Revisiting Diagon Alley

Diagon Alley was a wonderful place.

A month after his first visit, Andrew had finally saved enough for a round trip to London and a day's spending in Diagon Alley.

The cost was slower progress on his textbooks and magical experiments than he had imagined, but it was necessary.

When he got off at King's Cross Station, he even took a look at the platform signs. According to Professor McGonagall, he would leave for Hogwarts from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He had no interest in testing with his head whether the platform was open yet.

A train ride and then the Underground brought him to The Leaky Cauldron, the entrance to Diagon Alley, around noon.

"What a wonderful place."

He gazed at the pub entrance in admiration, then took off his backpack, pulled out his cloak, and draped it over himself. He also took a cup of ice from his bag and tucked it against his chest.

He hadn't had a choice when Professor McGonagall brought him last time, but this time he wasn't going to wander around a wizard haunt in conspicuously out-of-place clothes. He suspected most wizards out shopping knew a spell to cool the inside of their robes, but he hadn't found one in the first-year textbooks.

Because of the unusual circumstances of his last visit with Professor McGonagall, he still didn't know how wizards normally greeted one another. That hardly mattered. With plenty of people passing through Diagon Alley before Hogwarts opened for the year, all he needed to do was pull up his hood.

Everything went smoothly, apart from the stifling heat.

So once he left The Leaky Cauldron, he promptly took off his hood, abandoned the foolish disguise, bought a large ice cream, and hurried toward the second-hand bookshop.

After a brief discussion with the owner, he paid one Sickle an hour for the right to browse every book outside the premium second-hand section. He could even bring in his unfinished ice cream.

That was as far as he got, though. Only time could erase the prejudice that came with his age. Adults were willing to take him seriously only when they weren't speaking to him face-to-face.

"That's why I chose to rework other people's writing for my first earnings..."

Andrew quickly finished his ice cream, put on a mask, and began leafing through the old books.

Unlike his last visit, when he had mainly looked for textbooks, this time he searched for entertainment.

People loved entertainment, Muggles and wizards alike.

Put plainly, everyone liked a good time. They just found it in different ways.

He couldn't claim he could shape what people enjoyed, but once he knew what wizards liked, he was confident he could give them something tailored to their tastes.

There was one flaw in researching it at a second-hand bookshop: the owner wouldn't stock publications that quickly went out of date, and he couldn't get the books suited to adult wizards either. For everything else, it should serve well enough.

Fairy-tale collections and bedtime stories were promising. Dark twists on childhood favorites were a classic niche. As long as he didn't stray too far from the originals, readers would happily devour them...

"Focus, Andrew... You decided before coming here that, as your grammar improved, you'd write something with broader appeal."

He reminded himself to switch to a different pen name, then turned to biographies.

Biographies that a second-hand shop could buy and resell were generally well known. They would also be easy for readers to accept in a reworked form. Turning them into a series of adventure stories seemed like a good choice.

He could add a little fantastical embellishment and exaggerate the magic. As long as he didn't portray the subjects negatively, the books should be well received.

After surveying popular magazines, learning which fairy tales wizards often read, and looking into the biographies of several famous wizards, Andrew felt he had a place to start. He picked out the books he wanted, then checked his pocket and realized he hadn't even been to Gringotts to exchange his money.

He paid for his browsing time, asked the owner to hold the books for him, and rushed to Gringotts to get some Galleons. His timing was good, so the transaction went quickly.

"Hogwarts has plenty of storybooks in its library, you know."

Perhaps because he had seen Andrew rushing back and forth, the shop owner offered the reminder kindly. His main profits came from second-hand textbooks; every year, when the Hogwarts OWLs ended or students graduated, he could buy plenty at low prices.

"These are the ones I want, sir." Andrew nodded. "Could I also look in the premium section for second-hand copies of the books that are most popular right now?"

"I'm afraid I don't have any of those." The owner spread his hands. "Lockhart's books are all the rage. Used copies are hard to come by and get snapped up fast. I've got a lot of people waiting for them."

"Lockhart?"

"Of course. The most famous adventurer. His stories practically come alive."

The owner spoke with admiration. He had an adventurous streak himself, but the Galleons he earned dealing in second-hand Hogwarts books kept him rooted to the shop.

"All right, I'll need to get a set of Lockhart's books too... Good thing money isn't too tight." Andrew packed up the classics he had chosen as he worked out his plans. "I also need an owl. Just an ordinary, common owl."

About ten minutes later, he arrived at the famous Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Ten minutes after that, he left carrying a barn owl. According to the books he had read, barn owls were the most common owls in the entire Wizarding World. They even made up most of the school's owls.

"Still..." He glanced at his owl. "I think the shop assistant was having me on. You're ugly in a way that really stands out... Hey, don't!"

The owl's beak closed on his finger. It was only a light nip, but the warning in the bird's eyes was unmistakable. If Andrew made another rude comment, the next bite would be harder.

That settled one thing for Andrew: when the shop assistant had said the owl was clever, it hadn't just been a sales pitch.

"So the spell on the cage that makes you less noticeable was real too?" Andrew studied the owl. "All right. Since you didn't bite hard, I'll give you a nice name. Not now, though. We have to head back."

The owl gave a slight nod, surprising Andrew despite how accustomed he thought he had become to magic.

"The right books, the right audience, and the right owl..."

Andrew nodded. The trip had gone exceptionally well. Now he just needed to find an affordable inn for the night, then set off from London for the orphanage the next day.

"Hey, buddy, I've got an idea," Andrew said to his owl. "How about The Leaky Cauldron? We can pick up some news about the Wizarding World while we're there."

"Hoot."