Chapter Two (Or: Ignorance is a Safety Net)

One week later, James was bored out of his mind—Thomas had been a good sport through the whole thing, usually keeping James company when Dan and Lou were out 'working.' But James was going to go nuts if he was left home by himself one more time.

The second drop had gone smoothly – the man had paid the additional 30,000 without complaint. According to Thomas, he'd been incredibly relieved that James wasn't present at the exchange. James was kind of disappointed he couldn't be there to make the man squirm some more. He hated cheats.

Instead of making his normal rounds, James had gone to see Carl in the institution nearly every day – it was getting on his nerves that the nurses all knew his name and got teary eyed every time he came around. It was one of those days and James was irritated. Carl was just sitting in his wheelchair, staring blankly ahead.

"They're treating me like a bloody baby." James whined. He was holding Carl's hand, but for all it went noticed James might as well have been squeezing a lump of wood. He felt a lump form in his throat and shook his head. "You wouldn't have done something like this. You know I like to be out there. I need to be out there. I'm going fucking crazy just sitting in that flat."

Like usual, Carl remained unmoved.

"I miss you, Carl." James cleared his throat, standing up. "I'll come back in a few days. I promise."

One of the doctors caught him on his way out the door.

"Hi, Son. How are you holding up?"

James shrugged at the man. "Same old. What do you want?"

If the man was thrown by his rudeness, he didn't show it. "I just wanted to say that I'm glad you haven't stopped coming to see Mr. Broderick. It's really touching – most people would have given up on him by now."

"Well I'm not most people." James snapped. "I'm not going to give up on Carl. Ever!"

"Of course." The doctor frowned, but didn't say anything further as James walked away.

It was still early in the day – just after noon. James strolled along slowly, grimacing at the sun beating down on him. His long-sleeved shirt was stifling, but he still couldn't bear to go without it.

There was something weird in the air that day – James could almost feel it. It didn't really make much sense to him, but he couldn't shrug it off. Even more bizarre was the fact that he counted at least three owls swooping around in the city in broad daylight.

It was definitely a strange sort of day.

James slowly made his way back to the tube, thinking about getting something to eat. His stomach growled in agreement at that and James grinned at the little lady standing next to him who seemed a little scandalized at the gurgling noises his stomach made.

Chinese take-out sounded good. James got off at the right station and took a quick detour to a little hole-in-the-wall place that had the best mushu pork. He got enough for everyone before heading back to the empty flat. Even if they weren't there to eat then, they would be hungry later and James didn't cook any more. He flat out refused.

The windows were thrown wide in an attempt to alleviate the sweltering heat and James sat down at the telly after changing into some cooler clothes with a carton of the pork and a set of chop sticks. He had just taken his first bite when the owl swooped in the window and landed sloppily on the back of the couch.

"What the bloody hell!?" Food crashed to the floor in James' desperate attempt to get away from the intruding bird. The owl blinked at him with big yellow eyes, scooting closer to him along the back of the couch.

"Shoo! You're not supposed to be in here!"

The owl puffed out its feathers at that, hooting morosely and scooting even closer to him. It bobbed up and down a few times, holding out one leg.

"Whatsamatter? Are you hurt?" James shifted from one foot to the other, watching the owl carefully. It stared at him unblinkingly. Only then did James notice the paper tied to its leg. "Er… Is that for me?"

The owl hooted, and hopped forward again. She extended her leg, looking at him expectantly.

"Right. I think I've spent too much time cooped up." James muttered, slowly reaching a hand out to the owl. It snapped at his fingers and he tripped backwards over the coffee-table as he jerked back. "Hey now! There's no need to be snippy! You want me to get that fucking thing off your leg or not!?"

The owl hooted again, spreading its wings and fluttering down to the floor between his splayed legs. It bobbed up and down a couple more times, extending its leg again.

Hesitantly, James reached out again. When the owl made no move to bite him he quickly untied the envelope from its leg. The owl hooted in approval – how James knew that was anyone's guess – and snatched a bite of the fallen mushu pork before flying back out the window.

"You have just entered the twilight zone." James muttered, standing up and straightening out his clothes. He grumbled at the mess that was supposed to be his lunch and briefly wondered if he could get away with eating the chow mein instead. But that was Dan's favorite – and he had gotten it for him. And he couldn't stand the bloody fried rice – that was Thomas' favorite.

Shrugging, he finally turned his attention to the envelope in his hand. It was thick and heavy, made out of some sort of weird, thick paper. It was a letter – James' heart skipped a beat. It was addressed to him, but not really. It was addressed to the 'old' him.

Mr. H. Potter
The Top Bunk, Smallest Bedroom
Apt. 32, 236 Grenadine Way
London

The words were written in green ink. James swallowed harshly. His hands shook as he turned the letter over. On the back was a purple wax seal with a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake were entwined around a large 'H.'

For a second, James wasn't sure if he wanted to open it. How would anyone even find him? With an owl, none-the-less. He'd done a lot of things that could be considered strange – but this was weird, even for him.

His hands were shaking by the time he finally broke the seal on the envelope, pulling out another piece of the thick, heavy paper. The same emerald ink swirled over the page – a letter head of some sort was on the top. It read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sarc, Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

James wasn't sure what to make of the letter or the enclosed list of supplies. But by far the biggest issue he was having was the fact that they knew his name – his real name. Whoever these people were could get him into a lot of trouble and bring a lot of trouble for Dan and Lou.

He had to tell them.

James shoved the letter back into the envelope and shoved it into his pocket. He snatched his shoes up and was out the door in a second, trying to pull his shoes on as he stumbled down the stairs of the apartment building. He had to rush back up to grab his key and lock the door.

Then, he was flying down the street, knocking into people as he slipped down into the underground. A guard yelled at him when he jumped one of the turnstiles but he was already slipping into the doors as they were closing and the train started.

It was only three stops later but it seemed to last forever. James ripped from the train as soon as the doors opened, sprinting up the stairs and onto the open street. HQ was a little over 12 blocks away from the station and James knew the path well. He ran the whole way, nearly killing himself when he tripped over the railroad tracks. His palms were skinned to hell. Finally, the old upholstery building came into sight and he skidded to a halt by one of the doors.

It took a minute for someone to answer, and as soon as the door opened he was rushing across the floor, dodging the old machinery and ignoring the guys that were unloading crates.

"James!"

James stumbled to a standstill, looking around wildly until he spotted Lou standing with his arms crossed. The stern look disappeared when the boy rushed up to him, gasping for breath.

"What's wrong!? What happened?"

"I need to tell you something! Is Dan here?"

Lou nodded, wordlessly leading the way across the floor to the old office. James sprinted up the steps, leaving Lou to catch up as he burst through the door.

Dan jumped up from the desk when the door slammed open, gun already pointed at the intruders. He relaxed slowly, setting the gun back down on the desk.

"James? You're not supposed to be here."

James was shaking, rubbing both of his arms and noticing for the first time that he was wearing a t-shirt instead of his customary long sleeved shirt. His palms burned and were still bleeding, and his knees were torn up and blood was soaking through his jeans.

"I got a letter." James finally started, wiping his bloody palms on his shirt before fishing the letter out of his pocket. "It's addressed to 'Mr. H. Potter.' An owl brought it to me."

Dan just stared at him for a minute. "An owl? Wait – are you saying that someone knows who you are?"

James nodded, holding the letter out to Dan with shaking hands. Lou gently pushed him towards the couch and made him sit down before he disappeared into the bathroom. He came back with a wet towel and started cleaning off James' palms and knees.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" Dan snorted. "What is this shit?"

"You don't think – you don't think this has something to do with the Dursleys, do you?" James asked nervously. "I just saw them last week – and then this comes? But it was brought by a fucking owl!"

"You need to calm down." Dan snapped, throwing the letter down on his desk. He sighed, starting to pace. "Don't panic yet – I'll look into it."

"Maybe this has something to do with the 'other' people." Lou commented. "You know – the other one's like James."

"Those are my thoughts exactly." Dan muttered. He picked up the letter again, frowning. "What the fuck does this even mean? 'We await your owl by no later than July, 31?'"

Both James and Lou were silent at that. James was finally getting his breathing under control.

"I don't have to, right?" James was suddenly blinking back tears. "If it is real – this witch school – you won't just send me away, right?"

"Of course not." Lou said firmly. "You only have to go if you want to."

"I don't!"

"Hey, now. There will be no decisions made on this until we know what we're dealing with." Lou walked over and sat on the couch, throwing an arm around James. "If this is legit, just think about it. It means that there are more people out there with gifts like yours. What sort of things do you think you would learn at a school like that?"

"How should I know?"

"We'll look into it. If you really don't want to go, you don't have to. But if we find out that it's for real, I'm going to do my best to try and talk you into it. Carl would beat my ass if he found out I let you pass up an opportunity like this without trying my best to get you to take it."

"Carl?" James suddenly leapt to his feet. "What if I could learn how to help him!? I mean. . . When that car hit him I could fix everything except his brain, right? What if I could learn how to fix that too!?"

Dan and Lou exchanged a look. "That's possible – but I don't want you to get your hopes up too much. It was a very serious injury. There may not be a way to help him – even with this witchcraft and wizardry bit."

"I know that, but – if there is…" James hung his head, glancing up at Lou and Dan through his hair. "I have to help him if I can."

Both men remained silent for a long time. Lou went over to read the letter for himself.

"Call me crazy – but I think this is legit." Lou muttered when he finished reading. "It's almost too silly to be a prank—if I wanted to give a name to James' gift, I wouldn't call it witchcraft. I'd call it telekinesis, or something like that."

"It's magic." Dan muttered. His eyes were gleaming when he looked back at James. "Magic – that's what it is! Let me take a look at that list!"

James watched bemusedly as Dan went over the list with Lou.

"Standard Book of Spells, A History of Magic, Magical Theory – it's magic! These books are on magic! He's supposed to have a wand!" Dan's face suddenly fell. "Where the hell are we supposed to get a wand? Or a cauldron? I'm going to look into this… Those rumors had to come from something – I bet we can figure this out."

"I think I know what the 'owl thing' means." Lou muttered nervously. "If the letter came with an owl, maybe that's how they send letters? So if they're waiting for an owl from us…"

"…They're waiting for a reply – an RSVP!" Dan was pacing furiously. He suddenly grinned. "Don't worry about a thing – I know exactly who to talk to about this. We'll have this sorted out in no time."

James smiled as he watched Dan pacing back and forth. He wasn't nearly as worried as he had been. With a stretch, he laid back on the couch while Lou and Dan continued to talk over the letter.

"…Platform nine and three-quarters? There's a ticket – if this is a prank, it's either a really good one or a really bad one. It's not nearly believable enough, but at the same time that almost makes it more believable."

James grinned, letting the sounds of the conversation lull him to sleep.

The next three days were rather nerve-wracking. Thomas had been told of the letter, and was nearly as excited about the prospect as Dan.

"Just look at what you can do now and imagine what you could do if you're trained up!"

Finding real information was hard though. Most of the people who had ever claimed to have seen something out of the ordinary seemed to have lost their memories of the event – and sometimes more besides.

Every lead Dan tracked down turned into a dead end until the third day. One of Dan's old friends – now a loose business associate – gave them the name of a conspiracy theorist that would apparently rave to anyone who listened that there was a hidden magical world under their very noses.

Which was how James found himself in a crappy diner with Dan and a rather twitchy man who kept staring around in poorly concealed terror. The man was older – maybe in his fifties. His hair was greying, and he had several very prominent scars across his face. According to Dan's friend, the man's name was Harold.

"First, I want to know how you found me." The man asked quietly, his eyes darting all over the room before coming to rest first on Dan, then on James.

"I've been trying to find leads on magic." Dan replied quietly. He hesitated before pulling out James' Hogwarts letter. "You see, James got this letter – it was delivered by an owl. Except, we don't really know what it's about."

The man slowly reached out, snatching the letter up. His eyes started glowing when he read it, and his focus shifted completely on James. "You're one of them?"

"Er… I guess." James muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

"You can make things happen – strange things, unexplainable things – am I right?"

James nodded uncertainly.

"Okay – what you need to know about them magical folks is this. They're very quiet, secretive like. They don't want us non-magic folks knowing nothing 'bout them. They're careful – but not too careful. I managed to slip through the cracks. But my first experience with them was a long time ago. It was one of them magical folks that did this." He motioned to the scars on his face. "I'll never forget that—this bloke was wearing this great billowing costume, dressed all in black. Except he had a mask on, a skull mask. And he wasn't the only one. Everything was going crazy – people were screaming, things were exploding with no explanation, people were just – just dropping dead! No marks, no nothing! Just – bam! A flash of green light and they were down! The guys in the masks had these wands and were going around making all sorts of horrible things happen – casting spells as it were." Harold shuddered, his eyes slightly glazed as he lost himself to the memory. For a long moment, he was somewhere else entirely.

"The bloke that got me—said this word 'Sectumsempra' and these cuts appeared all over my face and chest. Weren't no normal cuts, either. They burned like someone was rubbing lemon in them and setting them on fire. I'll never forget that – he just stared at me while I was lying there and bleeding out. Laughing."

Harold paused long enough to take a swig of his coffee. "Then, the other ones came. None of them had masks—they started fighting the ones with the masks and trying to help people. One of them poured this stuff over all the cuts – nasty smelling stuff but it worked magic. They didn't heal up completely, but it was like they were suddenly two weeks old instead of fresh. Next thing I know, the men in the masks all start disappearing with loud pops – just disappearing! Pop! Into thin air! The other ones started rounding people up and casting spells on them. No one else I talked to that day remembered a thing. They were all kind of dazed, wandering around and hadn't a clue what happened."

"Why didn't they get rid of your memories too?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not sure. I think I just got overlooked – there were a lot of people dead, and a lot of people injured. But I just kept my mouth shut about it. And I kept my eyes open. That was 'bout twelve years ago. There were a lot of incidences back then – I finally figured out what was happening. The magical world was in a war and it was spilling over into our world, see?"

Dan arched an eyebrow. "Right. So – how do we get into this magical world? If this is all for real, there has to be some way for James to get into it, right?"

Harold nodded, his eyes wide. "I'll show you. Tomorrow, meet on me on Charing Cross Road—outside 'Cammings Book Shop.' Don't know the exact address but it's around 3900. Be there just before noon – you'll be able to see it better when there's more people about."

"See what?"

"The passage, of course!" Harold grinned, standing up. He handed the letter back to Dan. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He was gone as fast as he came, slipping out of the diner and disappearing into the crowd outside.

"What do you think?" Dan asked slowly, throwing a couple notes on the table to pay for the coffee. They walked slowly out of the diner.

"I think he's nuts." James muttered. "But it's the best lead we got so far. Do you believe everything he told us?"

"I don't know. I think I'll make my decision after he's shown us this 'passage' tomorrow. What do you think?"

"I guess." James shrugged. It wasn't like they had anything to lose, right?

The next day came both too slow and too quickly for James – he woke up far earlier than he was used to after having a hard time falling asleep. He fished some clothes out of the pile on the floor, careful not to wake Thomas. After a long, hot shower he put his contacts in and made his way down the hall.

He wasn't sure if he was looking forward to getting to the bottom of this shit or if he was ready to be disappointed again with another dead-end.

Dan was already awake too, slowly eating a bowl of cereal on the couch. "Hey. You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep." James muttered, plopping down next to the older man.

"Nervous?"

James shrugged. "I don't know – guess I'm just not sure what I'm hoping will happen. I can't figure out if I want this to be real, or if I want to finally figure out it's a load of shit."

"Hmm." Dan set his cereal bowl aside. "Well, we'll handle it whichever way it goes."

James nodded. The couch was very welcoming, and he allowed his head to fall back and his eyes to slip closed. "Wake me up when it's time."

Dan chuckled, patting him on the knee before getting up and taking his bowl into the kitchen. "We could always go grab some coffee or something – maybe hit some shops. Charing Cross Road is pretty neat."

"It's kind of posh, don't you think?"

Dan just shrugged. "A bit – but there are still some cool shops. It beats waiting around here."

There was no arguing with that little fact. James jumped up, running to find his shoes. When he had them on, Dan was standing by the door with his car keys and slipping his wallet into his back pocket. "Alright. Let's go."

By the time noon rolled around, James was jumpy and exhausted. Dan kept a calming hand on his shoulder as they leaned against the wall outside of Cammings Book Shop, staring hard up both sides of the street for any sign of Harold. When the scarred man finally got there, the lunch rush was in full swing.

"Right. I want you to look real careful at that patch of wall over there." Harold pointed. "Just between the book shop and the record shop."

James raised an eyebrow at the man, staring at the tiny, grubby little pub he was pointing at. "You're having us on! What's so special about a crap-hole pub!?"

"What!?" Harold simply blinked at him, turning back to stare at the pub. "A pub!?"

"Yeah." James rolled his eyes. "The Leaky Cauldron? That's real funny. You had your laugh. Let's go, Dan."

But Dan didn't move. "Um… James? I don't see a pub. All I see is a blank patch of wall."

James snorted, walking closer to the door of The Leaky Cauldron. He stepped aside just as a man walked out – the bloke was wearing a lime green bowler hat and a pin-striped suit, and shot James a nasty glare before walking off down the street.

"See that!? That man just came out of the wall!" Harold pointed out.

"No! He just came out of the door of the pub. You really can't see that?" James snorted. "Some portal to the magical world – this is bloody ridiculous!"

Dan slowly walked up to where James was standing right outside the door. "I can't see anything but a wall."

James shook his head, walking through the doorway and into the pub. The inside was much more interesting than the outside – James felt a thrill as he looked around the bustling place and was hit by the strangeness of it all. The pub itself was dark and shabby—and nothing really special in James' opinion. It was the people that were extraordinary.

"Bloody hell…" James muttered, shifting uncomfortably as he watched a man behind the bar pouring drinks and directing them to float throughout the room with a long, narrow stick. A man wearing a long, frumpy dress-looking thing was weaving through the tables with a handful of bags floating obediently behind him. The fireplace was empty, but suddenly flared to life with green flames and a woman came spinning into view, stumbling slightly as she stepped out of the bright green flames and brushed the soot from her clothes. The empty tables were cleaning themselves, a bucket full of soapy water easily dodging the patrons as it followed the animated rag around.

James swallowed thickly, glancing back towards the door. Dan was still on the outside, calmly watching what apparently looked like nothing more than a brick wall. Shaking off his nervousness, James slowly weaved his way up to the bar. The bartender beamed at him – showing off his lack of teeth.

"How are you doing, sonny?"

"Pretty good, sir. And you?"

"I'm doing all right. Business is good – that's all I can ask for these days." The man was balding. "I'm Tom, I own the joint. This your first time to Diagon Alley?"

James nodded dumbly.

"You're a Muggle-born then? That's all right. Ol' Tom is glad to point you in the right direction. You'll have to wait for someone with a wand to let you through the doorway out back. If you give me a minute, I'll take you myself. Just let me serve this next round of drinks."

James nodded again, smiling slightly as he watched the man expertly pour a handful of drinks that were smoking slightly—they whisked off on their own when the man waved his wand at them. Two men at the bar threw down a couple coins – gold from the look of them – and Tom set a new bottle in front of them. The label read 'Ol' Odgens Firewhiskey.'

"That should do it – come along, laddy."

Tom led him out of the back door, into a dead-end alley. Before James could quirk an eyebrow, however, Tom was counting out bricks on the back wall. "Three up, two across. Remember that. Then, you tap three times."

The old man did just that, and James watched in awe as the tapped brick started quivering, wriggling and writhing until a small hole appeared in the middle. The hole grew wider and wider and in hardly the time it took for James to take a breath, it was a large archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley." Tom grinned at James' shocked look. "You'll probably want to head to Gringotts first – exchange some Muggle money for wizarding money. It's the big white building up ahead – you can't miss it."

James smiled shyly. "I don't actually have any money today. I was just curious about the place. I'll be coming back to do my shopping in a couple days."

Tom grinned again. "Nothing wrong with that. Here!" Tom fished in his pocket and pulled out a couple of silver coins. He held them out to James. "Go treat yourself to some ice-cream – Fortescue's makes the best ice-cream you'll ever find."

"Thank you."

Tom disappeared back into the pub, and James slowly walked through the archway. He whipped around to watch it close behind him and swallowed thickly before he turned to look at Diagon Alley. The nearest shop had a flashing sign floating in front of it. 'Cauldrons – All Sizes – Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-Stirring – Collapsible.' In front of the shop a great pile of cauldrons were gleaming in the sun.

James turned his attention to the silver coins in his hand just trying to make sense of it all. The portal to the wizarding world was a pub – and it lead to a shopping district? It was so incredibly bizarre.

But it made sense in a weird way. It wasn't like they could just have a cauldron shop in the middle of London where people could see it if they were trying to stay secret, right?

And what the bloody hell was a Muggle!? James shook his head, sticking the coins in his pocket and heading further down the alley. Tom had called him a Muggle-born, then referred to Muggle money – that had to be pounds, right? James furrowed his eyebrow and had to side-step a plump woman coming out of the Apothecary, shaking her head and muttering "Dragon liver, eleven Sickles an ounce, they're mad…"

'Muggle must mean non-magic.' James decided internally as he meandered down the road, taking his time and surveying everything carefully. Eeylops Owl Emporium was a dark shop – James could hear the low, soft hooting and peaked through the door as he passed. The walls were lined with owls of all shapes and sizes.

"This is kind of awesome." James muttered, stopping outside of a shop with broomsticks in the window. A few boys that looked a little older than him were pressed against the glass, staring at the brooms with unrestrained awe. "The new Nimbus Two Thousand – fastest ever. . ." The shop directly across from the broom shop was advertising a sale on bat spleens and eel's eyes.

James scrunched his nose at that. What the hell did they do with things like that?

The people were even stranger than the shops. Some of them were wearing pointed hats, and most of them were wearing ankle-length, long-sleeved dresses – even the men! James snorted, shaking his head. Dan was probably getting impatient, but he figured he might as well look around some more before heading back. The excitement over the discovery was quickly fading, and instead a whole slew of questions popped up.

James made a note of the post office – chances were he'd be using that to send the RSVP back to Hogwarts. Gringotts was incredibly obvious – it was huge and the snowy white building towered over the other shops. There was a very creepy little man right outside, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold. He was shorter than James, had a sort of scrunched up face with a pointed beard and pointed teeth. He grinned viciously when he caught James staring.

James quickly looked away, surveying the surrounding shops and listening intently to the conversations taking place around him. His eyes narrowed on a family of three people that stuck out rather obviously – they were dressed like the normal, everyday people that James was familiar with. A girl James' age was listening, enthralled to a severe-looking older woman that was wearing a deep-green dress and had her hair pulled into a tight bun.

"…this is our bank, Gringotts. It is run by the Goblin Nation. You'll find there is hardly a safer place in the world than Gringotts. In the future, you will likely open an account there. In the meantime, that is where you will exchange your money. I'll explain more about the money when we're inside…"

Just like that, they were out of hearing range and sweeping up the steps to the bank. The strange little man – the goblin – bowed to them as they passed into the bronzed doors.

And just like that, James had enough – it was too much, too fast. He turned on his heel and made his way back out of the alley. He had to wait for about ten minutes before someone came along and opened the archway. Tom was too busy dealing with another rush to notice him slipping through.

Dan and Harold were huddled across the street, staring nervously at the wall. They jumped when James came back out, and Dan scowled at him. "Did you have a nice little trip? Could have warned me you were going to disappear right in front of my eyes."

"What's it like on the other side!?" Harold demanded right alongside Dan, eyes flicking to the stretch of wall that hid The Leaky Cauldron from view.

"It's a pub – but you go behind the pub to get to this place called Diagon Alley." James explained, leading the way down the road towards the parking garage that Dan had parked in. "I talked to the bartender a bit – he showed me how to get through the alley. You have to tap on a certain brick and an archway opens up! It was incredible! And Diagon Alley has all these shops in it – there's a Broom Shop, An Owl Shop, A Cauldron Shop – and they have their own money!" James fished a couple coins out of his pocket and showed them to Dan and Harold. "There's a bank – it's run by Goblins! Seriously – bloody Goblins! I'll have to go there to exchange money to buy the stuff on my list. But there's a post office, which means I can send the letter to Hogwarts."

"Wait a minute!" Harold snarled. "You're telling me that the portal to the magical world is a pub – and that there's another magic portal in the back that leads to – what – a shopping center!?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. I could take you in there, you know. I saw a family getting a guided tour – the girl was my age and from a non-magic family, I think. They call us Muggle-borns. Muggle means non-magic."

"No!" Harold looked highly affronted. "I'm not going to go poking around and give them the chance to mess with my head!"

Dan shifted awkwardly, fixing James with a stare. "I'm not too sure about going in either."

"Right. Whatever. I'll go back on my own later."

Dan nodded, motioning towards the parking garage they were still standing in front of. Harold was muttering to himself as he walked away. "They know who you are. They'll start asking questions if you show up with me—"

"I understand." James rolled his eyes. "Honestly, it's not a big deal. But I'm going to need some money if I really am going to this school."

"Of course." Dan sighed heavily as they walked up the stairs to the third level of the parking garage. "Maybe Thomas will go with you – help you case the place. You'll probably want to keep your name to yourself if you can."

"I will. No one asked me questions as it is. I don't think it'll be a problem. The old barkeep didn't even ask me why I was alone." James shrugged, climbing into the car when Dan unlocked it. He fished a pack of smokes out of the glove compartment and quickly lit one up.

"You know, you're probably going to have to quit if you do go to this school."

"Like hell I will! I'm more than sneaky enough not to get caught, and you know that!"

"I certainly do." Dan scrunched his nose. "All the same – it wouldn't do to get chucked out before you really got started, would it?"

"I guess." James frowned, taking a deep drag from the cigarette and holding the smoke in for a few seconds. He breathed out heavily. "I'm not really looking forward to this, you know? Spending months away at some boarding school surrounded by a bunch of posh snobs – it better be worth it. If it's not, I'm not going back."