Chapter 96: The Great Crisis Caused by a Scent of Perfume
Ian pushed open the door of the joke shop. The twins were already tucking into their lunch, while Dobby was gesturing over a stack of renovation blueprints.
Fred swallowed the pie in his mouth and swept his gaze behind him.
"You're finally back! You disappeared for the whole morning. What did you go buy? How come I see you empty-handed?"
Ian patted the bag at his waist.
"I brought back the new items from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour for the ladies, and I bought snacks for you guys and those staying at The Burrow."
He pointed at the bag.
"Forgot? This bag has an Undetectable Extension Charmon it; you can stuff as much as you want inside."
George let out a cheer and rushed over, hooking his arm around Ian's neck.
"Mate, you're the best!"
Ian wobbled a bit from being choked and turned his gaze to Dobby.
"Dobby, why aren't you eating?"
Dobby set down the blueprints, his wrinkled face turning serious.
"Master Ian, Dobby has not finished his work yet. Besides, Master has not had lunch, so Dobby cannot eat before his master."
Fred chimed in from the side.
"The two of us have talked ourselves hoarse."
"Exactly, this fellow absolutely refuses."
The twins spoke one after another. Hearing them, Ianwanted to laugh but also felt like sighing.
A House-elf's loyalty was unquestionable, but this stubbornness was really exasperating.
If he were delayed outside for a long time, would Dobbystarve himself to death? Where else could he find someone so versatile?
Besides, verbal concern didn't cost anything; saying a few more kind words would only make them even more fiercely loyal.
The Potter family would definitely never have a second Dobby.
He stared at Dobby.
"Dobby, listen carefully, this is an order—from now on, when it's mealtime, whether the work is done or not, and whether I have eaten or not, you must eat on time. Got it?"
Dobby's eyes welled up with tears on the spot.
"Master Ian is the best master in the world! To care so much about Dobby, Dobby will definitely engrave Master's words into his bones!"
Ian sighed, looking at Dobby's face that seemed on the verge of crying.
"Alright, eat quickly. After you're done, take us back to The Burrow, and then you can go attend to your business."
Dobby gave a loud reply, grabbed a sandwich, and stuffed it into his mouth, his cheeks puffing out high.
Ian nodded with satisfaction, picked up a sandwich as well, sat down next to the twins, and began to munch on it.
The greatest advantage of a House-elf was their obedience.
Once lunch was over, Dobby used Apparition to take the three of them back to The Burrow.
As the cold drinks and snacks were spread out on the table, Ian received a roomful of thanks.
He curled up on the sofa, listening to everyone's praise and giving himself a mental pat on the back.
Hermione quietly nudged closer, hooking her pinky finger with his.
"I only mentioned in passing the other day that I wanted to try Florean's new items. How did you actually take it to heart?"
In the distance, Ginny and Ron were chatting excitedly. Ianlowered his voice and replied to her.
"How would I dare not take anything you say to heart? If you want it, I'd even get you a dragon."
Hermione burst into laughter at his words.
"You're just boasting. Dragons are contraband of the Ministry of Magic. Who would dare raise one—except Hagrid."
The image of Hagrid's face popped into her mind, making her find it even more amusing.
She had almost forgotten that the fellow had actually planned to raise Norbert in the Forbidden Forest.
Seeing her secretly amused, Ian couldn't control his hand and reached out to gently pinch her cheek.
Hermione's face instantly flushed red. She quickly glanced around, and only let out a sigh of relief after confirming no one was paying attention, before turning back to glare at him.
"What are you doing? This is someone else's house, and everyone is here!"
Ian grinned cheekily.
"I know, I know. I'll be careful next time."
His hand reached out again.
"But you're just too cute, I couldn't help myself."
Hermione snorted, then her nose suddenly twitched.
"On you..."
She leaned in to sniff, then straightened up, her gaze sharp as needles.
"Who did you meet in Diagon Alley?"
That look of hers was exactly like a wife who had just discovered evidence.
Ian's back began to sweat.
She could even smell that? Was Hermione's nose a dog's nose?
He gave a couple of dry laughs, guiltily trying to cover it up.
"Ginny hugged me just now, so her perfume might have rubbed off on me."
Hermione wrinkled her nose.
"Ginny doesn't smell like this."
Her hand was already pinching Ian's ear, her teeth gritted.
"Ian, you're lying to me again!"
The pain from his ear made him grimace.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch... Hermione, I was wrong. I'll tell the truth, let go!"
Hermione released most of her grip, let go of his ear, crossed her arms, and looked at him with a cold face.
"Speak. What's going on?"
Ian rubbed his reddened ear and sighed heavily.
"I was afraid you'd be angry, so I didn't dare say it."
"I'll be even angrier if you don't tell me. Speak up!"
Ian surrendered.
"Alright, alright, I'll talk. I ran into Alicia in Diagon Alley. She was in a bad mood, so I comforted her a bit. Her perfume probably rubbed off on me then."
After speaking, he stole a glance at Hermione. Seeing that her expression had softened a bit, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
When would he ever be able to live the kind of life where things were stable at home while he could still play the field outside?
Hermione gave a soft snort.
"I wouldn't have been angry, but lying to me is unacceptable."
Ian was choked up.
He couldn't exactly confess that he was afraid she would get jealous of other girls.
He stared at Hermione.
"I was wrong. I promise I'll never lie to you again."
Only then did the frost on Hermione's face melt away.
"You said it. If I catch you again..."
"I'll be at your mercy."
Only then did Hermione nod in satisfaction.
In the distance, Ginny watched the two of them huddled together talking, the light in her eyes dimming bit by bit.
Ian likes Hermione, doesn't he?
Does that mean she doesn't even stand a chance?
As soon as this thought arose, her chest felt tight and uncomfortable.
She lowered her eyelids, hiding her sadness.
Ron's voice chimed in from beside her.
"Ginny? Why are you suddenly unhappy?"
She snapped out of it and forced a smile.
"It's nothing. I'm probably just a bit tired."
Ron's worry was written all over his face.
"Then how about going upstairs to rest for a while? Didn't you say yesterday that you didn't sleep well? Since Ianbrought back the cold drinks and snacks, you can put off lunch for now and go get some sleep."
Ginny hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
She really didn't want to watch the two of them flirting here anymore.
She stood up, said to everyone, "You guys keep chatting, I'm going upstairs to rest for a bit," and turned to head upstairs.
George watched her retreating figure, completely baffled.
"What's wrong with Ginny?"
Ron explained on her behalf.
"She's probably tired. She didn't rest well yesterday."
George gave an "oh" and didn't press further.
Hermione watched Ginny head upstairs, then turned to glance at Ian, her brow furrowing imperceptibly.
She seemed to have seen Ginny stealing a glance at Ianjust now.
Could it be that Ginny also...
As soon as the thought occurred to her, she couldn't help but glare fiercely at Ian.
It was all his fault. Why did he have to be so handsome, attracting trouble everywhere?
Ian was completely bewildered by her glare.
"Huh?"
Chapter 97: Decisions, Letters, and Flying owls
Ian, Harry, and Hermione had been staying at The Burrowfor a full week.
During this week, Ian would slip out from time to time to visit Alicia's house.
Of course, he would always report it to Hermione before leaving.
Hermione felt a bit sour about Ian being so close to other witches; after all, she was Alicia's roommate, yet Aliciaseemed to trust Ian more.
However, she understood the reason for Alicia's sadness, so she didn't really stop him.
Two days later, on a sunny morning, several owls flapped their wings and landed at the entrance of The Burrow.
Each of the young Wizards received a yellow parchment envelope with emerald green writing on it.
"School letters are here, children."
Mr. Weasley raised the letter in his hand.
Aunt Weasley was pouring tea into cups while handing out slices of toast.
"Ian, Harry, and Hermione, Dumbledore already knows you three are here—that man, nothing can be hidden from him."
"Let's go to Diagon Alley together tomorrow to buy the things needed for your second year."
Fred and George sauntered into the kitchen, still wearing their pajamas.
"Great, great, we need to buy things for our fourth year too."
Aunt Weasley pulled a long face.
"You two slept in so late again; I really don't understand why you are so sleepy when you don't even go out to catch Ghouls at night."
Fred rubbed his head and explained with a grin.
"Mom, we were researching new magic items very late last night."
George chimed in from the side.
"That's right, Mom, we are partners with Ian in running a shop now; we have to work hard on researching new products to make money."
"Alright, alright, you two always have excuses."
Aunt Weasley shook her head helplessly.
"Sit down and eat quickly."
Several people sat around the dining table, eating while flipping through their Hogwarts letters.
Ian glanced at the contents of the letter; on September 1st, they would still need to take the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross Station to return to school, and a long book list was attached.
Required textbooks for the second year: "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2" by Miranda Goshawk; "Break with a Banshee", "Gadding with Ghouls", "Holiday with Hags", "Travels with Trolls", "Voyages with Vampires", "Wanderings with Werewolves", and "Year with the Yeti" by Gilderoy Lockhart.
Fred moved the letter away from his face and leaned over to look at Ian's.
"You have to buy Gilderoy Lockhart's books too!"
He shouted.
"The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a loyal fan of his—maybe a witch."
No sooner had Fred finished speaking than he caught his mother's gaze and quickly lowered his head to focus on spreading marmalade.
George glanced quickly at his parents.
"Those books aren't cheap; Gilderoy Lockhart's books are ridiculously expensive..."
Aunt Weasley said "There will be a way" while her brows furrowed slightly.
"I think many of Ginny's things can be bought secondhand."
Ian put down the letter in his hand.
"Aunt Weasley, Ginny is like a little sister to me, so let me handle her first-year books."
"How can that be?"
Aunt Weasley shook her head immediately.
"Ian, how can we let you, a child, spend this money?"
Ian smiled.
"I treat Ginny like my own sister; it's just a few books, it really is nothing."
"Besides, Harry, Hermione, and I have been sponging off you and Mr. Weasley at The Burrow for so long, and you have always treated us to such good food and drink; this bit of book money really doesn't count for anything."
He didn't notice that when Ginny heard the words "treat her like a sister," her expression darkened slightly, but she quickly returned to normal.
Aunt Weasley still shook her head.
"That's different; hosting you is the right thing to do. Ian, we appreciate your kindness, but we will find a way for Ginny's books ourselves."
Ron took a bite of bread and interrupted incoherently.
"Mom, don't stand on ceremony with Ian. He's a wealthy person; these few books are not even a drop in the bucket for him."
"Ron!"
Aunt Weasley glared at him and then looked at Ianapologetically.
"Ian, Ron didn't mean it like that..."
Ian interrupted her with a smile.
"It's okay, Auntie, Ron is right; these books really don't mean much to me, so please don't stand on ceremony with me."
Aunt Weasley hesitated for a moment and turned to look at Mr. Weasley.
Mr. Weasley took over the conversation happily.
"Since Ian has said so, you should agree."
"Alright then,"
Aunt Weasley finally nodded, revealing a smile.
"Ginny, aren't you going to thank Ian?"
Ginny immediately raised a bright smile.
"Thank you, Brother Ian!"
Ian reached out and patted her head.
"You're welcome, Ginny."
Harry, not wanting to be outdone, patted his chest.
"Ginny, Ian will cover the books; I'll take care of your cauldron and things!"
Ginny turned to Harry and smiled slightly.
"Thank you too, Harry."
Hermione keenly captured the difference in how Ginnyaddressed Ian and Harry, and she glanced at Ian with a smile that wasn't quite a smile.
"Ian," "Brother Ian," "Harry"—the difference was too obvious.
"Mom, I need to buy a copy of Lockhart's books too."
Percy walked in from outside clutching his letter, dressed neatly with his prefect badge pinned to his knitted sweater vest.
He walked to the dining table and sat down on the only remaining empty chair, then immediately jumped up like a spring.
On the chair cushion lay a shedding gray feather duster—at least that's what Harry thought at first, until the thing took a breath.
"Errol!"
Ron called out, took the sickly owl from Percy's hand, and pulled a letter from under its wing.
"This guy looks like he could kick the bucket right after delivering the letter."
Percy was reading his own letter and frowned at the words.
"Errol is indeed too old; I'm afraid he doesn't have the strength for long-distance flights anymore."
Ron and the twins rarely didn't make sarcastic remarks about "Perfect Percy" and nodded in unison.
Ron carried Errol to the perch by the back door, trying to make it stand properly, but Errol flapped twice and fell off again.
Ron had to gently place it on the draining board, muttering "poor thing."
"It's a letter from Draco."
Ron looked down at the ornate writing on the envelope.
"He knew you guys were staying at The Burrow, so he just wrote the letter to me."
He tore open the seal and scanned it quickly.
"Draco is asking when we are going to Diagon Alley to buy books; he wants to meet up with us there."
The letter paper was spread on the table, and it read—
Dear Ron, Harry, Ian, Hermione:
Hope everything is well.
We haven't seen each other since Ian and Harry's birthdays.
Hope you are having a pleasant summer vacation; I know you must be enjoying the holiday just like me.
My father bought me a Nimbus 2001, which is absolutely brilliant; I think its speed can rival the Firebolt.
When do you plan to go to Diagon Alley to buy things?
I hope to meet you there.
By the way, Ron, you'd better change your owl—if it delivers one more letter, it will be dead.
Looking forward to seeing you.
—Your loyal Draco.
Ron looked up at the three of them.
"Shall we write back and tell him we're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow?"
Ian nodded.
"Sure, you can reply to him and say we'll go tomorrow."
"Cassandra also wrote to me two days ago; it just so happens we can all walk around Diagon Alley together tomorrow."
"Cassandra wrote to you too?"
Hermione turned her head immediately.
"What did she write in the letter?"
"Nothing,"
Ian shrugged.
"Just asking when I'm going to Diagon Alley, saying she hasn't seen us all holiday and misses us a bit. I've already promised her that I would write to tell her once the date is set."
Hermione muttered softly.
"Hmph, miss us? I'm afraid she only misses you."
The voice was very soft, and Ian didn't hear it.
Harry urged Ron.
"Hurry up and reply to Draco, tell him we're going tomorrow!"
"Got it, got it."
Ron dug parchment and a quill out of his school bag and wrote quickly.
Ian also pulled out a new piece of parchment; he had to write one to Cassandra, and another to Alicia—the two little witches were probably missing him.
Sigh, having too much charm is also a burden.
Fred and George grabbed Ron's arms from left and right.
"Just write a few lines, that's enough."
"If you don't mind the weight, Errol can't fly."
Percy added from the side.
"That's right, I'm afraid it will be meeting Merlin after delivering this letter."
Ian smiled.
"Let Hecate deliver it."
As he spoke, he curled his finger and whistled.
A few seconds later, a golden light streaked across the sky and landed precisely on Ian's arm.
The golden eagle held its head high with aristocratic air, its pair of eagle eyes sharp and spirited.
"Good girl."
Ian picked up a piece of jerky from the table and handed it over.
Hecate rubbed against his hand affectionately, then lowered her head to peck at the jerky.
The twins exclaimed in unison.
"Wow!"
Then they looked at Ron in unison.
"Look at Hecate, and then look at your Errol—both are birds, how is the gap so big?"
Hermione glanced at the sickly owl and weighed her words.
"Hecate is a golden eagle, Errol is an old owl... the breeds are different."
Ron rolled his eyes.
"Thanks, Hermione, I knew they were different breeds even without you saying it."
He carefully tied the letter to Hecate's leg.
"But I think both of them understand this principle."
Ian also tied the other two letters on and patted the golden eagle's head.
"Good Hecate, go."
Hecate raised her head and let out a clear cry, then flapped her wings and soared into the sky, disappearing from everyone's sight in the blink of an eye.
"So cool!"
Ron watched the sky longingly.
"I really want to keep a golden eagle too."
Fred unceremoniously punctured his fantasy.
"Stop dreaming, a golden eagle is a bird of prey, expensive and dangerous; how could you afford to keep one?"
George nodded in agreement.
"Even if you could afford it, the house wouldn't fit such a big guy."
Ron muttered softly.
"Can't I just think about it..."
Fred didn't respond, turned and raised his eyebrows at Ianand Harry.
"Want to practice Quidditch? School is starting soon, we should warm up too."
Ian looked at him with a smile.
"I'm in Slytherin; if you invite me, aren't you afraid the Quidditch Cup will fall into Slytherin's hands again this year?"
George patted his shoulder.
"Ha! Although I admit you are indeed very strong, we have Harry, the top Seeker. As long as the Chasers don't mess up, the Quidditch Cup will definitely be Gryffindor's."
Ian stood up.
"Let's go, let's practice."
Several people went up the mountain together to the paddock at the the Weasleys's place, which was surrounded by woods.
The tree crowns were dense, and the Muggles in the village below couldn't see them.
They could fly freely as long as they didn't fly too high.
A real Quidditch ball couldn't be brought out—if it flew over the village by accident, it would be hard to explain.
So they switched to throwing apples to each other.
A few people took turns riding Ian and Harry's Nimbus 2000; this broomstick was much better than those of the Weasley brothers, and Ron's "Shooting Star" was often left behind, moving so slowly it was like spinning in place.
Hermione stood on the sidelines, watching Ian catch the apples steadily time and time again, and couldn't help but step forward and take out a handkerchief to wipe his sweat.
"Ian, you are amazing."
George looked at the two people opposite helplessly.
"Are you two monsters? I feel like the apples haven't even reached our hands."
Ian turned his head and looked at Ginny, who was flying in the air.
"Ginny isn't bad either; I think she's quite suitable to be a Chaser. Fred, is your team still short of people? When Ginny enters school in her second year, you can consider letting her try."
Fred followed his gaze.
"Ginny! Ian says you're quite suitable to be a Chaser; when you get to Hogwarts, do you want to try out for the Quidditch team?"
When Ginny heard this, her hand shook, and she almost fell off her broomstick.
She stabilized her figure and looked at Ian a bit shyly.
"Really?...Am I really suitable to be a Chaser?"
Ian smiled and nodded.
"Of course, I rarely praise people. Believe me, Ginny, you will definitely be an excellent Chaser in the future."
Ginny rode her broom back to the ground and waved her hands in a panic.
"I... I need to practice more."
George continued with a serious face.
"Well, you do need to practice. Your flying skills are still far off; you need to practice flying and reaction speed more to become a qualified Chaser."
Ian raised his hand and gave George a hit on the back of the head.
He was getting more and more used to this action.
"How old is Ginny, stop talking nonsense here."
He glared at George and then looked at Ginny.
"Don't listen to your brother, you're already great."
Ginny's face turned completely red, and she lowered her head, her voice almost inaudible.
"Thank you, Ian."
George rubbed the back of his head, grimacing.
"You hit too hard..."
Harry flew over on his broomstick.
"Ginny plays quite well; I think she has talent as a Seekertoo. George, your family's Quidditch level is truly high; I wonder how Percy plays?"
Speaking of which, not only were the boys here to practice today, but Hermione and Ginny had also come along.
Hermione was naturally here for Ian.
They originally wanted to pull Percy along, but Percy said he was busy.
So far, the three of them only saw Percy at the dinner table.
Fred curled his lips.
"Percy plays okay, it's just that his brain isn't very flexible. I really don't know what he's thinking, actually willing to be a prefect, it's exhausting and stupid."
George also frowned.
"And he's been very unusual lately. Before you came, he just got his exam results, twelve O.W.L. certificates, and he didn't look proud at all."
Ron interrupted.
"Yeah! He used to be able to lend me Hermes to send letters, but he refused to lend it all summer, saying he needed it himself. He sent so many letters and was always locked in his room alone. I really don't get it, does a prefect badge need to be polished that many times?"
Ian added casually.
"Could it be that he's in love?"
As soon as he finished speaking, he paused for a moment.
Percy in love—wouldn't that be Penelope? Penelope, the beautiful Ravenclaw prefect!
Ian remembered that there seemed to be such a plot in the original story, but he couldn't remember the details clearly.
He vaguely remembered it was during the summer of their sixth year that Percy and Penelope got together.
Who wouldn't like a beautiful older sister? She was only four years older, not forty.
Ian thought of Penelope's hot figure and couldn't help but grit his teeth secretly—how could he have forgotten such an important thing?
Should he... try to steal her away?
Chapter 98: The First Test of Floo Powder, Stepping into Knockturn Alley by Mistake
Fred and George exchanged a look, and their gaze fell back onto Ron.
"Ron, Ian's words probably hit the mark. That fellow Percyis definitely in love."
Ron's mouth fell wide open, and he couldn't close it for a long time.
"Percy in love? With whom? He can actually date? Who would even like him?"
Hermione glared at him.
"Ron, how can you say that? Why shouldn't Percy date? I think he's quite nice."
"Only you would think he's nice, Hermione. You two can get along because you're both good students." Ron curled his lip and turned his head back to Ian, "Even Ian doesn't really care for Percy."
Ian rolled his eyes.
"Hey, hey, hey, why are you dragging me into this again? Don't talk nonsense, Ron."
"But you really don't like him very much." Ron's face was full of seriousness.
Ian opened his mouth, but the words got stuck in his throat.
It wasn't that he hated him; their personalities just didn't clash well, and their views didn't align. Usually, he avoided talking to him if he could.
But no matter how much he disliked him, he wouldn't speak ill of Percy in front of everyone. After all, Percy was still a member of the the Weasleys.
"Alright, let's not talk about that. Let's talk about who Percy is actually seeing." Fred winked and nudged, looking full of gossip.
"Why think about that? We'll find out when school starts," Ian said helplessly. "The most important thing for you to do right now is practice Quidditch. Don't wait until we return to Hogwarts and get beaten by the other two houses before we Slytherins even get a chance to knock you down."
Fred immediately took offense and shouted.
"Hey, Ian, what do you mean by that! With my skills, how could I possibly lose!"
"Hufflepuff's Cedric is no pushover. If Gryffindor doesn't take it seriously, it's really up in the air." Ian had a serious expression. "So, just practice diligently."
Don't ask so much. Once I've stolen his girl, you'll know who Percy's original crush was.
"Fine, then I'll let you witness the power of Gryffindor!"
Fred rode his broomstick and sped off.
Ian watched his departing figure, shook his head with a smile.
"Then let's practice a bit longer."
He also rode his broomstick and flew up.
The group continued practicing Quidditch in the sky until the sun sank, only then packing up their gear.
Before the sky had fully brightened the next day, MollyWeasley dragged them out of bed one by one.
Each of them hastily stuffed five or six bacon sandwiches into their mouths and threw on their coats.
Molly Weasley picked up a flowerpot from the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.
"Not much left, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today... Well, guests first! Ian, Harry, which of you wants to go first?"
Harry raised his hand.
"I'll go first, Aunt Weasley."
"Good, Harry, you show Ian and Hermione how it's done."
Molly Weasley handed the flowerpot to him.
Harry scratched his head, looking a bit embarrassed.
"But... how do you use this thing?"
"You've never used Floo Powder?" Molly Weasley looked surprised.
"Never touched it," Harry answered honestly.
Mr. Weasley leaned in too, asking curiously.
"Then how did you get to Diagon Alley last year?"
"Hagrid. Hagrid came to get me."
"Then he should have taught you how to use Floo Powderon the way." Mr. Weasley stuffed the flowerpot into Fred's hands. "This stuff is very important. You can't go on without knowing how to use Floo Powder. Once you graduate from Hogwarts, you can't have Hagrid pick you up and take you to Diagon Alley every single time."
"He'll be fine, Dad." Fred winked at Harry. "Harry, watch us first."
He pinched a small amount of glittering powder from the flowerpot, walked to the grate, and threw the powder into the flames.
With a whoosh, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred.
Fred stepped straight into the fire, shouted "Diagon Alley!", and vanished in the blink of an eye.
"You have to throw the powder..." Mr. Weasley said to Harry, "...into the fire, and then speak the name of the place you want to go."
"You must speak the name clearly, dear," Molly Weasleyurged, as George also reached his hand into the flowerpot. "And don't rush in. Don't mumble the name of the place, or you might end up in the wrong fireplace."
"What happens if I end up in the wrong place?" Harryasked nervously, as the fire roared up and swallowed George as well.
"There are many kinds of magical fires, and you have to choose the right one, but as long as you speak clearly—"
"He'll be fine, Molly. Don't make a fuss." Mr. Weasley also went to grab some Floo Powder.
"But dear, if he gets lost, how are we going to explain it to Mr. and Mrs. Granger?"
"Aunt Weasley, don't worry, it'll be fine." Harry patted his chest, looking confident. "I already know how to do it."
"Well... alright then... you go after Arthur," Molly Weasleysaid. "Remember, as soon as you step into the fire, state the name of the place—"
"Keep your elbows tucked in," Ron chimed in.
"Keep your eyes closed," Molly Weasley added. "There's soot."
"Don't fidget," Ron added. "Or you might fall out of the wrong fireplace."
"But don't panic, and don't get out too early. Wait until you see Fred and George."
Harry tried desperately to cram all these instructions into his head. He reached out, took a pinch of Floo Powder, and walked to the edge of the fire.
He took a deep breath, threw the powder into the fire, and stepped forward. The flames felt like a blast of hot wind. As soon as he opened his mouth, he inhaled a large mouthful of hot ash.
"Dia— Dia— Diagonally," he coughed out.
Ian watched as Harry seemed to be sucked into a giant plug hole, quickly disappearing into the flames.
"Is he alright?" Hermione asked Molly Weasley nervously.
"He's fine. Look, hasn't he already arrived safely in Diagon Alley?" Molly Weasley pointed to the fireplace, where the fire was slowly returning to its normal color.
"Who's next?" Molly Weasley looked at the remaining people.
"I'll go."
Ian stepped forward, and mimicking the others, pinched a handful of Floo Powder from the flowerpot and threw it into the flames.
"Diagon Alley."
Ian stepped into the emerald-green flames and vanished from everyone's sight in the blink of an eye.
His body felt as if it were wrapped in something and spinning at high speed. The roaring in his ears made his eardrums ache. He tried desperately to open his eyes, but the spinning green flames made him dizzy.
Something hard bumped against his elbow. Ian kept his arms tucked in tightly, but his body kept spinning, and now it felt as if cold hands were slapping his face.
Ian squinted and saw a blur of fireplace grates flashing past, with glimpses of rooms beyond them.
It was truly magical. How the Ministry of Magic managed to lay the Floo Network across the entirety of Britain was beyond him; it was far more convenient than Mugglesubways.
While this thought was still spinning in his mind, his legs were suddenly yanked downward. His knees buckled, and he almost fell to his knees, but thanks to his quick reflexes, he managed to steady himself.
Phew, his image was preserved.
He squinted and looked around; he was already standing in Diagon Alley.
"Ian, have you seen Harry?"
An anxious voice came from beside him. Ian turned his head—it was George.
"Harry? Shouldn't he have arrived before me?" Ianpretended to look puzzled.
Ian, of course, knew that Harry had likely gone to Knockturn Alley, but he wasn't worried at all. His nominal older brother had the protagonist's plot armor; he wouldn't die.
"Yeah, we got here before him, but we don't know where the kid went. We've been waiting for ages and he hasn't come out." George's brow furrowed deeply.
"Could he have gone to the wrong place?" Ian guessed.
"It's possible, since it's his first time using Floo Powder." George looked a bit anxious. "We should go look for him."
Mr. Weasley also sensed something was wrong and strode over.
"What's wrong? Where is Harry?"
"Dad, Harry might have gone to the wrong place." Georgeexplained what had happened.
"That boy, making a mess of things on his very first try with Floo Powder." Mr. Weasley shook his head. "Let's split up and look for him."
"Let's wait until Aunt Weasley and the others arrive and search together. There's strength in numbers." Ian feigned anxiety.
A few minutes later, Molly Weasley arrived in Diagon Alley with the others.
Upon hearing that Harry might be lost, everyone grew anxious, scrambling to go search for him.
They agreed on a meeting point and then dispersed.
Just as Ian knew, Harry had gone to Knockturn Alley.
Harry didn't know where he was, but he was certain he had gone to the wrong place because there was no one around—he seemed to be standing in front of a stone fireplace in a spacious but dimly lit wizarding shop.
But none of the items here looked like they belonged on a Hogwarts shopping list.
In a glass case nearby, a withered hand rested on a cushion, alongside a pack of bloodstained cards and a glassy, staring eyeball.
Sinister masks hung on the walls, leering down from above, while various human bones lay scattered across the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling.
Worse still, looking through the dusty shop window, Harrysaw a dark, narrow alley outside that was definitely not Diagon Alley.
Just as he was about to leave, he spotted two figures walking toward the shop outside the window.
It was Draco and his father, Lucius.
Harry felt a surge of joy, but just as he was about to rush out and call for their help, the words Ian and his friends had spoken at the birthday party flashed through his mind.
Draco was a friend, but his father was not.
Chapter 99: Terror in Knockturn Alley, Hagrid Rescues Me
Harry quickly swept his eyes over his surroundings.
To his left stood a large, pitch-black cabinet, and without another word, he slipped inside.
The cabinet door closed gently, leaving only a crack that was just enough for him to peer out.
A few seconds later, the shop's door bell chimed, and the Malfoys, father and son, walked in.
Harry had seen Lucius's face once before at King's Cross Station.
He had the same pale, pointed face carved from the same mold as Draco's, cold grey eyes like ice, and pale blonde hair flowing behind him.
Lucius strolled slowly through the shop, lazily scanning the items on the shelves, and reached out to ring the bell on the counter.
"Don't touch anything, Draco," he said to his son without turning his head.
Draco, who was just about to reach for a glass eyeball, immediately pouted. "Father, I thought you were going to buy me a present."
"I've told you, you're getting nothing here. I just bought you a Nimbus 2001, so don't expect anything else," Luciusadded, noticing the displeasure on Draco's face.
"My friend Hermione's birthday is coming up, and I need to buy her a present too," Draco muttered.
"Oh? That Mudblood? Little Potter's girlfriend?" Luciusfrowned.
"Hey, Father, don't talk about Hermione like that," Dracoimmediately shot back. "She's my friend, just like Ian and the others."
Lucius glanced at his son, raised an eyebrow, and did not pursue the topic further.
A stooping, hunched man with a sleazy appearance emerged from behind the counter.
He smoothed his greasy hair back with his hand, his eyes full of cunning, and his voice incredibly raspy. "Mr. Malfoy, what an honor. It is a true pleasure to see you again."
"A great honor—and young Master Malfoy—welcome." Mr. Borgin's voice was as oily as his hair. "What can I do for you today? We have some new stock that just arrived, very reasonably priced—"
"I am not buying today, Mr. Borgin, I am here to sell," Lucius interrupted his pitch directly.
"To sell?" The smile on Mr. Borgin's face faded slightly.
"You have no doubt heard that the Ministry is conducting tight raids lately." Lucius pulled a roll of parchment from his inner coat pocket and spread it out for him to see. "I have some—ah—items at home that might cause me embarrassment if the Ministry should call..."
Mr. Borgin adjusted a pair of pince-nez and peered down at the list.
"Surely the Ministry wouldn't go so far as to disturb you, sir?"
Lucius curled his lip. "They haven't come yet. The Malfoyname still commands some respect, but the Ministry is growing increasingly meddlesome. Word is they are going to introduce a new Muggle Protection Act—no doubt that tatty, foolish Arthur Weasley is behind it, with his obsession with Muggles—"
Inside the cabinet, Harry felt a surge of anger rush to his head and desperately wanted to charge out and punch Lucius—but he forced himself to keep listening.
Draco, however, didn't care. As long as it didn't stop him from making friends or hanging out with Ian and Harry, his father could curse whoever he wanted.
"You know, these things are hot potatoes, Mr. Borgin," Lucius said, rolling the parchment back up. "It's simply not worth the trouble they might bring—"
"—and as you know, some of the poisons on here can make a person look as if—"
"I understand, sir, of course," Mr. Borgin said, taking the list to examine it closely. "Let me see..."
"Can I have a look at that?" Draco asked, pointing to a withered hand resting on a cushion.
"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" cried Mr. Borgin, abandoning Lucius's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle, and it gives light only to the holder—the best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has excellent taste, sir."
"I would hope my son amounts to something more than a thief or a robber, Borgin," Lucius said coldly.
Mr. Borgin quickly offered a placating smile. "Forgive me, Mr. Malfoy, I did not mean it that way—"
"Though if his grades do not improve," Lucius's voice grew even colder, "he may well end up in such a trade."
"It's not my fault," Draco retorted. "Ian and Hermione's grades have always been at the top. It's a matter of talent. Besides, Harry and Ro... and Weasley didn't even do as well as I did."
Draco caught Lucius's expression, swallowed the name 'Ron', and changed it to Weasley.
At the mention of Harry and Weasley, Lucius's face twitched violently. He glared at Draco. "You have the nerve to say that? Is beating those two something to be proud of? One is a blood traitor, and the other..."
Lucius suddenly stopped himself, realizing he hadn't yet found a satisfyingly insulting label for Harry, and could only snap resentfully, "If you must compare yourself to those two, you'd be better off comparing yourself to that Granger Muggle-born!"
"It is the same everywhere," Mr. Borgin said in his oily tone. "Wizarding blood is becoming less and less valued."
"I do not think so," Lucius said, his long nostrils flaring as he exhaled sharply.
"Nor do I, sir," Mr. Borgin said, bowing low.
"Then perhaps we can get back to my list," Lucius said impatiently. "I haven't much time, Borgin. I have important business to attend to today."
They began to haggle, while Draco wandered around the shop as he pleased, on the verge of reaching where Harrywas hiding.
Draco paused to examine a long hangman's noose, then smirked at a magnificent opal necklace, reading the label aloud.
"Do Not Touch. Cursed — Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggles."
Just when Harry thought Draco wouldn't notice him, Dracosuddenly turned around and saw the cabinet.
Draco walked over and pulled the cabinet door open—leaving Harry and Draco staring directly at each other.
Draco hadn't expected anyone to be hiding in the cabinet at all; he jumped back in fright before recognizing Harry.
"Harry?" Draco whispered. "What are you doing here?"
Harry gestured frantically at Draco to keep his voice down and not let Lucius find out.
Draco nodded, closed the cabinet door, and shut Harryback inside.
"Draco, what are you doing?" Lucius asked curiously, having finished his transaction and noticing Draco standing by a cabinet.
"Nothing, Father," Draco said, his heart racing, though he tried his best to remain calm. "I was just looking at this cabinet."
"The deal is done." Lucius glanced at the cabinet and frowned. "Don't wander around, Draco. It's time to go."
"Yes, Father," Draco said obediently.
He followed Lucius out of Borgin and Burkes, his heart still pounding wildly.
He didn't know why Harry was hiding in that cabinet, but he knew he absolutely couldn't let his father find out.
"Goodbye, Mr. Borgin. I shall expect you at my house tomorrow to collect the goods."
The moment the door closed, Mr. Borgin instantly dropped his oily, obsequious tone.
"Goodbye to you, Mr. Malfoy, and if those stories are true, what you've sold me isn't even half of what's hidden in your manor..."
Mr. Borgin muttered resentfully to himself and went into the back room.
Harry waited a moment, fearing the man might return, before climbing out of the cabinet as quietly as possible. He looked around; the shop was empty.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but he still didn't dare let his guard down. He tiptoed past the glass counters and slipped out of the shop, terrified of being spotted by Mr. Borgin.
It wasn't until he had walked several streets away that Harry completely relaxed.
He pushed his broken glasses onto his nose and looked around. Before him lay a dingy, dirty alley, seemingly lined with shops dedicated to the Dark Arts.
The one he had just left was called 'Borgin and Burkes', which seemed to be the largest, but the window of the shop opposite displayed a grim array of shrunken heads.
Two doors down, a large cage was crawling with giant black spiders.
In a dark doorway, two Wizards in tattered robes were watching him and whispering.
Harry couldn't help but feel his skin crawl; he had to get out of here quickly.
He figured he must have swallowed a mouthful of soot in the the Weasleys's fireplace and failed to speak the name of his destination clearly, which was how he ended up in this awful place.
Harry kept trying to straighten his glasses along the way, holding onto a sliver of hope that he would find his way out.
An old wooden street sign hanging outside a shop selling poisonous candles told him where he was—Knockturn Alley.
Knockturn Alley... Harry had heard Ian mention this place.
Unlike Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley was full of darkness and danger, a favorite haunt of many Dark Wizards.
Here, they smuggled Dark Arts items, conducted evil experiments, committed assassinations, and trafficked people—every kind of dirty deal imaginable took place.
Ian had also said that sometimes customers doing business here would suddenly vanish, becoming part of the merchandise.
Harry couldn't help but shudder. He quickened his pace, wanting to leave this wretched place as soon as possible.
But he seemed to be trapped in a maze. He was surrounded by sinister shops and eerie Wizards, and he couldn't find his way out.
A hand suddenly grabbed his arm, and Harry almost shrieked in terror.
"Not lost, are you, dear?"
An old witch stood before him, holding a tray of what looked like whole human fingernails. She squinted at Harry, revealing mossy teeth.
Terrified, Harry scrambled backward. He felt this was exactly what his younger brother Ian had described as 'certain death,' and there was probably no one coming to save him now.
"I'm fine, thank you," Harry stammered. "I'm just—"
"Harry! What are you doing here?"
Harry's heart leaped; the voice sounded like pure music to his ears.
The witch jumped in surprise as well, sending the fingernails spilling all over her feet.
Muttering curses, the old witch looked up to see Hagrid—our massive gamekeeper—striding toward them, his beady black eyes glinting like beetles above his wild beard.
"Hagrid!" Harry cried, close to tears of relief. "I'm lost! Ianand the others are in Diagon Alley... Floo Powder..."
Hagrid grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck, pulling him away from the old witch, and with a sweep of his hand, knocked the tray right out of her grasp.
Her shrikes followed them all the way through the twisting alleys until they finally stepped out into the bright sunlight.
From a distance, Harry spotted a familiar, snowy-white marble building: Gringotts Bank.
Thank goodness. Hagrid had brought him straight back to Diagon Alley.
Harry breathed a complete sigh of relief. He was finally safe, thank Merlin.
"Look at the state of you!" Hagrid said gruffly, vigorously dusting the soot off Harry. He was so heavy-handed that he nearly knocked Harry into a tub of Dragon dung outside an apothecary. "Wandering around in Knockturn Alley—don't you know any better? That's no place to be, Harry. Don't let anyone see you there, it's dangerous."
"I noticed," Harry said, quickly dodging as Hagrid reached out to dust him off again. "I told you, I got lost. What were you doing there anyway?"
Harry thought to himself, Ian said only Dark Wizards usually go to Knockturn Alley. Hagrid wasn't a Dark Wizard, so what could he possibly be doing there?
"I was looking for a Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent," Hagridsaid gruffly. "They're ruining the school's cabbages."
"I see," Harry said, looking at Hagrid suspiciously.
Flesh-Eating Slugs eating cabbages? Had they changed their diet? Did Hagrid take him for a fool? This was so obviously a lie.
Chapter 100: The Secret Hidden in Knockturn Alley
"Harry! Harry!"
At the bustling street corner, Ian looked up and spotted Harry, with Hermione and the others following close behind, while Mr. Weasley squeezed his way through the crowd as well.
"Harry." Mr. Weasley panted heavily, wiping his shiny forehead. "We thought you'd just missed a grate... Mollywas worried sick; she'll be here in a second."
Ian knew in his heart that Harry was protected by protagonist halo and nothing truly bad would happen to him, but he still put on a look full of worry: "Harry, where on earth did you vanish to?"
"Knockturn Alley," Hagrid chimed in with a stern face. "Lucky I was there. When I bumped into Harry, he was being cornered by an old witch and couldn't get away."
"Brilliant!" Fred and George shouted in unison. "That's Knockturn Alley!"
"Grown-ups never let us go there," Ron said, his voice full of envy.
Hermione glared coldly at the three Weasley brothers. "How could that possibly be a good place! Every single one of you wants to go!"
These three wouldn't drag her Ian into Knockturn Alleyone day, would they?!
"Exactly, exactly!" Ian chimed in sycophantically. "Knockturn Alley is extremely dangerous. We shouldn't keep thinking about running off to dangerous places! Right, Hermione?"
"That's right." Hermione cast a relieved look at Ian.
Ian had finally taken her good intentions to heart. How wonderful—she was truly terrified that Fred and Georgewould lead Ian astray one day.
Fred & George & Ron: Do you think we didn't see the yearning for Knockturn Alley written all over your face, kid?
Ian looked at the sky, looked at the ground, looked at Hermione—his eyes avoiding the three Weasley brothers entirely.
What are you looking at? None of you even have a girlfriend. Am I supposed to be like you three single dogs?
As they were talking, Mrs. Weasley came running hurriedly from afar, her handbag swinging wildly in her hand.
Ginny was clutching Mrs. Weasley's other hand, struggling to keep up.
"Oh, Harry—oh, dear—you could have ended up anywhere—"
Out of breath, she pulled a coat brush from her bag and vigorously brushed away the soot on Harry that Hagridhadn't completely patted off.
Ian stared at Harry, who was holding his breath to dodge the flying soot, his lips twitching slightly.
Did they even remember they were Wizards? Were the wands in their hands just useless sticks?
"Scourgify, Reparo." Ian pointed his wand at Harry.
The next second, Harry was as squeaky clean as if he'd just bathed, and his glasses were fixed, looking good as new.
Harry took off his glasses to take a look, then gave Ian a big thumbs-up.
Seeing that Harry was fine, Hagrid prepared to leave: "I'd best be off then. Bye, everyone."
"I haven't thanked you yet, Hagrid! Thank goodness you found him in Knockturn Alley!" Mrs. Weasley clutched one of Hagrid's giant hands with both of hers. "I really don't know how to thank you!"
"Don't be silly, Molly, it's all in a day's work," Hagridchuckled, grinning broadly.
"Right then, see you all at Hogwarts." He strode away briskly, a head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the street.
"Come along, children, let's head to Gringotts to get some money first," Mr. Weasley said, leading the group of young Wizards toward Gringotts.
Ian lagged back two steps to walk side-by-side with Harry. "Seriously, Harry, what does Knockturn Alley actually look like?"
Ian hadn't actually seen Knockturn Alley for himself yet; he considered his small life quite precious.
He reasoned that once he finished learning from Tom in the diary this term, he would go have a wander around Knockturn Alley.
Harry described Knockturn Alley to Ian, then lowered his voice and added, "I don't think Hagrid was telling the whole truth. When have Flesh-Eating Slugs ever eaten cabbage? What do you think he was doing in Knockturn Alley?"
"Definitely buying some critters that break Ministry of Magic regulations," Ian shrugged. "You know how Hagrid is with his hobbies."
Hermione, listening intently to their conversation, rolled her eyes at this point: Thank goodness there's no Philosopher's Stone this term, and Hagrid won't be raising another dragon.
Ian nodded in agreement. "Exactly. I really don't want to go through first year all over again."
Boring level-clearing games, playing house with Harry and the other young Wizards.
Harry nodded along as well; he similarly didn't want to re-experience the events of their first year.
Gringotts was run by Goblins, and the bank's doors were made of bronze, engraved with words warning anyone who entertained ill intentions toward Gringotts.
Inside the bank, the narrow entryway was lined on both sides with tall bronze doors.
Mr. Weasley led them along the hallway, explaining that Gringotts was considered the safest place in the world, second only to Hogwarts.
"Hey, guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry raised an eyebrow at his friends as he stepped onto the stairs. "Draco and his father, Lucius Malfoy."
Before Ian and the other young Wizards could speak, Mr. Weasley's ears perked up at the name "Lucius Malfoy," as if a switch had been flipped.
"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" Mr. Weasley asked warily from behind them.
"No, he was selling things," Harry recalled the scene. "Some items from his home."
"Aha! He's scared!" Mr. Weasley declared sternly yet with satisfaction. "Oh, honestly, I'd love to catch solid evidence on Lucius Malfoy..."
Mrs. Weasley glared at Mr. Weasley, warning him not to speak like that in front of the children.
Mr. Weasley instantly quieted down and led his wife and the children through the second silver door, entering Gringotts Bank's marble-paved hall.
Hundreds of Goblins sat on rows of high stools, recording ledger entries inside brass-bound cubicles.
Inside the bank, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were already waiting.
"Mom, Dad! I missed you so much!" Hermione's eyes lit up the moment she saw Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and she dragged Ian along as she ran over.
Harry looked helplessly at the backs of his younger brother and his future sister-in-law, trotting after them.
Ian hadn't seen Mr. and Mrs. Granger for quite a while either. He immediately offered a bright smile and obediently followed Hermione's lead: "Uncle Granger, Aunt Granger."
"Uncle Granger, Aunt Granger," Harry called out as well.
"Dear children, I've missed you too. How was your week and a bit staying with the Weasleys?" Mrs. Granger took Hermione's, Ian's, and Harry's hands, asking with care.
The three exchanged glances and replied with a smile, "We had a wonderful time! Aunt Weasley took such good care of us."
Mrs. Weasley waved her hands with a laugh. "Not at all, Ian and the other two are so sensible. I'd love for them to come and stay with us for a few more days."
"Our three children must have been quite a handful for you, Mrs. Weasley," Mrs. Granger responded with a smile.
Ian watched the two mothers exchange polite compliments, his lips twitching slightly.
On the other side, Mr. Granger and Mr. Weasley began exchanging pleasantries as well.
Once the greetings were finished, Mr. and Mrs. Weasleyalong with Mr. and Mrs. Granger took the children to withdraw money.
"John, you're here to exchange Muggle currency, right? Is this what you call pounds?" Mr. Weasley stared excitedly at the stack of pounds in Mr. Granger's hand; he had never seen Muggle currency before.
"That's right, Arthur, these are pounds," Mr. Granger said, handing the banknotes over to the Goblin.
The Goblin took the pounds, inspected them carefully, and handed Mr. Granger a bag of Galleons—a hundred in total.
"Ah, it's a pity Ian and Harry both have vaults and don't need to exchange pounds," Mr. Granger said with a look of regret as he handed the bag of Galleons to Hermione.
Ian & Harry: "???"
Wait, Uncle Granger, what on earth is that regretful expression supposed to mean?!
"The children spend so little money at school, but we can only exchange a hundred Galleons a term. I feel like I'm mistreating Hermione a bit."
"Not to mention Ian and Harry—they don't even need me to exchange pounds for Galleons," Mr. Granger sighed. "Ah! Those two boys."
Ian and Harry exchanged a glance, both of their eyes filled with utter helplessness.
Uncle Granger was making those kinds of comments again...
"We should head to the vaults to get our money now," Ianreminded Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, cutting off Mr. Granger's rambling.
Mr. Weasley finally remembered they still needed to visit the vaults. Setting thoughts of pounds aside for the moment, he led his wife and the children toward an idle Goblin.
"We'd like to make a withdrawal from our underground vault, Wayne," Mr. Weasley said to the idle Goblin.
"Hello, Mr. Weasley," the Goblin Wayne nodded. "Vault number, and please present your key."
"Number 511," Mr. Weasley fished a key out of his pocket and handed it over.
The Goblin Wayne glanced at the key, frowning slightly. "Mr. Weasley, there isn't much money left in your vault."
Mr. Weasley gave an embarrassed laugh. "I know, Wayne. Please just take us down first."
"We need to withdraw money too," Ian and Harry said one after the other, exchanging a glance.
"Ian Potter, vault number 687."
"Harry Potter, vault number 676."
Hearing Ian and Harry's names, the Goblin's beady eyes widened slightly, and his demeanor became noticeably more respectful than before: "Messrs. Potter, please present your keys."
Ian and Harry each handed over their keys. The Goblin took them, inspected them thoroughly, and then led both families toward the vaults.
The cart driven by the Goblin sped along the miniature tracks, hurtling through the bank's underground passages toward the various vaults.
The thrilling feeling of tearing along at breakneck speed was immensely satisfying.
When the Weasleys' vault was opened, Harry was stunned—he felt it was even more terrifying than being in Knockturn Alley.
Inside the Weasley vault was an inconspicuous small pile of Sickles, with only a single Galleon.
Harry swore to Merlin that he had never imagined the the Weasleys could be this poor.
Ian nudged Harry with his foot and whispered, "Tone down your shock."
Hearing his younger brother's advice, Harry immediately reined in his expression, trying hard to look calm.
Mrs. Weasley wore an embarrassed yet polite smile as she swiftly swept all the money from the vault into a bag.
Off to the side, Mr. and Mrs. Granger pretended not to notice the shabby state of the Weasley vault, pulling Hermione aside to talk.
The Goblin Wayne then led everyone to Harry's and Ian's vaults in turn.
Harry's vault was piled high with Galleons; even Sickles were rare to see, let alone Knuts.
Harry felt deeply embarrassed. Trying his best to keep it hidden, he hurriedly scooped several small handfuls of coins into a pouch enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
Even though he moved quickly, Mr. and Mrs. Granger as well as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley still caught sight of the vault packed full of Galleons, leaving their expressions somewhat dazed.
Though they knew the Potter brothers were wealthy, this was simply astronomical!
"Harry, it feels like your new vault has even more money than your old one," Ron swallowed hard as he stared at the overflowing gold coins, his voice dripping with envy.
Harry didn't know how to respond, but fortunately Iancame to his rescue: "Even though I'm the head of the family, I certainly couldn't mistreat Harry. Aside from half of the original vault, the money in here includes the share Mum and Dad left for Harry, plus annual profit dividends from several factories."
"So that's how it is," Ron nodded, saying no more.
Ian was the last to withdraw money. His vault was even more outrageous than Harry's, with Galleons piled up like small mountains in a truly magnificent sight.
Ian acted completely nonchalant, as if he hadn't even noticed the mounds of gold inside the vault, casually scooping a handful of Galleons into his bag.
He had no interest in money at all; he was the Jack Ma of the Wizarding World.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Granger, had gone numb—so much gold.
After withdrawing the money, the Goblin Wayne led everyone out of the vaults and back to the bank hall.
The group parted ways on the marble steps outside the bank.
Percy muttered about wanting to buy a new quill, while Fred and George spotted their Hogwarts friend, Lee Jordan.
Mr. Weasley insisted on taking Mr. and Mrs. Granger to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.
Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were heading to Ollivanders to buy a wand for Ginny.
Ian and Harry each grabbed a small handful of Galleons from their bags and pressed them into Mrs. Weasley's hands. "Aunt Weasley, as agreed, the two of us are covering Ginny's books and other supplies. Please don't refuse."
Mrs. Weasley originally wanted to refuse, but remembering that she had agreed yesterday, she had no choice but to accept. "Ian, Harry, thank you both. This is more than enough."
Mrs. Weasley took only twenty-two Galleons, saying it was enough to cover the books and other items, refusing to take a single coin more.
Ian and Harry didn't push it any further; knowing Mrs. Weasley's temperament, they didn't insist.
"Meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your textbooks," Mrs. Weasley instructed the Weasley brothers as she set off with Ginny.
"And no going to Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' backs.
Ian, Hermione, Harry, and Ron strolled along the winding, cobbled street.
Gold, silver, and copper coins clinked merrily in their pockets, practically shouting to be spent.
So they bought a mountain of delicious treats, such as giant strawberry and peanut-butter ice creams.
They leisurely savored their ice creams while wandering down the street, browsing the shop windows with their plaques, gleaming gold lettering, and exquisitely carved signboards.
They walked past the apothecary window displaying Shrinking Potions, Self-Inking Quills, and Remembralls, past barrels of cauldrons, owls, cats, toads, and Puffskeins.
More available up to ch: 152