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The crisp London air hit them as they stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron on Sunday morning. After a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. The streets were busy with weekend shoppers, carriages rattling over cobblestones, and the occasional bark of a dog in the distance.
"Now, how should we find the items you're searching for?" Flitwick asked, adjusting his scarf.
Darius scanned the crowd casually. "We can ask the street vendors," he said. "They know more about the commerce of the area than we do."
Before Flitwick could respond, a loud, mocking voice cut through the morning bustle. "Oi, look at that! It's a little man! What are you, some kind of circus freak?"
Darius turned to see a group of three teenagers—probably sixteen or seventeen—loitering near a closed shop entrance. They wore typical early-90s fashion: baggy, slightly ripped jeans, oversized flannel shirts over graphic tees, and worn sneakers. Their expressions carried malice and looking for entertainment.
The tallest one, a lanky boy with greasy brown hair, nudged his companions. "Nah, Dean, he's probably one of them midgets from the telly. Look at that suit though—where'd you nick that from, a charity shop in the 1950s?"
Flitwick's tiny frame tensed, his hand moving subtly toward his concealed wand. Darius recognized the signs—the professor was preparing to defend himself, but doing so with magic in front of Muggles would violate the Statute of Secrecy.
Darius stepped forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Flitwick. "You'd do well to mind your manners," he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge. "He's my companion, and I suggest you keep your insults to yourselves."
The second bully, a stocky boy with a shaved head and multiple ear piercings, laughed. "Oh, listen to the little kid! What are you, his bodyguard? You're like twelve, mate. Sod off before you get hurt."
"Yeah," the third one added—shorter than his friends but with a mean look in his eye. "Run along, kid. This doesn't concern you."
"Actually," Darius said, not moving, "it does. You're blocking the pavement and harassing people. Move along."
The tall one—Dean—sneered. "Or what? You gonna cry to your mummy?" He took a step forward, trying to use his height advantage to intimidate. "Tell you what, little man and his mini mate can pay us a fiver each, and maybe we'll let you pass without—"
"Last chance," Darius interrupted. "Walk away."
"Big talk from a—" The stocky one lunged forward suddenly, swinging a clumsy haymaker at Darius's head. "Let's teach this brat some respect!"
[Threat detected. Initiating combat assistance. Analyzing attack vector... trajectory predictable, excessive wind-up, poor balance. Optimal counter: sidestep and redirect.]
Time seemed to slow as the nano machine's analysis overlaid Darius's perception. He could see every detail of the attack—the boy's weight shifting too far forward, his arm telegraphing the punch, the opening it created. Darius's body moved before conscious thought completed, nano-assisted reflexes tracing the pattern of the attacker's movement with precision.
He stepped inside the punch's arc, too close for the swing to land with any force. His left hand came up, deflecting the arm harmlessly past his shoulder. In the same fluid motion, he pivoted, used the attacker's own momentum against him, and gave a precise push at the boy's center of mass.
The stocky bully stumbled backward, arms windmilling wildly, and tripped over the curb behind him. He landed hard on his backside with a grunt of pain and surprise.
"Mark!" Dean shouted, shock written across his face. "What the—how did a kid—"
"Get him!" the shorter one snarled, rushing forward with his friend.
[Multiple attackers. Threat level: Low. Subjects untrained, emotional, poor coordination. Recommend minimal force response.]
Dean came in with a wild tackle attempt while the shorter boy tried to grab Darius's arm. Again, the nano machine's analysis made their movements seem almost comically slow and predictable. Darius sidestepped Dean's charge, letting him overextend and stumble past. The shorter boy managed to grasp Darius's sleeve, but a quick wrist rotation broke the grip, followed by a palm strike to the boy's shoulder that sent him spinning away.
Dean recovered and threw another punch—better form this time, but still telegraphed and desperate. Darius ducked under it, swept the boy's supporting leg, and watched him crash to the pavement in a tangle of limbs.
The entire encounter had lasted perhaps seven seconds.
All three bullies were now on the ground in various states of disarray. Mark, the stocky one, was still sitting on the curb, looking dazed. Dean had scraped his palms on the pavement and was staring at them in disbelief. The shorter boy had rolled into a sitting position against a wall, clutching his shoulder where Darius had struck.
"Bloody hell," Mark whispered, staring up at Darius with wide eyes. "What are you?"
"Someone who knows how to defend himself," Darius said calmly. "Now, are we done here? Or do you need another lesson in respecting people?"
"We're done! We're done!" the shorter boy said quickly, scrambling to his feet. "Christ, mate, we were just having a laugh—"
"A laugh at someone else's expense," Darius cut him off. "That's not humor. That's cruelty. Maybe think about that before you decide to harass strangers."
Dean pulled himself up, keeping his distance now. "Look, we didn't mean nothing serious, yeah? Just... we'll go. Right lads?"
"Yeah, definitely," Mark agreed, finally getting to his feet while maintaining a healthy distance. "Sorry about... about your mate there. The little—I mean, your friend. Sir."
The three of them backed away, then turned and hurried off down the street, occasionally glancing back as though expecting pursuit. Their voices carried back faintly: "Did you see how fast he moved?" "I couldn't even track it!" "Thought he was just a kid..."
Flitwick blinked up at Darius in astonishment, his wand now completely forgotten. "Merlin's beard! How did you move like that? That was extraordinary! I've seen trained Aurors who couldn't react with such precision!"
Darius smiled faintly, adjusting his sweater where the shorter bully had grabbed it. "Martial arts, Professor. I've been studying since I was quite young."
"Martial arts?" Flitwick's academic curiosity was now fully engaged. "The Muggle fighting techniques? I knew they existed, of course, but I've never seen them applied so... efficiently. Those boys were each twice your size!"
"Size matters less than technique and timing," Darius explained, which was true—though he left out the part about nano-machine-enhanced reflexes and pattern recognition. "Most untrained fighters telegraph their attacks badly. If you know what to look for, defending yourself becomes much easier."
Flitwick exhaled, visibly relaxing though his eyes still sparkled with intellectual interest. "I see... very impressive. Very impressive indeed." He adjusted his oversized tie, looking slightly flustered. "Thank you, Darius. Sometimes I forget the Muggle world isn't... well, particularly kind to those who appear different."
"No problem, Professor," Darius replied, glancing around to see if anyone else had taken undue notice of the altercation. Most pedestrians had simply walked around the scene, typical London indifference to street disturbances. "Better safe than sorry."
"Quite right." Flitwick looked thoughtful for a moment, then whispered softly, "Though to prevent any more unwanted attention..." He muttered under his breath and made a subtle gesture with his wand, still concealed in his sleeve.
[Detecting minor charm activation. Analysis: Notice-me-not variant, localized to Professor Flitwick's person. Effect: Passive attention redirection.]
A faint shimmer passed over Flitwick, invisible to normal sight but perceptible to Darius's enhanced senses. Suddenly, pedestrians' eyes seemed to slide past the tiny professor without really registering his presence. They noticed him enough to avoid collision, but not enough to actually see him—a perfect application of subtle magic.
"That should keep things quiet for a while," Flitwick said, tucking his hands into his coat pockets with satisfaction. "A minor Muggle-Repelling Charm, really. Doesn't make me invisible, just... unremarkable. Forgettable. It's quite useful when I need to navigate Muggle areas without drawing attention."
"Clever," Darius said, genuinely impressed. "Does it require constant concentration?"
"Oh no, once properly cast it maintains itself for several hours. The charm feeds on ambient magic and the natural tendency of Muggle minds to rationalize away things that don't fit their worldview." Flitwick started walking again, his earlier good humor restored.
As they walked toward the street of shops, Darius approached a vendor arranging stacks of glassware. "Excuse me," he asked politely. "Would you happen to know where I might find a store that sells precision tools?"
The vendor raised an eyebrow, then pointed down the street. "There's a science shop a few blocks that way. Look for the blue awning."
"Thank you sir," Darius said, giving a nod.
Flitwick, still maintaining his disillusionment charm enhanced with Muggle-repelling enchantments, followed carefully. His presence didn't register to the bustling London crowd at all—not visually, not audibly, not in any perceptible way. To any observer, Darius was simply a well-dressed twelve-year-old walking alone through the streets.
The duo moved on, blending into—or in Darius's case, appearing to move solo through—the flow of pedestrians. Darius kept an eye on their surroundings while Flitwick quietly marveled at the Muggle cityscape, his steps careful but curious.
They found the shop easily enough: Griffin & Sons Scientific Supply, its name painted in gold lettering above a blue canvas awning that stretched over the storefront. The window display featured an antique brass microscope surrounded by various measuring instruments arranged on navy velvet. A small bell chimed as they entered.
The interior smelled of machine oil and paper. Wooden shelves lined the walls, packed with instruments in their original boxes. Glass display cases ran down the center of the narrow shop, and fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a clinical white glow over everything.
A middle-aged man in a gray cardigan looked up from behind the counter. "Good morning! How can I help you?"
"I'm looking for precision measurement tools," Darius said, pulling out his list. "Digital calipers, preferably accurate to 0.01 millimeters. A milligram-precision analytical balance if you have one. And a set of volumetric flasks in various sizes."
The shopkeeper's eyebrows rose. "That's fairly advanced equipment for someone your age. May I ask what field you're working in?"
"Independent research in material analysis," Darius replied smoothly. "I'm exploring measurement precision and its applications. It's a personal project."
"Impressive initiative." The shopkeeper seemed genuinely pleased. "Well, let me show you what we have."
He led them to a display case containing various instruments. "These are our Mitutoyo digital calipers—Japanese made, very reliable. They'll give you 0.01 millimeter resolution, battery-powered with an LCD display."
Darius examined the calipers carefully. They were bulkier than the sleek digital instruments from his previous life's era, with a more industrial design typical of early 1990s electronics. The LCD display was basic—simple black numbers on a gray background—but the mechanical construction looked solid.
"These will work perfectly," he said.
"Excellent. Now, for the analytical balance—" The shopkeeper moved to another section. "This is our top model. Accurate to one milligram, with wind shields to prevent air currents from affecting measurements. It requires mains power, so you'll need access to an electrical outlet."
The balance was a substantial piece of equipment, enclosed in glass on three sides with a small door for placing samples. The digital readout was similar to the calipers—functional but basic compared to modern designs.
[Technical assessment: Equipment appropriate for stated purpose and era-accurate. Quality sufficient for basic fabrication work though will require significant nano-assisted enhancement for surveillance applications.]
"That's exactly what I need," Darius confirmed, even as his mind calculated how the nano machine could enhance and miniaturize the components for his actual purposes.
Flitwick's voice came from beside him, completely inaudible to the shopkeeper. "Fascinating! No magic at all, yet it achieves such accuracy. How do Muggles manage such things?"
"Electronics," Darius explained aloud, though to the shopkeeper it seemed like he was simply continuing his own train of thought. "The device uses a small battery to power circuits that can detect very small changes in position. When you move the jaws, it measures the change and displays it on the screen."
The shopkeeper nodded approvingly at what he interpreted as the boy thinking aloud, a sign of genuine scientific curiosity.
"Remarkable! A completely different approach to the same problem that magic solves with measurement charms," Flitwick said, his words sliding past the shopkeeper's consciousness like water off glass. "And it maintains this precision consistently?"
"Yes—it doesn't vary based on the user's focus or conditions. The measurement is the measurement, every time," Darius continued, seamlessly weaving his responses into what appeared to be a monologue about the equipment's advantages.
Over the next hour, they selected additional items: volumetric flasks in various sizes, precision tweezers, a basic multimeter for testing electrical circuits, small screwdrivers and tools, and several other instruments. The shopkeeper grew increasingly enthusiastic, clearly enjoying a customer who knew exactly what he wanted and could articulate his reasoning so clearly.
At one point, as Flitwick leaned closer to examine a set of precision weights, his shoulder brushed against a display case, causing it to wobble slightly. The shopkeeper glanced at it, frowned briefly at what he assumed was a structural settling or minor earthquake tremor, then dismissed it from his mind almost immediately—the Muggle-repelling charm gently nudging his attention away from the anomaly.
The shopkeeper packed everything carefully, providing foam padding and sturdy cases for the more delicate instruments. The total came to £142—a significant expense, but well within Darius's budget.
"Thank you for your help," Darius said pleasantly.
"My pleasure, young man. It's refreshing to see someone your age so dedicated to scientific inquiry. Best of luck with your research!"
As they left the shop, the bell chiming behind them, Flitwick practically bounced with enthusiasm. "What remarkable ingenuity! I had no idea Muggle technology had advanced to such precision."
"They've had to develop alternative methods for everything we do with magic," Darius replied quietly, keeping his voice low enough that passersby wouldn't notice. To anyone watching, he appeared to be a thoughtful boy muttering to himself—unusual perhaps, but not alarming. The few who glanced his way quickly looked away, their attention sliding off him with the subtle influence of proximity to Flitwick's charms.
They visited two more shops over the next several hours.
Meredith's Optical & Scientific occupied a corner building with large windows that let in the afternoon light. The shop had clearly been there for decades—the wooden floors creaked, and the brass fixtures had the warm patina of age. The proprietor, a severe-looking woman with silver hair pulled into a tight bun, looked up from her ledger as they entered.
"May I help you?" Her tone was clipped, professional.
"I'm looking for a basic compound microscope, several high-quality lenses of different focal lengths, and various optical filters," Darius said.
She studied him for a long moment. "That's quite specific. School project?"
"Independent research," Darius replied with his now-practiced answer.
As they discussed specifications—achromatic versus apochromatic lenses, magnification ranges, filter wavelengths—Flitwick occasionally asked questions that Darius smoothly incorporated into his own commentary. Mrs. Meredith seemed pleased with what she interpreted as a well-educated young man thinking through his options aloud.
When Flitwick reached out to examine a lens case more closely, it shifted slightly on the shelf. Mrs. Meredith's eyes flickered toward it, but the movement barely registered in her consciousness. She blinked, experienced a fleeting sense that something was odd, then found her attention drifting back to the invoice she was preparing. Whatever minor strangeness she'd noticed slipped away like a dream upon waking.
Their final stop was Pembrook Electronics, a cluttered shop that smelled of solder and new plastic. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, and the walls were lined with small drawers containing components organized by cryptic numbering systems. A younger man with disheveled hair and solder stains on his fingers greeted them with distracted enthusiasm.
"Looking for anything particular?"
Darius acquired LEDs, small motors, batteries, wire, and basic circuitry components. The proprietor assumed they were for school science projects and grew animated discussing potential applications, clearly delighted by a young customer who understood the technical specifications.
[Component inventory assessment: Acquired materials sufficient for basic fabrication with significant nano-enhancement required. Many surveillance-specific components unavailable through legitimate channels. Alternative acquisition method necessary.]
By the time they stopped for lunch at a small café called The Copper Kettle, Darius's arms were laden with packages and his mind was already cataloguing what he still needed—components that couldn't be purchased openly, either because they didn't exist in consumer form yet or because buying them would raise questions.
The café was quiet, with only a handful of other patrons. They chose a corner table where Darius could sit with his back to the wall. The waitress approached with practiced cheer.
"What can I get you, love?"
"Two orders of the soup and sandwich special, please. And two teas."
"Hungry boy, are you?" She smiled and headed to the kitchen.
Darius waited until she was gone before speaking in a low voice. "You've been quite helpful today, Professor. I appreciate you taking the time for this."
"My pleasure entirely!" Flitwick's voice came from across the table, warm and enthusiastic but completely inaudible to anyone else in the café. "This has been quite educational for me as well. Seeing how Muggles approach problems we'd solve with magic—it's a fascinating perspective."
When the food arrived, Darius ate from both plates in turns, making it appear he was simply very hungry. One sandwich would disappear while he worked on his soup, then he'd return to find the other half-eaten—though of course, he was actually just alternating. The waitress, passing by to refill his tea, simply smiled at his appetite. Young boys were always eating, after all.
"Will you need to continue shopping this afternoon?" Flitwick asked between bites that no one could see.
"Yes, Professor. There are a few more items—some specialized glassware, perhaps some additional components." Darius consulted his list. "Though I'm making good progress."
They spent the afternoon visiting several more shops. Darius purchased high-quality notebooks and graph paper for recording measurements, some chemical reagents from a pharmacy supply store (carefully selected to seem innocuous), and various small tools and supplies. With each purchase, he maintained his cover story of independent research while mentally noting what he still needed for his actual purposes.
Throughout the day, Flitwick's presence went entirely unnoticed by the Muggle population. The charms worked flawlessly—not just making him invisible, but rendering him completely imperceptible. Any slight anomalies that might have given him away—a door opening with no visible cause, items shifting position, the faint sound of footsteps—were either dismissed immediately or failed to register at all in Muggle consciousness.
To the shopkeepers and passersby of London, Darius was simply a precocious, well-mannered boy with a passion for science. Slightly odd perhaps, in the way that particularly bright children often were, but nothing that warranted more than a passing thought.
[Time assessment: 4:30 PM. Remaining budget: Approximately £35. Critical surveillance components still unacquired: miniature camera sensors, wireless transmission components, advanced battery systems, night vision elements, recording media.]
As evening approached, they returned to the Leaky Cauldron with Darius's accumulated purchases. Tom helped them carry everything upstairs to their rooms—Darius in room four, Flitwick in room three next door.
"Dinner is served from six to eight," Tom informed them. "Nothing fancy, but it's hot and filling."
"Thank you, Tom," Flitwick said. "We'll be down shortly."
Darius spent the next hour carefully organizing his purchases in his small room, categorizing them by purpose and making detailed notes. The legitimate equipment—calipers, balance, microscope, basic electronics—would serve both his cover story and his actual needs once the nano machine enhanced them. But the components he still needed were the critical ones, the pieces that would transform basic instruments into sophisticated surveillance equipment.
[Query: Night-time acquisition plan status?]
"Working on it," Darius murmured, checking that his door was firmly closed. "I need to wait until Flitwick is asleep, then use wandless magic to bypass the pub's security. The Room taught me the principles, and we've been practicing the execution."
[Risk assessment: High. Wandless magic at host's current skill level sufficient for basic unlocking and notice-me-not effects but sustained application will cause magical fatigue. Recommend conservative approach and prioritization of essential components only.]
They had dinner in the Leaky Cauldron's main room—hearty stew and fresh bread that was surprisingly good. Flitwick was in excellent spirits, regaling Darius with stories of his own student days and asking questions about modern Muggle technology that Darius carefully answered with appropriate levels of knowledge.
"I'm quite tired," Flitwick said after dinner, stifling a yawn. "All that walking through Muggle London. I think I'll turn in early and catch up on some reading."
"I'm feeling it too, Professor," Darius agreed, which was partially true. "I'll probably organize my notes for a while and then sleep. Tomorrow we can finish any remaining shopping before heading back."
They climbed the stairs together, Flitwick bidding him goodnight before entering room three. Darius entered room four, carefully locking the door behind him.
Then he waited.