Tredwell's Fine Leatherware sat just where McGonagall had indicated, next door to Twilfitt and Tatting's, which displayed expensive-looking robes in its windows.
The leather shop's storefront was more understated but no less elegant. The windows showcased beautifully crafted boots, shoes, and leather goods: satchels, briefcases, travelling bags, all in rich browns and blacks that gleamed with quality.
The sign above the door was simple: Tredwell's Fine Leatherware - Established 1847 in elegant gold script.
A bell chimed softly as they entered, and immediately James was struck by the smell of leather and polish, wax and wood. The shop was immaculately organized, with shoes displayed on mahogany shelves along one wall and leather goods arranged on tables and stands throughout the space. Everything gleamed, from the brass fixtures to the polished wood floor.
Behind the counter stood a man in his early forties with greying temples. He wore a leather apron over fine robes, and his eyes were a warm hazel that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
"Good afternoon," he said, his voice cultured and pleasant. "Welcome to Tredwell's. I'm Marcus Tredwell, third generation." He looked at James, at his parents, and at McGonagall. "Not our usual clientele, I must say. Students generally don't need fine leather goods. How may I help you?"
"Wand holster," Dad said. "And perhaps a school bag. First year Hogwarts student."
"Ah!" Tredwell's expression brightened. "Starting them off right, I see. Excellent. Many students neglect proper wand care and storage. Come, let me show you what we have."
He led them to a display case near the back of the shop where various wand holsters were arranged on velvet. They ranged from simple to ornate, from practical to decorative. Some were plain leather, others tooled with intricate designs. Some had additional pockets for other items, others were minimalist in the extreme.
"These holsters all have the same basic charms," Tredwell explained, gesturing to the display. "Featherlight weight, obviously. Quick-draw enchantment so the wand comes to hand smoothly when needed. Protection charms to prevent accidental discharge. And anti-theft wards keyed to the owner."
James examined the options. Some were too fancy, too ornate. He didn't want to draw attention to himself.
He selected a holster in simple brown leather, smooth and unadorned except for a subtle border of stitching. It was designed to be worn on the forearm, hidden beneath a sleeve, with a strap system that looked both comfortable and secure.
"Excellent choice," Tredwell said approvingly. "That's our most popular model for Auror trainees. Practical, yet durable and discreet. The leather is Kelpie hide, actually, so it's quite tough. Should last you well beyond your school years and is completely waterproof."
"And school bags?" Michael asked, eyeing the satchels displayed nearby. "Our son will need something to carry his books and supplies to class."
"Of course." Tredwell led them to another section where leather backpacks and satchels hung from brass hooks. "All of our school bags come with featherlight charms and expandable compartments. The question is really one of style and capacity."
James selected a backpack in dark brown leather, simple but well-made, with multiple pockets and compartments. It would hold his books easily and look professional without being pretentious.
"Both items?" Tredwell asked. When they nodded, he smiled. "That will be five Sickles total."
Michael counted out the silver coins, smaller than Galleons but still substantial, and Tredwell wrapped the holster and bag carefully before handing everything over.
"Wear it in good health," he said. "And remember, the holster will shape itself to your arm after a few days of wear. Don't be alarmed if it feels a bit stiff at first."
Back on the street, James immediately strapped the holster to his right forearm, sliding his wand into place. The feeling of security it provided was immediate. His wand was safe, protected, and easily accessible.
"Right," McGonagall said, consulting a mental list. "Robes next, I think. Madam Malkin's is just a few shops down."
Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions occupied a prominent corner location, its large windows displaying an array of robes in every color imaginable. But it was the window display that caught the eye, robes that modeled themselves, walking back and forth on invisible bodies, showing off their cut and drape. One set of formal robes did a little spin, the fabric billowing dramatically.
The shop was painted a cheerful yellow, and the sign above the door showed a witch in elegant robes holding a needle and thread that appeared to be sewing by themselves.
Inside, the shop was bright and busy. Rolls of fabric in every color lined the walls. Mannequins stood in various states of dress, some having their measurements taken by animated tape measures. A shop assistant near the back was arranging robes on racks with subtle flicks of her wand, the garments floating into place like obedient birds.
A squat, smiling witch in mauve robes appeared from a back room, her grey hair pinned up with what looked like actual sewing needles. "Welcome, welcome!" she said cheerfully. "I'm Madam Malkin. What can I do for you today?"
"First year Hogwarts," James said.
"Oh, wonderful! Another new student. We've been quiet since the start of the term." She pulled out a long measuring tape that immediately began to measure James of its own accord, just as Ollivander's had done, though with less manic energy. "Up on the stool, dear. That's it."
James stood on a low platform while the tape worked, measuring inseam and sleeve length, shoulder width, and collar size. Madam Malkin watched the numbers appear in the air beside him, nodding thoughtfully.
"Standard build for your age, nice and straightforward. Lucky you, dear, we have the first-year sets already prepared in the back. Just need to adjust for your specific measurements." She waved her wand and called out, "First year set, male!"
Within moments, an assistant emerged from the back room, levitating a stack of black robes, a pointed hat, a pair of gloves, and a winter cloak. Madam Malkin examined each piece critically, making small adjustments with her wand, a hem here, a sleeve length there.
"Three sets of work robes," she narrated as she worked. "Plain black, as required. One pointed hat for day wear, never understood that rule myself, dreadfully impractical, and unbearably ugly, but tradition is tradition. One pair of protective gloves, dragon hide, of course. And one winter cloak with silver fastenings. There we are!"
She handed the stack to Yara, who'd been watching the process with fascination. "Everything labeled with his name, laundering charms already applied, growth enchantments to last through his growth spurts. He'll need new robes around third or fourth year when the growth enchantments reach their limit, but these should serve him well until then."
"Growth enchantments?" Michael asked.
"Oh yes, essential for children. The robes will adjust as he grows, within reason. Saves families a fortune in constant replacements." Madam Malkin beamed at them. "That will be 7 Sickles for the complete set."
The transaction completed quickly, and they were back on the street within minutes, James's new uniform carefully folded in a bag.
"Books next?" McGonagall suggested.
"Actually," Yara said, consulting the list they'd been given, "might we get the remaining items first? Cauldron, scales, telescope, that sort of thing. Then we can browse the bookshop at our leisure. I suspect we'll want to take our time there."
McGonagall's lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "A wise strategy, Mrs. Acton. Very well. Slug and Jiggers for potion supplies, then Wiseacre's for equipment."
Slug and Jiggers Apothecary was easily identified by the smell that wafted from its doorway, a pungent mixture of herbs, minerals, and things James couldn't identify but suspected were better left unexamined. The shop window displayed jars of ingredients that ranged from the mundane to the disturbing. Dried nettles next to pickled eyeballs. Crystals beside what looked suspiciously like preserved organs.
Inside was dark and cramped, every surface covered with jars, bottles, vials, and containers of every size. The ingredients ranged from plants and minerals to things that moved in their containers, writhing or pulsing or glowing faintly. The shopkeeper, a sallow-faced wizard with greasy hair, looked up from his mortar and pestle as they entered.
"First year?" he asked without preamble.
"Yes," James confirmed.
The man nodded and disappeared into the back. He returned with a box containing a pewter cauldron (size 2, as required) and several packages. "Standard potion supplies," he said. "Basic ingredients kit, includes everything on the first-year list. 3 Sickles."
Yara peered into one of the jars on the counter, which contained something that looked like slugs preserved in murky liquid. She made a face. "This is what you'll be working with?"
"Potions is a precise science," McGonagall said. "Rather like chemistry, but with magical properties. Many students find it quite rewarding."
Michael paid, trying not to look too closely at the various specimens around them. "Right. Next shop, then?"
Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment was a pleasant relief after the apothecary. The shop was bright and cheerful, with wide windows and displays that showcased the kind of equipment that made even Muggle hearts beat faster. It had everything from the practical to the fantastical, organized with care on polished shelves.
The shopkeeper was a youngish man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, with a close-shaved beard and bright, enthusiastic eyes. He wore practical robes with multiple pockets, each seemingly containing some small tool or interesting object.
"Welcome!" he said brightly. "I'm Wesley Wiseacre, and this is my family's shop. What brings you in today?"
"First year equipment," McGonagall said. "Telescope, brass scales, crystal vials."
"Excellent choices, excellent!" Wesley moved through the shop with the energy of someone who loved what they did. "Our telescopes are all charmed for clarity and stability. These scales are calibrated for potion ingredients, precise to the milligram. And our crystal vials come in sets of twelve, with preservation charms."
But James was barely listening. His attention had been caught by the other items in the shop. Maps that showed locations in real time, the little indicators moving as people moved. Compasses that pointed not to the north but to different places. Enchanted medieval weaponry, and many things he couldn't even recognize.
"You have a wonderful collection," Michael said, examining an astrolabe that appeared to track not just stars but magical phenomena.
"Thank you! The shop's been in my family for six generations. We pride ourselves on carrying equipment for every possible need." Wesley beamed at them. "Now, for your son, standard telescope, scales, and vials. Will that be all?"
"Actually," James said, "could I get double the vials? I plan to practice potion-making beyond class requirements."
Wesley's grin widened. "A student after my own heart! Extra practice is never wasted. I'll throw in a second set at a discount. Say, one Galleon for the lot?"
Yara looked at James with surprise. "You're interested in potions?"
"I'm interested in understanding how magic works," James said, which was true enough. "Potions seem like a good place to start."
They completed the purchase and stepped back onto Diagon Alley's main thoroughfare. Only one destination remained: Flourish and Blotts.
The bookshop was impossible to miss. It occupied a large corner building, three stories tall, with windows that displayed books floating in intricate patterns. Some books flew in formation like birds. Others stacked and unstacked themselves, showing off their spines. The window display changed as they watched, different titles rotating through the showcase.
Above the door, elegant gold letters spelled out: Flourish and Blotts - Booksellers Since 1654.
They entered to find a space that seemed to expand beyond physical possibility. Row upon row of shelves stretched into the distance, packed with books on every conceivable subject. The smell of paper and leather, and magic filled the air. Several other customers browsed the stacks, and shop assistants moved efficiently between shelves, using magic to reach high places or organize heavy volumes.
A middle-aged wizard stood behind the main counter, processing purchases with a quill that wrote in his ledger by itself. He looked up as they entered, nodding politely before returning to his work.
McGonagall stopped one of the assistants, a young witch with flyaway brown hair and ink stains on her fingers. "First year Hogwarts book list, please."
The assistant's wand flicked, and books began flying from the shelves like homing pigeons. They stacked themselves neatly in midair before settling on the counter: The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1), A History of Magic, Magical Theory, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Magical Drafts and Potions, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and finally, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.
"You're lucky," the assistant said. "We actually have the Defense text in stock already. Usually, we don't stock the new year's DADA book until closer to September, but we received an early order this year."
"Professor Quirrell submitted his book selection before departing on his sabbatical," McGonagall explained. "Quite unusual for him, actually. He's usually rather... disorganized."
"1 Galleon for the set," the assistant said.
But before anyone could pay, the three Actons had dispersed like a well-coordinated invasion force.
Yara made a beeline for a section marked "Magical Medicine and Healing," her eyes lighting up as she scanned titles like Advanced Healing Potions and Magical Maladies: A Comprehensive Guide.
Michael had found the section on wizarding law and customs, pulling down books with titles like Wizarding Britain: A Legal Overview and The Politics of Magic: Ministry Structure and Function.
And James had located the section on elective subjects, examining books on Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and other courses he'd only read about in fiction.
The assistant looked somewhat shocked at the family's enthusiasm. She glanced at McGonagall, who had a small smile playing around her lips.
"Professor," Michael called out, suddenly remembering their guide. "I apologize, we've completely forgotten you have other obligations. We're taking up far too much of your time."
McGonagall cleared her throat delicately. "Not at all, Mr. Acton. Though I confess I should be returning to Hogwarts soon. But I see you're quite... absorbed in your shopping."
"Can we stay?" Yara asked, looking up from a book on diagnostic spells. "Visit the other shops on our own?"
"Of course," McGonagall said. "You may visit any shop in Diagon Alley that you wish. I would, however, suggest staying away from Knockturn Alley." Her expression grew stern. "It's an area of ill repute, filled with shops that deal in Dark artifacts and less savory merchandise. Not suitable for children or anyone who values their safety."
"We'll avoid it," Michael promised immediately.
"You can leave the same way you entered, through the Leaky Cauldron". McGonagall prepared to depart, then paused and turned to James and said, "Goodbye, Mr. Acton. I am looking forward to having you at Hogwarts." "Now, I'll be Apparating back to Hogwarts."
Michael looked confused. "Apparating?"
"Other Muggleborns have compared it to teleportation," McGonagall explained.
Yara's whisper was audible throughout the shop. "Wizards can teleport as well?"
McGonagall simply nodded, a hint of amusement in her expression. "Welcome to the wizarding world, Mrs. Acton. I suspect you'll find many more surprises await you."
With that, she turned and walked toward the door. The bell chimed as she exited, and through the window, they saw her step into a quiet corner of the alley. There was a soft crack of displaced air, and she was simply... gone.
The three Actons stood in Flourish and Blotts, surrounded by more books than they could possibly read in a lifetime, with a whole magical world spread out before them waiting to be explored.
James looked at his parents, both of whom were grinning like children in a candy shop.
"So," his father said, already reaching for another book on wizarding history. "Where do we start?"
And together, the Acton family dove into the wonders of magical literature, three minds hungry for knowledge finally given unlimited access to an entirely new field of study.
It was, James thought as he pulled down a book on advanced spell theory, possibly the best day of his second life.