Oliver had steeled himself five minutes before they arrived.
The instant the train pulled into the station, he bolted.
Remus nudged Damien with his elbow, jerking his chin toward the familiar brown head disappearing in a flustered rush.
Damien just waved it off.
“If Oliver keeps asking questions, we’ll slip up.
Let him go.
We’ll give him a surprise after we come out of Diagon Alley.”
Hearing this, Remus met Damien’s gaze; the two of them shared a knowing grin.
Behind them, Lily and Petunia looked at each other and shook their heads in exasperation.
Lily even leaned over to whisper a few words to Severus, clearly warning him not to become like them.
Severus understood at once.
He straightened his back a little, deliberately slowed his steps so he could walk in time with Lily, and, at the same time, edged just far enough away from Damien and Remus.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the two boys bicker, quietly putting an invisible line between himself and their antics.
The parents at the rear watched the children laughing and teasing one another, trading smiles of their own.
Only Prince shook her head in helpless resignation.
Chatting and joking, the families made their way out of the station—where, just beyond the doors, several figures who had been waiting for a long time stood quietly.
Outside the station, Robert Jr.
and Lyall had dressed to the nines, every detail of their clothes carefully chosen.
They tried to keep a calm front in public, but the ache of two years apart still showed plainly in their eyes.
After nearly two years of separation, the two families finally stood together again.
Remus threw his arms around his father, eyes red, and even Damien—tempered by two lifetimes—felt a tug of emotion.
While Catherine lost herself in the joy of the reunion, Damien’s gaze drifted toward Minerva.
Minerva was greeting the Evans family and Prince with a trace of awkwardness.
She introduced the man beside her a bit stiffly.
He wore fashionable short sportswear and the latest sunglasses of the season.
His features were firm, his expression carrying a sharp, almost severe edge that didn’t quite match his outfit.
Minerva smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear, still a little unnatural, and said, “This is my former superior from my time at the Ministry of Magic—Elphinstone Urquart.”
She hesitated, then added with some difficulty, “He heard I was taking you to Diagon Alley today, so he came specifically to help.”
On the other side, the man who had been maintaining a carefully constructed “cool” image promptly shattered it the moment he opened his mouth.
Once Minerva finished the introduction, Elphinstone greeted everyone with conspicuous warmth, especially eager to shake Mr.
Evans’s hand.
Watching him trip over himself to play the devoted suitor to someone who would probably be his uncle-in-law in a few years, Damien could only sigh inwardly.
Still, if you looked at it from a kinder angle, at least it proved he really cared about his aunt—even if his courtship methods left a lot to be desired.
Catherine and Robert Jr.
leaned close, whispering to each other about Minerva’s love life, and Damien subtly pricked up his ears.
“Urquart has actually been pursuing Minerva all these years,” Robert Jr.
murmured.
Catherine’s eyes widened.
“This is the one who proposed to her before?
He still hasn’t given up?”
Robert Jr.
nodded, fingers tightening around his wife’s hand.
“Never.
At first, she turned him down again and again, but about three years ago, she seemed to change her attitude a bit.
Do you remember when she came to ask you about her hair?”
Catherine gasped and covered her mouth.
“That was for a date?
She clearly said she wanted to change her image so the students wouldn’t be afraid of her.”
“I thought so too at first,” Robert Jr.
admitted with a nod.
“It wasn’t until she brought him to visit us last year that I realized they’d already been seeing each other regularly.”
Damien gradually lengthened his stride until he caught up with Minerva and Elphinstone at the front.
He let his footsteps fall deliberately heavy; Elphinstone immediately slowed down in understanding.
When Damien drew level, Elphinstone lowered his voice and said with a grateful smile, “Damien, thank goodness for you.
That suggestion you mentioned in your letter worked surprisingly well!
Minerva really liked the atmosphere there.”
Damien replied just as quietly, “I gave you so many suggestions.
Why are you two still only at this stage?”
Elphinstone blinked, a little taken aback.
“Is it not good?
This is the first time in so many years she’s been this close to me.
I have confidence.”
Damien could only sigh at this hopeless blockhead.
With progress this slow, he’d have been sacrificed to the heavens as comic relief in a novel.
No wonder you chased her from 1954 all the way to 1982 before finally getting married.
That head of yours is pure stainless steel—bright and polished, with no space for a single extra thought.
But he resigned himself to dealing with this blockhead.
If he was slow, then so be it; at least his heart was in the right place.
Damien moved on to his next question.
“Did you memorize the magical plant identification I told you to?”
“Of course,” Elphinstone answered proudly.
“I’ve memorized all of ‘One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.’ But will this really make Minerva like me?
We never talk about herbs when we go out.”
Damien sighed helplessly.
“It’s fine as long as you’ve memorized it.
Do you remember how to deal with Venomous Tentacula?”
“Of course.
A Shield Charm or a Light Charm can easily handle it.
Damien eyed the proud fool in front of him with utter helplessness.
If he didn’t already know that Elphinstone Urquart would die to a Venomous Tentacula in 1985—an incident that would make Minerva swear off romance forever—he wouldn’t have been nearly this anxious.
He really didn’t want to deal with this blockhead anymore; it was such a ridiculous way to go that it offended his sense of dignity.
Imagine Wizards having to stand before Merlin after death and explain how they’d died.
Dumbledore: “I died to eliminate Voldemort.”
Merlin: “Ah, a noble sacrifice.”
Remus Lupin: “I died in battle against a dark wizard.”
Merlin: “A valiant warrior.”
Elphinstone Urquart: “I touched a plant by accident and died.”
Merlin: “…Oh.
Oh.”
The contrast spoke for itself.
Whether you called it casual or just absurd, in the entire Harry Potter story only two people ever died because of plants—and the other one had already been too injured to move and was simply finished off.
So as this rare, textbook case of stupidity, Elphinstone gave Damien a persistent headache, leaving him no choice but to trick the man into studying every single day.
Exhausted, Damien was at a loss for words.
Walking at an easy pace, their little procession soon reached the Leaky Cauldron.
The new bartender, Tom, stared in surprise at the size of the group, then hurried out from behind the bar to greet them.
The only two other patrons glanced over, curiosity piqued by the strange mix of Muggles and Wizards.
When their eyes landed on the five children—clearly around eleven—they exchanged knowing looks and lifted their glasses in greeting.
Lily took in the dim yet lively pub with wide eyes.
The air was thick with the smells of butter, beer, and some unfamiliar spice; everything about the place felt wonderfully new to her.
Next to her, Petunia’s nose twitched in faint distaste, clearly unimpressed by the slightly grimy surroundings.
Catching the light in Lily’s eyes, Damien couldn’t help but smile.
It was her first step into the magical world; if their positions were reversed, he doubted he’d handle it any better.
Before Minerva could introduce everyone, Tom beat her to it, giving Urquart a sycophantic grin.
“Mr Urquart, long time no see.
Would you like a drink?”
“No need,” Urquart refused, looking a bit uncomfortable.
“I’m not on duty today.
I’m just accompanying them to shop for the students.
Don’t mind me.”
After that brief exchange, the group filed through to the rubbish bin out back.
Minerva drew her wand and addressed the children.
“Remember this spot.
In future, you’ll have to open the door yourselves.
Remember: three up and two across, then tap this brick lightly with your wand.”
She paused, then added sharply.
“This bin is enchanted and used only as a marker.
Anyone who tries to move it on purpose or uses Transfiguration to mislead others will be hit by a jinx on the spot.”
“And after that, someone from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will arrive within ten minutes to deal with the offense.”
Minerva’s gaze slid pointedly to Damien, whose eyes had been roaming with far too much interest.
Her once obedient nephew was becoming more and more of a concern.
Sure enough, the moment Damien dragged his wandering gaze back and stood up straight, Minerva allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.
Did he think she didn’t understand what it meant to be Head of those Gryffindor troublemakers?
Minerva could read a mischievous child’s thoughts in an instant.
What’s that—you say she’d been a Gryffindor herself?
Well, she’d almost been sorted into Ravenclaw, hadn’t she?
She tapped the unremarkable brick twice.
As the walls on either side rolled swiftly away, she turned to the children and said with a smile:
“Welcome to Diagon Alley.”
They stepped through the wide archway onto the winding, seemingly endless cobblestone street beyond.
Diagon Alley lacked the bright, carefree bustle it would have in 1991.
Instead, it looked much more like it would in 1993, after Sirius Black’s escape.
Witches and wizards hurried past with their heads down, and the few adults with children kept their hoods tight and didn’t linger a moment longer than necessary.
The sight before them was enough to make one shiver, even at summer’s end.
Not even the strong London sunlight could chase away the chill settling in Mr.
and Mrs.
Evans’ hearts.
If not for Lily’s earnest wish—and the knowledge that forcing her to suppress her magic for years might twist their beloved daughter into something truly terrifying, a ‘monster’—
They would never have agreed to send her into this magical world, which looked anything but peaceful and safe.
Behind them, Petunia clutched Lily’s hand, while Severus rested a steadying hand on Lily’s shoulder from the other side.
The resolve in his dark eyes helped to calm the two sisters.
The three children stood close together, trading quiet, reassuring smiles.
Robert Jr.
watched the hurried crowds in Diagon Alley and said to Mr.
and Mrs.
Evans, with a helpless shrug.
“It was very lively here when we were kids, but lately, in the last couple of years… the situation has been a bit tense.”
Urquart picked up the thread at once.
“This is the responsibility of our Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Give us a little more time, and we will definitely make it so you can walk here with peace of mind.”
Minerva cut off the men’s gloomy talk.
“Let’s go to Gringotts first so everyone can withdraw some money.
I’ll take Mr.
Evans to exchange some Galleons.”
The group set off toward the towering white bank.
As they passed under the brick archway, Damien’s gaze was drawn to the nearest shop: Eeylops Owl Emporium.
A huge cage stood by the door.
Inside, a Great Horned Owl with keen, amber eyes tilted its head, studying the unusually large party making its way up the alley.
In these paranoid days, travelling in a group was one of the few ways to feel safer.
After a moment’s scrutiny, the owl turned away, resuming its meticulous preening.
Damien eyed the magnificent bird with a flicker of envy.
But he knew that no matter how he begged, Catherine would never agree to him bringing an owl with a two‑meter wingspan to Hogwarts.
The children walked in the middle of the group, flanked by Mr.
and Mrs.
Evans.
Minerva and Urquart led at the front, while Lyall and Robert Jr.
brought up the rear.
Looking at their formation, Damien suddenly grasped—if only a little—just how much damage Tom’s “Dark Club” had already done.
Even so, the shops lining the street filled him with a familiar warmth.
The window of Flourish and Blotts was still stacked high with magical books, piled so densely they seemed ready to touch the ceiling.
Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions still displayed its sign advertising the professional tailoring of Hogwarts school uniforms.
A bit further on, a shop called Madam Primpernelle’s Beautifying Potions caught Damien’s eye.
In his previous life, he had only ever focused on the shops meant for children; the places aimed at adults had mostly escaped his notice.
Yet even in this suspicious era, the window of the beauty potion shop glittered cheerfully.
Through the slightly golden‑tinted glass, several elegantly dressed witches could be seen chatting with the shopkeeper, seemingly unbothered by the tension on the street outside.
A steaming cauldron in the display sent up curls of pink smoke, adding a strange, almost festive splash of colour to the otherwise bleak alley.
As Lily and Petunia whispered to each other about the shop, one of the witches inside glanced out, then suddenly dashed for the door.
She hurried toward Mrs.
Prince—who was standing beside Catherine—and called out excitedly:
“Merlin!
I thought we could only stay in touch by owl.
Eileen, my dear!”
As fiery in temperament as in voice, the witch flung herself at Mrs.
Prince for a hug.
Her specially tailored robes bared just enough skin to make the accompanying gentlemen quickly avert their eyes in a show of propriety.
Mrs.
Prince pressed a hand against the witch’s shoulder, pushing her back slightly with a faint look of distaste as the other woman angled in for a kiss.
“I’m accompanying Severus and his friends to buy things for the new school year,” she said coolly.
“Your business is so busy—are you sure it’s all right for you to leave the shop?”
“I’ve hired as many as three shop assistants!”
The witch’s excited shriek rang out as she flashed them a dazzling smile, tossing a playful wink at the ladies in the group.
“I’m Primpernelle.
I run a small business here.
Once you’re done buying things for the children, come over and I’ll give each of you a skin‑smoothing potion.
A woman must learn to take care of herself.”
Before any of them could refuse, Primpernelle let out a low, seductive chuckle and swept back into her shop like a streak of flame, smoothly picking up where she’d left off with the stream of customers inside.
Mrs.
Prince gave a helpless little smile, leaned in toward the women, and murmured, “She’s just like that.
Don’t go wasting your money in her shop later.
If you’re interested in beautifying potions, I can brew some for you.
The ingredients I use are more precise, and the effect might be slightly better.”
Her offer instantly drew the women closer.
Catherine and Hope moved in around Mrs.
Prince, and even Mrs.
Evans slipped her hand from her husband’s arm to join them.
Mr.
Evans traded a knowing look with Robert Jr.
and Lyall; the three of them shared quiet, understanding smiles.
Damien let his gaze drift past them all until it landed on Urquart at the front of the group.
He watched Urquart clearly working up the courage to say something to his dear aunt.
The guy’s face was tight with nerves—then, suddenly, a foolish grin spread across his features, and even his steps grew lighter.
Damien didn’t need to hear a word.
He could guess with his eyes closed what had just happened.
He shook his head, half amused, half exasperated.
He slung an arm around Remus’s shoulders and gave him a little shake, saying with grave sincerity to the bewildered Remus.
“Remus, I hope you can stand tall in the future.
You can’t learn from these negative examples.”
Remus blinked at him, completely at a loss.
“Huh?
Damien, I don’t really understand.
I think I stand pretty tall—except for when you’re always bullying people.”
“Ahem.” Damien coughed sharply to cut him off.
What a joke—everyone’s parents were right there.
If they found out what he’d been up to these past two years, he’d be getting a beating on the spot; no need to wait until they got home.
Damien glanced from Urquart to the reserved Severus at his side, then back to Lyall, Mr.
Evans, and Robert Jr.
bringing up the rear.
He sighed from the depths of his heart.
This lot was hopeless, a complete lost cause.
Better to toss them out and start over with a fresh batch.
Amid the laughter and chatter that felt so at odds with the usual air of Diagon Alley, they turned a corner—and a snowy‑white building, towering over the cramped little shops around it, suddenly filled their view.
They had reached Gringotts.