Stepping through the Leaky Cauldron's bustling main room and out into the walled courtyard, Charlie found himself back in Diagon Alley. According to the memories from his past life, the magical world boasted a spectacular array of peculiar sweets. It was rather a shame, then, that he hadn't spotted a dedicated candy shop during his earlier stroll.
Not in any immediate rush to part with his newly acquired funds, Charlie made his first stop Gringotts Wizarding Bank.
The goblins sat perched on impossibly high stools. Even a fully grown adult would have to crane their neck just to peer over the counter. Charlie surmised they were perhaps a touch sensitive about the whole 'height' issue.
Approaching one of the imposing desks, Charlie gave a little jump and waved his hand. Behind the counter, a goblin hoisted himself up and peered over the edge.
"Oh, a lost little wizard. Have you misplaced your parents?" The goblin adjusted his monocle with a long, spindly finger.
"No, sir. I am from the ordinary world," Charlie replied politely.
"Blindingly obvious," the goblin muttered, his beady eyes lingering on Charlie's extensively patched newsboy cap.
"I would like to exchange some pounds for Galleons, please."
"Certainly," the goblin nodded briskly. "I will need to see your Hogwarts acceptance letter. The current exchange rate for Muggle-born students is five pounds to one Galleon, capped at thirty Galleons per year. This is a subsidized rate courtesy of Hogwarts policy. Once you exceed that limit, the exchange rate skyrockets to match the actual market value of goblin-wrought gold. But I severely doubt you need to worry your little head about that right now."
"I certainly do not," Charlie agreed. He handed over his crumpled letter and his fifty-pound note.
A few moments later, he strolled out of the marble bank, the proud owner of ten heavy, clinking Galleons.
His next destination was Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop. It was undeniably the most popular storefront in all of Diagon Alley, boasting an even larger crowd of rowdy children than the broomstick shop next door. While it wasn't strictly a confectionary, it carried a highly respectable selection of magical treats.
The first things to catch his eye were naturally the two undisputed titans of the magical snack industry: Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and Chocolate Frogs.
After thoroughly stocking up on both, his gaze snagged on a large, writhing tray trapped beneath a glass dome. It was entirely filled with squirming, brightly colored slugs.
Jelly Slugs.
Bloody hell.
The sight of the gelatinous, undulating mass made Charlie's nose wrinkle in sheer disgust. He swiftly averted his eyes. They were made of jelly. Just imagining that specific texture combined with the shape of a slimy slug... Picture popping one into your mouth, giving it a gentle squeeze with your tongue, and feeling it burst right against your palate...
Bleh.
Charlie shook his head violently to dislodge the horrifying mental image. Giving his cheeks a brisk slap to reset his palate, he moved on to less traumatizing merchandise.
Ice Mice caught his attention next. They were thumb-sized, icy-blue hard candies that promised to make your teeth chatter and squeak. They came in four flavors: peppermint, raspberry, spearmint, and lavender. Charlie bought one of each.
He also grabbed several packs of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, a few Blood-Flavored Lollipops (strictly for research purposes, of course), and a handful of spun-sugar Caramel Cobwebs. Deliberately ignoring the Cockroach Clusters and the traumatic Jelly Slugs, he practically cleaned out the entire sweets section.
Emerging from Gambol and Japes laden with parcels, Charlie paused on the cobbled street and glanced up at a nearby gas lamp. A remarkably large fruit bat was hanging upside down from the ironwork, meticulously grooming its leathery wings.
Locking eyes with the yellow-eyed creature sparked a sudden idea. A visit to the pet shop was in order. He certainly wouldn't mind having a proper companion for his upcoming tenure at Hogwarts.
An owl was entirely out of the question. For one thing, Hogwarts provided a perfectly serviceable school owlery. More importantly, Charlie had absolutely no one to write to. He knew nobody. He had no friends. He was little more than a ghost haunting the streets of Chester. Honestly, he wasn't entirely certain he even existed on any official Muggle government registry.
The sign above the door read: Magical Menagerie.
Despite the grand name, the shop's interior was incredibly cramped. The very moment he stepped inside, he was violently assaulted by an overpowering, eye-watering stench that could only be described as a concentrated cocktail of a hundred unwashed animal enclosures. Charlie instantly pinched his nose shut, debating the horrific dilemma of breathing through his mouth. While it would spare his olfactory senses, tasting the air in here felt profoundly unhygienic.
Every single inch of wall space was covered in stacked cages. A chaotic symphony of squeaks, squawks, croaks, and hisses filled the room as the residents desperately tried to capture the attention of the browsing witches and wizards.
A pair of enormous purple toads gulped and let out a deafening, wet croak. Near the front window, a massive tortoise with a glittering, jewel-encrusted shell was busy showing off its finery. Poisonous orange snails were slowly oozing their way up the inside of a glass tank, while a plump shape-shifting rabbit kept popping into a silk top hat and back into a rabbit with a loud plop! There were cats of every conceivable color, a cage of exceptionally noisy ravens, bats, rats, double-ended newts, and spiky lizards. It was a true carnival of magical oddities.
"Looking for a companion for the school year, dear?" A young witch approached him. She looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, perhaps a freshly minted Hogwarts graduate.
She pointed toward a cage of sleek black rats.
"Fancy one of these? I know the official Hogwarts letter only specifies cats, owls, or toads. But the professors never mind if you bring a rat, a newt, or a similarly small fellow along."
"They don't look particularly magical," Charlie noted, squinting at the cage. "What exactly is the difference between these and the standard rodents loitering by the bins in London?"
"Well..." The witch paused to consider. "These are specially bred and trained magical variants. They are significantly more intelligent than your average street rat and will actually bond with and recognize their owners. It is the same principle for all the animals here. Take the owls, for instance. You certainly can't buy a post-delivering bird in the Muggle world."
"Fair point," Charlie conceded. His attention drifted to a small rabbit with ginger fur and a bright white belly.
The little creature was busy washing its face with its paws. Spotting Charlie leaning in, it froze, turned its massive, expressive eyes toward him, and set to work furiously twitching its nose.
"It certainly looks clever enough. Though I am a bit curious. If I take a small prey animal like a rabbit or a rat to a castle completely overrun with cats and owls, won't it just end up as someone's midnight snack?"
"Oh, absolutely not," the shop assistant reassured him. "In all the history of Hogwarts, there has never been a recorded incident of students' pets hunting one another."
She didn't elaborate on the why, and Charlie suspected she probably didn't know the mechanics behind it. But her tone was remarkably confident. Perhaps it had something to do with the magical breeding she mentioned earlier.
Charlie unlatched the cage door, intent on getting a closer look at the ginger furball. Without a second's hesitation, the rabbit launched itself directly into his waiting hands. Using his palms as a springboard, the creature vaulted up to his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, it leaped again, snatched Charlie's battered newsboy cap right off his head with its teeth, and tossed it away.
"Hey!" Charlie yelped, just managing to catch his hat mid-air.
Before he could grab the cheeky animal, the rabbit gave a vigorous shimmy. With a soft poof!, it vanished, instantly transforming itself into a pristine, rather stylish fedora resting perfectly atop Charlie's head.
"Oh..."
Charlie blinked in mild astonishment. Recovering his wits, he reached up, gave the brim of his new rabbit-hat a jaunty tip, and turned a brilliant smile toward the saleswoman.
"Tell me, how much is the ransom for my new friend here?"