Mr. Jones's Trip to Diagon Alley

It was the first weekend in July, with a clear sky and the sun shining brightly on the yellow lilies, red champion, and blue delphiniums. Kevin, carrying his best dinosaur bag across his shoulder and holding Mr. Jones' hand, walked with Anthony past the record store, second-hand bookstore, and cafe, and came to the small turnoff leading to the Leaky Cauldron.

Mr. Jones walked straight to the bookstore next door, seemingly attracted entirely by the posters on the glass window.

"Dad, this way." Kevin pulled his sleeve desperately, "Dad!"

"'Twenty-three Spanish Dishes You Should Master'... Really interesting, maybe I should learn it..." Mr. Jones said to himself.

"Dad!"

"What's up, Kevin? How about squid rice tonight?"

Pedestrians passed by them without looking at the Jones father and son for a second. In a city like London, every minute and every second there are children pestering their parents for a toy car or a game console.

"Mr. Jones!" said Anthony, and he dragged him into the Leaky Cauldron.

After falling into the store, Mr. Jones shook his head and turned to look at the bustling world outside in surprise: "Wait, just now, wow... I mean, wow..."

Anthony let go of his hand: "I'm sorry."

"Henry, do you need to show the new students around, too?" Tom, the owner, put down a cup and raised his head to greet them. In the narrow, dim, and shabby bar, the wizards and witches stopped talking and looked at the three people who were dressed in a way that didn't fit in. The man smoking a long pipe in the corner puffed twice and hummed, "Muggles."

"That's about right. Anyway, we're going to Diagon Alley," Anthony said, feeling Kevin move closer to him and smile down at him.

"Of course you know the way," said Tom, looking away and nodding at Mr Jones, who adjusted his tie, coughed, and nodded in return.

…

"Remember where the door bricks are?" Anthony asked Kevin.

"Yes!" Kevin said happily. His father was looking around the desolate little backyard carefully, not missing the gaps between each trash can, as if he was trying to find a secret passage.

Anthony smiled and said, "Then give it a try. Do you have your wand with you?"

"I brought it, let me find it." Kevin said, unzipping his dinosaur bag. He took out a black wand from the back of the stegosaurus that was cut by the zipper, walked to the edge of the fence, counted for a while, and tapped it three times with the wand.

No response.

Anthony squatted down in surprise and counted with him again, and it was still that brick.

Mr. Jones said uneasily, "Is it because I'm here? A Muggle? Is it not allowed to Muggles?"

"I've never heard of such a rule," Anthony said firmly, but Kevin had already knocked three more times.

The bricks still didn't react, as if he was really just knocking on a wall.

"Kevin?" Anthony realized what was going on. "I think you're holding your wand upside down."

Kevin looked down and said, "Oh, yes." He smiled sheepishly at Anthony and Mr. Jones, turned his wand around, and solemnly knocked three times again.

The bricks shook, and Diagon Alley opened to them. Kevin held Mr. Jones tightly in his hand and took a big step onto the winding cobblestone road of Diagon Alley.

"Dad, welcome to the magical world." Kevin said, looking up.

They passed by a cauldron shop filled with cauldrons made of various materials, Eeyore's Owl Shop that specializes in owls, a shop that sells all kinds of high-end quills and magic quills, and a potion shop with frog brains and pufferfish eyes in the window.

Kevin pulled Mr. Jones away from a small stall selling roasted chestnuts. "If you want to buy anything, you'll need to at least change the currency!"

"Oh, yes, Gringotts," said Mr Jones, smiling at the vendor.

A skinny old witch with long, sharp nails hunched over and walked quickly past them. She stared at Mr. Jones's suit trousers and leather shoes from under her hood and muttered something all the time.

Neither Mr. Jones nor Kevin seemed to hear clearly what she was saying, but Anthony heard a few vague key words, such as "mudblood", "dirty", "tainted", and "swear", accompanied by some curse words he had never heard of.

"Hey, lady," Anthony said, grabbing her as she passed by, "that's not very friendly."

The witch stopped and turned her head, her eyes moving back and forth between Anthony's wand and his plaid shirt, and said in a hoarse voice: "Mind your own business."

"Just a reminder that there are children here," Anthony said. He released the witch's bony wrist and saw a flash of something yellow under her sleeve.

The magic of the dead suddenly surged up. Anthony closed his eyes slightly and knew what it was - a bracelet made of human bones.

"Catch her, Professor Anthony!" someone shouted. Anthony opened his eyes and saw the witch's expression change and she spun on the spot, preparing to Apparate.

Because he really didn't know how to catch the spinning black robe, Anthony chose to stretch out his foot and tripped the witch.

Oscar Wavell came over breathlessly, followed closely by another man dressed as an Auror.

They pinned the witch to the ground and searched her for her own wand, two other wands from who knows where, a human hand with a candle on the top, some potion in a glass bottle, a small bag of jewellery and a pigeon pie. Her nails scratched on the cobblestones like a cat scratching glass and she uttered a torrent of obscenities.

"Ugh, mayonnaise pigeon pie. Terrible taste." Oscar's fellow Auror commented after sniffing the pie.

"Thank you, Professor Anthony." Oscar said, "That is really... a very useful method."

"Don't worry about it. There seems to be something on her wrist." Anthony reminded, "What's wrong with her?"

Oscar frowned and whispered, "Dark wizard, mentally unstable." He looked around, "I can't tell you the details, Professor Anthony, but it is likely that someone's life is involved."

Anthony looked at the witch. Her hood had been taken off. Her black eyes were staring at him. Every wrinkle on her old face was filled with madness and resentment. She spat in the direction of him and Oscar, and the spit landed in front of their feet.

Oscar shrugged indifferently, and Anthony looked away. "Then I guess I'm lucky. I mean, she didn't immediately whip out her wand and try to blow up the street or something."

"Oh, no, it's not the Unforgivable Curses." Oscar said, accepting a large bag of searched items from his colleague. "She is good at making dark magic items... or selling them, whatever. Anyway, that's probably it. Thank you again for your help, see you next time."

His colleague had already taken the old woman away, so Oscar shook hands with Anthony again and Apparated as well.

Only then did Mr Jones say slowly: "The magical world, eh?"

…

Mr. Jones seemed a little embarrassed and suspicious about Gringotts, but he just stood straight in the middle of Gringotts without saying a word, holding Kevin firmly beside him. Anthony was the one who was responsible for standing in front of the goblins.

The goblins were a little more respectful than the last time Anthony came to exchange coins. But this was probably not because their goblin manager had cultivated a sense of service in his employees, but because when Anthony said "there is no vault", Mr. Jones pulled Kevin over and said to Anthony without hesitation: "Open a vault for Kevin and deposit 20 Galleons first."

"You may not have brought that much pounds in cash," Anthony reminded him tactfully.

Mr. Jones nodded and opened his briefcase. "But I brought gold." He smiled at Anthony. "We all read A History of Magic."

The goblin behind the counter said, "Of course, wise decision, sir."

"Another fifty pounds in wizarding money," said Mr Jones.

The goblin's face darkened and he said a little offended: "I would rather you call it 'magic coins'. We goblins minted them, not wizards." But he still exchanged the coins for them.

After leaving Gringotts, Anthony said to Mr. Jones: "You don't need to deposit so many Galleons in Gringotts. I haven't heard that they offer interest."

Mr. Jones held Kevin's hand, and the latter was stuffing silver coins into the Stegosaurus bag one by one. "Yes, but at the same time, there seems to be no inflation in the wizarding world."

"That's true," Anthony admitted.

…

After leaving Gringotts, Anthony took the Jones father and son to Flourish and Blotts.

The clerk behind the counter was not the one he was familiar with, but she was also a familiar face. This time last year, she was still an intern, often ordered by others to find books for Anthony, but now she is a full-time employee.

She heard the wind chimes at the door and looked up at them, raised an eyebrow at Anthony's Muggle attire, and simply nodded as a greeting.

"Do you need my help?" she asked lazily, leaning over the counter and playing wizard chess with herself.

Anthony realized that Mr. Jones was holding his breath, and looked back in confusion, and found that he was staring at the moving pieces without blinking. A soldier was being promoted to a knight, muttering as he put on another set of armor, and the other black chess pieces were all complaining that this was a bad move.

The clerk slammed the table and sat up. "Shut up! Because I just don't like letting Black win! Hurry up and get on the horse!"

"No, just looking around." Anthony replied, leading the two people behind him into the store, explaining the arrangement of books along the way.

"I see that you have already bought History of Magic. Just as the name says, it is the textbook for History of Magic at Hogwarts, and it has not been changed for many years. Standard Book of Spells, the first grade usually uses Level 1, which has not been changed for a long time, but we don't have to rush to buy it. We can go to the second-hand bookshelf later. This is the warehouse. Sometimes I come here to look through their dusty books, but that's because I'm already a regular customer...oh."

Anthony pushed open the half-open warehouse door and wanted to let the Jones father and son take a look, but the warehouse was different from what he saw when he came here a few weeks ago. A space had been cleared between the boxes of books, and the place where old books and waste paper were originally placed was now occupied by dozens of photos, large and small. Some were already in frames, and some were just hanging there.

In the photo, a handsome man blinked his blue eyes affectionately at Anthony, Kevin and Mr. Jones who pushed open the door, revealing his sparkling white teeth, and a lilac hat on his wavy blond hair.

"Oh my," Kevin whispered, "Who is he?"

"Gilderoy Lockhart, a bestselling author." Anthony said, trying to find a reasonable guess, "Maybe Flourish and Blotts plans to give awards to the top 100 best-selling books, so they printed so many photos."

"What did he write?" Mr. Jones asked curiously. "A wizard version of A Brief History of Time?" (Note 1)

"There is a whole series of books about how he travels around the world and deals with all kinds of magical creatures in the world. But I think the best-selling one is probably "How to Get Rid of Household Pests". I have a friend who is a big fan of his and has almost memorized that book."

"Household pests," Mr. Jones repeated. "Interesting."

They carefully closed the warehouse door. It was not a pleasant experience to be stared at by dozens of identical faces, no matter how good-looking they were.

…

When they walked out of Flourish and Blotts, both Anthony and the Jones father and son had fewer coins and more books in their bags.

Anthony saw several serious Dark Arts books in the second-hand section and had no idea why they were there. Kevin bought a whole set of dragon books in the Fantastic Beasts section - Anthony reminded himself to ask Hagrid if he would sell the small portion that Norbert didn't burn - and Mr Jones bought Holidays with a Hag.

The sun outside was too pleasant, and Anthony couldn't help but suggest going to Fusco's for ice cream, which immediately won two votes in favor. While introducing those flavors that should never be tried, he stared directly at several passers-by who were looking at their Muggle costumes.

Most people turned their heads away or lowered their heads, but some vendors would come up to these newly arrived Muggles and ask if they needed "the protection of an amulet" or "a beautiful magical teapot that will pour your tea when it is ready."

Mr Jones was attracted by a singing pepper grinder.

"That's really interesting!" he said, watching in fascination as the grinding jar spun and dropped black pepper powder.

The vendor, who covered himself tightly, whispered, "Good eyes, sir, this is one of the best things I have. The higher it sings, the finer the powder is. And here, do you see this little mouth? If you throw other ingredients in... such as dried lemons, it can sing multiple parts..."

"That's wonderful!" said Mr Jones, looking quite interested.

At this moment a voice behind them said helplessly: "Mundungus——"

"Arthur?" Anthony guessed, turning around and looking at the man in front of him with red hair and a face that was somewhat similar to several Weasleys.

"You are..." Arthur Weasley hesitated, looking at Anthony's perfect Muggle attire, "Henry! You must be Henry!"

He rushed forward and shook Anthony's hand enthusiastically, while his other hand grabbed the peddler's collar with a clear purpose.

"We'll talk later, Henry," said Mr. Weasley, addressing the vendor, "Hand it over."

"Arthur, for the sake of our old friendship," said the peddler, whose name was Mundungus.

"No, Mundungus, you know what the ministry is doing these days. I just happened to run into you today," Arthur said, watching Mundungus painfully taking things out of his clothes one by one, each time it was like cutting off a piece of flesh from his body.

Arthur and Anthony explained, "As you know, we forbid the casting of spells on Muggle-made objects, and we forbid the selling of such magical items to Muggles." He looked at Mundungus and frowned, "I know you still have it."

Mundungus produced some more snuff-boxes, which bit Arthur violently when he touched them.

"Ouch!" cried Arthur Weasley, pulling them out. The strange powder in the snuffbox was scattered all over the floor, and Mr. Weasley and Anthony simultaneously drew their wands to clean it up.

Mundungus had taken this opportunity to Apparate.

"I really liked that pepper grinder," said Mr Jones regretfully.

...

Note 1: If anyone is curious, Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time broke the UK publishing record on July 2, 1992, when the book had been on the non-fiction bestseller list for three and a half years, selling over three million copies in 22 languages.

... 

Stones, Stones and Stones