Half an hour later, Mr.
Dursley escorted Ian and Harry out the door.
Uncle Vernon’s initial fury had subsided, though he still wore a sour, ungracious scowl.
He dragged a massive suitcase out from behind his back and shoved the handle roughly into Harry’s hand, his face twisted in disgust.
“Listen to me, boy—don’t you go causing any trouble over there!” Finishing his warning, he turned his head to glare at Ian with a deeply complex expression.
Thanks to this “little brother-in-law,” his life had been turned completely upside down today.
Even now, Petunia remained unconscious upstairs.
If he hadn’t seen for himself that Petunia had finally calmed down, he would have loved nothing more than to blow the man away with a shotgun.
Ian returned Mr.
Dursley’s stare with quiet composure.
He knew his brother-in-law despised him; incidentally, the feeling was entirely mutual.
Crudeness, short-temperedness—all of those foul traits could be found in Vernon Dursley.
But what of it?
As long as he was good to Petunia, that was all that truly mattered, wasn’t it?
In the end, Mr.
Dursley said nothing more.
He simply turned around and slammed the door shut with a heavy thud, leaving the two of them standing outside.
Ian shrugged.
Noticing a slight flutter in the curtains of the second-floor window, he chuckled quietly to himself and shook his head.
He glanced down at Harry, whose small face was screwed up in a bitter, troubled frown.
Offering a lighthearted smile, Ian consoled him softly, “Cheer up, Harry.
It’s not like we’re never coming back.
You can apologize to Aunt Petunia when we return.” Harry gave a silent nod, his fingers tightening around the handle of the suitcase until his knuckles turned white.
Ian knew it was unrealistic to expect Harry to bounce back instantly.
Glancing around to ensure no neighbors were watching, he pulled out his wand and gave the heavy suitcase a light tap.
“Reducio!” Before Harry’s astonished eyes, the massive suitcase began to warp and shrink.
Within seconds, it had collapsed down to the size of a palm, resting quietly in Ian’s hand.
“Cool!” Harry couldn’t help squeaking out in excitement.
“Haha!” Ian grinned, giving Harry a playful eyebrow raise.
“Pretty neat, right?” Harry didn’t answer directly, but the gloom in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a bright, eager spark.
His breathing hitched slightly.
“Can…
can I learn how to do that, too?” “Of course—though you’ll need to get a wand of your own first.” “A wand?
You mean that small wooden stick in your hand, Uncle?” “Oh, Harry!
You mustn’t talk about it like that.
A wand is a wizard’s most important companion.
You’ll understand once you hold yours.” “Really?
I don’t believe it—not unless you let me try!” “No, no, no, that won’t do.
Pick something else…
like bringing that box of cake back out?” “Ian…!” The two bantered back and forth all the way down the street until a strange, bizarrely shaped bus appeared at the corner.
They stepped aboard, leaving Privet Drive behind for good.
Not long after they departed, a black motorcycle flew clumsily through the sky from afar.
The motorcycle descended and touched down softly in the front yard of No.
4 Privet Drive.
A colossal, burly giant of a man dismounted from the vehicle.
He smoothed down his wild, tangled beard and hair, then reached into his massive coat to pull out an envelope and a delicately wrapped small box.
Seeing that both were completely intact, a satisfied smile spread across his face.
Stepping up to the porch, he brought his massive fist down heavily against the front door.
Ten minutes later, the giant stomped back out with a look of utter fury on his face, mounting his motorcycle and flying away into the distance.
Naturally, Ian had no idea that someone had visited the Dursleys after their departure.
At this very moment, he was standing with Harry right at the entrance to Diagon Alley.
Harry’s appearance had undergone a complete transformation.
Not only did he have a crisp, neat haircut—with a lock of bangs neatly covering the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead—but he was also dressed in a set of brand-new clothes.
Harry had never worn such fine clothing in his life; until now, all his clothes had been hand-me-downs oversized and altered from Dudley’s old wardrobe.
Ian paid no mind to Harry’s initial self-consciousness, stopping right in front of a brick wall and pulling out his wand.
Using his wand to count the bricks, Ian guided Harry aloud: “Start from the brick above the trash can…
count three up, two across…
and then tap it three times like this.” As Ian tapped the specific brick with his wand, the brick began to quiver and ripple outward like water.
A small gap opened and expanded rapidly, the wall retreating into a wide, arched doorway.
Harry followed closely behind Ian through the archway, his mouth dropping open at the scene that suddenly unfolded before him.
A narrow cobblestone street stretched out ahead.
Signs for vaults made of pure gold swayed outside second-story windows, while rainbow-feathered quills nodded like living creatures inside shop displays.
The shouts of vendors, the lively chatter, the laughter of children, and the calls of various magical creatures mingled together, carrying a cocktail of strange scents through the air.
“Don’t block the path, Harry!” Ian gently pulled Harry to the side, clearing the entrance behind them.
Harry looked back, only to see the archway come alive, sliding back into place until nothing remained but a solid brick wall.
“Harry, welcome to Diagon Alley!” Ian’s clear, elevated voice echoed in Harry’s ears.
Harry widened his eyes, trying his best to take in everything before him.
On both sides of the street were all kinds of shops, their display windows packed with things he had never imagined in his life: Self-stirring cauldrons, magical books shimmering with faint light, and candles floating effortlessly in midair.
A sweet, rich aroma wafted through the air—a mixture of toffee and freshly baked bread—making Harry instinctively swallow his saliva.
“First, we go to Gringotts to exchange some gold Galleons,” Ian said, ignoring the longing look on Harry’s face as he led the boy deeper down the street.
What else could he do?
Tell Harry that his uncle was currently broke?
Harry nodded, quietly following behind Ian.
Everything here was completely alien to him; Ian was his only anchor.
Along the way, Harry couldn’t help peeking at the wizards dressed in long robes and pointed hats.
Some carried packages that let out soft puffing sounds, while others had owls perched atop their shoulders.
Ian took in Harry’s reactions with a smile.
The boy looked almost identical to how Ian had reacted when he first came here—utterly mesmerized by everything.
Before long, they arrived in front of a towering, snow-white building.
Beside its vast bronze doors stood a goblin dressed in a scarlet and gold uniform, scrutinizing every passerby with sharp, bead-like eyes.
Noticing Harry’s curiosity, Ian explained softly, “That’s a goblin.
A greedy, insatiable bunch.
Just ignore them.” With that, Ian led Harry straight inside.
Stepping into the vast marble hall, even more goblins came into view.
Ian ignored them all, heading straight for an unoccupied counter.
“Greetings, wizard sir.
My name is Griphook.
How may I assist you today?” The goblin at the counter greeted them with apparent enthusiasm, though Ian could easily spot the gleaming greed in its eyes.
Ian skipped the pleasantries, pulling a shiny golden key from a leather pouch.
“I am here to withdraw Galleons from Vault 666.” Hearing the number 666, Griphook’s enthusiastic expression faltered instantly.
With a look of sheer disbelief, he took the key from Ian and held it up to inspect it closely.
It was an entirely ordinary vault key, yet Griphook spent ten full minutes examining it, still unable to make up his mind.
Ian showed no signs of impatience, casually leaning down to whisper explanations to Harry with quiet amusement.
Still, ten minutes was far too long.
Ian tapped his knuckles on the counter, prompting, “Are you finished?
Surely you don’t think it’s a fake?” “N-No!” Griphook broke out into a cold sweat.
He was certain the key was real—except the owner of this particular vault, if he remembered correctly, had been missing for eleven long years!
This is a massive problem!
was the only thought running through the goblin’s mind.
He remembered with absolute clarity that the gold Galleons inside Vault 666 had already been cleared out by the goblins—even if there had been fewer than a thousand Galleons inside.
This was hardly surprising; in goblin logic, once gold Galleons were deposited into Gringotts, they no longer truly belonged to the wizards.
Furthermore, the owner of this vault had vanished without a trace for eleven years.
Who knew which obscure corner of the world he had died in?
Yet now, the owner had walked right up to the counter.
What was he supposed to do?
Seeing the goblin hesitate to lead them to the vault, Ian realized something was wrong.
Recalling the typical conduct of goblins, his expression darkened instantly, his hand quietly tightening around his wand inside his sleeve.
However, he didn’t intend to strike immediately.
For one, goblins were by no means weak.
Though restricted from carrying wands, their unique racial magic required no wand to cast, much like house-elves.
Moreover, Gringotts was the goblins’ central stronghold; who knew how many protective wards and defensive spells were woven into the place?
Secondly…
Ian cast a brief glance at Harry behind him, forcing down his surge of anger.
He couldn’t guarantee Harry’s safety if a fight broke out here.
Yet, just as these thoughts crossed Ian’s mind, the ground beneath his feet violently shuddered.
Immediately after, a deafening, earth-shattering roar echoed up from deep underground.
Damn it, something went wrong!
was Ian’s immediate thought.
Before he could grab Harry and make a break for the exit, the floor trembled violently once more.
The piercing, furious screech of a dragon rang out, accompanied by the crashing sound of shattering stone from deep beneath their feet.
If Ian remembered correctly, a Ukrainian Ironbelly—the largest dragon breed in existence—was chained in the deep caverns of Gringotts.
Someone had clearly broken into Gringotts and triggered the vault security systems!
Ian moved with lightning speed, but the goblins were equally fast.
Griphook let out a terrified shriek, the key slipping from his hands.
“Someone’s broken into the underground vaults!” “Damn it!” Ian swore under his breath, grabbing Harry by the arm and sprinting toward the giant bronze doors.
However, the heavy doors were already grinding shut.
Two goblin guards stepped into the doorway, trying to seal the exit while shouting in high-pitched, frantic voices: “Lock down Gringotts!
All wizards remain where you are for inspection!” “Get out of the way!” Ian raised his wand without a second thought.
“Reducto!” A beam of red light shot forth, blasting right into the shrinking gap between the doors.
With a deafening BOOM, a massive jagged hole was blown through the solid bronze.
“Go!” Ian ignored everything else, pulling Harry along as they dived through the opening.
Just as they broke through, a figure completely shrouded in dark, billowing mist blasted out from deep underground.
“Hehehehehe!” A blood-curdling, sinister laugh echoed out from the dark mist, plunging Gringotts into utter, absolute chaos.