"That one over there is an imported snowy owl," the shop assistant said, pointing to another bird perched high on a branch. "Very beautiful, very rare, and quite intelligent. It costs fifteen Galleons."
Roger studied both owls carefully, but his attention kept returning to the snowy owl's elegant white feathers and graceful movements. Its round face and golden eyes gave it an air of mystery, as if it knew far more than it intended to say. "The snowy owl looks beautiful and clever," Roger said. "Can it adapt to the Scottish climate? I'm worried the wind and snow in the Highlands might be too much for it."
"Don't worry," the assistant said warmly, calling the snowy owl down. "All of our owls receive proper breeding care and environmental training. They can handle harsh weather perfectly well."
Roger reached out one hand. The snowy owl, perched on the assistant's arm, looked at him curiously, then lowered its head and gently pecked his fingers a few times. Its beak was light, almost testing him rather than warning him.
"I think…" Roger began, already leaning toward choosing it.
Before he could finish, another owl flew out from the deeper woods. Its feathers shimmered like polished silver as it circled gracefully around the trees, then landed on the highest branch with quiet pride. Its golden eyes had narrow vertical pupils that glowed faintly in the shade, giving it a beauty that was both elegant and majestic.
"That is a Nightblade owl," the assistant explained, noticing Roger's gaze at once. "They are extremely rare. There is an old legend that says they bring good luck to their owners on nights of the full moon."
Roger was captivated almost immediately. The owl's strange silver radiance and noble bearing gripped his heart far more firmly than the snowy owl had. "I want it," he said, looking up with unmistakable determination.
"Of course, but the price…" The assistant hesitated. "Nightblade owls are rare even across the wider magical world. This one costs one hundred and twenty Galleons."
She looked at his delighted face and softened her tone. "I know you like it, but you should think carefully. If you truly want to purchase it, it would be best to have a guardian present."
Roger was clearly not the first customer to fall in love with the Nightblade owl at first sight. Unfortunately, its price was high enough to stop most adult wizards in their tracks. Very few people had any practical reason to spend one hundred and twenty Galleons on an owl, no matter how magnificent it looked.
"Don't worry. I won't return it," Roger said. He turned to the assistant, his expression calm and firm. "In the name of the House of Williams, I can make that promise."
The assistant's expression changed slightly when she heard the name Williams. Even after the war, an old pure-blood family name still carried weight, especially one recently dragged into the center of the wizarding world's attention. Given the wealth usually associated with such families, the frail boy in front of her was clearly not an ordinary customer.
"Very well, sir," the assistant said, becoming more formal. "I'll have someone bring the Nightblade owl over. Let's return to the counter and complete the paperwork first."
She guided him back through the lush enclosure. "Owls live for a very long time, and choosing one is a responsibility. With the strength of the Williams family, I believe this rare little creature will receive excellent care."
"Of course," Roger said with a nod.
After a polite discussion at the counter, the Magical Menagerie agreed to sell the rare owl for the still-startling price of one hundred Galleons. Roger carefully read the magical pet adoption agreement, then signed his name. Under the assistant's watchful eyes, he poured half the gold coins from his leather pouch onto the counter.
A moment later, another staff member carefully brought in the silver-white Nightblade owl. It stood elegantly on its perch, its golden eyes fixed on Roger as though examining the worth of its new owner. The owl did not look frightened, only proud and faintly curious.
"Please take good care of me, Diana," Roger said softly.
He reached out and gently stroked its smooth feathers, and a deep joy rose in his chest. Diana was the name he chose for her, after the Roman goddess of the moon. For a creature that seemed woven from moonlight and shadow, it felt right.
"Sir, this is a complimentary carrier for you," the assistant said, bringing over a worn-looking handbag. "It cannot compare with Mr. Newt Scamander's magical creature case, of course, but it is more than enough for caring for a small number of magical creatures."
"A bag? Mr. Newt?" Roger asked, puzzled. This was already the second time he had heard Newt's name mentioned today.
He took the bag and examined it carefully. It looked old at first glance, but he noticed complex patterns worked into the surface, faint and subtle, as though something much larger had been folded into the leather. The magic on it felt quieter than the backpack from Erwin, but far more delicate.
"You may not know this yet," the assistant explained, "but Mr. Newt Scamander is a famous magizoologist. He owns an expanded magical case capable of safely housing many different kinds of magical creatures. This bag works on a similar principle, only on a much smaller scale."
"Like the space behind that wooden door?" Roger asked.
"Yes, essentially the same," she said with a nod. "It is a useful magical tool. You can carry it with you and care for magical creatures whenever necessary."
She smiled encouragingly. "Perhaps with this, you may one day become a great magizoologist like Mr. Scamander."
Roger listened carefully as she taught him how to use the bag. After a short demonstration, he understood the basic method. It was a magical creature carrier, but one that required the creature's cooperation if it was to be used comfortably.
With Diana's permission, Roger tried placing her inside the bag. The Nightblade owl gave him one long look, then allowed the magic to draw her into the expanded space without protest.
After that, the assistant accompanied Roger to choose a cat. He eventually settled on a Ragdoll kitten barely a month old, with bright blue eyes and a lively, affectionate manner. The kitten looked soft enough to melt in a person's hands, and its tiny paws kneaded the blanket beneath it while it stared up at him.
"How about I name you Yuumi?" Roger said happily.
The name carried a private memory from his previous life, a small trace of games, easy afternoons, and a self-indulgent support style that now felt impossibly distant. Yuumi was too young and delicate for Roger to feel comfortable placing her in the creature bag, so the assistant brought over a pink pet backpack instead.
She helped Roger settle Yuumi inside. The kitten curled comfortably in the soft lining, then peered out through the clear rounded viewing window with great curiosity. Her blue eyes blinked at the world as if everything in Diagon Alley existed for her personal entertainment.
After paying another five Galleons, Roger became a lifetime member of the Magical Menagerie. "Sir, these are complimentary pet food and toys," the assistant said, handing over yet another bag. "They will help your companions grow healthy and happy."
Roger accepted it with a wry smile. By the time he left, he had the expanded backpack from Erwin on his back, Yuumi's pet carrier slung across his chest, one bag in his right hand, and pet food and toys in his left. With the shop assistants bidding him a warm and slightly reluctant farewell, he walked out of the Magical Menagerie loaded down with packages.
What Roger did not know was that less than half a day after he left Diagon Alley, news had spread through the entire street. The young wizard of the Williams family had spent a fortune on a Nightblade owl. One hundred Galleons was enough to equal roughly a month's salary for an Auror, and that kind of purchase was far too interesting to stay quiet.
A few doors away, in the shabby second-hand shop, Erwin heard the news and nearly yanked out a fistful of his own beard. "That little rascal was rich enough to buy a hundred-Galleon owl and still haggled with me over a few Knuts?"
He glared at the door as though Roger might walk back through it and surrender more money out of guilt. "Next time, I'm emptying those pockets properly."
Roger, meanwhile, stood outside Gringotts looking for Professor McGonagall. The witches and wizards around him were still discussing the attempted theft at the bank. Gringotts had publicly declared that the thieves had failed, but that had done nothing to stop the rumors.
After all, this was Gringotts, the goblins' proudest and supposedly safest stronghold in the wizarding world. Of course, Roger thought, that claim only worked if one politely ignored Hogwarts and Dumbledore's office. Still, a breach at Gringotts was shocking enough to make every shopkeeper, parent, and passer-by talk.
"Sarah, who on earth would be bold enough to cast spells inside a Gringotts vault?" asked a wizard nearby.
"Maybe former Death Eaters," Sarah said. She was a plump witch craning her neck toward Gringotts, though all she could see were goblins and Aurors bustling in and out through the smoke. "I heard from my uncle's aunt's cousin's aunt that someone really did see an explosion inside just now," Sarah told George with complete certainty.
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