The search had begun.
Cael stood in front of the first bookstore on Charing Cross Road. It was old—really old. The kind of store that looked like it had survived not one, but both world wars, and possibly a dragon or two. The wooden sign creaked in the wind. Its letters were faded and chipped.
He stepped inside.
The shop smelled like dust and pipe smoke. Rows of heavy shelves leaned in like gossiping old men. Behind the counter sat an actual old man, balding, eyes suspicious.
"What is it you want, boy?" he asked, voice rough like sandpaper.
Cael replied with a smile. "Just looking for fantasy books. Magical stuff. Thought I'd buy one."
The old man squinted. "Look around, then. But don't break anything. Or steal."
Cael nodded quickly and began pretending to browse, running his fingers across cracked spines and yellowed covers. After ten minutes of aimless wandering, he returned to the counter—empty-handed.
"Didn't find anything to your liking?" the old man asked, more irritated than curious.
Cael shrugged. "No, sir. Nothing caught my eye."
The man's eyes flicked down to Cael's second-hand shoes and worn jacket. Though clean, they spoke of poverty.
Then Cael asked carefully, "Have you… ever seen strange things around here? Like people appearing or disappearing between buildings?"
The old man's face twisted. "What? Are you mocking me?"
Cael blinked. "No, I was just asking—"
"Get out! Out!" the man shouted, slamming his hand on the counter. "Bloody beggars and lunatics roaming the streets… Government lets just anyone wander these days!"
Cael scurried out of the shop. "Okay, okay! Chill, old man. I was just asking…"
As the door slammed behind him, the man muttered, "Nasty little brat…"
That was just the first day.
Over the next twenty, Cael became a regular presence in Central London. He searched, watched, asked questions. He was chased out of bookstores. Accused of loitering. One time, even chased by police, who thought he was a street kid bothering shop owners.
Every failure ate away at his determination.
One afternoon, Cael sat on a bench near a coffee stall, his hood pulled up. The ache in his feet and the weight of disappointment settled in his chest.
He sighed and whispered to the air, "Hey, System. Can you… I don't know… give me a hint? Anything?"
The System responded flatly.
"No can do. My job is to assign quests and offer rewards. I don't know where the door is either."
Cael exhaled in frustration. "Useless…"
Then—he saw him.
A man passed by, dressed like he'd just walked out of a Renaissance fair. A deep emerald robe, tall scarlet hat, boots that curled at the toes, and a walking stick that glittered faintly in the sun.
Cael blinked.
"Hey, System," he muttered quickly. "Please tell me that joker-looking guy is a wizard."
"Confirmed. That's a wizard. And it looks like… yep, he's headed exactly where you need to go. Follow him."
Cael leapt to his feet and followed the man through the crowd, dodging pedestrians. As he walked, a thought occurred to him:
'How does no one notice this guy's outfit? I've been asking about weird things for weeks and everyone acts like it's crazy. But this guy walks around like he's auditioning for a magical circus and nobody bats an eye?'
The man turned into a narrow passage between two bookshops, walking with purpose straight toward a dirty stone wall. There was nothing special about the alley—it looked like a dead end filled with bins.
Then the System whispered urgently,
"Quick! Grab his robe. You need to be in contact with magical items to bypass the repelling charms. If you don't, he'll vanish into the wall and you'll forget him five seconds later."
"Wait, what—?"
"DO IT!"
Without thinking, Cael surged forward and reached out, grabbing the hem of the man's robe just as the stranger stepped toward what looked like… a blank wall.
To Cael's astonishment, the wall shimmered.
A shabby wooden door appeared, tucked beneath a crooked stone archway.
The man, oblivious to the boy latched onto his cloak, stepped through the door and vanished into the pub beyond.
Cael gasped. "What… the…"
He stepped inside.
The interior was warm, dim, and alive with chatter. The Leaky Cauldron.
Robed men and women filled the room. Some sipped frothing mugs. Others read floating newspapers. A broom swept the floor by itself. Dishes floated, cleared by invisible magic.
Cael stood still, overwhelmed—and elated.
DING—
[Quest Update: You Have Discovered the Entrance to the Magical World!]
Next Objective: Enter Diagon Alley. Reward pending…
Cael scanned the room for someone who looked in charge and spotted a hunched man cleaning mugs behind the bar.
He approached nervously.
"Excuse me, sir?"
The bartender—Tom, judging by the name tag—looked up. "Yes, lad? What can I get you?"
Cael tried to sound casual. "I'm a new student. I… don't have a wand yet, so I can't open the way into Diagon Alley. Could you help me?"
Tom narrowed his eyes. "It's not school season. And kids without wands usually come with parents. Where are yours?"
Cael hesitated—then smiled awkwardly. "They, uh… they don't know I'm here. They didn't want me to get my hopes up, in case I didn't get in. But I wanted to see it for myself."
Tom's stern face softened.
"Parents mean well, but sometimes too careful. Alright. I'll help you—just this once. But don't go tellin' anyone."
"I won't! I promise. Thank you, sir."
Tom led Cael to the stone courtyard behind the pub. With practiced ease, he pulled out his wand and tapped the bricks:
Three across… two up… tap-tap… swipe…
The bricks shifted. The wall folded in on itself.
And beyond it—Diagon Alley.
Colorful shops, cauldrons in windows, flying owls, enchanted brooms, spellbooks, robe shops, and crowds of witches and wizards—the magical world unveiled before him.
Cael stood at the threshold, his breath caught in his throat.
He stepped forward.
DING…
[Quest Complete – Hidden Path Discovered!]
Reward: Magical Affinity Unlocked. System Integration Updated. New Stats Available.