Quirks in Wizarding World

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- June 22, 1991 -

The streets of London passed by in a blur as the car made its way through Charing Cross Road. The journey had been filled with light conversation, but now that they were nearing their destination, Arthav could barely sit still.

His mother noticed and smirked. "Excited?"

He nodded. "More than you know."

Emily chuckled but said nothing more as she pulled up near a seemingly unremarkable old pub. The Leaky Cauldron. To a muggle, it was nothing more than a rundown building, easily overlooked, but to those in the know, it was the gateway to an entirely different world.

As they stepped out of the car and approached, Arthav felt a faint buzz of magic in the air. The very air around the entrance seemed different, charged with something unseen yet deeply familiar.

Emily pushed open the door, and they stepped inside.

The interior of the Leaky Cauldron was dimly lit but warm, filled with the scent of old wood, ale, and freshly cooked food. The pub was moderately crowded, with witches and wizards of all ages seated at wooden tables, engaged in hushed conversations or enjoying their meals. What immediately caught Arthav's attention, however, was the magic.

Every person in the room had an aura around them, shifting in colors and intensity. Some glowed faintly, a soft shimmer around their forms, while others had a more pronounced, almost flame-like presence. He had seen similar auras on himself and his mother along with the gurus in India. It was fascinating, and he found himself momentarily distracted, his eyes scanning the different auras, wondering what they meant.

Their entrance drew a few curious glances, but most people quickly returned to their meals and discussions. Only a few held their gaze a little longer, their expressions unreadable before they, too, turned away.

A familiar voice called out from behind the bar.

"Emily Carter, as I live and breathe!"

The speaker was a bald, wrinkled old man with a kind smile—Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron. He wiped his hands on a cloth as he stepped forward, eyes twinkling with recognition.

Emily smiled warmly. "Hello, Tom. It's been a long time."

"Too long!" he agreed. "Last I heard, you were planning to travel the world, see all sorts of magical places."

She chuckled. "I did. Then life took me to India, and I built a home there." She gestured toward Arthav. "And now, my son is starting at Hogwarts."

Tom's eyes flickered to Arthav, and he grinned. "Well, well! A fine lad you've got here. Welcome, young man. Name's Tom."

Arthav returned the smile. "Arthav. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, lad," Tom said, giving him a nod of approval.

The warmth of the greeting was reassuring, but Arthav didn't miss the way some nearby patrons reacted. A few faces stiffened, eyes narrowing slightly before they turned away. There was no outright hostility, but the silent disapproval was clear. His mother noticed too, but she didn't acknowledge it beyond a brief glance.

Arthav, however, didn't look away. He met one of the staring wizards' gazes head-on. The man, a sharp-faced individual with thinning blond hair, held the stare for a moment before scoffing and returning to his drink.

Emily placed a hand on Arthav's shoulder, her touch grounding.

"Come on," she said, voice calm but firm. "We have a lot to do today."

As they made their way toward the back of the pub, she gave him a small, reassuring squeeze before letting go. She didn't need to say anything. He understood.

Prejudice existed. It would always exist. But it wouldn't stop him.

And it certainly wouldn't define him.

With that thought, he followed his mother as she led him toward the hidden entrance to Diagon Alley.

Emily led the way toward the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron, her movements sure and practiced. Arthav followed, his anticipation growing with each step. He had seen this moment in movies before, read about it in books, but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely.

Stopping in front of a seemingly solid brick wall, his mother retrieved her wand. With precise taps—three up, two across—she struck the bricks in a particular sequence.

"Watch carefully," she murmured. "This is the pattern to enter Diagon Alley. Remember it."

Arthav nodded, committing the sequence to memory. Then, as if responding to her touch, the wall began to shift. The bricks pulled apart, folding inward like pieces of a puzzle rearranging themselves. Within moments, the solid barrier transformed into a grand archway, revealing the vibrant world beyond.

Diagon Alley.

Stepping through, Arthav was immediately struck by the sheer energy of the place. The cobbled street stretched ahead, flanked by crooked buildings with colorful shopfronts displaying everything from cauldrons to enchanted quills. The air hummed with magic, and his unique sight allowed him to see it more vividly—each witch and wizard carried a distinct aura, their magic radiating in hues that shifted with their emotions and intent.

Children, likely fellow first-years, hurried along with their families, pointing excitedly at broomsticks or chattering about their upcoming Hogwarts experience. Parents haggled with shopkeepers, street vendors called out about their wares, and owls hooted from their perches in a nearby pet shop. The place was alive, overflowing with magic and wonder.

Emily didn't linger, guiding Arthav down the bustling street toward a towering white structure that stood out even amidst the odd angles and colors of the surrounding shops.

Gringotts.

The bank's gleaming marble façade was as imposing as it was grand. Goblins in crisp uniforms moved about the entrance, some keeping a close watch on the visitors, others engaged in business. The sight of them, with their sharp features and keen eyes, was striking in person—Arthav had read about them before, but there was something distinctly unsettling about their presence. Not in a threatening way, but in the sense that they missed nothing.

Their was also the inscription on the entrance that read the following:

"Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there."

After reading the cryptic inscription, they stepped inside, greeted by the cool air of the cavernous hall. Chandeliers hung from above, casting a golden glow over rows of goblins perched at their high desks, scribbling on parchment or inspecting coins through magnifying glasses. The murmur of transactions filled the space, business being conducted with brisk efficiency.

Emily approached one of the available goblins, who barely glanced up before speaking. "Name and business?"

"Emily Carter," she replied smoothly. "I'd like to exchange Indian rupees for galleons."

The goblin finally looked up, eyes flicking to Arthav for a brief second before nodding. "Very well. Present the currency."

Emily retrieved a neatly bundled stack of rupee notes from her bag and placed them on the counter. The goblin scrutinized them for a moment, then rang a small bell. Another goblin arrived, took the money, and disappeared through a side door.

A few minutes later, he returned with a bag of gold, silver, and bronze coins, which he placed in front of them.

"Your exchange has been completed," the goblin at the desk stated. "Here are your galleons, sickles, and knuts. Will you require a vault?"

Emily shook her head. "No, just the currency for now."

The goblin inclined his head and slid the bag toward them. "Transaction complete."

Emily gave a polite nod and took the pouch, gesturing for Arthav to follow her out.

As they stepped back onto the sunlit street, he couldn't help but weigh the pouch in his hands, the clinking of coins inside making it all feel more real.

His first real step Into the wizarding world was complete. Now, it was time to get his school supplies.

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