In the gloomy pub, standing on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, it was just as unwelcoming as on our previous visits. A couple of wizards in deep-hooded cloaks similar to ours sat at a far table, drinking something out of wooden mugs and paying no attention to anyone. Actually, from here, from the fireplace in the hall, we traveled to the Leaky Cauldron, naturally not forgetting to leave a couple of coins for the Floo Powder.
The Leaky Cauldron met us with a completely different atmosphere. If even the light in the Hog's Head was cold, and most of it entered through murky windows, here, in the center of London, it was "warm." Aromas of food, simple spices, light notes of malt, and absolutely nothing repulsive, except for a couple of patrons—otherwise, perfectly normal, albeit not numerous, wizards. The bartender paid practically no attention to our arrival at all, and we headed for the passage to Diagon Alley. I personally watched with a smile the obvious tension in the girls' movements, in their steps, taking on an almost caricatured quality.
"Phew..."
The relaxed exhale came from Pansy as soon as we stepped into Diagon Alley.
"Were you expecting something else?" I smiled again, glancing at the girl who now looked completely different, with a different face and blonde hair.
"Who knows," Pansy shrugged and exhaled again. "It's nerve-wracking—violating every conceivable plan."
"The riskier the venture, the sweeter the hot chocolate at Fortescue's."
"Don't give in, Hector," Daphne took my hand again, demonstrating who between the two of them was "in charge." "Otherwise, being the kind person you are, you won't even notice, and suddenly you'll be courting her in every way just because, without any ulterior motives."
Remembering my own small personal graveyard and the complete lack of any remorse whatsoever, I merely offered a crooked smirk.
"Kind, of course, how could I be anything else. Well then, ladies? To the parlor? Because visiting Diagon Alley only makes sense if we go to places that don't exist in Hogsmeade."
"Forward!" Pansy pointed toward the cafe with a commanding gesture.
Winter in Diagon Alley is no less interesting than at any other time of the year. I'm sure that if you look at normal London, you won't see much snow, but here it is. On roofs, awnings over windows, in neat strips along the walls of houses, but not on the stone road itself. The houses and shops were colorfully decorated with enchanted lanterns and even brighter signs. The sweet shop looked from the outside like a gingerbread house hidden behind a wooden facade—the holiday spirit was just bursting out of it. The wizards strolling here at this time of year, looking for whatever goods or ingredients they needed, or simply out of idleness, also looked bright—but that wouldn't surprise a seasoned visitor to the Alley.
The summer terrace of the cafe was empty, there weren't even any tables, but should that be a surprise? Inside, we were met not with a crush of people, but with quite a large number of customers. Most of them were somehow accompanied by children of pre-Hogwarts age. The kids were enthusiastically devouring sweets, washing them down with hot chocolate or tea, while some adults, taking advantage of the opportunity, discussed their own affairs or the upcoming holidays. There were few empty tables, and we hurried to occupy one of them.
Pulling out chairs for the girls, I helped them take their seats and sat down myself. A young waitress was already hurrying toward us—clearly a recent Hogwarts graduate.
"What will you order?" the waitress smiled quite sweetly, but thoroughly falsely, and it wasn't clear if it was due to fatigue or something else.
"Yes, of course..."
The wait for our order passed in insignificant conversations about everything that caught our eye—from fidgety kids or a suspiciously large and extremely varied portion on the table in front of a plump boy, to inadvertently overheard thoughts about how two wizarding families planned to spend Christmas.
"In all this atmosphere, the only thing missing is some song playing in the background," I couldn't resist thinking aloud, simultaneously enjoying a simple vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips. The girls, by the way, preferred fruit flavors. And of course, these delights were accompanied by hot tea, each having their own to highlight the flavor of both the tea and the ice cream.
"For example?"
"Hmm... Parkinson... Depends on whether you're familiar with regular people's music."
"Not really. With literature and general knowledge, but even then, strictly out of necessity."
"Well, then the old song 'Jingle Bell Rock' won't mean anything to you."
"But I know it," Daphne smiled, adjusting a strand of black hair. "It comes to everyone's mind when talking about Christmas."
"Not to everyone, then," Pansy pouted, but quickly returned to normal, a state granted by another spoonful of ice cream.
Someone might be surprised that we, and the rest of the patrons, were ordering ice cream in the winter when there's snow outside the window, but I'll tell you this—that's why this ice cream is magical. It has the perfect consistency, moderately cool, but it doesn't "burn." It has no icy fractions, and I don't think you can even give yourself "brain freeze" with it. And with hot tea, it creates a unique combination of flavor; in general, the experience of eating this ice cream doesn't depend on the weather outside. In short, it's not for nothing that this cafe has existed for many, many years.
The few seconds I spent contemplating the ice cream were enough for Daphne to enjoy another spoonful and begin quietly humming the tune of the previously discussed song. It was strange and unusual enough that I stared for a bit.
"I still don't understand why wizards celebrate religious holidays, Christian ones."
"Why not?" Pansy genuinely didn't understand the slight absurdity. "We have almost none of our own holidays left, and people want to celebrate. And this whole story with Christ... it's awfully magical."
"Yeah?"
"By the way, yes," Daphne nodded, supporting her friend's position. "All those things described and attributed to him are strikingly classic for magic. But as for some of our holidays..."
She looked at me so meaningfully that it didn't escape Pansy's attention.
"...We could reevaluate their value. The talk about them being completely meaningless is clearly exaggerated."
"So..." Pansy promptly finished the last of her ice cream and set her dessert spoon aside, taking her hot cup of tea in both hands and glancing between me and Daphne. "You two clearly know something. Speak."
"Some other time," Daphne waved it off.
"Fine," Pansy quickly gave up, clearly planning to pester her friend later, as soon as we returned to Hogwarts.
Sitting there a little longer, we decided to get ready to go, simultaneously making plans on what places we should visit since we made it out to Diagon Alley. The conclusion—we should pop in and take a look everywhere. Daphne considered visiting the confectionery especially important. At that, I couldn't help but smile. Leaving the cafe, I accidentally glanced at Gringotts, immediately remembering that I had too much money to carry in a backpack. I don't just distrust the little green runts—I see absolutely no reason to preserve their lives, except for human morality regarding the value of life itself in any form. But if it wasn't a secret to most people that there is an aggressive species of predators that love to disembowel a human, roast and eat them, and their intelligence is comparable to human intelligence—that's where morality would crack, like in that one song about the world whose fault line "smokes". Maybe we should pay them a visit? On second thought, no, my view of them as creatures won't allow me to trust them with my money, no matter how strictly their activities are restricted by mutual agreements with wizards.
"You're looking at the bank too thoughtfully," Daphne noticed my gaze on the establishment. "Do you need to go in there?"
"I don't know... No, I don't need to."
What I really needed to do was sort out Christmas presents. But that's for later, when I come out here myself or to some other shops. Especially since the holidays start in a couple of days and I'll have a whole day to resolve the issue with gifts.
"And you've been glancing at the entrance to Knockturn..." I noticed Daphne's looks as we walked past for the third time.
"Yes," Daphne clearly didn't have a burning desire to tell me about it, or was in doubt.
"Oh, why are you agonizing over it," Pansy didn't wait long to chime in, "he's not some Gryffindor, he possesses understanding."
"Well, an order arrived at a shop there, but I need to pick it up myself—forwarding is difficult. I thought I'd go with my parents over the holidays, but... Since we're here... I don't have the strength to wait."
"So shall we go?"
"And you're not worried?" Daphne wasn't surprised, or at least pretended everything was fine. "Knockturn, danger, evil Dark wizards."
"If you fear wolves, don't go into the forest."
Guided by this expression, the three of us pulled our deep hoods over our heads and quite deftly and unnoticeably slipped into Knockturn Alley. The atmosphere here, as always, was gloomy, the buildings mostly dark, the alleys narrow, and there was almost no snow—it was blown out of here by a light breeze that never stopped for a moment. Now Daphne was leading us, or rather—setting the direction, holding my hand. Pansy walked next to her. I can't say if they were tense, but I was ready to draw my wand at any moment if necessary, and if the situation became completely critical—I had mentally prepared a couple of spells I could cast wandlessly. Though, I can use any magic without a wand, it's best to choose the fastest and most versatile. Like Stupefy. In my opinion, its astonishing popularity lies precisely in these properties—fast and effective in capable hands.
Encountering a couple of wizards of less than pleasant appearance along the way—but they only hung around the entrance to Knockturn—and about the same number of perfectly normal ones, we eventually reached the familiar shop of Mr. Burke. Everything here was intact, restored, but at the same time exactly as it was before the werewolf incident.
The door gave way easily, but with an elusive creak, as if nothing had actually happened here. Inside reigned a calm, somber atmosphere, with various items still scattered everywhere, ranging from banal furniture to various trinkets on individual stands or some exclusive rubbish under a glass bell jar. Daphne quite purposefully and without any delay pulled me to the counter, behind which Mr. Burke stood in his suit, watching us attentively, smiling politely.
"How may I be of service, young wizards?"
Daphne waved a hand in front of her face, dropping the illusion charm, and a flash of recognition appeared in Mr. Burke's eyes.
"Ah, young miss," the elderly wizard smiled more openly, following his tradition of doing without names wherever possible.
I decided to follow Daphne's example and also dropped the illusion.
"And you, mister," Burke smiled just as openly at me, "I recognized you even under the illusion."
"Care to share your secret?" I ignored the mild surprise in Daphne and Pansy's fleeting glances at me.
"Why not share it. Your manner of movement. It is painfully unique, uncharacteristic of most wizards," Burke didn't wait for my reaction, immediately turning back to Daphne. "You are here for your order, I presume."
"Yes, sir."
"Just a second," Burke stepped away from the counter toward the back of the shop, but not far—his voice remained loud and clear. "To be honest, I expected you to come during the holidays, so in the far corner lies..."
"I didn't plan to visit your wonderful shop before the holidays started either. But circumstances aligned this way."
"I understand," Burke returned to the counter, holding a small rectangular object wrapped in several layers of brown parchment and tied with twine. "I understand perfectly. Will you check it?"
"I more than trust your judgment."
"The order has already been paid for, so..."
The shop door swung open, and Daphne deftly stowed the parcel into her small Undetectable Extension handbag. Not even a handbag, more like a clutch—she hid it under her coat. A moment later, the illusion was back on me, just like on Daphne, while Pansy hadn't taken hers off at all, continuing to wear the guise of another person.
Two wizards and a witch rapidly entered the shop. All in black, and if one of the wizards was playing the part of a brute with an open shirt, the other wizard and witch were wrapped in black coats, cloaks, and hoods. The brute remained at the entrance as a guard, while the other two headed for the counter.
"We have everything," Daphne nodded in her brunette guise, "have a good day, Mr. Burke."
"And to you, dear clients, and to you."
We headed for the exit, passing the wizard and witch in black. But as soon as I, walking in front, approached the door, the hulking werewolf blocked my path. He blocked it and tried to sniff something out. So we stood opposite each other, and this werewolf kept trying to press down menacingly with his presence. I must note that if someone else had been in my place, they might have genuinely gotten scared—there was too much animalistic threat radiating from this creature, who had clearly said goodbye to his humanity many years ago.
"This time," Mr. Burke spoke loudly, addressing us specifically, "mister, in the event of a conflict, I would prefer that you clean up the remains of your enemies yourselves afterwards."
"Indeed," came a quiet, husky female chest voice. "Fenrir, don't frighten decent wizards with your wild appearance."
The brute naturally snorted and stepped aside, letting us pass. I let Daphne and Pansy go first, continuing to stare at this animal, who followed the girls with a predatory look, and there was absolutely no feigned threat in that look.
"Give me a reason," I whispered quietly, exuding an excess of dark magic around myself. "And there will be one less werewolf."
The animal caught the message quite clearly, but it seems he's not an ordinary werewolf in a pack—the threat made him react differently. He just bared his teeth more, as if saying: "I'll give you a reason, but not now."
Stepping out after the girls, I took Daphne by the hand, and we quickly walked away from there, and our hurry was no surprise. Even like this, I felt how tightly Daphne was gripping my hand and felt her pulse through it, which is again the advantage of heightened overall sensitivity.
Only when we were back in Diagon Alley did the girls allow themselves a sigh of relief, but we didn't speak or discuss anything, quickly stepping into the Leaky Cauldron, and from there, traveling by Floo to the Hog's Head.
Had the atmosphere in this pub changed during our absence? Only in that not a single customer was left. As soon as we left the pub, we immediately noticed some commotion in Hogsmeade; smoke was billowing from one of the houses, and clearly, something had happened. I hope they haven't noticed we're missing, otherwise trouble is unavoidable.
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