Ivan was delayed at Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions for half an hour, and by the time he stepped out, dusk had already begun to settle over the alley.
However, Diagon Alley was even more lively now than it had been during the day.
Wizards who had finished work early were trickling into shops to make purchases.
The entrance to the pub was crowded, and the scent of roasted meat and beer wafted through the air.
Ivan couldn’t help but join the crowd, wandering back and forth between the various small shops.
His first stop was Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, where he bought a chocolate nut sundae—paying entirely in copper Knuts.
The wizard behind the counter rolled his eyes as he counted the coins but accepted them nonetheless.
Leaning against the railing outside the shop, Ivan tasted his first ice cream in this alternate world, his eyes scanning the street.
To his left, a crowd of parents and children swarmed the entrance of Flourish and Blotts, likely there to buy textbooks for the new school year.
To his right, the window of Ollivanders remained dim and mysterious.
Ivan had no intention of going inside yet; his magic had been sucked dry by his shattered system panel, so what use would he have for a “fire poker”?
After finishing his ice cream, he strolled into Honeydukes.
The shop was filled with a sweet, fragrant aroma, with mountains of colorful candies piled high.
Fizzing Whizbees, Chocolate Frogs, Acid Pops, Pepper Imps…
Ivan acted like a tourist, picking up a little bit of everything.
When it came time to pay, he used copper Knuts again.
The witch at the register clearly hadn’t mastered basic mental math.
She stared at the two hundred-plus Knuts and had to count them several times.
Finally, unable to help herself, she began to mutter, “Do kids these days not carry proper money anymore?
Do they have to come here just to test the cashier…”
Ivan pretended not to hear her and walked out with his bag of sweets.
Reaching the corner of an alley, he stuffed most of the candy into his backpack, keeping only a bag of Fizzing Whizbees in his hand to snack on as he walked.
The sweetness dissolved in his mouth, mixed with a hint of honey and a strange, magical fragrance.
This was his first “snack” feast in this world.
“Not bad at all!”
As he passed Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, he saw basic prank props displayed in the window—biting teacups, fake wands, and dungbombs.
The shop was somewhat quiet; after all, the large wave of students had only just received their acceptance letters today.
Ivan paused at the entrance.
Inside, a young wizard with red hair was tidying the shelves.
His back was thin and tall.
*Could it be a Weasley?*
*At this point in time, the twins shouldn’t have opened their own shop yet…*
He didn’t go in, turning instead to continue his aimless wandering.
After walking for a while longer, the sky turned completely dark, and the shops began lighting their magical lamps one by one.
“Time to head back to the Leaky Cauldron.”
When he returned to the pub, he found it much noisier than it had been in the afternoon.
Smoke filled the front hall, and over a dozen wizards were crammed into the small space, drinking, boasting, and exchanging recent news.
Tom, the landlord, was leisurely wiping glasses behind the bar.
Ivan squeezed his way through.
“Landlord, I’ll have the roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and a butterbeer.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough for Old Tom to hear him over the rowdy environment.
Old Tom looked up, squinting at him with cloudy eyes.
Dressed like an ordinary wizard and small in stature—likely someone’s kid who had wandered over on his own at this hour.
“Roast beef set is five Sickles.
Butterbeer is one Sickle.
That’s six Sickles total, kid.”
Ivan nodded.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a large handful of copper Knuts, piling them onto the bar with a series of clinks.
They were all copper, forming a small, gleaming yellowish mound.
Tom raised an eyebrow at the sight.
“Hey, lad, all Knuts?”
“Yes.”
“…Fine then.”
Diagon Alley was full of weirdos; one more kid wouldn’t make a difference.
Besides, a child pulling a pile of copper Knuts from his pocket felt much safer than one pulling out a handful of gold Galleons.
Without even counting them, Tom swept the pile of Knuts into the till.
“Find a seat.
I’ll bring it over in a bit.”
Ivan found a table in a corner and sat down.
Five minutes later, a large tray was brought over.
The roast beef was seared to a fragrant brown, and when cut, it was tender and juicy.
The Yorkshire pudding was fluffy and golden, soaked in rich gravy.
The butterbeer was served in a heavy wooden mug with a thick, creamy head of foam.
Ivan’s eyes widened.
No one who had gone all day without a proper meal could help but be hungry.
He picked up his knife and fork, cut off a large piece of beef, and stuffed it into his mouth.
Delicious!
The juices burst in his mouth, mingled with the aroma of black pepper and rosemary.
The pudding had absorbed the gravy, making it soft, chewy, and malty.
He took a large gulp of butterbeer.
It was sweet, with a buttery flavor and a subtle alcoholic kick that hit his taste buds as the foam exploded on the tip of his tongue.
“Burp…
that’s the stuff!”
This was the most satisfying meal he had eaten in the eleven years since he’d transmigrated—no, in both his lives combined!
He ate without any regard for etiquette, his utensils clattering against the plate.
This behavior undoubtedly drew disdainful looks from the surrounding wizards.
Ivan acted as if he hadn’t seen them.
*I paid for this food; it’s none of your damn business.*
Ten minutes later, the plate was licked clean and the mug was empty.
He leaned back in his chair and let out a satisfied belch.
This was what it meant to be alive.
To hell with the Rosiers’ cold leftovers.
To hell with family glory.
He sat for a while, waiting for the feeling of fullness to spread through his body.
Only when he started feeling a bit drowsy did he stand up and walk to the bar.
“Landlord, I need a room.
Just a standard one.”
Old Tom glanced at him.
“Standard room is five Sickles, breakfast included.
You’ll need to pay an extra two Sickles for the deposit, which I’ll return when you check out.”
Ivan pulled out another handful of copper Knuts.
Two hundred and three of them.
This time, Tom didn’t even bother to raise an eyebrow.
He took the money and tossed Ivan a key.
“Third floor, Room Seven.
The stairs are over there.
Watch your step; don’t trip over the drunks.”
“Alright, thanks.” Ivan took the key and turned to go upstairs.
He inserted the key into the lock and turned it.
The door opened.
The room was tiny, containing only a bed, a wardrobe, a desk, and a chair.
That was it.
The window faced the back alley of Diagon Alley, offering a silhouette of the buildings opposite.
The sheets were faded from washing but had no unpleasant odor.
Ivan locked the door from the inside and walked to the window to check his surroundings.
Once he confirmed it was safe, he shut the window.
He pulled a simple “alarm device” from his backpack: a few thin strings, some small bells, and a roll of tape.
He had picked these up earlier in a Muggle shop in London.
He taped the string across the bottom of the door frame and hung the bells on the handle.
If anyone tried to pick the lock or push the door open, the bells would ring.
Simple and effective.
Watching those movies in his past life hadn’t been a waste; odd bits of knowledge always came in handy.
Once the setup was finished, he summoned his backpack interface.
Looking at the currency column, which held 3,947 gold coins, he let out a chuckle.
“I spent the whole day wandering around and didn’t even use up a single gold coin.
This money is actually worth something.”
In his backpack slots, the newly bought candy took up one slot, displayed as [Various Magical Candies × 18].
His robes took up three slots, his hat one, and his old clothes one.
The rest was filled with magical materials and books.
Ivan stared at the books.
[A Brief Introduction to Ancient Runes], [Properties of Potion Ingredients], [Silent Casting Techniques for Common Charms]…
Although he couldn’t understand them now, and even if he could, they wouldn’t be of much use yet, who knew what the future held?
If the panel really could be repaired…
If he could have magic…
He shook his head and closed the interface.
Thinking too much would only increase his worries; he needed to focus on surviving first.
He didn’t bother taking off his robes, lying straight down on the bed.
The mattress was as hard as sleeping on a wooden board, but it was much more comfortable than his bed at the Rosier house.
At least here, no one was trying to kill him.
Outside the window, the bustle of Diagon Alley gradually subsided.
The magical lamps were extinguished one by one, leaving only the pub’s sign flickering.
Ivan closed his eyes.
He was exhausted.
From being sentenced to death in the morning to stealing from the family treasury and fleeing, then spending half a day touring Diagon Alley—it had been a full day of both mental and physical strain.
Now, he could finally get some proper rest.