Roughly an hour later, the crew left Stanley Wu's café and began meandering down Dirun Alley's main thoroughfare. Othniel managed to suppress a burp, though his cheeks did puff out a bit as he covered his mouth with his sleeve.

"Thank you for lunch, Padfoot," Harry said appreciatively. "That was the best Chinese I've ever had. The General Tso's chicken had just the right amount of kick to it."

"Don't mention it, pup," chuckled Sirius. He turned toward Othniel. "How did you like those egg rolls, Othniel?"

"They were awesome, Padfoot," replied Othniel. "I can call you Padfoot, right?"

Sirius grinned at the copper-haired boy. "Not a problem at all… a friend of Harry's is a friend of mine, I say."

"For the record," chimed in Nova, "you were absolutely right about that Himlayan tea. It's much different than my British palate is used to, but I'm glad I branched out a bit. It's every bit as satisfying as spiced chai."

"What'd I tell you, love?" responded Sirius with a bit of a laugh. "I'll admit that I grew up in a well-off household, but most British magical families aren't exactly renowned for being worldly." He offered her a lopsided shrug. "I didn't rightly know what to expect when I explored Diurn Alley for the first time. I figured it to be pretty similar to Diagon Alley, but Diagon Alley doesn't have pomegranates lining the streets, bonsai trees on shop windowsills, or statues of Asian dragons. I can tell that the bones of this district are British in origin, but some of these businesses have been converted by Asian wizards of various nationalities." He smiled at the three children. "I'm glad I came here though, and I'm glad you three are with me to experience different wizarding cultures. I didn't get that opportunity when I was your age."

Remus pointed at a small shop kitty-cornered from where they were standing. "I'm pretty sure that store will at least have the ingredients to concoct a Sleeping Draught, Nova." The storefront was certain very narrow, probably not much more than ten or twelve feet wide, and the doorway had a distinct Arabian or Persian pointed arch. The sign was written in Latin characters, though with a Middle Eastern styling: "Khalid's Apothecary".

Sirius nodded. "I've been to Khalid's a couple of times. They charge a reasonable price for their wares, and won't hesitate to direct customers to other stores if they don't have the desired item in stock." He grinned at the boys. "Why don't you go on ahead and take Nova to Khalid's, and I'll take the boys to a specialty shop a couple of streets over, and we can meet back here in say, half an hour?"

Remus arched an eyebrow. "Surely you don't intend to take them to Wheelbare Row, Sirius?"

"So Riddick's is technically in Wheelbare Row, but it's got magical artifacts that would fascinate just about any boy… crossbows that fire mystical bolts, slingshots with pellets that transform into cockroaches on impact, fizzy drinks that make you lighter than air…"

Remus rubbed his forehead. "It's not so much the merchandise I'm worried about, it's the clientele… you never know whom you're going to run into." He let out a sigh, as he knew better than to try and talk sense into his friend. "All right Sirius. Thirty minutes, and not a second more." He threw the boys a stern look, a look both boys rarely saw. "Harry? Othniel? I'm telling you this as your teacher and not as your friend… stay as close to Sirius as possible. Wheelbare Row is not an area you want to lose yourselves in."

"Yes, professor," the boys replied without hesitation.

Remus nodded in satisfaction. "All right, Nova, let's try and find you that Sleeping Draught. The sooner we get what we need, the sooner we can return home." He beckoned Nova to follow him across the street.

Khalid's Apothecary didn't seem any bigger on the inside than it did on the outside, which surprised Nova, as she was used to shops and vehicles looking much smaller on the outside than they were on the inside. Ugh, she thought, as she got a whiff of various pungent scents – a strange combination of burning incense and various herbs and spices on the shelves.

"My advice – don't touch anything," warned Remus. "This shop probably works a bit differently than you're used to… we have to wait in line, and the shopkeeper will fetch whatever you need."

"Isn't that rather… inconvenient?" replied Nova.

Remus shrugged. "Perhaps it's a bit inconvenient, yes, but some patrons can be ignorant or careless, and can damage goods just by handling them."

Nova nodded. "I see." She followed Remus to the rear of a line of customers, perhaps five or six strong, parallel to an elongated glass case containing dozens of potions ingredients. They waited patiently as Khalid took care of every customer in turn.

Meanwhile, Harry and Othniel followed Sirius to Riddick's. The boys noticed that the closer they got to the store, the darker the skies got, even though it was still the early afternoon. Their shadows elongated, rather like there were heavy rainclouds above them, or they were in the midst of a total solar eclipse, but neither was the case.

Both Harry and Othniel felt chills racing up and down their spines – there was definitely an eerie feeling about this area, though Sirius remained completely unfazed.

"Step lively, boys," Sirius called out. "Remember what Remus said – we can't get separated."

The architecture of Wheelbare Row was nothing at all like Diurn Alley. It had none of the exotic beauty of Diurn Alley, nor the colonial charm of Nessel Road. It looked distinctly European in design, reminiscent of late nineteenth and early twentieth century Muggle London; in particular, it bore similarities to the run-down districts like Whitechapel.

"Over there," Sirius finally said, pointing at a gloomy-looking pawn shop perhaps a hundred paces in front of them, and slightly to their left.

When the trio entered the shop, the boys were immediately drawn to some ancient weaponry near the back wall, likely ranging from the middle ages through the late eighteenth century. They strongly resembled Muggle crossbows, polearms, and muskets but were clearly enchanted – either to increase their effectiveness, or change their purpose altogether.

As Sirius passed the counter, he did a double-take. Riddick was an elderly man, probably close to sixty years in age, with scars and pockmarks all over his face. A simple black patch covered his left eye – he must have been blinded, or lost it altogether in one of the many battles or duels he likely partook. His stringy grey locks hung down past his chin, and appeared to have a permanent scowl affixed to his face.

However, it wasn't this man that caught the attention of Sirius. On the other side of the counter was a man roughly Sirius' age, dressed in elegant black robes and fancy silver-capped walking stick which he carried as a status symbol. His platinum-blonde hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and his piercing grey eyes looked down on literally everyone with disdain. He slowed his pace – while he kept his eyes on the boys, he was unable to resist eavesdropping on the conversation happening at the counter.

"One hundred forty five? You can do better than that, Mister Riddick," the younger man said in a silky tone, dripping with arrogance. "This is barely more than what Borgin and Burkes offered back in Knockturn Alley. They personally recommended you as you have a reputation for paying top market value for… magical curiosities."

Riddick pondered the ponytailed man's words carefully, before inspecting the box of various toxins and other such deadly substances. He was about to make a slightly-higher counteroffer, when he spied a small, worn leather-bound book peeking from the top of the customer's pocket.

"That book," Riddick creaked in an airy Newfoundland brogue, "is that the personal diary of the Dark Lord himself?"

The ponytailed man smirked. "That is correct, Riddick. This dates from fifty years ago when he was prowling the halls of Hogwarts."

"I'm not sure how it came into your possession, Lucius," Riddick rubbed his stubble-covered chin in thought. "Then again, I don't line my pockets with gold by asking questions… eight hundred dragots for the mixtures and the book."

"Not yet," replied Lucius with a sneer. "Perhaps when I'm finished with it, but for the time being… I have certain… plans for it. A certain… contemporary of mine back in Magical Britain has been on my case for some time, you see. He's been conducting raids on my manor, and I have felt it necessary to unload any… incriminating artifacts. I can use this book to make it where he can never trouble me again."

Riddick raised an eyebrow. "You're not planning to off him, are you?"

"Not exactly," Lucius drawled. "The misguided Arthur Weasley has already disgraced the very name of wizardry with his foolish obsession with Muggles and their lowly ilk…" His lips curled into a slimy grin. "The power of this book can make it where he and his family can never show their face in British wizarding society ever again. Furthermore, as I am on the Board of Governors, I'll personally see to it that all his currently-enrolled children are expelled from Hogwarts by the time the current term concludes, and that his youngest shall never be admitted. That'll teach him not to meddle in the affairs of his social superiors."

Riddick nodded slowly, pondering Lucius' spiteful words. "You're wise to do your illicit dealings in Magical Canada instead of Magical Britain," Riddick said with a nod. "If nothing else, you at least get the peace of mind that the exchange is far more difficult to trace had you done so in Knockturn Alley." He eyed Lucius up-and-down, before continuing. "You seem to be a man with a discerning eye… an eye for the highest quality. Perhaps another time, we can discuss the book in greater detail, but for now… I'll give you one hundred sixty dragots for the mixtures, and that's my final offer."

"Very well," growled Lucius as he reluctantly accepted a handful of gold coins. Although he wasn't completely satisfied with Riddick's final offer, he could at least acknowledge that Riddick was fairer to his customers . His lips curled then into a faint smirk. "When I'm finished with the book, you'll be the first to know."

"Much obliged," replied Riddick. "You mentioned having a son earlier… perhaps you'd like to browse a bit, and find a souvenir of sorts? I'll even throw in a fifteen percent discount."

"Twenty-five," countered Lucius, being ever the haggler.

Riddick sighed. "Twenty, Lucius. You have to remember that not all the store's profits line my pockets."

"I suppose I can look around," agreed Lucius. His head drooped a few degrees, and shook his head sadly. "So, so disappointing…"

"What's wrong, Master Malfoy?" Riddick asked in a confused tone.

Lucius waved a dismissive hand. "It's… my son, Draco… don't worry too much about it."

Riddick arched an eyebrow, unable to resist the urge to prod further. "You're disappointed in your son? What did he do?"

"I'm not disappointed in Draco," clarified Lucius. "I'm disappointed for him. He got sorted into an… undesirable house earlier in the term. No self-respecting heir should ever be placed in Hufflepuff. It's the house of rejects and squibs… I've asked the headmaster to have him resorted on multiple occasions, but the arrogant oaf refused. Dumbledore leaves me no option, but to disenroll my Draco and send him to Durmstrang next term. I've already spoken with Headmaster Karkaroff, and let's just say that their curriculum is exactly what my Draco needs. He'll be twice the wizard I am when he graduates."

Riddick nodded. "A few of my clients attended Durmstrang. They don't shy away from the dark arts… and they don't just admit any student."

"Precisely," replied Lucius with a sneaky grin. "Suffice to say, I don't think Draco's first term is going as either of us had planned. From what I gather, he's made a couple of Muggle-born friends in his house. I suppose he can keep them… for now. He'll have far better company at Durmstrang soon enough." He let out a soft groan. "I've also heard that the students that should be his housemates – the ones in Slytherin – harass and bully him a fair bit. While I don't like the fact that the Slytherins are tormenting him, I also don't feel it necessary to step in and have them stop. The lad needs to toughen up… he needs to learn how to deal with problems in his own way. It's what Slytherins do, after all."

His grin broadened. "With that being said, his Potions instructor, Professor Snape, says that Draco is a natural in his class. He and I have maintained a solid friendship since our Hogwarts days, you see, and despite being the Slytherin house head, looks at Draco as one of his own. Draco has enough sense to go to Severus for advice before going to that glorified gardener, Professor Sprout."

"Is he strong in his other subjects?" asked Riddick.

"He is indeed," confirmed Lucius. "Top three in his year thus far. Only two Gryffindor girls are above him. One of whom I can stomach as she's the daughter of a similarly-wealthy family. The other…" He looked like he threw up in his mouth a bit. "The other is the daughter of Muggles. She should have no business being in the top half of the year, much less hold the top spot. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll try and pick out a little something for my son." Riddick nodded as Lucius took his leave to browse the store.

As Lucius prowled around the perimeter of the store, Harry and Othniel were still looking at the various enchanted weapons and pieces of armor. A small dagger – not much longer than Harry's wand – caught the eyes of both boys. It was placed upright in an open black case, with various runes carved into the hilt. The blade itself glowed a distinct gold on its edges, practically beckoning the boys to hold it in their hands.

Just as Othniel was about to grab the dagger, an expensive-looking walking stick capped with a silver knob swiftly fell between his hand and the black box. "I really don't think you'd want to handle that blade… it carries a particularly nasty curse." The boys looked up to see the ponytailed owner of the walking stick, who cocked his head just a few degrees. "Shouldn't you lads be in school?"

"Erm, we're off this week," replied Othniel. "Thanksgiving break."

"I see," drawled Lucius. "Riddick's isn't exactly the kind of establishment a couple of young wizards such as yourselves should be visiting, at least unsupervised…"

Harry pointed toward a shelf a few paces away, where Sirius looking over some adult magazines. "My godfather's over there," he gulped. "He offered to take us here for a few minutes."

Lucius looked over his shoulder; he sneered at the unmistakable visage of his old nemesis Sirius Black. His sneer melted away just as quickly as he turned back to Harry. He looked the lad up and down and smirked. With a gauntleted hand, he lifted a few strands of messy black hair to reveal the famous scar. "Ahh, so it's true then," he purred. "Only Harry Potter carries such a legendary scar – given by an equally-legendary sorcerer."

"Lord Voldemort is a demon," Harry retorted. "He killed my parents. I'll make sure he never comes back."

Lucius widened his eyes ever-so-slightly. "Brave words, Mister Potter." His smirk returned as he offered his hand to Harry. "Lucius Malfoy. I never thought in my wildest dreams I'd meet the Boy-Who-Lived… in North America, of all places." He turned toward Othniel. "And who might you be, Mister…?"

Othniel swallowed the lump in his throat. There was something about this man that made him feel uneasy, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. "Beckett, sir. Othniel Beckett."

Lucius nodded, and addressed the boys again. "I have a son about your age named Draco. Needless to say, he was quite disappointed to learn that the great Harry Potter would not be joining him at Hogwarts this year." He made the briefest of pauses. "Truth be told, so was I. I was rather hoping the two of you would become good friends… we both would have been delighted to give you a proper introduction to the wizarding world."

The sound of heavy footsteps approached them. "All right, Lucius," growled Sirius, "I don't know what business you have in Canada, but I won't have you poisoning Harry's mind with your narrow-minded philosophy."

"Sirius Black," hissed Lucius. "I suppose I could ask the same about you." He flashed his signature cocky smirk. "You're fortunate I found Mister Beckett when I did… he was about to touch the Skewer of Krintiz. I'm sure his parents would hold you responsible if he suddenly went blind. You really should keep a more watchful eye on these lads."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You and I have some unfinished business, Lucius."

Lucius tightened his lips. "Indeed we do, Sirius, but our differences will have to be settled another time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm about to purchase a gift for my son and make my way home."

Sirius drew his wand. "Oh, I'm not letting you off that easy, mate. I'll make sure you never… gaaaah!" He suddenly found himself outside, across the street from the shop. "Bloody wards," he mumbled to himself.

"Git got what he deserved," Riddick mumbled. "I try to run a respectable business – I won't tolerate wizards raising their wands in anger."

"Where did my godfather go?" Harry asked the shopkeeper. "You didn't hurt him, did you?"

"He's just outside," replied Riddick. "No, he's not hurt… the shop wards activate whenever they detect aggressive intent from clients. He'll be wise to remember that next time."

"Come on," Harry told Othniel. "We'd better go and find Padfoot… I think I've had enough for one day."