"Remi, did you grow up in the magical world? Do you know lots of spells?"
"No, I only moved in with my teacher two years ago. And where we live isn't exactly a magical community. I don't actually know any spells."
"Really? But didn't Hagrid say you used a Muggle… Muggle…?"
"Muggle-Repelling Charm," Hagrid reminded helpfully.
"Yes, that one! The Muggle-Repelling Charm!"
"I didn't cast it myself," Remi replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card about the size of a bank card. He handed it to Harry and continued.
"My teacher's an alchemist. This is a magic card he made. You just need to channel a bit of magical energy into it to activate the stored spell. I used it earlier to trigger the Muggle-Repelling Charm."
"That's brilliant! So I could use it too?"
"Yes, as long as you can control the magic within you."
"Er… may I see it?" Harry glanced at Hagrid, then hesitantly passed the card—still warm—to him.
Hagrid carefully turned it over in his hands, examining both sides. Unable to make sense of it, he looked to Remi.
"Can I try it out?" Hagrid asked, eyes shining.
Remi nodded. "Of course. Just don't pour in too much power at once. A little at a time."
Hagrid's face lit up. He concentrated, slowly channelling magic into the card.
Within seconds, even Harry—who had never cast a spell—felt the air shift slightly. The atmosphere around them changed, as though something unseen had stirred. Hagrid's face flushed with excitement.
"Amazing! Absolutely amazing! Remi, does your teacher—er, Nico—have any more of these? Could I buy one?" Hagrid asked eagerly.
"You're not planning to flog them to Squibs, are you? They can't use them—you have to be able to control magic, or else they wouldn't be Squibs in the first place," Remi teased.
"No, no, no, not at all! I want it for myself."
Hagrid suddenly grew bashful.
"Truth is… well, due to certain incidents, the Ministry of Magic doesn't allow me to carry a wand, so..."
"I see…" Remi nodded thoughtfully. "I don't have any spares, but I can write to my teacher and ask him to make a few. What sort of spells do you need? They'll have to be custom made."
"Thank you so much!" Hagrid rubbed his hands together like an excited schoolboy as he handed back the card. "Nothing too flashy. Just daily-use stuff: levitation, fire-lighting, illumination…"
Harry listened, wide-eyed, as Hagrid listed spells. He imagined each one, his anticipation for the magical world growing with every word.
The train rattled along. After three more stations, the trio exited the Underground and emerged above ground.
It looked like an ordinary high street—not too posh, not run-down either. People milled about as they would on any other weekday.
Following Hagrid's lead, they walked until reaching a sharp bend.
Tucked between two ultra-modern storefronts stood a peculiar old building. Its only feature was a tightly shut wooden door, the façade painted in a dull, almost forgotten shade. It stood out like a sore thumb.
Remi immediately thought of a funeral parlour.
As they neared, he noticed letters slowly appearing on the blank shop sign: Vixen Bar.
Ahem, correction—it was The Leaky Cauldron.
As they approached, Harry felt something oddly familiar.
"Did they use Muggle-Repelling Charms here too?" he asked.
"You've got a sharp mind, Harry. You'll be a great wizard one day!" Hagrid praised as he pushed open the door.
A wave of noise hit them.
The pub was filled with wizards, witches, and creatures that didn't quite pass for human. Some drank ordinary-looking beverages, others sipped bubbling brews that emitted strange vapours.
Several ancient-looking witches, resembling crossbred cats and humans, were puffing on long pipes, their glowing eyes fixed on the newcomers.
"Welcome to the wizarding world… What do you think?" Hagrid asked.
Harry grinned. "That's cool!"
"If I were a Muggle parent," Remi said flatly, "you'd have to be stark raving mad to send your kid here alone."
"Eh? Why's that?" Hagrid asked, taken aback.
"A dingy old pub, weird blokes drinking strange potions, some eating raw meat! Merlin's beard—no sane parent would leave their child with these people."
Though Remi hadn't spoken loudly, the pub fell noticeably quieter.
"Ahem… Actually, this isn't the only entrance to Diagon Alley," Hagrid explained, clearing his throat. "This one's just the wizards' way in."
He turned and glanced around. Then he shrugged his massive shoulders, an intimidating motion that quickly convinced the room to return to its previous volume.
"You're here again? The usual?" the barman called.
"No, Tom. I'm working."
"On duty? Oh! Helping first-years with their shopping, are you? Blimey, didn't think they'd give you the job… Merlin's pants—is that… Could it be… Harry Potter?! What an honour!"
The barman bolted from behind the counter, clasping Harry's hand and shaking it furiously.
"Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?!"
"By Morgana's bones, I thought the Prophet was exaggerating again. But it's true! It's him!"
"Welcome back, Mr Potter! Welcome to the wizarding world!"
A cacophony erupted. Wizards and witches abandoned their seats and rushed forward to shake Harry's hand. Their excitement pushed Remi entirely out of the way.
"I'm not jealous at all," Remi muttered bitterly.
With a huff, he climbed onto a high stool and reached for a glass, intent on drowning his irritation in a mock dram of firewhisky.
But a strong smell of garlic wafted into his nose.
He turned—and lo and behold, who else?
Professor Quirrell, the archetype of anxious academics, was tiptoeing toward Harry like a bashful debutante.
"Tsk, good thing I got pushed out, or I might've suffocated in there."
Blessing in disguise. Remi sat back, quietly watching Harry, whose face was now scarlet from the overwhelming attention. The poor boy clumsily responded to each handshake and compliment.
Remi was certain Harry's mind had completely blanked out.
A few moments later, even the enormous Hagrid had been jostled out of the crowd.
Spotting Remi, Hagrid smacked his forehead with a groan.
End of the Chapter.