The next morning, the warm sun hung high in the sky.
Howl brought Potter to the Monastiraki market, which is commonly known as an antique street and flea market.
In some old glass display cases, various ancient-looking ornaments, bottles, and small clay figurines were displayed.
As a tourist, buying one or two of them would be a good choice.
However, their destination was not here.
Upon arriving at the depths of the market, they easily found an oddly existing alleyway. Those who entered it never looked back, and most tourists paid no attention to it.
A subtle perception would reveal the magic attached to it.
Stepping into it, they reached the end, where there was only a stone wall covered with white tiles.
As for the people who had entered before, they had already disappeared.
Howl caught a sound in his ear and turned his head.
"Mr. Jones, what a coincidence. Are you also going to the Boccal Old Market?" Huckleton slightly lowered his hat brim as a greeting.
"It seems the Wizarding World isn't that big after all," Howl chuckled. "We're just struggling with the entrance."
At this moment, in his eyes, six small dots had already appeared on the wall.
As he spoke, he slowly raised his wand and touched the corresponding positions of those dots, and invisible threads were connected to the next dot.
Then, as the threads connected the various dots, an infinitely expanding spiral appeared.
Once he finished connecting this spiral, the entire wall gradually began to sway, and the sound of stone bricks knocking emerged.
After that, the entire stone wall began to shrink inward, as if being sucked into a vortex.
"It looks no different from Diagon Alley... Uncle Howl, is there anything special behind it?"
"No," Howl chuckled. "It's just a simple use of the Fibonacci array..."
As he spoke, a wide path had already appeared ahead. The group walked forward a couple of steps and then it suddenly opened up.
The so-called Boccal Market was actually a small square, surrounded by towering shops.
In the center of the square was a giant, white jade-like statue of Athena, estimated to be about six meters tall just for the figure, not including the helmet.
Below the statue were various stalls, where Wizards could set up their own small stalls, making it quite lively.
As for whether the items inside were safe or if they were related to Dark Arts, that remained unknown.
Just as Durmstrang allows students to have a superficial exposure to Dark Arts, most countries, while having policy restrictions and public apprehension regarding Dark Arts, are far from as terrified of it as Britain.
And even with such terror, there are still quite a few Dark Wizards in Britain.
After all, no matter where, there are always some people with curiosity or other desires far exceeding the norm.
Stepping up the stairs along the edge of the square, Howl looked to the side in surprise.
"Mr. Huckleton, you're not going for a cup of coffee, are you?" Howl said.
"Of course," Huckleton said. "I always have this habit."
Howl nodded and said no more. Soon, they arrived at an old coffee shop in the market.
Similarly, the three men's gazes were quickly captured by a flamboyant figure.
"Yes, it's me."
"An autograph? Well, I can't find a reason to refuse."
"I'm just here on vacation, though there might be a small, secret mission involved! If you follow my future works, you might find out."
Today, Lockhart had changed his clothes again, even wearing a Greek-style draped robe, and on both sides of him were many young women, like orioles and swallows.
Yes, his fan base consisted mostly of young women and... old ladies.
Regardless, he had indeed made himself a spectacle in the market at that moment.
Next to the coffee shop, a hunched tramp, curled up in a wooden barrel, bare-chested, looked helplessly at the crowd in front of him.
He sighed, propped himself up with the barrel, and walked towards Howl and the others.
He was very thin, like a bamboo pole... No, his back was straight, and his eyes were bright and piercing, not as destitute as his appearance suggested.
It should be said, he was like an iron rod.
His only covering was a pair of briefs around his waist, and his wand was also tucked into them.
In his hand, he held an old newspaper and a pen...
Then, he came beside Howl and the others, looked at the empty space next to them, and sat down on the ground, leaning against the wall, fixing his gaze on the newspaper in his hand, and continued writing.
Harry looked at the man in confusion, and after much hesitation, he still took out a few Galleons from his pouch.
He walked over quickly, first squatting down to be at eye level with the hunched old man, and then offered the Galleons in his hand.
"Sir, it's getting cold," Harry said.
The old man raised his head, first looked at Harry twice, then looked up at the sky, and then laughed.
"Hahaha, child, thank you for your kindness..."
As he spoke, he tore off a piece of the newspaper in his hand and put it into Harry's hand, then took a Galleon from his palm.
"Thank you. If you have time, remember not to forget to study geometry," he said without explanation, then waved his hand to the side.
"Alright, child. You should leave. You're blocking my sunlight."
Harry stood up, full of confusion, clutching the remaining Galleons and the crumpled newspaper in his hand.
Howl patted his shoulder.
"Well done."
As they walked forward, Harry, full of bewilderment, asked, "Uncle Howl, that person is..."
Howl smiled and shook his head, "I don't know either. Perhaps... if I said he was a dog, he probably wouldn't refuse and would thank me for the compliment."
"Okay... does that mean he chose that kind of life himself?"
"Perhaps so," Howl said.
Harry could only nod, unable to understand why someone would choose to live in a wooden barrel, still barely clothed in winter.
To choose such a life...
As he spoke, he unfolded the newspaper.
Among the characters, drawings, and photographs, a not-so-clear geometric pattern was depicted.
At the same time, it was also filled with data...
"Ah, a geometry problem..." Howl nodded slightly, examining it carefully for a moment.
"Within it, a spell is hidden."
Just as he was speaking, Howl's hand suddenly reached out and grasped a hand that had abruptly appeared. He turned his head slightly, his gaze cold.
"Mr. Huckleton, what is this?"
Huckleton was breathing heavily, quickly calming himself down. Clearly, he had become unusually agitated just now, perhaps for some reason.
Why was he agitated?
For this geometry problem? Or for the spell within it?
He pulled his hand back, awkwardly shaking his throbbing wrist.
"I'm truly sorry, I couldn't control my curiosity. Mr. Potter, may I see that newspaper?"
Just as he was speaking, a man walked out of the coffee shop door; it was the Auror leader they had met yesterday.
"Mr. Huckleton, you're finally here."
Meeting Howl's surprised gaze, he walked over and shook Huckleton's hand.
"Mr. Loreton, I'm not late, am I?" Huckleton shook his hand. "I wonder if the Dark Wizard you mentioned, who wants to cooperate with us, has arrived?"
Watching their actions, Howl had doubts. Was Huckleton... also involved in this matter?
Then Loreton looked at Howl.
"This is..."
Howl smiled.
"I am the Dark Wizard you speak of."
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