and son a second glance. In a city like London, every minute children pestered their parents for toy cars or game consoles.
"Mr. Jones!" Anthony said, pulled him into The Leaky Cauldron in one motion.
After stumbling through the door, Mr. Jones shook his head. Looked back in amazement at the bustling world outside. "Wait, just now, wow... I mean, wow..."
Anthony released his hand. "Sorry."
"Henry, do you also need to show new students around?" The landlord Tom put down a glass, looked up in greeting. In the narrow, dim shabby pub, wizards and witches stopped talking, looked at the three incongruously dressed people. Someone in the corner puffing a long pipe clicked twice, muttered: "Muggles."
"Something like that. Anyway, we're going to Diagon Alley," Anthony said, felt Kevin move closer to him, looked down and smiled.
"Of course. You know the way," Tom said, shifted his gaze, nodded at Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones straightened his tie, coughed, nodded back.
"Remember which brick opens the door?" Anthony asked Kevin.
"Yes!" Kevin said happily. His dad was carefully surveying the desolate little courtyard. Didn't miss any gap between trash cans. As if trying to stare out a secret passage.
"Then you try," Anthony said with a smile. "Did you bring your wand?"
"Yes, let me find it." Kevin said, unzipped his little dinosaur bag. He pulled a black wand from the stegosaurus's spine split by the zipper, walked to the wall, counted under his breath a while, tapped it three times with his wand.
No response.
Anthony crouched down in surprise, counted with him again. Still that brick.
"Is it because I'm here?" Mr. Jones said somewhat uneasily. "Muggle? Does it not allow Muggles to enter?"
"I've never heard such a rule," Anthony said firmly. Kevin had already tapped three more times.
The brick still had no response. Like he was really just tapping a wall.
"Kevin?" Anthony spotted the problem this time. "I think you're holding the wand backwards."
Kevin looked down. "Oh, right." He smiled embarrassedly at Anthony and Mr. Jones, turned the wand around, solemnly tapped three times again.
The brick trembled. Diagon Alley opened its doors to them. Kevin gripped Mr. Jones tightly, took a large step, stepped onto Diagon Alley's winding cobblestone path.
"Dad, welcome to the magical world," Kevin said, looking up.
They passed the cauldron shop full of cauldrons of various materials ("Collapsible! How can a pot be collapsible? By the way, yours was used to make soup before. Need to buy another?"), Eeylops Owl Emporium selling owls ("Look at those big birds!"), a shop selling various high-end quills and magical quills ("Very clever, opening a quill shop next to owls"), and a potions shop with frog brains and pufferfish eyes in the window ("Oh...")
Kevin pulled Mr. Jones away from a small stall selling roasted chestnuts. "If you want to buy something, you at least need to exchange for wizard money!"
"Oh, right. Gringotts," Mr. Jones said, smiled at the vendor.
A bony old witch with long sharp nails hunched past them quickly. She stared at Mr. Jones's suit trousers and leather shoes from under her hood, muttering constantly.
Mr. Jones and Kevin both seemed not to hear what she was saying. But Anthony caught several vague keywords like "Mudblood," "filthy," "taint," "swear," accompanied by curse phrases he'd never heard.
"Hey, madam," Anthony stopped her as she passed, said quietly. "That's not very friendly."
The witch stopped, turned her head. Gaze moved between Anthony's wand and his plaid shirt. Said hoarsely: "Mind your own business."
"Just a reminder. There's a child here," Anthony said. He released the witch's bony wrist. Saw something yellowed flash under her sleeve.
Necromancy suddenly surged. Anthony closed his eyes slightly. Knew what it was—a bracelet made from human bones.
"Grab her, Professor Anthony!" someone shouted. Anthony opened his eyes. Saw the witch's expression change. She spun in place preparing to Apparate.
Since he really didn't know how to grab a spinning black robe, Anthony chose to stick out his foot, tripped the witch.
Oscar Weavil rushed over panting. Another Auror-dressed person followed closely.
They pressed the witch to the ground. Searched from her body her own wand, two other wands from who knows where, a human hand with a candle stuck in the top, some potion in a glass bottle, a small bag of jewelry, and a pigeon meat pie. Her nails scratched the cobblestone ground with a cat-scratching-glass sound. A stream of profanity poured from her mouth.
"Uh, mayonnaise pigeon pie. Terrible taste," Oscar's Auror colleague sniffed the pie, commented.
"Thank you, Professor Anthony," Oscar said. "That was... a very useful method."
"Don't mention it. There seems to be something on her wrist," Anthony reminded. "What's wrong with her?"
Oscar frowned, said quietly: "Dark wizard. Mentally unstable." He looked around. "I can't tell you specifically, Professor Anthony. But most likely involves human lives."
Anthony looked at the witch. Her hood had been removed. Black eyes stared at him. Every wrinkle on her aged face full of madness and resentment. She spat in his and Oscar's direction. It landed before their feet.
Oscar shrugged indifferently. Anthony also looked away. "Then I guess I'm quite lucky. I mean, she didn't immediately pull out her wand trying to blow up the street or something."
"Oh no, not Unforgivable Curses," Oscar said, took a large bag of searched items from his colleague. "She's good at making Dark magical objects... or selling them, whatever. Anyway, something like that. Thanks again for your help. See you next time."
His colleague had already left first, escorting the old woman. So Oscar shook Anthony's hand again, also Apparated.
Then Mr. Jones slowly said: "The magical world, huh?"
Gringotts also seemed to make Mr. Jones feel somewhat constrained and doubtful. But he just stood silently upright in Gringotts' center, firmly pulled Kevin to his side. Anthony was the one responsible for standing before the goblins.
The goblin behaved slightly more respectfully than when Anthony last came to exchange money. Though this probably wasn't because their goblin manager cultivated employee service awareness. But because when Anthony said "no vault," Mr. Jones pulled Kevin over, said to Anthony without hesitation: "Open a vault for Kevin. Deposit twenty Galleons first."
"You may not have brought that much Muggle cash," Anthony reminded him tactfully.
Mr. Jones nodded, opened his briefcase. "But I brought gold." He smiled at Anthony. "Our whole family read A History of Magic."
The goblin behind the counter said: "Of course. A wise decision, sir."
"Exchange fifty pounds for wizard money," Mr. Jones said.
The goblin's face darkened. Said somewhat offended: "I'd prefer you call it 'magical currency.' We goblins minted them. Not some wizards." Though he still exchanged the money for them.
After leaving Gringotts, Anthony told Mr. Jones: "You didn't need to deposit so many Galleons at Gringotts. I haven't heard they have interest."
Mr. Jones held Kevin's hand. The latter was stuffing silver coins one by one into his stegosaurus bag. "Yes. But at the same time, the magical world also seems to have no inflation."
"That's true," Anthony admitted.
After leaving Gringotts, Anthony took the Jones father and son to Flourish and Blotts.
Behind the counter wasn't the clerk he knew well. But also a familiar face. This time last year she was still an intern. Often ordered by others to find books for Anthony. Now already a regular employee.
She heard the doorbell ring, looked up at them. Raised her eyebrows at Anthony's Muggle outfit. Nodded simply as greeting.
"Need help?" she asked lazily, lying on the counter playing Wizard's Chess with herself.
Anthony realized Mr. Jones held his breath. Looked back puzzled. Found him staring unblinkingly at those moving pieces. A pawn was promoting to knight. Muttering while putting on another set of armor. Other black pieces all talking over each other criticizing her for a terrible move.
The clerk slammed the table, sat up. "Shut up! Because I just don't like letting black win! Hurry up and mount!"
"No, just looking around," Anthony answered, led the two behind him into the store, introduced the book arrangement pattern along the way.
"I see you already bought A History of Magic. Like the name says, it's Hogwarts' history textbook. Hasn't changed in many years. The Standard Book of Spells, first years usually use Grade 1. Also hasn't changed in a long time. But we don't need to rush buying. We can check the secondhand shelf later. This side is the warehouse. Sometimes I come flip through their dusty backlog. But that's because I'm already a regular customer... Oh."
Anthony pushed open the half-closed warehouse door, wanted to show the Jones father and son. But the warehouse was different from when he'd come a few weeks ago. A clearing had been made between boxes of books. Where old books and waste paper used to be was now occupied by dozens of photos. Large and small. Some already in frames. Some just hanging there.
A handsome man in the photos winked intimately with blue eyes at Anthony, Kevin, and Mr. Jones pushing open the door. Showed teeth gleaming white. Above wavy golden hair was a lilac hat.
"Oh my," Kevin said quietly. "Who is he?"
"Gilderoy Lockhart. A bestselling author," Anthony said, tried finding a reasonable guess. "Maybe Flourish and Blotts plans to award the top hundred bestselling books or something. So printed so many photos."
"What did he write?" Mr. Jones asked curiously. "The wizard version of A Brief History of Time?"
"A whole series of books. About how he traveled the world, dealt with various magical creatures. Though I think the bestseller should still be Household Pests. I have a friend who's his devoted fan. Almost memorized that book."
"Household pests," Mr. Jones repeated. "Interesting."
They carefully closed the warehouse door. Being stared at by dozens of identical faces wasn't a pleasant experience. No matter how good-looking that face was.
When leaving Flourish and Blotts, whether Anthony or the Jones father and son, their bags held fewer coins, more books.
Anthony saw several serious Dark magic books in the secondhand section. Completely didn't understand why they'd appear here. Kevin bought a complete set of books introducing dragons in the magical creatures section—Anthony reminded himself to ask Hagrid if he'd sell the small portion Norbert hadn't burned. Mr. Jones bought Break with a Banshee.
The sunlight outside was too pleasant. Anthony couldn't help suggesting ice cream at Florean's. Immediately got two votes in favor. He introduced flavors absolutely not to try while staring directly at several pedestrians examining their Muggle clothing.
Most people turned away or lowered their heads. But some vendors would approach, ask if these newly arrived Muggles needed "amulet protection" or "exquisite magical teapots that automatically pour tea when it's ready."
Mr. Jones was attracted by a singing pepper grinder.
"Very interesting!" he said, watched the grinder rotate, dropping black pepper powder in fascination.
The vendor wrapped tightly said quietly: "Good eye, sir. This is one of my best things. The higher it sings, the finer it grinds. And here, see this little opening? If you throw in other seasonings... like dried lemon, it can even sing multiple parts..."
"Marvelous!" Mr. Jones said. Looked already tempted.
Then a voice behind them said helplessly: "Mundungus—"
"Arthur?" Anthony guessed, turned to look at the red hair of the man before him. Features somewhat similar to several Weasleys.
"You are..." Arthur Weasley hesitated, examined Anthony's flawless Muggle outfit. "Henry! You must be Henry!"
He rushed forward several steps, enthusiastically shook Anthony's hand. At the same time his other hand purposefully grabbed the vendor's front.
"We'll talk later, Henry," Mr. Weasley said. Said to the vendor: "Hand them over."
"Arthur, for old times' sake," the vendor called Mundungus said.
"No, Mundungus. You know what the Ministry's doing lately. You just happened to run into me today," Arthur said, watched Mundungus painfully pull things from his clothes one by one. Each item taken like carving flesh from his body.
Arthur explained to Anthony: "Like you know, we prohibit enchanting Muggle-made things. Also prohibit selling these magical items to Muggles." He looked at Mundungus, frowned. "I know you still have more."
Mundungus pulled out several more snuffboxes. The moment Arthur touched them, they bit him hard.
"Ouch!" Arthur Weasley cried, pulled them off. Strange powder from the snuffboxes scattered everywhere. Mr. Weasley and Anthony simultaneously pulled out wands to clean them up.
Mundungus had already taken this opportunity to Apparate.
"I really quite liked that pepper grinder," Mr. Jones said regretfully.
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