Chapter 4: Diagon Alley
Professor Dumbledore had indeed returned the following day to take Tom to Diagon Alley to assist him in shopping for school supplies.
Apparently, Wizarding London was located behind a tiny, rather inconspicuous public house named the Leaky Cauldron, which would have been a brilliant idea if it hadn't been for the name. Then again, most people didn't believe in magic anyway, so maybe he'd let that one whim slide.
"Welcome," Professor Dumbledore said grandly, "to Diagon Alley."
"Whoa," Tom breathed, partly out of awe, but mostly out of exaggerated interest. Admittedly, the fact that a place like this could remain completely hidden was quite impressive; however, what exactly was hidden remained to be assessed.
You know, apart from the whole "moving brick wall" and "mysterious shopping center inside pocket of universe" thing, this isn't that amazing. I mean, it's just like any other shopping center. Except smaller, and more medieval, and…magic.
Wow. Ungrateful.
You mean realistic.
You are such a little cynic.
I was born with the voice of a grown man inside my head. Of course I would be a cynic.
Tom, naturally, had been extremely put off by the fact that there was a very eccentric old man following him around all the time (it was just shopping; it wasn't as if they were going to ship him off to war or something, and he certainly didn't need anyone to hold his hand, even in this new place!), but at the very least Jerry had been correct in that Professor Dumbledore commanded a great deal of respect.
Nearly everyone seemed to know him – though Tom eventually realized that of course they'd know him; Hogwarts is the only damn school in Magical Britain and he teaches one of the "core" subjects!
Well, of course.
Let me guess – it's the same in all the other magical countries?
As far as I'm aware of. Maybe the more highly populated ones have multiple academies, but there's still going to be very few.
This conquering the world business might be more complicated than originally estimated, if we live in a society where nearly everyone knows each other.
Unless I become a teacher, too. Then I can influence entire generations of people without ever losing anyone's trust. The teachers here seem to have a very unrealistic information monopoly.
Well, of course. Moriarty was a professor, too. His only mistake was leaving a paper trail for Sherlock Holmes to meddle in.
To be honest, these wizards don't seem too bright, Tom thought, frowning at a few old-fashioned quills in Flourish and Blotts.
It's nineteen thirty-seven and they're still acting like they're in the Middle Ages. Slightly cleaner, but still. The Middle Ages. If I was a wizard, I'd mass produce stuff like we mass produced those Christmas candies, and then overload the Muggle market with them and screw everyone over.
And I'll never go out of business no matter how low the price drops because magic doesn't cost me anything to use.
Now that's what I call economics on steroids.
Steroids?
Never mind. Futuristic reference.
Sometimes I wonder if you're making all this stuff up.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Tom asked. "I know we have a limited amount of money, but I was wondering if I could get a few more books. You know, on wizards' laws and customs, so I don't accidentally do something wrong or offend people. I'm fine with using cheaper Muggle things instead of those quills; honestly."
"I'm afraid quills are just another Wizard tradition," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling. "But not to worry. A few extra books does not hurt my wallet much. Consider this a gift."
"Oh, no, I couldn't, Professor," Tom said meekly.
"There is no harm in helping another person, Tom," said Professor Dumbledore.
"It's not that…it's just…I don't have anything to give you in return…"
"Gratitude is more than enough."
"Then…er…thank you so very much, Professor." Tom offered him an awkward grin.
"Oh, you are quite welcome, Tom."
"I really do want to give you something in return. It's only polite," Tom pushed. "I haven't got much money, but…"
"Oh, there's really no need for that, Tom."
Offer to get him thick woolly socks for Christmas.
What?
Just trust me.
"…I'll get you some thick woolly socks for Christmas or something," Tom mumbled.
Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "That is very kind of you, Tom. I've always wanted thick, woolly socks. People always insist on giving me books simply because I have a career in academia. It's very frustrating."
"I'm sure it is," Tom replied, smiling awkwardly again.
Internally, however, his state of mind was a completely different story.
How did you know that? he demanded.
I told you; I'm from the future, Jerry yawned. I know these things.
What about MY future?
I can't tell you that. It would cause a paradox.
Oh for the love of…You don't seem too concerned about telling me about other peoples' futures!
Whatever. Just pay attention.
They continued walking through the shops, buying textbooks, robes, and the like. Some of them were quite fascinating, and others basically a weird wizard version of the same Muggle things.
Tom wondered which one had come first. Probably the wizards had adapted from the Muggle way of doing things via a bunch of rather inventive and opportunistic Muggle-borns, because Tom couldn't think of doing it backwards. Besides, it wasn't as if there were Muggles here to copy the wizards in reverse.
Along the way, Professor Dumbledore continued to point out important landmarks, such as what the Leaky Cauldron looked like from the back of Diagon Alley, certain stores, and Gringotts, the wizarding bank, which also happened to be run by goblins.
And everyone keeps their money here? Tom asked.
Yep.
But surely they've got to have multiple branches, right?
Nope.
But what if the bank fails, and everyone loses all their money?...
One: the Wizarding World still operates on the gold standard. Two: there are no standard protection laws, meaning if you fail to repay a loan to the goblins, they will find a way to get every cent of it back from you somehow, including slave labor – you don't get to declare any bankruptcy.
Even if you die and have no heirs, the goblins will repossess everything you ever held dear and outprice the hell out of it. Three: the economic situation is much simpler than that of the Muggle world.
No stock market, or loans, or buying on margin, or any of that overspeculation business that led to the Great Depression.
I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. It sounds really boring to me. What are my options in this place, anyway? It sounds very limited.
Well, you could become a teacher. Or a shopkeeper. Or a government worker. Or you could pull some strings to marry into a rich family somehow and never have to work again.
...And that's about it. Yeah.
And a Dark Lord?
You can't exactly broadcast something like that to the world.
…Teacher it is, then.
I thought so.
…Wizards are stupid.
Which we can take advantage of. Ask him what the Muggle-Wizard exchange rate is.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Tom asked. "Is it possible to convert Muggle money to this Wizard money? Or do all the Muggle-born kids like me, even ones with family of their own, have to use the charity system?..."
"There is an exchange rate, yes. I am not quite sure what it is, though. I know it has something to do with the current price of gold in the Muggle world, whatever it is in each of the different currencies in every country.
Galleons are a secret alloy made by the goblins, so it cannot be melted down, and constantly adjust in quality to keep the market stable. The Goblin Nation has ways of keeping these tabs."
Damn. And here I thought we could create an infinite loop of gold-to-paper money exchange. I wonder if the goblins know what German Marks are really worth right now…?
Isn't it getting a little better, though? Because of Hitler and whatnot?
Yeah, well, the numbers still fluctuate. It should take a little while for the goblins to adjust, at least. And if it doesn't, we can always make a fortune introducing pencils.
Pencils.
Yes. Magical quills that allow you to correct mistakes and don't smudge.
And then we take over the world with this money.
Obviously. But first we have to create a secret identity and a power base. An eleven-year-old, even in disguise, would look very suspicious, waltzing into this tiny society and suddenly making a boatload of money.
I wonder why we have to buy all this stuff, Tom mused, looking at his bags of robes. They're wizards. Can't they just make this stuff themselves?
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