"This is it!" Hagrid said to the two, pointing at a small, grimy pub. "The Leaky Cauldron—the entrance to Diagon Alley. A very famous place in London's wizarding world."
In the already bustling city, the pub looked as run-down as a relic from the previous century.
The Leaky Cauldron was wedged between a large bookstore and a record shop. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Brian likely wouldn't have even glanced at it.
Pedestrians hurried past, but not a single soul from the usually curious crowd stopped to notice the peculiar pub.
"This is a gathering place for wizards," Hagrid explained, pushing open the large wooden door. "It's been enchanted with protective charms and Muggle-repelling spells."
As a central hub for London's magical community, the place seemed wildly misnamed. The interior was dim and filthy, with mismatched furniture scattered across the floor. A few elderly witches were sipping from tiny cups at a mahogany table, while burly men at an iron table munched on clusters of cockroaches. A man in a top hat chatted with the barkeep.
The moment they entered, the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Everyone turned to greet Hagrid. The pub owner lifted a glass and called out, "Hagrid! Another one?"
"No, Tom. I'm on business for Hogwarts—next time," Hagrid replied, glancing at Tom and blinking pointedly. "Harry's here too. It'd be rude to drink in front of a child."
"My goodness!" the pub owner exclaimed, leaning forward to examine Brian. "Is this… Could it be?"
Before Brian could speak, Tom rushed from behind the bar, seized Brian's hand, and, eyes shining with tears of joy, cried, "Welcome back, Mr. Potter! Welcome back!"
Brian: … (Here it comes. Trouble!)
He sighed, covered his face with his free hand, and pointed to Harry, who was half-hidden behind him. "Excuse me, sir. I think you've got the wrong person. This is Mr. Potter."
The pub fell silent once again as every eye turned to Harry. He gave a sheepish smile, clearly uncomfortable under the weight of everyone's attention. Even Brian, standing beside him, felt a twinge of unease. Then came the scraping of chairs as several patrons rushed forward to shake Harry's hand.
A pale, nervous young man wearing a large hood approached. Hagrid introduced him: "This is Professor Quirrell—one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
Brian and Harry bowed politely. Quirrell's eyes, however, were fixed only on Harry. He gave Brian a distracted wave, then grabbed Harry's hand, stammering, "P-Potter! I-I'm so, so delighted to meet you!"
Brian observed the scene with a strange expression. If he remembered correctly, this man was supposed to be the "final boss" of their first year. He wondered what kind of expression Harry would make once he realized that.
It took Harry a full half-hour to escape the crowd. He shot Hagrid a pleading look, and only then did Hagrid raise his voice.
"Harry, we've got loads to buy! Let's go, Brian!"
They exited through the pub and entered a small, walled courtyard. The only things inside were a rubbish bin and some weeds.
Harry stopped and asked, "Why do they all know me? I've never seen any of them."
Hagrid grinned. "Didn't I tell you? You're famous." He turned back to the wall and began counting bricks. "Three up, two across… All right, stand back."
He tapped the wall three times with the tip of his umbrella.
The brick he tapped quivered and began to shift. A small hole appeared, widening steadily until it became a large archway—tall enough even for Hagrid to walk through.
"Welcome!" he declared grandly. "Welcome to Diagon Alley!"
The trio followed a winding cobblestone path and, after turning a corner, emerged into the heart of the wizarding marketplace. Their eyes lit up at the sight.
Bluestone pavements stretched in all directions, flanked by heavy-walled buildings with a mysterious air. The shops, with their rustic charm and time-worn structures, stood solemnly in the sunlight.
A glint of sunlight reflected off Harry's face. Turning toward it, they saw a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Above them hung a sign:
Copper – Brass – Pewter – Silver Cauldrons, all sizes.Self-Stirring – Collapsible.
"You'll need to buy one," Hagrid said, glancing at them both. "But first, we need some money."
They arrived at a gleaming white building that towered above the surrounding shops. Two goblins in scarlet, gold-trimmed uniforms stood beside the massive bronze doors. With their long, pointed beards and shrewd expressions, they looked thoroughly untrusting.
The trio ascended the white stone steps into a towering marble hall. The goblins at the doors bowed as they passed.
Inside, about a hundred goblins perched on high stools behind rows of counters. Some weighed gold coins on brass scales. Others examined gemstones through monocles, scribbling into ledgers. Around the hall, various doors opened and closed as goblins escorted customers to and from vaults.
They approached one of the counters. "Morning," Hagrid greeted a free goblin. "Mr. Brian here needs to exchange some galleons."
"I'd like to exchange one hundred and fifty galleons, sir," Brian said, handing over a stack of British pounds.
"One-to-five exchange rate," the goblin replied. "If you find that acceptable, we can continue doing business in the future."
Hogwarts, though known as a "public school," provided seven years of compulsory education without tuition. But robes, books, wands, and magical supplies still came at the student's own expense—and those costs varied wildly, some shockingly high.
Brian's mind wandered into darker thoughts. This free-plus-fee model was all too familiar from his previous life. Was Hogwarts the original mastermind of this scheme?
He wouldn't be surprised if Hogwarts was the silent investor behind Diagon Alley, collecting a cut from all the shops. That would certainly explain the outrageous prices.
The goblin handed Brian a small parchment pouch of galleons, then turned to Hagrid expectantly.
"We also need to withdraw from Mr. Harry Potter's vault."
"Do you have the key, sir?"
"I've got it," Hagrid said, fishing a tiny golden key from a pile of trinkets in his pocket. "And a letter from Professor Dumbledore regarding the item in vault 713." His tone grew serious as he lowered his voice.
The goblin carefully read the letter, weighed it in his hand, then examined the key through a monocle. At last, he nodded, returned the items to Hagrid, and snapped his fingers.
"No problem. I'll have someone escort you to the vaults. Griphook!"
Hagrid tucked the letter away, placed the key back into his pocket, and turned to Brian.
"Coming with us?"
"I'll wait here with the goblins, Mr. Hagrid," Brian replied with a smile.
Harry looked disappointed, though he said nothing. Brian had treated him with a quiet respect that stood in stark contrast to the bullying he'd endured from Dudley and his gang. That respect meant something.
Hagrid was a little surprised, but pleased with Brian's attitude. He said a few words about waiting there and that they'd be back soon. Then, with Harry in tow, he followed Griphook through one of the many doors leading deeper into Gringotts.