Diggle's Wand was also a C-grade magical item. In fact, most wizards in the Leaky Cauldron had C-grade wands; only a few elderly wizards and those with particularly formidable auras possessed B-grade wands.
According to the system's appraisal and Dudley's own deductions, a brand-new wand should be D-grade. As a wizard used it, the nourishment of magic and the mysterious enhancement of spells would raise its rating.
At the same time, wear and tear from use would lower a wand's rating.
Based on a wand's rating, one could roughly judge its owner's combat ability.
Wizards who knew few spells and possessed little magic could only nourish their wands to a limited extent. Even if they used and maintained them every day, their wands would still hover around C-grade, just like Hagrid's, which he barely used.
This gave Dudley some understanding of how Voldemort, a mere gang boss, had ruled the British Wizarding World. The enemy being too powerful was only the superficial reason; the real reason was that most wizards were truly pathetic.
Not only were they weak, their thought processes were bizarre too.
Without witnessing anything firsthand, they had believed, based solely on public opinion and hearsay, that Harry—a baby—had defeated the Dark Lord who had ruled them all.
How had he defeated him? What had he used to defeat him?
No one cared.
They only knew how to worship him mindlessly.
Even more absurdly, afterward, they had not even exercised the basic caution of "dead or alive, produce the body." They simply believed Voldemort was dead and started popping champagne in celebration.
Thinking of Voldemort, Dudley had a faintly bad feeling. He swept his gaze across the wizards in the Leaky Cauldron again and finally noticed what was wrong.
He did not see Quirinus Quirrell—the first-year Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts professor from the original story, the man Voldemort had inhabited through the back of his head, who wore a turban, reeked of "garlic perfume," and stuttered when he spoke.
According to the original plot, Quirrell should have been here right now, just like these wizard fans, meeting Harry for the first time under Hagrid's introduction.
But he was not here.
If he was not here, then where was he?
Oh no!
Dudley suddenly woke up to the truth. Someone was trying to steal what was already in his bag!
"Harry! Hagrid! It's getting late!" Dudley called out loudly.
Hagrid also realized they had delayed for rather too long. Someone who had already shaken Harry's hand was lining up for a second turn.
Harry, too, was becoming overwhelmed by the excessive enthusiasm of his wizard fans. Hearing this, he felt as if he had been granted a pardon and hurriedly grabbed Dudley's and Hagrid's large, strong hands.
Hagrid led the two through the crowd, around the bar counter, and into a small space enclosed by red brick walls.
Other than a trash bin placed against the wall, there was nothing there.
Hagrid drew his Umbrella Wand and lightly pointed its tip at the brick above the trash bin, muttering the method for opening the door—counting up this way and across that way, finding the brick that opened the wall...
Harry found it fascinating and listened intently.
But Dudley had no mood to care about such trivial things now. He was in a hurry.
The bricks shifted and surged, forming an archway. The entrance to Diagon Alley opened.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley!" Hagrid introduced enthusiastically.
The commercial street, filled with all manner of wizarding shops, was flourishing. Wizards came and went, making it seem lively and peaceful.
There were cauldron shops, stationery shops, robe shops, wand shops, pet stores, large apothecaries, publishing houses, travel agencies, newspapers, beauty potion stores, and Quality Quidditch Supplies. There were even shops that bought, sold, and recycled secondhand goods...
There was a dazzling variety of everything.
Each storefront sign came with its own animated effects, making the street feel both old-fashioned and magical.
It was Dudley's and Harry's first time here, and they found it all novel, unable to resist taking a few extra looks.
But unlike Harry, who kept looking around nonstop, Dudley was restrained. He naturally urged them onward.
"Hagrid, take us to Gringotts to withdraw money first! With so many amazing shops around, being able to look but not buy is torture!"
"Oh! Dudley! You're absolutely right! Let's go!" Hagrid replied. "Gringotts is at the end of Diagon Alley, where it connects to Knockturn Alley. But Knockturn Alley isn't a good place. It's full of Black Wizards..."
Hagrid started chattering away again as they walked.
With his enormous frame, each of his steps covered the distance of three or four of Dudley's and Harry's, so they moved quickly.
Dudley led Harry in quickly following him. As they walked, he secretly gave Harry's right wrist three light squeezes.
Harry immediately became alert. He no longer had the leisure to admire Diagon Alley. His cousin's signal meant to remain on constant guard. Could Diagon Alley be unsafe?
That made sense. Hagrid had said Diagon Alley connected to Knockturn Alley. Black Wizards could easily be roaming around committing crimes!
Thus, with their guard raised, Harry and Dudley followed behind Hagrid as he cleared the way. They soon reached an exceptionally tall white building, passed through its gleaming brass doors, and entered Gringotts, the bank run by Goblins.
Led by a Goblin attendant, the three arrived at Gringotts' service hall, a marble chamber where nearly a hundred short, ugly, Goblin-like Goblins bustled about.
Hagrid found a Goblin who was less busy and stated what he needed: Harry wanted to withdraw money from the Potter family's vault, and Dumbledore had asked him to collect a "confidential item" on his behalf.
Then Hagrid took a golden key and a letter from the breast pocket of the shirt beneath his new coat and handed them to the Goblin.
The Goblin carefully inspected both items, especially Dumbledore's handwritten collection letter.
After confirming that there were no problems, the Goblin summoned another Goblin named Griphook, handed him the golden key, and instructed him to take Hagrid, Harry, and Dudley to retrieve items from two underground vaults.
"Follow me!" said the Goblin named Griphook.
Hagrid and the other two followed him out of the hall and through another doorway.
Everything was perfectly normal, which left Dudley with mixed feelings. He did not know whether Quirrell had yet to infiltrate Gringotts' underground vaults or had already succeeded without a sound.
Dudley, this butterfly from another world, had barely even flapped his wings. Why were the characters from the original story already refusing to follow the script?
Damn it! Garlic-Turban Stuttering Freak!
Just let me catch you. I'll kill you for this!
Dudley seethed inwardly. At that moment, Griphook had already led them into a marble corridor leading to the underground vaults.
A rail track ran down the center of the corridor, winding into the darkness deeper within.
Griphook whistled and used Goblin methods to summon a small rail cart with a carriage, which came speeding along the tracks.
"Get on!"
After saying that, Griphook jumped into the front of the cart's carriage first.
There was not much room left for the three of them.
"Uh..." Harry hesitated. It looked as though the remaining space could not fit all three of them, especially with Hagrid's massive bulk.
An idea flashed through Dudley's mind, and he immediately arranged it. "Harry, you and Hagrid get on. I'll sit on Hagrid's shoulders!"
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