Early the next morning, Strange brought Everett to the Leaky Cauldron.
Before leaving, Strange made sure Everett drank several potions and changed into clothes that looked... unusual.
Everett didn't understand why this was necessary, but he wisely chose not to ask.
As he followed Strange into the narrow-looking pub, an odd feeling crept over him.
Why was there such a retro place hidden in modern London?
That question was quickly answered.
The people inside were dressed nothing like he had been before.
"What is this place?" Everett finally asked when they reached the second floor.
"The Leaky Cauldron," Strange whispered. "Ordinary people can't see it. Only those with magic can."
"The guests here are far more complicated than those at the Three Broomsticks. You can stay here, and it's close to Diagon Alley."
"Ordinary people can't see it?" Everett's eyes lit up. "Is that the potion's effect? That's amazing!"
Then he paused.
"Oh-wait. What's Diagon Alley?"
"The most prosperous shopping street in the British magical world," Strange sighed. "Most top magical brands have flagship stores there."
"The entrance is the courtyard out back. Once you step in, you've officially entered the magical world."
"The backyard?" Everett nodded, then froze. "Wait. If it's in the backyard, why did we come upstairs?"
Strange looked at him.
Like he'd just asked something profoundly stupid.
It had to be said-Everett's reaction speed had dropped sharply since entering the magical world.
Strange remembered his own first experiences.
He definitely hadn't been this slow.
Besides, they were here to try their luck.
No point explaining too much.
The current owner of the Leaky Cauldron was Hannah Abbott.
She was from the same era as his mentor, and also the wife of his Herbology professor, Neville Longbottom.
Strange knew the recent history of the magical world well.
He also knew Hannah was one of the earliest members of the Mage Alliance.
Strange himself had never been to Diagon Alley.
He only knew of it.
So the only thing he could do was come here and ask for help-assuming his professor wasn't teaching today and had returned.
They stopped at a door on the second floor.
Strange took a breath and knocked gently.
"Who is it?" a woman's voice called from inside.
Strange felt a flicker of disappointment, but answered honestly.
"Excuse me. Is this Mrs. Hannah Longbottom?"
"Yes. Who else would it be?"
The door opened.
A woman in her early thirties stood before them, long golden hair falling naturally over her shoulders.
She wasn't strikingly beautiful.
But she had a unique presence.
This was Hannah Abbott.
"And you two are?" she asked, tilting her head. "I don't believe I've seen you before."
"Uh... I'm Professor Longbottom's student," Strange said hesitantly.
He had always used a fake name around Everett.
And Everett was clearly doing the same.
Normally, that kind of thing was understood without explanation.
But now, Strange had a headache.
He had no idea whether his professor had ever mentioned him to his wife.
"You're Neville's student?" Hannah smiled faintly. "You must be mistaken. Neville is about your age. Maybe younger."
"I really did study with Professor Longbottom," Strange sighed.
He felt unlucky.
Shaking his head, he decided not to argue further.
He turned to leave.
Then stopped.
As if remembering something.
Strange pulled out a ring and handed it to Hannah.
It was a simple golden ring, old-fashioned in design.
Nothing flashy.
The only distinguishing feature was the faintly engraved letters: TOL.
And a subtle trace of magic.
This ring had been left behind by Noah when he sent Strange to 221B Baker Street.
Strange was under special observation.
Noah wouldn't just leave him unattended.
To Noah, exorcism work was trivial.
To Strange, it was not.
The ring contained Noah's magic.
If Strange faced a fatal injury, it could block it completely.
It would also send feedback to Noah, allowing him to decide whether to intervene.
As for the letters-they were simply shorthand for the London Sanctum.
A product of Noah's boredom.
The true value lay in the magic.
Every sorcerer's power was unique.
Like craftsmanship-no two were the same.
Strange only hoped Hannah would recognize its owner.
That would save him a lot of trouble.
"This is..." Hannah took the ring, studying it closely. "Who gave you this?"
"My mentor," Strange said quietly. "He left magic inside it."
"Ancient protection magic?" Hannah muttered.
She casually tossed the ring once.
Then directly sent her mental power inside.
Her expression changed instantly.
Shock.
Then agitation.
Everett noticed immediately and tugged at Strange's sleeve.
Strange shook him off sharply with his arm.
Don't cause trouble.
Everett calmed down.
He trusted Strange.
Still, his curiosity grew.
What kind of mentor could cause this reaction?
"You're Noah's apprentice..." Hannah said slowly.
Then paused.
"No. You're Archmage Finiel's apprentice?"
"Yes, Madam," Strange nodded. "When my mentor was with Professor Longbottom, Professor Longbottom called him by name."
"Damn him!"
Hannah's brows twitched violently.
"So rude! And he didn't tell me again?"
"Four years ago he ran off to New York with Ernie and those scoundrels without a word-and now again?"
"Is he trying to get himself killed?"
Strange fell silent.
He hadn't expected this level of emotional whiplash.
He had never intended to rely on his mentor's reputation.
He was sure his mentor wouldn't approve.
But this time, he had no choice.
Everett was stunned.
He'd assumed Holmes's mentor was powerful.
But this was beyond "powerful."
After a long moment, Hannah calmed down.
She examined Strange carefully.
"I never thought Noah would take you as an apprentice," she said. "You're older than him."
"Probably," Strange replied. "My mentor still looks like he's in his twenties."
"I see."
Hannah nodded.
"Since you're his apprentice-do you need anything from Neville? He's still at Hogwarts."
"If you're in trouble, you can tell me."
"This is my first time in Diagon Alley," Strange said directly. "I need to exchange Galleons and buy some materials. I don't know where to go."
"Is that all?"
Hannah looked at him, then realized something.
"Oh. You're working as an exorcist now, aren't you?"
"That really is Noah's style."
"Wait here."
She turned and went back inside.
Strange let out a quiet sigh.
As expected.
His mentor was absurdly powerful.
"S-Sherlock," Everett asked softly, "who is your mentor?"
"The landlady seems very familiar with him."
"She is," Strange replied. "Her relationship with my mentor is very good. Her husband-my Potions professor-participated in the Battle of New York."
"They're close."
"My god," Everett murmured. "Your mentor fought in the Battle of New York?"
"He must be incredibly powerful."
"Indeed," Strange said calmly.
"Very powerful."
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