Midsummer was rapidly approaching with each passing day, and even in the early morning hours when dew still clung to leaves, the golden sunlight bathing the earth contained a relaxed, heavy heat that promised a scorching day ahead. By noon, the temperatures would be nearly unbearable.
Remus had already left the house for the alchemy workshop before dawn had fully broken. Sirius had likewise departed for the Ministry of Magic shortly after, grumbling about tedious paperwork and Fudge's increasing paranoid policies.
After leisurely finishing a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, buttered toast, grilled tomatoes, and strong black tea that Kreacher had prepared, Bryan and Amelia bid farewell to the house-elf and left the Black house behind.
"Much like the American wizarding world you're familiar with, the main modes of transportation for wizards here in Britain are basically the same: the Floo Network, Apparition, and flying broomsticks,"
Bryan explained patiently as they descended the stone steps before the door.
"Of course, you can also choose the Knight Bus as a means of transportation if you're desperate or lack other options, but I must warn you—the comfort level is quite terrible, absolutely stomach-churning. It's an experience I wouldn't wish on anyone.
If you can't adapt to flying broomsticks, if heights and speed bother you or make you nauseous, then the Knight Bus wouldn't be a good choice for you either. It's somehow even worse than broomstick travel, at least broomsticks move smoothly."
A magical world she had never encountered before, a completely different culture and society with its own customs and unwritten rules, a life utterly different from everything she'd known and experienced in America—even the air itself seemed filled with a sense of freshness and exciting possibility.
The feeling reminded her powerfully of when she had first graduated from Ilvermorny and joined the Magical Congress of the United States of America, full of youthful hope and burning ambition, believing she could make a real difference.
Everything about this new beginning made Amelia feel bubbling anticipation and intense curiosity about what adventures and challenges lay ahead in this foreign land.
"So how do we get to Diagon Alley from here right now? Do we walk through the Muggle streets?"
Amelia jumped down two steps directly with youthful, carefree energy, her face glowing in the morning sunlight.
"Through Apparition directly to the Leaky Cauldron—it's the main passageway connecting the magical world and the Muggle world here in London," Bryan explained with thoroughness, wanting her to understand the geography.
"To get to Diagon Alley, you have to pass through this particular pub first. It's the only reliable public entrance for those without established Floo connections to specific shops.
Of course, if you have acquaintances already in Diagon Alley, you can also use the Floo Network to travel directly to their fireplaces. That's actually what you'll do when you start going to work at Remus's workshop later, it's much more convenient and comfortable."
Bryan raised his right hand in a gesture of invitation, and upon seeing this, Amelia immediately placed her hand on top of his without any hesitation.
A phantom haze rapidly bloomed in Amelia's eyes. In an instant, accompanied by that uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed forcefully through a narrow tube, she had appeared with Bryan on a busy Muggle street bustling with the morning crowds of hurried commuters and leisurely window-shoppers going about their ordinary routines.
The space near their landing point clearly had magic present, perhaps Confundus Charms and Repelling Charms working together. Because the nearby Muggle people walking past just feet away, paid absolutely no attention to her and Bryan suddenly appearing from thin air.
Moreover, the Muggles would unconsciously avoid that small patch of space as they walked their routes, giving it an instinctively wide berth.
Looking left and right, they were surrounded by typical London stores: bookstores displaying colorful bestsellers in their windows, record shops with album covers featuring popular bands, hamburger joints advertising lunch specials on chalkboard signs, and movie theaters showing the latest Hollywood films on backlit posters.
Amelia carefully imprinted the surrounding environment in her mind so that she could confidently Apparate here on her own later.
After confirming she had memorized all the crucial details, creating a complete mental map she could reference, Amelia's curious gaze finally fell upon the pub before them.
The entrance to the pub was dirty and narrow, squeezed awkwardly between two much larger, more prosperous-looking buildings like an afterthought.
Amelia was quite certain that even without any magical protection, without the notice-me-not charms that clearly covered it, not many Muggles would willingly notice or voluntarily enter such an unattractive shop.
"The Leaky Cauldron."
Amelia read the faded words aloud on a severely decayed wooden plaque covered in green moss, old potion stains, and what might have been bird droppings, hanging crookedly above the door on a single rusty chain. Her brow unconsciously furrowed slightly at the shop's somewhat shocking lack of maintenance or care.
"Is it like the Blind Pig back in New York?"
"Not quite—" Bryan said, striding forward. He led Amelia through the door while speaking in a gentle, instructive tone.
"Generally speaking, the business conducted at the Leaky Cauldron is lawful and reasonably above board or at least not blatantly criminal in nature. It's not like Gnarlak's place, where the main purpose of running the bar is specifically to trade sensitive information for profit and provide sanctuary for fugitives and wanted criminals trying to disappear.
Of course, I won't lie to you—some people operating in gray areas do like to conduct their transactions here because of its very public nature. But if it's truly dangerous business involving dark magic or serious contraband like illegal potions or cursed objects, they'll find another more private, secure place for those dealings."
Amelia followed behind Bryan closely, listening carefully. When she crossed a certain threshold, a mysterious magical force suddenly cut off the warm sunlight completely. The surroundings abruptly became dim and filled with pungent smoke, her eyes needed several moments to adjust to the instant change in light levels.
Crash!
Before she had time to survey the pub's environment, a sudden crashing sound of violently breaking furniture drew Amelia's attention immediately to a particularly smoke-filled corner of the bar where something was clearly happening.
About a dozen wizards divided into two groups were facing off. One side wore the black cloaks heavily favored by underground world wizards that Bryan was familiar with over the years.
The other group of wizards made absolutely no attempt to conceal their appearances or identities. Each emanated a fierce aura of potential violence that made nearby patrons shift away nervously. From their facial features with extremely pale skin, prominent cheekbones, ice-blue eyes, they clearly bore strong Nordic characteristics.
Probably Scandinavian traders or perhaps mercenaries who'd come to Britain seeking work.
The cause of the conflict between the two groups didn't require much investigation or complex deduction on Bryan's part.
He glanced casually at the pieces scattered across the floor after the round wooden table had collapsed under someone's violent anger, armor pieces flashing with luster under the pub lights, engraved with exquisite patterns that were clearly meant to look expensive and authentic.
He knew immediately that one party had provided forged goods and the other party had identified them as such through examination.
Bryan even knew, from the distinctive style of the enchantment work, which underground world "master" had crafted these pieces of fake armor.
These underground world wizards deceiving "newcomers" probably hadn't anticipated that their foreign guests possessed considerable discernment, and had violent tempers when they discovered they'd been cheated out of their hard-earned gold galleons.
The tense atmosphere attracted the attention of everyone in the bar. Patrons turned to watch the confrontation with the interested expressions of those hoping for violent entertainment to break up their boring morning.
No one noticed Bryan standing quietly by the door, calmly observing it all and making no move to intervene.
"Compensation. Contract, five times!"
The leader of the Nordic group's ice-blue eyes burned with anger and violence. His rugged face marked by scars and weather exposure creased with lines between his brows as he spoke in broken, heavily accented English with a gruff, threatening voice.
The wizards from the underground world remained deliberately silent.
Indeed, a five-fold compensation for selling counterfeits was a clause clearly stipulated in the contract they'd all signed. But there was obvious trickery involved in the wording.
One of the black-robed wizards opened his cloak and pulled an undetected extension-charmed bag from his belt.
Seeing this seemingly cooperative gesture, the Nordic leader mistook it to mean that this group of dishonest wizards they were dealing with truly intended to compensate according to the contract. He and those standing behind him showed slightly relaxed expressions.
But when they saw the person who opened the bag begin to pour out yet another pile of shimmering silver armor pieces onto the floor which was even more obviously fake and poorly made than the first batch, they first froze in complete confusion, then their faces flushed bright red with renewed fury and humiliation!
"Compensation in Galleons, not... more rubbish garbage!"
"You can carefully examine the exact clauses in the contract if you'd like to verify—" one of the black-cloaked wizards said in an obviously falsified hoarse voice coldly.
"We haven't violated the contract's precise wording even slightly. Read it again—it says compensation in goods of equivalent value. These are equivalent."
Only now, did the Nordic wizards understand that they had been completely played, and fooled by these local scums. They breathed rapidly, their chests heaving, eyes reddening with rage and humiliation, hands twitching toward the wands concealed in their robes. They looked ready to come to violent, bloody blows at any moment.
The underground world wizards remained externally unmoved, maintaining their facades, but their slightly bulging cloaks indicated clearly that their hands hidden beneath the dark cloth must also be gripping wands tightly, ready for combat.
The pub's owner, hunchbacked Tom who'd run the Leaky Cauldron for decades and seen countless fights, had long since ducked his head behind the bar counter, preparing to hide until the fight passed.
"What are you doing!!"
Seeing the conflict about to erupt, Amelia forgot that she was now in another land, forgot she was no longer an employee of a magical government with any authority. She furrowed her brow and shouted sternly in her best authoritative voice, the one she'd practiced at the Academy.
The sudden voice of intervention startled everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. All the wizards in the bar, including the two confronting groups frozen mid-threat with hands on wands, turned their gazes toward the door in surprise. Old Tom also cautiously poked his head out from behind the counter, curious about who would dare interfere in such business.
When they noticed that the one stopping the conflict didn't appear to be an Auror or Ministry official but rather a young witch, many couldn't help but show expressions of amusement and dismissive mockery.
Some even chuckled. However—
When these people's gazes instantly shifted and glanced at the young man standing beside the young witch, the mockery at the corners of their mouths immediately froze!
The previously noisy bar became so quiet you could hear a pin drop, as if some invisible, oppressive magical force was physically suppressing everyone from making a single sound.
This sudden silence actually left Amelia somewhat at a loss. She blinked her eyes in complete bewilderment and turned her head toward Bryan with a questioning, uncertain look.
But Bryan paid no attention to the inquiry in her gaze, to her confusion. He remained composed and still, only shifting his purple eyes slowly from the faces of the two confronting groups to the inferior goods scattered on the floor.
The underground world wizard who had just arrogantly poured out this garbage suddenly felt a palpitation of genuine, cold fear, his heart began racing uncomfortably. Trembling with his hands shaking, he bent down hastily and began stuffing the items back into his bag one by one with frantic movements.
The large Nordic wizard who had just angrily overturned the round table also silently, bent down to right the table and carefully set it back in its proper place.
Under Bryan's indifferent gaze, the two groups who had been about to come to bloody blows just moments ago obediently walked out from the corner of the bar like reprimanded children. They kept their heads down, carefully avoiding any eye contact with the terrifying figure by the door.
When passing by the dazed pub owner Tom, one Nordic wizard silently pulled out several gold Galleons from his pouch and placed them on the counter.
He even nodded respectfully to Tom and mumbled an indistinct "sorry" in his accent. Then he quickly caught up with his group in urgency, and they all walked out swiftly through the Leaky Cauldron's back door toward Diagon Alley, disappearing from everyone's sight as quickly as possible.
The underground wizards followed shortly after, equally eager to leave Bryan's presence.
"Pfft—"
At this moment, the Leaky Cauldron still immersed in silence took on a somewhat strange atmosphere. Amelia, slowly realizing what had just happened, suddenly covered her mouth with one hand and let out a giggle.
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