After returning to Moonlight Castle, Harry dismounted from his broomstick with the ease of a seasoned flyer.
"It seems you're quite talented at flying," Felix Peregrine remarked with a smile.
Harry was taken aback by the unexpected compliment. Holding the broom in one hand, he awkwardly scratched the back of his head and replied, "Uh... I guess so."
Felix Peregrine smiled and headed into the castle. "Get ready; we're leaving for London."
Surprised, Harry hurried to catch up. "Uncle Felix, am I coming too?"
"Of course, kid. Otherwise, who will carry the things I buy?" Felix Peregrine called out as he ascended the stairs. "Lucifer, help me with some money."
"How much?" Lucifer emerged from the fireplace.
"Two pieces," Felix Peregrine responded.
Lucifer nodded, then glanced at Harry, noticing his lack of clothing. "Aren't you cold?"
Only then did Harry realize he hadn't put on any clothes, revealing his lean frame, making him look somewhat destitute.
But considering his lack of resources, he might as well have been homeless.
After a brief delay, Uncle Felix returned wearing a khaki coat that matched his trousers.
"How are we getting there?" Harry inquired, standing up.
Felix Peregrine approached Lucifer, who spat out two gold bricks. Felix Peregrine placed one on each cuff, and they disappeared as if by magic.
"Of course, we'll fly..." Felix Peregrine began but reconsidered the idea, realizing they might attract unwanted attention from the Ministry of Magic.
"Lucifer, do we have any other means of transportation?"
After a moment's thought, Lucifer suggested, "There's a shuttle and a carriage in the basement."
...
Harry looked puzzled. He didn't know what a shuttle was, but a carriage sounded familiar.
"You mean a car?" he asked.
Felix Peregrine hesitated before replying, "You might have to opt for a method you're not fond of."
"What's that?"
"Apparition." Felix Peregrine smiled, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder reassuringly. "I haven't been to London often, but there's one place I remember well. We won't end up stuck in a wall if we apparate there."
"Where?" Harry tensed at the mention of the possibility of being stuck in a wall.
"Big Ben!"
With a rush of air, they disappeared.
In London's Westminster borough, atop Big Ben, Harry gaped at the Thames River below and the Parliament Building beside him, feeling a surreal sensation wash over him.
Felix wasted no time, quickly identifying an empty alley below and teleporting them once more.
In a secluded alley near Trafalgar Square, Harry stumbled out with a queasy expression as Felix hailed a passing pedestrian for directions.
By the time Harry regained his composure, Felix was already seated in a distinctive black taxi.
As Harry got into the cab, Felix handed him a silk scarf.
"What's this for?"
"To cover the scar on your forehead," Felix explained. "And when we arrive, if someone asks your name, remember it's Harry Peregrine."
"Why Peregrine?" Harry asked, intrigued.
"I only know part of the story," Felix admitted. "But your name seems to carry significance in certain circles."
Curious but not entirely understanding, Harry accepted the explanation. He was just an ordinary boy, after all.
When they reached Charing Cross Street, they noticed an old pub a few steps away.
Absolutely, here's the revised version with the family name omitted:
It was incredibly old, reminiscent of settings featured in vintage movies, and awkwardly sandwiched between two beautifully decorated bookstores and record shops.
However, passersby in a hurry didn't spare it a glance. Harry, having gained experience after his time at Moonlight Castle, immediately realized that ordinary people couldn't perceive this bar at all.
Entering the bar, a large group of people and a small one caught the attention of many. The juxtaposition of the two was truly discordant.
If Felix was akin to a new patriarch in the wizarding world, Harry felt more like... a servant.
Many couldn't help but wonder, didn't he have a house-elf in his family?
A stooped old man suddenly stood before them. He inquired, "Guests from afar, do you need any assistance? Are you headed to Diagon Alley, or would you care for a drink?"
Old Tom had been running this bar for decades. He could assure that he had never seen any familiar expression on Felix's face, making it easy to discern that the two were not locals.
"We're heading to Diagon Alley, could you please show us the way?" Felix said with a slight smile.
"Of course, please follow me," Old Tom nodded and led them towards the back of the bar.
The trio arrived at a small courtyard enclosed by walls. Except for a trash can and some weeds, there was nothing else. Harry wondered as he watched the hunched old man produce a small wooden stick.
"Start from the trash can, count three bricks upward, and then two across," he instructed.
With that, he pointed the stick to the corresponding brick and tapped it twice.
Subsequently, in the eyes of the three, the brick he had tapped suddenly began to shake, then moved. A small hole appeared, expanding rapidly. Before long, a wide archway emerged, leading to a winding, cobbled street stretching endlessly.
"If you need change, follow the path to the fork, where you'll find Gringotts. Finally, I'm Tom Abbott. Feel free to drop by the bar for a drink after your shopping. I wish you a pleasant journey," Old Tom said.
"Okay," Felix nodded and proceeded towards Diagon Alley.
Harry quickly followed suit, scanning left and right, eager to take in everything. There were shops selling owls, dragon livers, and spell books, alongside quills, rolls of parchment, potion bottles, and magical instruments.
Felix was also taken aback. It had been years since she had felt this way. Most wizards lived in seclusion, so expansive commercial streets like this were uncommon.
Soon, they reached Gringotts, a snow-white building towering over the surrounding shops, beside a gleaming bronze door.
And there stood a goblin.
The goblin, about half a head shorter than Harry, possessed a dark face radiating intelligence, a pointed beard, and disproportionately long hands, feet, and nose—resembling the notorious goblins from stories.
Felix was equally surprised. Goblins managing a bank? Could humans trust them?
Proceeding farther inside, they encountered another door. Simultaneously, two goblins approached. Harry noticed something written on the door but before he could discern it clearly, Felix entered, leaving him no choice but to follow suit.
In the lobby, approximately a hundred goblins bustled behind the counters. Felix approached an unoccupied one and inquired, "Can I exchange gold?"
"Of course, gold is always valuable," the goblin replied impatiently without looking up. "The current price is 40 galleons per ounce. How many ounces do you wish to exchange?"
Felix felt a bit apologetic. "Sorry for the misunderstanding. I simply want to change some currency."
As she spoke, she produced two sizable gold bricks.
Clang—
The golden galleons the goblin had been handling on his long fingers suddenly fell to the ground. This was a currency he couldn't simply ignore, but now, it held no significance.
In his eyes, all he could see were the two gleaming bricks of gold.
With trembling hands, the goblin measured their purity using an unknown spell and then placed them on the scale.
"4.4 pounds...53 ounces, equivalent to the current gold price..."
Click click click, he calculated.
"Equivalent to 2120 galleons, sir," the goblin said, his impatience replaced by a faint smile.