I took a moment to absorb my surroundings, which had completely transformed—a clear sign I was somewhere new. It seemed I was in an alley. Pulling a cloak from my storage ring, I wrapped it around myself.
As I stepped out of the alley, I noticed five thugs loitering near the entrance.
"Hey, where do you think you're going?" one of them called out.
"Don't you know this area's off-limits?" another chimed in, glancing at his companion. "Want me to take care of him?" he asked the one who seemed to be the leader.
The leader eyed me warily as I stood there cloaked in black. "Just take his money and let him go," he muttered, his instincts telling him I wasn't someone to underestimate.
The thug turned back to me, grinning. "You heard him—what are you waiting for? Hand over your money."
Ignoring him, I fixed my gaze on the leader and spoke in a calm tone. "I need information."
Though I didn't underestimate them, I knew taking them down would be easy, even without my powers. My words seemed to confirm the leader's suspicions, but before he could respond, the first thug threw a punch, his temper clearly frayed from a previous fight.
To everyone's surprise, I caught his punch effortlessly in my palm. As I released him, causing him to stagger back, I addressed the leader again, "Can you provide it?"
The leader nodded cautiously. "What do you need to know?"
---
One Month Later
I found my way to a pub with a wooden sign reading The Leaky Cauldron. I noted how passersby seemed to ignore this area—likely due to a muggle-repelling charm. It had been a month since I arrived in the wizarding world. Once I learned it was mid-September, I spent the first few weeks establishing an identity, securing a place to live, and observing. I'd even visited the Dursleys once, disguised as Coulson, to confirm Harry's residence. He'd already left for school, affirming that this world's timeline might not differ too much from canon, though I remained wary of unexpected changes.
The door creaked as I pushed it open, revealing a warm but dimly lit room filled with wizards and witches of all ages. Some nursed mugs of frothy ale; others huddled over parchment and quills, exchanging hushed conversations.
"Did you hear? Three bodies were found in Knockturn Alley yesterday."
"Yes, I saw it in The Daily Prophet. They were from the Frost family."
"What were they even doing there?"
Ignoring the murmured conversation, I made my way to the bar where a tall, bald man with a lined face was wiping down a mug. He eyed me with a cautious frown of curiosity.
"Evening," the bartender greeted me. "Name's Tom. Don't think I've seen you here before."
I nodded. "I'm new to…here," I replied. "I need to get to Diagon Alley, but I've lost my wand, and, well, I'm a bit at a loss."
Tom raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Right. Diagon Alley, you say? I'll open the back door for you, no trouble at all." Setting down the mug, he gestured for me to follow him through a doorway near the back of the pub. It was clear that wizards who'd lost or broken their wands came here often to access Diagon Alley.
We passed through a short, dark hallway before Tom stopped at a brick wall. With practiced ease, he tapped his wand in a sequence against the bricks. They shifted and clinked, rearranging themselves until an arched opening appeared, revealing the bustling street of Diagon Alley.
"Here you go," Tom said, waving a hand toward the vibrant scene beyond.
Thanking him, I stepped into Diagon Alley. The place was alive with people in robes, bustling along with shopping bags, cages with creatures I couldn't quite name, and magical trinkets glinting in store windows. This place was exactly as I'd imagined, but seeing it in person held an allure I hadn't anticipated. The sounds, smells, and sights were vivid, each shop exuding a peculiar charm.
Finally, I made my way to Gringotts, its formidable presence looming before me. On the door was an inscription:
"Step inside, but mind the price,
For treasure here is guarded twice.
What's not earned, yet sought in stealth,
Will cost more dearly than its wealth.
So dig below, if dare you must,
But know each vault was born of trust.
Thief, take heed—our warning's fair:
More than gold awaits you there."
Taking a deep breath, I entered. The interior was massive and grander than expected, gleaming with gold accents, and bustling with wizards coming and going. I approached an open counter where a goblin seemed occupied, ignoring me at first.
"I'd like to exchange some gold," I said, catching his attention as he glanced up.
"How much do you wish to exchange?" the goblin asked, his tone brisk.
I pulled out a pouch from my cloak and placed it on the counter. This is from a group of robbers i encountered recently.
The goblin muttered a few words, examining the contents. "Sixty-five, thirty-five," he murmured to himself. "This will exchange for 725 Galleons," he announced, giving me a price.
"Fine," I replied, choosing not to haggle even though I suspected it was less than the true value.
The goblin raised a brow at my response, perhaps surprised, but quickly resumed his professional demeanor. With the exchange complete, I gathered my money and made my way out, ready to explore further.
********
Author's pov
Any suggestions for what he should do .
Who should he take with him back to marvel?
Should he or not?