A full week had passed since Ethan returned to London. The city had begun to feel less foreign with each passing day. The narrow streets no longer felt like a maze, and the quiet rhythm of his new home had settled into something familiar. He had learned how the floor creaked near the stairs, how the light entered his sitting room in the early mornings, and how the rain tapped gently against the windows — exactly as he'd heard the famous London rain would.
That morning he woke with a clear purpose in mind. He would finally visit Diagon Alley.
It was strange to him that despite being born into the magical world he had never once walked through its most famous marketplace. His childhood had been spent elsewhere, far from London, and when he was old enough to travel he had been sent to France. Diagon Alley had remained a distant name spoken in books and casual conversations, never a place he could picture with certainty.
Now he needed to go for practical reasons as well. He had letters to send to France, important ones that could not be entrusted to ordinary means. Owls did not fly freely across countries without guidance, and private long distance deliveries required licensed owl services and proper registration. Diagon Alley was the only place in London where he could arrange all of it in a single day.
After breakfast he sat at his small desk and finished writing his letters. His handwriting was neat and careful, each word chosen with careful and respectful intention. When he sealed the final envelope he leaned back and released a quiet breath, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and calm.
Outside the window the sky had darkened. Rain poured steadily, washing the street in silver streaks. Ethan rose, folded his letters, and tucked them safely inside his coat. He dressed carefully, choosing clothes suitable for the weather, then reached for his umbrella near the door.
Before leaving he glanced toward the sofa.
Nina was sleeping there, curled into a soft gray bundle, her tail wrapped around herself. For a moment Ethan hesitated, torn between taking her along with him or sending her to her new friend, before he finally decided and spoke in his gentle voice.
"All right Nina. I will be going out and I will not return until night. You should go to your new friend's house and spend the day with her."
At the sound of his voice Nina stirred. Her ears twitched, her green eyes opened, and in an instant she was on her feet. She meowed loudly and ran toward the door, stopping only to look back at him as if urging him to hurry.
Ethan laughed quietly.
"Oh so this little friend of yours takes such good care of you that you cannot wait to go. I fear you will leave me for her."
Nina answered by scratching lightly at the door and meowing again, completely ignoring him.
He shook his head with a smile and opened the door. Rain rushed in with the scent of wet stone and cold air. Nina darted outside, crossed the street with practiced ease, and leapt onto the opposite wall. Using chimneys and ledges she climbed swiftly upward until she reached a half open window on the second floor. With a final flick of her tail she vanished inside.
Ethan watched for a moment, then closed his door and chuckled softly.
"I hope your new friend is not too shy, Nina. Perhaps one day she will introduce herself to me."
He opened his umbrella and stepped into the rain. The streets glistened as he walked, water pooling between cobblestones. As he made his way forward he found himself humming a quiet tune, barely audible beneath the sound of rainfall.
By the time he reached the Leaky Cauldron the rain had soaked the edges of his coat. The unfamiliar entrance looked unremarkable to any passerby, yet the moment he stepped inside he was met with warmth, noise, and lively atmosphere.
The inn was crowded. Wizards and witches filled the room, their voices overlapping in animated conversation. Laughter rang from one table while heated debate echoed from another.
"Another butterbeer over here, Tom."
"Did you hear about the Ministry announcement this morning?"
"I am telling you, that broom will outsell the last model by winter."
Tom the innkeeper moved behind the counter with practiced ease, wiping glasses and responding to requests. When Ethan approached, Tom looked up and broke into a wide smile that revealed his uneven teeth.
"Well now, a new face," Tom said cheerfully. "What can I do for you, young gentleman? Butterbeer, lunch, or perhaps a room for the night?"
Ethan returned the smile politely.
"Thank you, but I was told the entrance to Diagon Alley is here. Would you be kind enough to show me how to enter?"
Tom's eyes lit up. "Of course. Come along then."
He stepped out from behind the counter and led Ethan toward a quieter corner of the inn. As they walked, Ethan observed the patrons more closely. A pair of elderly witches argued affectionately over a game of cards. A group of young wizards crowded around a table, one of them animatedly demonstrating a spell with his wand until his friends told him to stop before he broke something.
Tom glanced back at him. "First time in Diagon Alley, is it?"
"Yes," Ethan replied. "I have not had the chance before."
"That so?" Tom said. "You must be from elsewhere then."
"I grew up in France," Ethan explained. "I was young when I left Britain and never returned until recently."
Tom nodded, letting out a thoughtful hum. "Well then, it is about time you saw it."
They stopped near a plain looking door. Before opening it, Tom glanced at Ethan again.
"Say, are you here looking for work at JK by any chance?"
Ethan frowned slightly. "JK?"
Tom opened the door but paused before stepping through. "Ah. Then you are not here for that. It is a new luxury hotel. Still under construction. Very strict with hiring, they are."
"I see," Ethan said. "You do not sound pleased."
Tom snorted softly. "How could I be? That place will steal away every wealthy guest I have. Pureblood families will flock there like moths to flame. They never liked sharing space with ordinary folk like us."
Ethan nodded, understanding the bitterness beneath the humor. "Who owns it?"
"No one seems to know much," Tom replied. "Rumor says some very rich old lady from America. Bought the land out of nowhere, tore the building down, and started rebuilding last week. Anyway, here we are."
He raised his wand and tapped the stone wall in a precise pattern. The bricks shuddered, shifted, and then parted to reveal a wide cobbled street beyond.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Tom said proudly.
Ethan thanked him and stepped forward.
The alley unfolded before him in a burst of color and sound. Shops lined both sides of the street, their windows filled with enchanted displays. Cauldrons stirred themselves behind glass. Robes floated gently in midair. Children pressed their faces to shop windows, pointing excitedly at the latest broom models.
Vendors shouted cheerful greetings. Coins clinked. Owls hooted from distant rooftops. The air was alive with magic and motion, and Ethan simply stood there, taking it all in.
At the far end of the street rose a towering white structure with tall columns and heavy doors. Gringotts Bank dominated the alley, solid and imposing.
Ethan made his way toward it. The doors opened as he approached, and he stepped inside.
The interior was just as he remembered from France. Goblins sat behind high desks, counting coins and examining documents with sharp eyes. Their expressions were cold and efficient, unchanged by country or culture.
Ethan approached the front desk. The goblin behind the counter looked up at him, its long fingers resting on the polished wood.
"What is it?"
Ethan shook his head faintly. They behaved exactly the same as the goblins in France. Not a shred of difference. He straightened and spoke evenly.
"I want to transfer my vault from the French branch of Gringotts to this one."
The goblin's eyes narrowed with professional interest.
"The key and the proof letter accepted by that branch manager."
Ethan produced both without hesitation. The goblin took the old key first, examining it with careful precision before setting it aside. Then it unfolded the letter, its sharp eyes moving quickly over the parchment. After a moment, it nodded.
The goblin confiscated the old vault key and slid a new one across the counter.
"The transfer has been accepted, Mr Thorne. Your new vault number is two thousand two hundred and seventy seven. The amount stored is thirty two thousand forty one Galleons and seven hundred Knuts. This is your new key. Would you like to make a withdrawal?"
Ethan shook his head.
"No. Not needed."
The goblin smiled, its thin lips stretching just a little too eagerly.
"Very good, sir. Is there anything else?"
Ethan resisted the urge to scoff aloud. 'Bloody suckers. Just the thought of someone not withdrawing gold made them pleased. Greedy pigs.'
"Nothing else," he said at last. "Have a good day."
He turned and left the bank, the new vault key resting cold and solid in his pocket. The heavy doors of Gringotts closed behind him, and without looking back, Ethan set off toward his next destination.
The owlery shop