Harry had never been to London in his life.
Every time the Dursleys went out, they dumped him with old Mrs.
Figg next door, so he had no idea how to get there.
Lucky for him Hagrid knew the way.
Walking with Hagrid wasn’t easy, though.
The giant drew stares everywhere they went.
Hagrid didn’t care.
He was too busy gawking at everything around them like a kid in a candy store, shouting comments without a shred of self-consciousness.
“Muggle stuff is pretty clever,” Hagrid said with a big grin.
“Don’t see it much.
I don’t come this way often.” Wizards here called ordinary people Muggles too.
That was the same as the other world.
The two worlds were wildly different in some ways, but little things kept lining up.
The biggest difference was the war.
A war between Muggles and wizards.
In this world it never happened.
In the other one it did—and the Muggles lost.
From what Harry had seen, though, nobody really won.
Outside the wizard estates everything was scorched earth.
Even breathing the air too long could kill you.
“Hagrid,” Harry asked, “what’s the relationship like between Muggles and wizards?” “Why d’you wanna know that?” Hagrid’s eyes were glued to a parking meter.
“Ain’t important.
Wizards don’t pay much mind to Muggles.
We stay hidden—to protect ’em and to stop ’em from thinking magic can fix every little problem.” Sounded normal.
No hint of war.
Harry wondered again what had gone so wrong in the other world.
By the time they got off the subway, Harry’s face felt thicker than usual.
Walking next to Hagrid in public was like showing up to school in Dudley’s old clothes—embarrassing as hell.
Hagrid didn’t notice.
He was too cheerful, rambling on about Hogwarts creatures and how badly he wanted to raise a dragon.
He brought up the dragon thing at least five times.
Maybe he didn’t even realize he was repeating himself.
Harry almost told him there was already a dragon at Potter Manor.
He caught himself just in time.
They kept walking.
Crowds swirled around them.
Harry scanned the shop signs on both sides of the street, hoping to spot something that looked wizard-related.
With Hagrid plowing ahead like a battleship, at least he didn’t have to worry about getting separated.
“Oh, right—Harry, you still got that letter?” Hagrid called over his shoulder.
“Yeah.
You want the supply list?” “Exactly.
Without it I’d forget half the things you need.” Harry pulled out the list and read it aloud.
“Wand, uniform, cauldron, potion vials, telescope, scales, textbooks… oh—Standard Book of Spells, Grade One?
That’s a lot of books.” “Course it is.
You’ve got loads to learn if you wanna be a great wizard.” The list was almost identical to the one from the other world—except here there was a wand instead of a magic ring, and way more textbooks.
Over there it was just one Standard Spells book plus Magic Analysis.
He hoped this world’s Standard Book of Spells wasn’t ridiculously thick.
“We’re here,” Hagrid announced suddenly.
Harry was still staring at the list and walked straight into Hagrid’s leg.
He nearly fell, but Hagrid’s huge hand shot out and caught him.
“Careful, Harry.
Look—this is the Leaky Cauldron.
Famous place.” Harry tilted his head back and stared at the so-called famous place.
It looked like a dump.
“Are you sure…?” he started.
The building was ancient and grimy, squeezed between a record shop and a bookstore.
Its only sign was a filthy wooden board with a picture of a leaking cauldron.
It should’ve stood out like a sore thumb, but when Harry glanced around, none of the Muggles even seemed to see it.
Only he and Hagrid were standing right in front of the door.
“Don’t bother looking.
Muggles can’t see it.
Hidden by magic.” Hagrid pushed the door open.
A wave of stale air and old beer smell rolled out.
The place was dark—tiny windows let in almost no light.
Every table was covered in greasy smears.
It was afternoon, so the pub was nearly empty.
Only the bartender dozed behind the counter.
“Best not wake him,” Hagrid whispered, giving Harry a shushing gesture.
He led the way past the bar to a back door.
“This here’s the entrance to Diagon Alley.
If you had a wand you could do it yourself.” Hagrid tapped his pink umbrella against the brick wall three times.
The bricks shuddered, then began to shift and roll aside.
An archway opened onto a bustling street.
Harry stepped back, eyes wide.
“Count three bricks up from the dustbin, then two across.
Remember that and you can come back on your own anytime.” Hagrid ducked through the arch.
“Hurry—the wall’ll close soon.” Harry memorized the pattern and followed.
The bricks slid back into place behind them.
He turned and looked down the street.
This was a wizard street.
Everyone here wore what Uncle Vernon would’ve called “freak clothes”—pointed hats, long black robes.
The exact outfits that would’ve gotten someone stared at on any normal street.
“Come on, Harry.
First stop—get your money.” Hagrid waved him forward and pointed toward a grand, glittering building in the distance.