Knockturn Alley

The old wizard never stayed in one place for long. The little cabin had originally belonged to a reclusive lumberjack.

With a single spell from the old wizard, it swiftly collapsed.

"Cackle, cackle, cackle." The old wizard laughed without a shred of remorse. "Let's go."

Anton curled his lip. If they weren't coming back, there was no need to demolish the place. The man was a natural-born villain.

He struggled to drag a huge trunk along behind him. The brown leather trunk looked rather worn and was bigger than his young body.

An Undetectable Extension Charm had been cast on the trunk. Inside were all the old wizard's research materials and belongings, along with an iron cage holding a werewolf.

The trunk wasn't heavy, but after being suspended in midair earlier, Anton's wrists hurt as though they had been torn apart. He could only take a step, then stop.

The old wizard glanced back at him with a frown. Finally, he waved his wand.

"Strength Enhancement Charm!"

Anton felt his heart pounding so hard he could even sense a blood vessel throbbing behind his ear.

A cool sensation flowed through his body. The trunk in his hand suddenly felt as light as a box of biscuits.

As for the pain in his wrists, only the tiniest bit of it had been healed.

"If you can carry it, walk faster!" the old wizard snapped impatiently. Anton hurried to catch up.

Walking behind him, Anton studied the old wizard's back with a frown. From what he had read in Harry Potter, the old wizard had had plenty of options just now.

He could have used Episkey to heal Anton's wrists, for instance, or a Levitation Charm to make the trunk float.

So why hadn't he?

Anton had a bold guess. Could this self-taught wizard have missed out on formal instruction and simply not know how to cast those two spells?

Now that was interesting.

He decided to keep watching.

If the man really was self-taught, did that mean he didn't know the more advanced art of wandless magic either?

Anton didn't dare jump to conclusions. He kept reminding himself to be careful, then more careful still.

He would only get one chance. If the old wizard discovered he meant to resist, the man would kill him on the spot.

After a mile along a mountain path, they finally reached a wide concrete road.

Before long, an emerald-green car with a distinctly vintage look pulled up in front of them. Soon, it set off again.

It sped along the road and eventually stopped outside a large bookshop on Charing Cross Road in Westminster, London.

The driver looked around in confusion, then snatched up his phone in a panic, as if waking from a dream.

"Hello, darling? I didn't mean to be late. Something incredible happened—I'm back in the city! No, no, it's not that I haven't left yet. Darling, let me explain. Hello? Hello?"

Beside him, the old wizard opened the car door and got out. Anton opened the boot, took out the trunk, and followed him.

The two of them walked quietly toward a shabby little pub beside the bookshop.

Their strange clothes drew no attention. One middle-aged man talking on the phone nearly walked straight into Anton.

It was as though nobody could see him at all.

The Leaky Cauldron, the worn sign read.

The old wizard wasn't there for a drink. Ignoring the greeting from Tom, the pub's owner, he went straight to the small courtyard at the back and tapped the bricks in the wall with his wand.

The brick wall rolled aside as though worked by some elaborate special effect, revealing an opening. Beyond it, crowds bustled along a street.

The old wizard gave the dustbin a gentle kick, shifting it slightly, then walked through as though nothing had happened.

Normally, you counted three bricks up from the dustbin and two across, then tapped the wall three times with your wand. The brick would quiver, a small hole would appear, and the opening would widen into an archway leading to Diagon Alley.

But what happened if someone moved the dustbin?

Even if this wizard didn't practice dark magic, he was certainly the sort everyone would hate.

Anton rolled his eyes behind the man's back and followed with the trunk.

The old wizard clearly didn't dare linger in Diagon Alley. He hurried into a dark side street tucked away in a corner.

The scene changed abruptly. Even the sky seemed to darken. Along both sides of the street, distinctly unsavory wizards lounged crookedly against the walls. There was no doubt about it—they had entered Knockturn Alley.

"Wait here!"

The old wizard took the trunk from Anton. Dragging it with difficulty in his aging body, he headed into the first shop at the mouth of the alley.

Anton raised an eyebrow.

He doesn't know the Levitation Charm!

That was his first thought.

How is that possible?

That was his second.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Just then, a chattering group of children stopped in Diagon Alley, outside the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

Every one of them had unusually red hair.

A pair of twins were trying hard to persuade their mother. "Mum, maybe you could relax over some afternoon tea. We can buy our own robes at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and we can buy our own wands too."

Their mother was plainly tempted, but after a moment's hesitation, she still couldn't bring herself to let them go. "No. I have to keep an eye on you two!"

Behind them stood a boy who looked about Anton's age. His freckled face was turned toward Anton, his eyes wide as he stared into the alley.

Sunlight fell on the boy's red hair and the colorful lollipop in his hand.

"Damn it!" their mother cried suddenly, glancing at the entrance to Knockturn Alley and the hostile looks all around it. "How could we stop here?"

She urged the children to hurry and grabbed the freckled boy's hand. "Ron, come on. What are you staring at?"

Ron blinked and gave the young wizard in the dark alley one last curious look before hurrying after her.

Ron Weasley! Anton's lips curled upward. He took a step back and disappeared into the shadows of Knockturn Alley.

He knew exactly when this was now.

Ron was one of the three main characters in the Harry Potter novels, and his twin brothers were two years older than he was.

Anton had heard the twins arguing that they wanted to buy their own wands.

Which meant it was two years before Harry Potter started school!

His best chance of escaping the old wizard's clutches was to rush out, stop Ron's mother, and tell her he was a child who had been captured by a dark wizard.

Molly, with her fierce sense of justice and formidable abilities, would surely save him.

But something bothered him.

The old wizard knew he might run, yet had casually left him waiting at the shop entrance. Anton didn't dare take the risk.

Anton gently rubbed his wrist and stared in silence at the intricate tattoo there.

It was a design of several curves and a square, together with a few runes in a script he couldn't read.

He didn't know whether this was the reason.

His memories of the body's original owner were hazy. Apart from an almost instinctive grasp of language, he could remember virtually nothing.

How old he was, what his name was, where he had come from, how he had fallen into the old wizard's hands—he remembered none of it.

He didn't know what precautions the old wizard had taken against him.

But he knew one thing: only a dead old wizard would stop being a threat!

Before long, the old wizard came out. Anton hurried forward with a smile and took the trunk from him.

"Come on. I'll take you to buy a wand."

What? Damn it! Where did a penniless old coot like you get the money?

That plan was gone. Anton followed silently behind him, patiently waiting for the old wizard's next slip.