Diagon Alley

Chapter 2 Diagon Alley

The moment he was enveloped, Ian felt everything around him darken, and pressure came from all directions, making it difficult for him to breathe, as if he had been stuffed into a rubber tube.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally "sprayed" it out of the tube. Some foul air rushed into his lungs. After wiping away the tears that were streaming uncontrollably from his eyes, Ian found himself standing in a noisy, cramped, and dilapidated bar.

Well, the bar was incredibly dirty and messy. The floor and tables were covered in stains, and some of them even had a patina-like texture, perhaps because of their age.

Scattered around the tables sat a few unkempt, greasy middle-aged men, drinking colorful, unidentified liquors.

A short man wearing a top hat was chatting with the bar owner, who was almost bald and looked like a shriveled walnut. But the shrewd glint in the man's eyes from time to time proved that the owner was not as ordinary as he appeared.

The moment he appeared, the noisy chatter suddenly stopped, and everyone in the bar stared at him in a daze.

"this……"

Ian looked around at everything with a sense of bewilderment.

It's not really their fault. After Ian came to his senses, he understood their "stares" to some extent. After all, although the people here dressed somewhat differently, their appearance and behavior were all within the normal range. Most importantly, there was no tattered clothing or bloodstains.

Looking down at her battered "dress," the white shirt and linen sweatpants were tattered and covered with bloodstains of varying sizes.

Over time, the mottled bloodstains have lost their original vibrancy, leaving only pale purple dark spots.

With a thick paper shield wrapped around his left hand and a plastic wand in his right, he looked exactly like a battle-damaged version of a Ghost Swordsman and Mage from the continent of Arad.

But with such a striking appearance, reminiscent of a statue in an Athenian temple, everything also exudes a morbid beauty.

A long time had passed, yet it also felt like an instant; the brief tranquility was shattered, and the bar owner, who had been chatting leisurely at the bar, spoke up:

"No matter what you've been through, I want to say, child, don't be nervous, you're safe now."

Ian was drawn to her perfect London accent.

Looking at the bald, toothless, and somewhat hunchbacked boss in front of me, I felt a sense of relief.

Perhaps it was his previous experience of surviving alone in the apocalypse, even if it was only for a week, but the deathly silence and loneliness tormented him, that made Ian yearn to see other humans, even if it was just to hear their voices.

But Ian also understood that this sudden friendliness might just stem from his alluring appearance and youthful age.

After all, with his current unconventional attire, he's practically branded as a "criminal" on his head.

If it were any other adult, they would probably be subdued on the ground or kicked out by now.

Half an hour later.

"London, Diagon Alley, Leaky Cauldron... have I finally gotten what I wanted?"

This information was obtained after a brief conversation with the owner, who called himself Tom. Ian had a vague suspicion before, after all, the place was almost 100% faithful to the original work.

So when Old Tom casually waved his wand, summoning a murky empty glass, which was then instantly filled with pale green grass juice, Ian completely believed it.

At the same time, after he gave his approval, a passage of text came to mind.

「停留30个自然日后返回原世界，返回后亦然停留30个自然日，可开启下一次穿越，两个世界时间流逝比例1秒：30天。倒计时：719小时33分12秒……」

"So, you don't even know how you got to my bar?"

Watching the boy slowly savoring the grass juice, old Tom asked softly.

After all, as the face of the British wizarding world, a part-time guide, and the current head of the Abbott Ironhat family, Tom is not without brains.

However, this boy, who seemed too perfect on the outside, didn't give him the kind of coldness that only dark wizards possess. Of course, this feeling is something wizards are born with, and it has been proven over half a century. Tom trusted his intuition, which is why he showed him the utmost friendliness.

"Yes, sir, I'm also very eager to find out what caused me to suddenly come here," Ian answered truthfully.

"Hmm... okay, I'm guessing it might be a Portal key. Although theoretically your situation is more like Apparition, you obviously don't know that magic, otherwise you wouldn't be unaware of how you got here. But... I don't remember anyone setting the Portal key's teleportation location to my bar. Heh, amazing magic..."

Old Tom clearly believed Ian's answer. After all, he had worked in bars for more than half a century, observing people's expressions and dealing with them, and had seen too many people over the decades.

Almost all kinds of people can be seen and felt by one's own eyes and senses, and the boy in front of me clearly did not deceive me; perhaps he really did not know.

"Perhaps it's a key to the door set by our ancestors? Looks like I'll need to browse through the family archives when I have time."

Old Tom thought to himself, but on the surface he still smiled calmly and said:

"Well then, child, it seems your previous experience has exhausted you. You can finish this glass of grass juice, then borrow my owl to write home and get in touch with them as soon as possible to end this not-so-pleasant journey."

Upon hearing his family mentioned, Ian's eyes instantly welled up with tears, as if by conditioned reflex, and an aura of sorrow enveloped him. This wasn't acting; it was the last remaining emotional memory of this body in this world, a genuine outpouring of feeling.

"Sir, perhaps I have no family to contact. I am only following my mother's last wish and trying my best to live... I really don't know how I got here. I'm sorry if I've caused you any trouble. I will leave here soon."

Ian had his own ideas, because money is essential for survival no matter where you are, but he happened to be penniless at the moment, so he cherished any opportunity to get some help.

So he said it was three parts genuine emotion and seven parts testing, almost like he was trying to gain sympathy.

"I'm sorry, child. Everyone is born different. Even if everything is gone, the hope and will that life brings will still guide us forward, like a helmsman at sea who is not swayed by the storm, always sees the direction, and finds his own home. However, if you need, you can stay at my bar for now, and we can talk about your plans tomorrow. You look exhausted."

A hint of sympathy appeared on Old Tom's face.

Just as described in the original work, he was a kind old man who also had great goodwill towards the young wizards.

"Sir, thank you for your generosity, but all the expenses are on credit. I will pay you back as soon as I find a job and have the money," Ian replied, seizing the opportunity.

Old Tom didn't say anything, but just smiled noncommittally, and led Ian to an inconspicuous guest room on the left corner of the second floor.

Although it was called a guest room, Ian thought it was more like a storage room. The small room, only five or six square meters, was filled with all kinds of old furniture. Although it was a bit dilapidated and cramped, the double window on the right side facing Diagon Alley was a big plus.

"Because it's the start of the school season, there aren't any extra rooms available in the bar, so this is the only place that's still reasonably livable. Plus, the restroom is separate, so you can wash up properly, get a good night's sleep, and then come down for dinner in the evening."

Old Tom explained slightly, in his opinion, the room in front of him, which he could barely call his living quarters, was indeed somewhat unsatisfactory.

"This is already very good, sir. I am very grateful for everything you have provided. I was really exhausted before, and at least here I can get a good night's sleep. Isn't that good enough?"

Thirty years of hard work and life experience have made Ian very clear-headed. Accustomed to the utilitarian world of adults, Ian finds pure, albeit selfless, help from Old Tom exceptionally precious.

"Haha, don't worry, Old Tom's bar is very safe. There are no dirty black wizards or disgusting werewolves, so you can rest easy. If you need anything, please come downstairs to find me. If I happen to be out, just wait at the bar for a while, and I'll be back soon."

After closing the door and seeing old Tom off, Ian fell into deep thought.

"First of all, it's obvious that my cheat code has arrived. The fact that I can travel through time once a month, and the fact that I'm basically stuck in a rut, makes this extremely feasible. However, my immediate priority is to establish myself here and figure out what this magic wand that brought me here is all about."

"I'll spend a month learning as many practical spells as possible that can help me survive in the apocalypse, and then earn money to buy supplies to take back next month. It seems I can't escape the fate of working to earn money... Ha!"

As for whether magic could be cast, and whether the apocalypse was the end of the Dharma era, Ian didn't even consider those questions.

Whether it's fan fiction about the past or research on the original work, one thing is certain: this is fundamentally a world of sorcerers, where all abilities originate from bloodlines.

It's not some kind of "borrowing the power of heaven and earth" spiritual energy mode. Your own bloodline is the source of power. This kind of bloodline that gives rise to spellcasting ability, you either have it or you don't, it has nothing to do with the external environment.

Secondly, whether one can cast magic or is a Muggle is even less of a concern.

According to the Secrecy Act, the Leaky Cauldron casts a Muggle banishing spell 24 hours a day. Even if a Muggle manages to get in, without a wizard's accompaniment, they will constantly feel like they have "something very important to do" and urgently need to leave.

Having stood alone in the bar lobby for so long without feeling any of this, Ian was certain that he was not affected by the Muggle Expulsion Curse and did not belong to the Muggle class.

Whether it's a dud or not still needs to be verified. But first and foremost, we need to ensure that we can survive better in the apocalypse. Survival is the most important thing.

Even if you're a Squib, you can still live comfortably in the apocalypse by lowering your standards and relying on your looks in this magical world.

New book, please add to your favorites! Please add to your favorites! Please add to your favorites! I beg you, dear readers!

(End of this chapter)