The Hidden Door
A month had passed since Sally began searching for something that might not even exist. She had hired several private detectives, but all of them eventually gave up, convinced that the place was nothing more than a myth. Sally, however, couldn't stop; all she was left with were sighs of frustration.
The reason behind her search wasn't for herself, but for her children. She wanted to find a way to prepare, to understand what awaited them in the future. But the more she tried, the harder it seemed. If even this place was so difficult to locate, what would the supposed school Harry was meant to attend be like? The mere thought that her children could be in danger filled her with dread.
At that moment, the door opened softly and Harry peeked his little head into the office. Sally put the papers aside and smiled at him.
"What is it, sweetheart?" she asked gently, motioning for him to come closer.
"I'm looking for Percy. We're playing hide and seek," explained the boy as he walked in. He looked around with curiosity, even crouched to check under the desk, but couldn't find his brother anywhere.
Sally watched him with amusement, rolling her chair back. She turned her gaze toward the window and caught sight of another little head quickly ducking down to stay hidden. Percy was outside, crouched beneath the window. She couldn't help but smile.
Even though the brothers argued constantly, they could never stay apart for too long.
"Mommy, are you looking for the Leaky Cauldron?" Harry suddenly asked, noticing one of the papers that had fallen to the floor. It was the last report the detective had given her: nothing but a single name written on it.
"Well… yes," Sally admitted, unwilling to lie.
"So you don't know where it is, right?" Harry pressed, tilting his head.
Sally froze for a moment, staring at him in surprise and slight unease. "You… you know where it is, Harry?"
"Well, I see it every day in my dreams," he said naturally. "It's between a bookstore and a music shop. Lots of people walk past it, but it's like they don't even see it." He spread his arms wide to show how crowded it was. "And there was also a theater, like the one we went to once."
"H-Harry… tell me the names of the shops you remember," Sally asked nervously, grabbing a sheet of paper to take notes.
Harry pressed his hands against his head, as if it would help him think. Slowly, he began to recite names, descriptions of signs, even details of colors and shapes.
As she listened, Sally felt hope blossom inside her chest. She hugged him tightly, overflowing with joy. At last, she had real information. She should have asked him sooner.
Harry beamed happily at his mother's embrace, while Percy, watching from outside, grew increasingly jealous.
"Aaah!" he shouted, throwing the window open with his little hands. "That's not fair!" he whined with a pout, making it very clear that he wanted a hug too.
Sally laughed and, with some effort, pulled him inside. "Looks like you're both getting a bit too heavy," she teased with a smile, hugging Harry again while setting Percy down on the floor so she could wrap them both in her arms.
…
"Well, Mrs. Jackson, we found the street you asked for, but the specific place doesn't seem to be there. The shops you described are, though," explained a man in a café as he handed her a folder full of photographs.
"That's fine, thank you," Sally replied, paying him for his services. Her eyes lingered on the photo of the bookstore and the music shop. And there, wedged between them, she thought she saw for an instant a dark structure that contrasted with the modern buildings. A blink later, it was gone.
Confused, she looked again, but the image had disappeared. Still, she thanked the man and left with the address in hand.
…
Sally lifted her gaze. The address matched perfectly. And now, standing before her, she could see it clearly: a small, dark-fronted building squeezed tightly between the two shops. Dingy, ordinary, with nothing but a plain wooden door, no large windows or inviting signs. Only a weathered wooden board above the door bore the image of a dripping cauldron.
It was as if a fog in her mind had suddenly lifted. For the first time, Sally knew with certainty she was in the right place.
She wore simple clothes, a hooded jacket to blend in, and a bag slung at her side. Taking a deep breath and summoning the courage that only a determined mother could muster, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Immediately, dozens of eyes turned to her. Some looked at her with disgust for her plain clothing, others ignored her entirely, and a few stared with curiosity.
But Sally was the one most surprised. The place was filled with people dressed in strange, even extravagant garments. She saw a man stirring his tea with only a finger while reading a newspaper whose images moved on their own. From the fireplace burst a flash of green flame, and a person emerged, calmly walking toward the back of the room.
A woman with an enormous pointed hat shouted proudly, "I'm a witch!" cackling madly, while an aristocratically dressed gentleman sneered. Noticing Sally's presence, he pulled his son roughly aside, as if her very entry had brought with it a plague.
Sally, still nervous, made her way to the bar counter. The barkeeper calmly wiped a glass, though his gaze on her was sharp and measuring. He was a bald, thin man with a toothless grin. There was something odd, even unsettling about him, though he didn't seem malicious.
"This is the first time I've seen you here, miss. At first I thought you were a Muggle, judging by your clothes and that confused look… but it seems that's not the case," he said evenly.
"H-hello. I'd like to enter Diagon Alley, please," Sally asked, forcing herself to steady her voice and act serious.
"The entrance is in the back. With your wand: three taps upward and two to the right, starting from a black brick above the trash bin," he explained, pointing toward the spot where several witches and wizards had already passed.
"I… I don't have a wand," Sally confessed in a faint voice.
The barkeeper's eyes widened. "Oh, pardon me. I didn't mean to offend you." He lowered his voice so only she could hear: "My apologies."
Around them, several men who had been eyeing Sally with interest immediately looked away, some with barely hidden smirks, others with open disdain.
"Follow me, I'll open the entrance for you," said the barkeeper kindly.
Sally nodded and followed him into a narrow courtyard. It was so cramped that only a trash bin and a bare wall fit there. The man drew his wand, tapped a precise brick, and at once the others began to shift and turn until an archway of stone appeared.
Sally's eyes widened in awe, though she forced her expression to remain neutral so as not to reveal how little she knew.
The barkeeper, however, was no fool. He had tended the Leaky Cauldron for decades, saw people come and go every day, and long experience had made him an expert at reading faces.
"It would be best not to mention that you don't have a wand. People here aren't kind to Muggles and squibs," he advised quietly. "At Ollivander's you can buy a false wand. It won't cast spells, but it has a small enchantment at the tip that will let you open entries like this. And more importantly, it will save you from those unpleasant stares. And one more thing: don't go near Knockturn Alley. It's dangerous even for wizards."
He smiled at her with a surprisingly warm expression.
Sally returned the look with gratitude. "Thank you very much."
"My name is Tom. If you need lodging or food, you can come to my inn," he added, just as the bricks began to shift back into place behind her.
On the other side, Sally found herself in a completely new world. Before her stretched a bustling street filled with witches and wizards. Strange shops, displays crowded with impossible objects, children darting between busy adults… Magic was everywhere.
A sigh escaped her lips as she watched the children laugh and play. If kids could run so freely in this place, perhaps it wasn't as dangerous as she feared.
She walked slowly, observing every detail intently—not like a curious tourist, but like a mother assessing the environment for threats. She scanned every corner, every side passage, until she came to one in particular. Knockturn Alley. Even without stepping inside, it was obvious: hooded figures in black lingered in the shadows, watching with menacing eyes. None of them crossed into Diagon Alley, as if there were an invisible boundary dividing light from darkness.
Sally quickened her pace, careful not to draw their attention, and continued on.
Later, after mentally mapping out every point as if she were drawing a chart, she finally arrived at the place she was looking for.
Gringotts Bank.
The mere sight of it was imposing. Two goblins, armored and carrying swords, guarded the entrance with stern expressions. On a nearby wall, words had been carved:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take but do not earn
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware:
You may find more than treasure there.
Sally clutched her bag tightly and stepped inside. The interior was vast and solemn, filled with tall counters where goblins worked tirelessly—recording, counting, and writing.
She approached one of them. The goblin barely lifted his gaze before asking with annoyance: "What do you want?"
"Ehm… I would like to exchange some gold," she answered seriously.
The goblin didn't even bother to hide his disinterest. He raised a thumb toward a side hallway and returned to his work. "Exchanges are there. Next."
Sally hurried away. The hostility of the goblins was obvious, and she didn't want to cause a misunderstanding.
She followed the indicated corridor. Another goblin sat behind a desk piled high with ingots and jewelry, examining a piece of gold through a magnifying glass before speaking.
"Ten Galleons," he declared.
"That little? It's solid gold! It's worth much more, at least fifteen Galleons," the wizard in front of Sally protested.
The goblin gave a sharp smile. "Fine."
The man's eyes widened, realizing too late that he had fallen into a trap.
"Wait…" he tried to argue, but the goblin had already dropped a small jingling pouch onto the counter. "Next."
The wizard, red with anger, grabbed the pouch with a growl and stormed off.
Taking a deep breath, Sally stepped forward nervously and placed a gold ingot and several pieces of jewelry on the counter.