Weaving through the crowd, Harry stepped into a shop called Weird & Whacky. Most of its customers were students, drawn in by all the bizarre and fascinating items—perfect bait for young, curious minds.
As he pushed open the glass door, a white skull with a mess of tangled hair suddenly dropped from above.
"Welcome!" the skull grinned, speaking with a cheerful rattle.
Startled, Harry hadn't even registered the words before his instincts kicked in. With a yelp, he punched it.
BANG.
The hairy skull flew like a ball and smacked against the wall, letting out a faint moan.
Only then did Harry realize—it was probably just the shop's quirky way of greeting customers.
A plump man hurried over, picked up the skull, and gave Harry a resigned look.
"Ha... Sorry about that," Harry apologized awkwardly.
"No worries. Happens all the time," the chubby shopkeeper said with a wave.
Harry felt a bit sorry for the poor skull.
The shop had a wall facing Diagon Alley made entirely of glass, and the other three walls were lined with shelves full of merchandise—some big as coat racks, others small as a child's fist. Everything was neatly packaged, and most items looked so strange you couldn't guess what they were for.
Two tall, overstuffed display racks stood in the middle, chaotically filled with more oddities—clearly unorganized, but the mess only added to the charm. The place was crowded with at least a dozen young witches and wizards, all eagerly browsing.
Harry picked out a few items he thought looked fun—gifts he figured his Muggle-born classmates would enjoy—and brought them to the register.
On his way out, he noticed the shopkeeper carefully using a Levitation Charm to hang a black-haired skull back above the entrance.
Harry shook his head silently and stepped back into the snow.
…
Next, he planned to leave Diagon Alley and head into the Muggle world to buy Christmas presents for Neville and his other wizard-born friends.
Then it hit him—he didn't have a single pound on him.
So he turned around and headed back to Gringotts to exchange Galleons for British pounds. Coincidentally, the goblin who received him this time was the same one who had escorted him to his vault six months ago: Griphook.
Say what you will about goblins—ugly, frosty, perpetually grumpy—but they were efficient, precise, and dedicated to their work.
Before long, Harry had exchanged 2,000 Galleons into 10,000 British pounds.
That kind of money wasn't insignificant—especially not for a twelve-year-old carrying it around unsupervised.
Back then, most working Brits earned just a few hundred pounds a month.
Originally, Harry hadn't planned to convert so much—Muggle money wasn't exactly useful in the wizarding world—but he figured it wouldn't hurt to have some on hand for future use.
He left Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron and stepped into London.
The moment he exited, a freezing gust of wind laced with snow hit his face, making him shiver.
It was nothing like the atmosphere in Diagon Alley. That street, though narrow and lined with ancient buildings, had been bustling with people and activity, making it feel warm despite the heavy snow.
London, on the other hand, was wide open, wind-chilled, and icy.
…
Harry wandered the city, shopping for gifts for the classmates whose names he could actually remember.
As for those he wasn't very close to... well, there wasn't much he could do.
He remembered the time Dean explained football to Ron, and Ron's shocked reaction: "Wait... your balls don't fly on their own?!"
Just like we're amazed by wizarding photos that move and visit other frames, they're just as fascinated by Muggle photos that don't move at all.
That's why Harry was certain—his Christmas gifts were going to be unforgettable.
.
.
.
.
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