Chapter 1

The sun was just beginning to rise in the sky as its increasingly warm rays beamed down on the heart of London, bathing the city in a soft orange light. Although in the distance Big Ben's great clock had only just struck eight, the English capitol was already alive with the sights and sounds of human life. Thousands of people, locals and tourists alike were filling the streets, endlessly coming and going from place to place, always in constant motion. If one were to look at the city from the sky, the scene would have looked not unlike millions of ants scampering in, out, and around a metal and glass anthill.

Even with all these people, walking in throngs, going this way and that, quite oblivious to anything but their own individual routes, it is surprising no one took notice of a single man walking amongst the crowd, heading down Charing Cross Road. Ronald Weasley was walking hurriedly, weaving in and out of the crowd traveling in the opposite direction down the crowded London street. If anyone had taken time to stop and look, Mr. Weasley, would have surely stood out against the masses of people. He had fiery red hair, which came down to his shoulders and had a slightly unkempt appearance, as though he had tossed and turned all night and not bothered to comb it. His eyes, ocean-blue in color, were staring determinedly ahead as he walked, and showing signs of bags under them. Ron was fairly young, looking to be in his early twenties; he sported a lanky build and stood at an impressive 6'3". Ron had on a red and black flannel zip-up jacket, which he wore openly over a plain red shirt, grey jeans and a pair of dirty white and black sneakers.

Although Ron could be pinned down as odd for many of his physical characteristics, the thing that separated him from the rest of the people walking past him was that Ron Weasley was a wizard. As he walked, Ron's wand shifted slightly in his back pocket, but he took no notice, desperately making his way down the road. Ron always felt uncomfortable around Muggles, non magical folks. "They're always got their heads buried in their convoluted "lectronic" devices Ron thought passively, "and when did cell phones get that small? I swear, Dad was right; the things these ones come up with..."Ron pushed his slight annoyance out of his mind as he sidestepped a man in a business suit, whose face was buried in his phone. Fortunately for the young wizard, he would not have to deal with men in Muggle suits for much longer: he was nearing his destination.

Ron walked with his hands stuffed inside his jacket pockets, making his way along the crowed street, scanning the storefronts to his left. He finally stopping at a broken-down old restaurant, looking as though it had been neglected for years, dust collecting on the windows, and, generally everywhere else. It looked like the last place someone would want to go to, and yet, oddly enough, this was the exact place Ron had been making his way to, and was greatly relieved to have arrived. Ron walked up and leaned up against the store's wooden door. The door creaked loudly; looking like it might give under his weight. He whipped his head left and right, as though looking to see that the coast was clear, then slipped quickly through the door and promptly shut it behind him.

An equally dismal, yet not quite as rundown scene invited Ron as he looked around the infamous wizard pub, the Leaky Cauldron. The place was rather dark and shabby looking. There were a handful of tables stationed at odd intervals around the small pub, with a small bar along the right side. There were two men situated at a table in a far corner, drinking small glasses of blood red liquid that he knew to be Firewhiskey, talking more and more cheerfully with every sip. At the bar, a group of men and women were drinking from large mugs of an amber colored liquid, known to wizards as Butterbeer, which was foaming at the brim. Though he might have liked to, Ron didn't have time to sit down and have a spot of Firewhiskey for himself; he had things to do and if he sat down now he'd never get back up. Instead, he strode across the small pub and into the backroom without another glance.

The Leaky Cauldron's backroom was about as impressive as the front, which is to say, not at all. Just as dusty and dark as the front, the only feature that stood out was that it was completely empty. Yet this did not deter Ron, for he knew why the room was empty: it wasn't a backroom at all, but acted as a gateway from the Muggle world to the wizarding world, or to be more specific, Diagon Alley. Ron pulled out his wand and raised it to the far wall of the room, tapping what seemed like random bricks in the wall in a counter-clockwise direction. As soon as he tapped the last brick, the bricks began to shift, the wall began open up, and Ron stepped through the opening and into the sunlight once more. Ron couldn't help but smile; Diagon Alley always had that effect on him.

Diagon Alley was a fantastic assortment of various shops, businesses and restaurants positioned along a narrow cobblestone road. Along this street was Ollivander's Wand Shop, where Ron had purchased his first wand when he was 11 years old, Sugarplum's Sweets Shop, which had just about any type of sweet imaginable, the main office of the popular wizard newspaper, The Daily Prophet, as well as Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a truly amazing joke shop, which, as the name suggested, was run by one of Ron's older brothers, George Weasley. Indeed, these were only a few of the many, many interesting places to be found in this grand shopping area. But at the moment, Ron could be bothered by any of them, instead heading directly for a large, snowy white building nestled in the corner of Diagon Alley, it towered over the surrounding shops, and across the front, written in long, elegant letters, read "Gringotts Bank'. Ron reached the great building, pulled open the large bronze doors and continued in, the doors closing behind him with a muffled thud.

Unsurprisingly, Gringotts was packed with people. Long rows of bored looking waiting witches and wizards spawned from each teller station. Ron made his way towards a line at the center of the lobby, which seemed slightly shorter than the rest. He desperately hoped this wouldn't take too long. "I have better things to do then to stand in line at the bank all day! I have places to be, and this is my day off! Ron fumed to himself. He was right to be annoyed, since his job was one of the most demanding a wizard could ask for. Ron worked for the wizarding government, the Ministry of Magic, as an Auror. In this job, Ron enforced wizarding law by fighting against dark witches and wizards. As a rule, an Auror's job was as stressful as it was dangerous, sometimes requiring members to be away for days or weeks at a time, and they always had to be ready at a moments notice. Ron had just gotten back from a four day assignment in Liverpool, hunting down a particularly elusive criminal named Ethan Callahan, who had been selling Dark items to clients all over England. Callahan had fled London after being tipped off that the Ministry had a warrant for his arrest, and Ron was assigned to find and apprehend him…