The mottled owl didn't seem to care about the tension it had just caused. It hopped onto the stone wall, shook the snow off its feathers with a ruffled indignant twitch, and stuck its leg out toward Leonard.
Leonard sighed, the kind of heavy, soul-weary sigh of a man who had spent too many years on the government payroll. "You see this, Filius?" he muttered, reaching for the parchment. "This is the curse of the career Auror. You can be halfway across the world, hiding in a cabin in the middle of a blizzard, and the boss will still find a way to drop a mountain of paperwork on your head during the holidays."
He gave the owl a sharp, narrow-eyed look as he untied the red silk cord. "I'm warning you now—if this is a summons for a testimony in D.C., I'm burning the letter and pretending I never saw you."
Leonard unrolled the parchment with a grunt of annoyance, his eyes scanning the elegant, looped script. But as he read, the deep furrow in his brow began to smooth out. The scowl that usually sat on his face like a permanent fixture melted away, replaced first by surprise, and then by a genuine, toothy grin.
"Well, I'll be," Leonard chuckled, his temper vanishing as quickly as a Disillusionment Charm.
"Good news, then? Or did the boss finally decide to give you that raise you've been complaining about for a decade?" Professor Flitwick teased. He was leaning on his cane, watching Leonard with a knowing sparkle in his eyes. "Your fuse is still just as short as it was when we were younger, my friend."
"Better than a raise," Leonard said, waving the parchment in the air before handing it over to the diminutive Professor. He turned toward the house and let out a booming shout that probably shook the icicles off the eaves. "Jessica! Ian! Get down here! We've got a situation!"
Before checking the letter, Flitwick turned his attention back to Allen. The boy was standing there, wand already tucked away, looking as composed as if he had just finished a light stroll rather than a magical brawl.
"That final bit of Transfiguration, Allen… transforming the weave of a robe into barbed restraints mid-duel," Flitwick said, his voice full of professional admiration. "That was quite sophisticated. I daresay Minerva would have had a bit of a heart-on-sleeve moment seeing that. It's exactly the kind of practical application she's always preaching about."
Allen grinned, leaning against the porch railing. "And what about you, Professor? No praise for the Charms work? I thought the Impedimenta back-cast was the highlight."
"Oh, don't fish for compliments, you rogue," Flitwick laughed, though he reached up to pat Allen's arm. "You are quite possibly the most naturally gifted student I have ever had the pleasure of teaching. But more importantly, you're the most hardworking. Talent is a dime a dozen in our world, but talent paired with that kind of relentless drive? That's what makes a legend. Was that enough of an ego boost for one morning?"
Allen laughed. "I'll take it for now."
"Let's head inside," Flitwick suggested, shivering slightly as a gust of wind whistled through the yard. He gave his wand a casual flick, and the two empty coffee cups on the table rose into the air, bobbing along behind them like obedient ducklings.
Inside, the warmth of the fireplace hit them like a physical wall. Allen took over the domestic duties, directing the floating cups to the sink with a silent gesture and whispering, "Scourgify." The porcelain hummed as the coffee stains vanished under a sudden burst of soapy foam.
A moment later, the stairs groaned under the weight of the Sterling siblings. Jessica and Ian came thundering down, Ian having swapped his needle-ridden coat for a fresh sweater, though his hair was still a bit of a mess.
Leonard suddenly vanished from the center of the room with a sharp crack and reappeared right next to Flitwick on the sofa. "I win!" he declared, looking smug.
"That's cheating! You Apparated across the living room!" Ian yelled, throwing his hands up in the air.
"It's not cheating, it's efficiency," Leonard replied, leaning back and crossing his legs. "When you can fold space like a pro, you'll stop walking, too. Until then, enjoy the stairs, kid."
Professor Flitwick, meanwhile, had finished reading the invitation. A slight look of concern crossed his face. "Leonard, this is wonderful, but there is one small oversight. We didn't exactly pack for a formal event. I believe my 'fancy' robes are currently sitting in a wardrobe in Scotland."
"Oh, that's the easiest fix in the world," Jessica chimed in, her eyes lighting up with that specific glint that meant a shopping trip was imminent. "Mrs. Klein's boutique is in the magical district. She never closes on Christmas—she says the 'last-minute panic' market is her biggest moneymaker. We can head there right now!"
For a girl like Jessica, the prospect of a high-end clothing shop was clearly more exciting than the duel had been. Allen noted the look on her face; it was the exact same expression Daisy wore whenever they stumbled into a bookstore or a candy shop.
"Filius, do you still remember the way to the Blind Pig?" Leonard asked, raising a bushy eyebrow. "It's been a few years since we went on a bender in the city."
"My memory isn't that far gone, Leonard," Flitwick beamed. "It's a lively little spot. My only concern is whether I brought enough Galleons to keep up with your drinking habits."
He handed the parchment to Allen. The invitation was written on heavy, cream-colored stock. It was a formal request for the presence of the Sterling family, Professor Flitwick, and Mr. Allen at the Christmas Gala hosted at the Wizarding Congress Hall (MACUSA) at eight o'clock that evening.
"It'll be good for you, Allen," Flitwick said. "Hogwarts is grand, but the American magical scene has a… different energy. It'll broaden your horizons."
"Right then!" Leonard stood up, clapping his hands together. "Coats on! We're heading to the Pig!"
The travel arrangements were quick. Flitwick took Allen's arm, while Leonard grabbed both Jessica and Ian. With a synchronized pop, the cozy mountain cabin vanished, replaced instantly by the cold, damp air of a New York City alleyway.
They materialized in a passage so narrow that Allen could touch the brick walls on either side just by reaching out. Despite being an alley in the middle of a massive metropolis, it was eerily clean. There wasn't a scrap of trash, a stray hair, or even a smudge of soot on the cobblestones. It was clearly maintained by magic.
Leonard led them toward a flight of iron stairs that descended into a dark basement. At the bottom, they hit a solid brick wall that looked like a dead end. To the left, however, was a plain, heavy stone door with no handle.
Allen expected some elaborate password or a hidden brick sequence like the one at Diagon Alley. Instead, Leonard just drew his wand and gave the door a casual tap.
"Alohomora."
The lock clicked, and the heavy stone swung inward on silent hinges.
Jessica noticed Allen's slightly raised eyebrows and giggled. "Surprised? They keep it simple on purpose. It's a proximity filter. Only someone with a wand and the intent to cast can trigger the lock. They figured that if a wizard is too dim to cast a basic unlocking charm, they probably shouldn't be drinking in the Blind Pig anyway."
"And a No-Maj could spend all day kicking that door and never get it to budge," Ian added, puffing out his chest as they walked through.
As they passed through the threshold, the muffled silence of the alley was replaced by a roar of sound and color.
The Blind Pig was a sprawling subterranean tavern that felt like it had been pulled straight out of a 1920s jazz dream. The air was thick with the scent of spiced rum, roasting meats, and a hint of something metallic and magical.
"Back when I was a rookie," Leonard shouted over the noise, his voice full of nostalgia, "this place was the roughest dive in the five boroughs. You couldn't walk in here without seeing a hex flying. But after Chairman Piquery did her big sweep of the underground, it turned into the main gateway for the magical shopping district."
"Uncle Leonard was one of the Aurors who led the raid," Jessica whispered to Allen, her pride evident. "He basically turned this place from a criminal den into a landmark."
Allen looked around, genuinely impressed. The bar was packed with witches and wizards in a dizzying array of outfits—some in traditional velvet robes, others in pinstriped suits that looked like they belonged on a Wall Street broker, and some in a strange mix of both.
On a small stage in the corner, a group of goblin musicians were playing a fast-paced, swing-style tune on instruments that seemed to be glowing. A troop of House-elves, looking sharp in tiny black tailcoats and white gloves, darted between the tables with unnatural speed, balancing trays of steaming pies and bubbling cocktails.
"Leonard! You old dog!"
A short, round man with a balding head and a face that seemed built for smiling bustled toward them. He had bright, intelligent black eyes that scanned the group with the shrewdness of a man who knew exactly how much gold was in every pocket.
"Leon, you're still alive? I figured the tax collectors would have caught up with you by now," Leonard joked, clapping the man on the shoulder.
"I'm too fast for them, you know that," Leon laughed. He turned his gaze to Allen and Flitwick, offering a respectful bow. "Charming guests! First-timers from across the pond, I assume? Welcome to the Pig."
"We're just passing through to hit the shops, Leon," Leonard said. "But save us a table for later tonight. We'll need a proper drink before the MACUSA banquet."
"Consider it done!" Leon beamed. He gestured toward a large, ornate wooden door at the back of the pub. "But you can't leave without a recommendation. If you come back, you must try the Buffalo wings. We fry them until they're like glass, then drench them in a blue cheese sauce that'll make you weep. And the Giggle-water—best batch we've had in years. One sip and you'll be floating, literally."
"We'll keep that in mind," Flitwick said, looking delighted by the chaotic energy of the place.
Leon personally opened the back door for them. "Through here to Wizarding Street. Happy Christmas, folks!"
As Allen stepped through the door, he stopped dead.
If Diagon Alley was a quaint medieval village, this was its high-tech, high-fashion cousin. It was like stepping onto a magical version of Fifth Avenue. Blazing neon-style signs in vibrant purples and golds hung over the street, casting long, colorful shadows. The buildings were towering, ornate structures filled with enchanted window displays that moved and interacted with the crowds.
Wizards in fur-lined coats and witches with shimmering silk hats crowded the sidewalks. The air was filled with the sounds of bells, laughter, and the distant hum of magical machinery.
"Welcome to the real New York," Jessica said, grinning at Allen's wide-eyed expression. "Ready to spend some gold?"