Chapter 6
Chapter 6
After Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall left, Mr. and Mrs. Ellison remained dazed for a long time.
They no longer objected to Suer attending Hogwarts, however.
Angel played herself into a frenzy that night.
Mrs. Ellison rediscovered her inner child and fulfilled a lifelong dream by riding the unicorn too, though she was rather too large for the little creature Dumbledore had conjured specifically for Angel.
His magic lasted through the night. The next morning, the unicorn turned back into an ordinary chair.
Naturally, Angel burst into tears. She clung desperately to the restored chair and refused to let anyone touch it, including her favourite brother, Suer.
After that, she pestered him every day with the same question: when would the white-bearded old mister come back?
“Bwother, I want to ride the unicorn again,” Angel began for the umpteenth time.
“Oh, my head hurts so much!”
Suer clutched his forehead and pulled a pained expression.
The gullible girl believed him. She panicked and began shouting for her mother.
Mrs. Ellison was startled when she hurried over, but then she saw Suer wink at her.
Understanding at once, she pretended to ask Suer a few questions before crouching in front of Angel. Her attempt at a sorrowful expression could not have looked more false.
Pure, innocent Angel could not tell.
“Your brother has come down with an illness,” Mrs. Ellison said gravely.
“Then what do we do? We have to take Bwother to the doctor right now!” Angel cried in alarm.
“Fortunately, this illness is very easy to cure,” Mrs. Ellison continued. “As long as you stop talking about riding a unicorn, your brother will get better.”
Angel was five years old now. Of course she understood what was really happening.
“Hmph! Mummy and Bwother are both big meanies. You ganged up on Angel!”
She turned away with her cheeks puffed out.
Sure enough, Angel did not mention the unicorn again for the next several days.
She also refused to say a single word to Suer. Even when he offered her favourite snacks, she merely accepted the food and maintained her silence.
When Mr. Ellison learned what had happened, he chuckled and wisely declined to offer an opinion. Matters between children were best left for the children to settle. Adult interference would only make things more complicated.
One morning, Mr. Ellison took the day off work so he could accompany Suer to Diagon Alley.
He was intensely curious about the magical world.
Mr. and Mrs. Granger felt the same way.
Just before they were due to leave, Suer quietly approached Angel.
“Well, I’m off to the magical world to buy my school things,” he announced loudly. “I wonder if a certain little someone wants to come along?”
Angel looked up from the toy in her hands, rolled her eyes at him, and turned her back.
“They sell unicorns there.”
At the word *unicorn*, Angel’s ears practically pricked up. Still, she said nothing.
“If Angel doesn’t tell me she wants to come, then Bwother won’t know whether he should take her.” Suer heaved a mournful sigh.
He deliberately stamped his feet a few times, pretending to walk away.
Angel spun around in alarm, only to find Suer standing exactly where he had been, smiling at her.
“Hmph! Bad Bwother!”
She marched over and smacked him several times.
“Ow! Ow! Are you trying to beat Bwother to death?”
Suer crouched pitifully, as if the blows had truly hurt.
“Pfft!”
Angel failed to hold it in and finally laughed.
Suer breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped forward, hugged her, and coaxed her for a while before taking her hand and leading her to the door. Mr. and Mrs. Ellison were already waiting in the running car alongside the Grangers.
He really must not make the little girl angry again.
“Hee-hee.”
Hermione had watched the entire performance from the doorway, including every bit of Suer’s exaggerated acting.
“You deserved it,” she said.
She and Angel had been getting along wonderfully over the past few days. Suer had tried to join them with the most pathetic expression he could muster, but Angel refused to give him a chance. Hermione had found the whole thing hilarious.
Suer shot her a sidelong glance and said nothing.
*Just you wait. I’ll get you for this.*
Their cars made their way into the city and along its busy streets before finally pulling over.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Mr. Ellison asked, looking around. No matter how hard he searched, he could not find any establishment called the Leaky Cauldron.
He found it difficult to believe that an entrance to the magical world could be hidden on such a bustling street.
“It’s here, Dad.” Suer checked the address on his letter. “It says we need to go a little farther. As long as we have the letter with us, we should be able to see it.”
The group passed a bookshop, a record store, a hamburger restaurant, and a cinema. At last they stopped beside a large bookshop, bigger than the one they had passed earlier. Another record store stood on its other side.
“There it is.”
Suer could already see the cramped, shabby pub wedged between them. Only its narrow frontage and sign were visible.
The sign read: **The Leaky Cauldron**.
“Where?” Mr. and Mrs. Ellison looked around but still could not find it. Neither could Mr. and Mrs. Granger.
“I see it!”
Angel held Hermione’s hand with one of hers and pointed between the bookshop and record store with the other.
The four adults saw nothing but a dark red wall.
“I forgot.” Suer grinned and reached up to take Mr. Ellison by the arm.
Hermione did the same with the others.
At once, everyone could see it.
“Well…” Mr. Ellison stared at the grimy, dilapidated pub front, momentarily at a loss for words. “It certainly is… unassuming.”
Suer raised his eyebrows and snickered.
Angel did not care whether it was dirty. She tugged Hermione eagerly toward the entrance.
Bwother had said they sold unicorns in there!
The entire group hurried inside. Pedestrians streamed past as if they neither saw nor noticed them.
No one could have guessed how spacious the interior was, though it was indeed rather dark and dirty.
Suer looked around with interest.
A dozen or so tables, their ancient age obvious beneath layers of grime, stood scattered across the wooden floor. A decrepit old woman smoked a long pipe, while several figures in pointed hats and cloaks huddled together in quiet conversation.
“First-years, are you? Here to buy your school things in Diagon Alley?”
An elderly man who was nearly bald and resembled a shriveled walnut appeared suddenly in front of Suer, smiling as he spoke.
A strip of cloth so filthy that its original colour was impossible to discern lay across his shoulder, and he carried a tray in one hand.
“Yes, sir.” Suer nodded politely.
“Ohoho! What a well-mannered boy. I own this place. You can call me Tom–everyone does.”
Tom let out a grating cackle.
He hardly sounded trustworthy. Even Mr. Ellison frowned.
“Come along, young wizards. Follow me. First-time visitors to Diagon Alley need someone to show them the way.”
“Are you sure this is safe?” Hermione pressed her lips together and tapped Suer on the arm. “There’s something very strange about him.”
“It’s fine,” Suer said. “This is probably the usual procedure.”
Old Tom led all seven of them behind the bar and into a tiny, walled courtyard.
The seven people packed the little space to capacity. A dustbin with its lid sitting halfway open stood silently beneath the wall they faced.
“Remember this, young wizards. Next time, you’ll have to do it yourselves.” Tom pointed. “See the dustbin? Count three bricks up, then two across.”
After showing them the spot, he continued,
“Muggle money isn’t used here.”
“What is a Muggle?” Hermione asked.
Old Tom glanced at the four adults, who were looking around curiously.
“Muggle is what we call someone without magic. No offence intended, of course. It’s a term that has been passed down for a very long time.”
Hermione nodded without comment.
“Stand back, ladies and gentlemen.”
Everyone squeezed backward.
“We use wizarding currency here.” Old Tom drew a wand and began tapping a brick in the wall. “Follow this street to the very end and you’ll see a white building. That’s Gringotts Wizarding Bank–the magical equivalent of a Muggle bank. Exchange your money for wizarding currency there before you shop.”
The brick Tom had tapped quivered and began to move. A small hole appeared in the centre of the wall, growing larger and larger until a broad archway stood before them, wide enough for all seven to pass through. Beyond it lay a winding cobbled street whose end was lost from view.
Old Tom twirled his wand and tucked it somewhere out of sight. Then he smiled.
“Enjoy your shopping, wizards.”
“Welcome to Diagon Alley.”