"Would you like to open a personal vault for your private assets? The price is quite reasonable."
"Very well. Gringotts welcomes your esteemed presence at any time."
Walking out of Gringotts, Albert looked down at the small bag in his hand with quiet interest.
The bag was embroidered with the Gringotts emblem and made from a thick, high-quality fabric. It was both practical and aesthetically pleasing. Albert could sense two distinct layers of magic woven into it. One enchantment expanded the internal space, while the other stabilized the structure, ensuring the first enchantment would not collapse over time.
With proper maintenance, the bag would last one to two years. The interior space measured roughly two cubic meters.
Albert casually slipped the bag into his sleeve. After a few steps, he retrieved it again—now empty—and handed it to Harry.
"Use this to carry things later," Albert said.
Harry accepted it quickly. When he lifted the bag, a crisp jingling sound echoed from within.
"The extra change is for you," Albert added, already walking ahead without turning back.
Harry froze for a moment, then nodded vigorously, clutching the bag with both hands.
"Th-thank you, Uncle Albert."
Albert did not respond. His attention had shifted to the witches and wizards moving through Diagon Alley. As he observed them, a faint sense of dissonance crept into his mind.
Their clothing…
It looked as though it belonged in the seventeenth century.
The long robes, the layered cloaks, the archaic cuts—everything reminded him uncomfortably of the era he had once experienced in Pirates of the Caribbean. Perhaps it matched perfectly with how ordinary people imagined wizards: ancient robes that covered the entire body and carried a lingering scent of herbs.
Had the wizarding world truly become so detached from modern society?
It was… strange.
"Uncle Albert, where are we going first?" Harry asked as he caught up.
"The bookstore," Albert replied without hesitation.
Earlier, he had noticed a shop called Flourish and Blotts. From the outside alone, it appeared extensive. Albert was deeply curious about the magic system of this world—its history, its evolution, and the structure of the modern wizarding society.
The bookstore was relatively quiet when they entered. Albert scanned the shelves and noticed not only spellbooks but also newspapers and magazines. The images printed on their pages moved on their own.
That alone was fascinating.
"Sir," a clerk said politely, stepping forward. "Are you here to purchase Hogwarts admission textbooks for your child? We offer integrated packages at a discount."
Albert nodded and followed the clerk to the display.
Under the clerk's guidance, Albert examined the full set of Hogwarts textbooks—from first year through seventh.
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
Basic Transfiguration.
A Modern History of Magic.
"I want all of them," Albert said calmly. "From first year to seventh."
"…All of them?" The clerk blinked, hesitating. "Do you… have seven children at home?"
Albert stared at him in silence for several seconds, momentarily stunned by the question.
"I want to read them," he finally replied.
"Oh—ah. Of course." The clerk coughed awkwardly and nodded.
After that, Albert continued browsing. He did not linger on most books, merely flipping through the table of contents before deciding whether to buy them. Unfortunately, almost everything available was mass-published material. That meant the knowledge inside was unlikely to reach truly advanced levels.
Still, there were exceptions.
Books such as Ancient and Modern Dark Wizards and The Origins of Alchemy hinted at deeper layers of magical theory. From these, Albert believed he could extract clues leading to more sophisticated knowledge.
There was a saying he strongly agreed with:
The more books you read, the more you realize how little you know—and the more clearly you understand what you should read next.
Among all the books, one stood out the most to him.
The Encyclopedia of Household Spells.
It contained magic for washing dishes, doing laundry, drying clothes instantly, removing dust, and maintaining cleanliness.
Ridiculously practical.
The spells were simple and intuitive. Even a young wizard could master them quickly, making the book perfect as an introduction.
Harry would definitely enjoy learning a few of these.
Absolutely.
Half an hour later, Harry staggered out of Flourish and Blotts with a visibly swollen bag in his arms. Inside were all the books Albert had selected.
The total cost exceeded three hundred Galleons.
Even the shop owner was visibly shaken by the purchase.
By the time they left the bookstore, it was close to noon. After eating a simple meal at a roadside stall, Albert sat outside a small café to rest.
Harry, meanwhile, had been sent to a nearby snack shop. Earlier, Albert had noticed how the boy's eyes lingered on it each time they passed.
So Albert chose to pause, giving Harry a little freedom.
More than ten minutes later, Harry ran back, his face glowing with excitement.
"Uncle Albert! Open your hand!"
Albert raised an eyebrow but complied.
Something squirming was dropped into his palm.
A caterpillar? Something alive?
But Albert was an experienced wizard—and a cat. There was nothing to fear.
The moment he opened his hand, a black shape leapt toward his face.
He caught it instantly.
It was a chocolate frog.
"…Honestly, you startled me," Albert said solemnly.
Harry stared at him, disappointed. "You didn't even change your expression."
Albert adjusted his coat and smiled faintly.
"A mature wizard never lets others see his emotional fluctuations. In truth, my heart is still racing."
"…Maybe," Harry said skeptically. Then he asked, "So where are we going now?"
"Knockturn Alley."
Albert had only just heard of it—an alley rumored to be quite different from Diagon Alley.
Naturally, that made it interesting.
Knockturn Alley lay just behind Gringotts. Within a few steps, they reached its entrance.
The moment Harry stepped inside, a foul stench hit his nose. Sewage lined the ground, black-green moss clinging to cracked walls. The plaster on many buildings had peeled away, exposing decay beneath.
The bluestone steps were uneven and chaotic, forcing visitors to carefully watch their footing.
After descending several meters, the alley widened. Dirty, blackened windows lined the walls.
Harry looked up—and nearly screamed.
A shrunken head hung before him.
"This is American tribal witchcraft from the Age of Discovery," Albert explained calmly. "The Jivaro people would shrink the heads of enemies and imbue them with power. Carrying one enhanced the warrior's strength."
He paused.
"There are also Maori heads. Similar origin. Primitive. Bloody. And powerful."
Harry instinctively moved closer to Albert.
This place felt nothing like Diagon Alley.
Several poorly dressed wizards soon noticed them. Whispering began. Malicious gazes followed.
Knockturn Alley was a small circle. Everyone recognized everyone else.
Albert was new.
A few wizards stepped forward, forming a loose semicircle.
One raised his wand.
"You withdrew a large sum of money and still dared to come here. Hand it over."
Albert looked mildly surprised.
"You saw me withdraw it?"
The man grinned. "With my own eyes."
"Stupefy!"
A red bolt shot forward.
"Uncle Albert!" Harry cried, rushing forward.
Albert casually swatted the spell aside.
"Why do you think I dared to come here?" Albert asked softly. "Do you really believe trash like you could threaten me?"
He turned to Harry and gently rubbed his head.
"Don't confuse me with them."
Harry looked up at him and saw the faint smile he knew so well.
It was absolute arrogance.
"What do you think the wizarding world truly is?" Albert asked.
"Enough!" the man shouted, enraged.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green light burst forward.
The others followed, spells flashing like electric arcs.
Albert snapped his fingers.
A blue wave exploded outward, dispersing every spell.
"Magic reduced to waves," Albert murmured. "Disappointing."
Seven luminous spears appeared in the air, each aimed at one wizard.
Then—
A green light bloomed.
Albert's body shattered like torn cloth.
Harry screamed.
"No!"
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