Standing amid the bustle of Charing Cross Road, Lynn looked at the double-decker buses passing by and the fashionably dressed Muggle pedestrians on the street, then took a deep breath of the far-from-fresh air.
"Ah... the exhaust fumes of civilization." Lynn was so moved his eyes grew wet. "It smells ten thousand times better than the toxic miasma in the forest."
Dumbledore smiled as he straightened his purple star-patterned robe, drawing puzzled looks from passersby. "I’m rather fond of London’s vitality as well. Now then, Lynn, let us head to the Leaky Cauldron. You’ll need to go to Diagon Alley and purchase, "
"No, Headmaster. That’s not important."
Lynn cut him off without the slightest hesitation.
He pointed across the road at a huge department store, his eyes shining with desperate hunger.
"Before that, I have something far more important to do. Something absolutely critical. This concerns my mental stability."
...
An hour later, at the department store checkout counter.
The young cashier stared at the mountain of goods piled high before her: stacks of modern menswear, high-end silk pajamas, a whole case of Coca-Cola, the newest Nintendo Famicom and a Game Boy, the largest television available, and an enormous heap of high-calorie chips and chocolate.
"Sir, the total comes to four hundred pounds," the cashier said politely.
"..."
As though suddenly remembering something, Lynn turned awkwardly toward the old man beside him, who was currently studying the chewing gum rack by the register with great interest.
"Um... Headmaster Dumbledore?"
Lynn cleared his throat. "Given that I have only just emerged from a full ten years of isolated forest living, as for Muggle currency..."
He pointed at the pile of goods, then at his own empty pockets, and asked tentatively:
"May I ask whether you happen to be carrying any of those... little slips of paper with the Queen’s face on them?"
Dumbledore blinked, then smiled in amusement through his half-moon spectacles.
"You mean pounds, Lynn?"
"Yes, those." Lynn immediately seized the opening and made a solemn promise. "Consider it a loan. Once we get to Diagon Alley and I exchange for Galleons, I’ll pay you back double, no, triple, based on Gringotts’ exchange rate. I’m a wizard of lawful alignment. My credibility rating is absolutely excellent."
Watching this wizard spout terms that even he did not fully understand, Dumbledore shook his head with a cheerful smile.
"There’s no need to be so formal, Lynn. It’s only a small sum."
Under the cashier’s astonished gaze, the old man with the beard tucked into his belt, dressed in a purple starry robe, slowly pulled a stack of slightly crumpled banknotes out of an old wallet embroidered with Winnie the Pooh.
"Fortunately, I do occasionally enjoy a game or two at a bowling alley in London, so I always keep some on me."
As he counted out the money, Dumbledore smiled at the cashier and said, "Please take it, my dear. And while you’re at it, if you don’t mind, could you also get me a pack of that... ’Blow-Up Super Bubble Gum’?"
...
By the time they left the department store, Lynn was thoroughly satisfied, drinking an ice-cold can of Coke and letting out a spectacular fizzy belch.
He found an empty corner and cast Shrink Item on the heap of clothes, snacks, and appliances, reducing them all to matchbox size before casually stuffing them into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his robe as though they were candy.
"Lynn," said Dumbledore, who was also holding a can of Coke that he seemed to have been forced into drinking. He frowned slightly at the fizz, then smacked his lips despite himself. "While Muggle inventions are certainly interesting, Hogwarts has no electrical outlets. I’m afraid these appliances won’t be of much use."
"I have Lightning Bolt, Headmaster." Lynn patted his pocket, looking utterly confident. "I’m basically a humanoid generator. If I want to, I can produce a stable 220-volt alternating current myself. Come to think of it, why is it that the wizarding world can make moving photographs in newspapers, but nobody ever invented anything like a Game Boy?"
Even a man as learned as Dumbledore was stumped by that sudden question. He opened his mouth, then ultimately chose silence.
...
After fully satisfying his "material civilization needs," Lynn finally followed Dumbledore through the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley, the brick wall opening before them.
Compared with the excitement he had shown in the Muggle department store, Lynn’s attitude in Diagon Alley was... astonishingly perfunctory.
Gringotts.
Faced with the greedy goblins, Lynn could not even be bothered to listen to their attempts to sell him financial products.
Clatter
He simply dumped a small pile of rough ruby ore from his Bag of Holding onto the counter. Those gemstones had been byproducts dropped by certain rock-type magical beasts he had killed in the forest. To him, they were nothing more than low-grade spell components.
"Exchange it all for Galleons," Lynn said with a yawn. "Don’t bother counting. Just weigh it. Anything extra is your tip, so move it along."
The goblins stared at the exceptionally pure gemstones with shining eyes, and the speed of their service improved dramatically.
Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.
"Take measurements? No need." Lynn swept a glance over the finished robes in the shop and casually pointed at several sets. "That black one, that dark gray one, just make sure they’re the most expensive silk fabric you have. Wrap them up. Thanks."
Ollivanders.
Ollivander had just opened his mouth to launch into his mysterious theory about the wand choosing the wizard, when Lynn interrupted him outright.
"I’m not looking for a soul mate, shopkeeper." Lynn casually pulled a blackwood wand off the shelf, weighed it in his hand, and nodded. "Good balance. I’ll take this one."
"But sir, you haven’t even tried, "
"I don’t need a wand to choose me."
Lynn tossed down seven Galleons, stuck the wand into his belt as casually as if he were tucking in a chopstick, then turned and left.
"Come on, Headmaster. The important errands are done. Now it’s time for the real business."
Dumbledore struggled to keep up with his pace. "The real business?"
"Buying a house."
Standing in the middle of Diagon Alley, Lynn narrowed his eyes at the tightly packed shops around him.
"I need a home in London. A secure, private arcane workshop."
...
It turned out that finding a house in the wizarding world that could satisfy an 11th-level wizard with access to 6th-circle spells was harder than killing Voldemort.
A real-estate wizard named Pickering, drenched in sweat, spent the day rushing these two important figures all over London.
"Too small."
Standing inside an invisible flat in Kensington, Lynn knocked on the wall and looked utterly disgusted. "These walls are thinner than paper. If I run a Fireball experiment at home, the Muggle neighbors next door are liable to ascend straight to the afterlife. Zero privacy, unacceptable."
Pickering wiped the sweat from his brow. "But sir, this is already the best-protected flat in all of London..."
"Next one."
...
In front of a villa with a garden in Hogsmeade.
"Too noisy."
Lynn pointed at a few children in the distance flying around and playing Quidditch. "Wizarding families all around? How am I supposed to enjoy a peaceful afternoon like that? And the ley node here is far too weak..."
"Mr. Gray..." Pickering was on the verge of tears. He turned pleadingly toward Dumbledore. "Headmaster Dumbledore, surely you can see this is..."
Dumbledore was currently watching a biting cabbage in the garden with great interest. At that, he merely smiled and shrugged. "Pickering, just continue looking according to his requirements. Professor Lynn does have some... unique scholarly standards when it comes to his living environment."
"But I’ve already shown him every luxury property in London!" Pickering cried in despair. "It has to be quiet, spacious, undisturbed, and rich in magical energy..."
"Do you have anything no one dares live in?" Lynn asked suddenly, taking a sip of Coke as inspiration struck. "Something built next to a mass grave, maybe? Or a place that’s seriously haunted? Those kinds of places usually have plenty of Negative Energy and a nice peaceful atmosphere."
Pickering froze.
"You... are serious?"
"Completely serious."
"There... actually is one place." With trembling hands, Pickering pulled out an old sheepskin document he had apparently been keeping hidden at the bottom of his case. "Near Highgate Cemetery in North London, there’s an old Victorian manor. Because it’s right next to the cemetery, the energy is extremely heavy, and..."
Pickering swallowed.
"And it’s said to be violently haunted. The previous owner was a Dark wizard, and after spending one night there, he sold it off dirt cheap. The house has stood abandoned for fifty years. The price is very low, but no one dares go near it."
"Highgate Cemetery? Haunted? Too dangerous even for a Dark wizard to live in?"
Lynn’s eyes lit up instantly, like a dragon spotting treasure.
"That’s the one!" He slapped his thigh. "Take me there!"
...
North London, beside the fog-shrouded Highgate Cemetery.
A black Gothic manor with a pointed roof stood among a grove of dead trees.
It looked exactly like the standard set piece from a horror film: the rust on the main gate resembled dried blood, chilling drafts seeped through broken windows, and the only sounds nearby were the shrill cries of crows.
"This is the place."
Pickering stood a full hundred meters away, utterly unwilling to move any closer. His face was deathly pale. "Mr. Gray, I’ll leave the key here for you... Headmaster Dumbledore, I must warn you, the Dark magic fluctuations here are extremely unstable."
Standing before the rusted iron gate, Dumbledore frowned slightly.
As a wizard at the very height of his craft, he could clearly sense the deeply unpleasant, frigid aura seeping from the house. This was more than a simple haunting. It felt more like the nest of some kind of Dark magical creature.
"Lynn." Dumbledore drew his wand, his tone turning serious. "There is something very wrong with the atmosphere here. If all you want is a quiet place, Hogwarts has many empty rooms, "
"No, Headmaster. You don’t understand."
Standing before the gate, Lynn drew in a deep breath of the decaying air and showed an expression of utter satisfaction.
"Can you feel it? This rich concentration of Negative Energy... so active and pure. And no one wants a house this good!"
He turned, pulled out the money pouch stuffed full of Galleons, and tossed it to Pickering.
"I’m buying this house."
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