The Nortons' fireplace wasn't connected to the Floo Network, and Edward was a bit… unsure about his own Apparition.
“I had to retake the exam once, and the examiner added a task for me: to Apparate with a chipmunk—thankfully, the examiner didn’t notice that the chipmunk lost its tail after Apparition, otherwise I might have had to retake it.” Edward spread his hands.
“Then let’s take the car; at least if we get into an accident, I won’t lose a tail…” Cohen suddenly felt a chill in a certain place and immediately dismissed the idea of going to Diagon Alley by magical means.
Edward patted Cohen’s head contentedly; Cohen was more well-behaved today than usual.
“Since you’re about to enter the Wizarding World, your mother and I will go to the Ministry of Magic next month to handle the Floo Network procedures. It’ll be convenient for us to travel around in the future.”
He used to try to touch Cohen’s hair but Cohen would always dodge him, yet Rose never had this problem when she reached out to Cohen.
Perhaps Cohen’s little mind was fantasizing about what the Wizarding World looked like.
“On the surface, he doesn’t look excited at all, but deep down, he’s probably eager to see the world from those fairy tales, isn’t he?”
Edward thought, amused, as he tossed Cohen, who had been taking deep breaths repeatedly before getting into the car, into the back seat.
Meanwhile, Cohen’s repeated deep breaths were just self-restraint—about to enter social mode meant entering a crowd—and when there were too many souls around… Cohen would feel hungry due to the sweet scent of those souls.
To avoid being caught by the Aurors from the Ministry of Magic for secretly eating soul desserts and being sent to Azkaban to keep company with other pureblood Dementors, Cohen had to control this feeling.
Sweet candies taste very similar to souls, making them a perfect substitute. Cohen always carried a pocketful when he went out.
On the way, Cohen finally realized that as an eleven-year-old child who knew very little about the Wizarding World, he needed to show a little curiosity, otherwise it would be too abnormal.
“Does the Wizarding World have… families like that?” Cohen pretended to be completely ignorant.
“Of course, wherever there are people, there are bound to be old families.”
Edward swerved around a slow-moving car in front of him and ran a red light.
However, the traffic police on the roadside seemed to pay no attention to Edward’s actions, which made Cohen wonder if Edward, like Arthur Weasley, had magically modified his car—no wonder Edward, with his driving skills, hadn’t received a single speeding ticket in so many years.
Edward briefly introduced some of the more famous families in the Wizarding community. There were many families, and Cohen could only remember the few names frequently mentioned in the original Harry Potter novel.
“Do you and Mom have a family? A Wizarding one?” This wasn't a question Cohen pretended to ask this time; Cohen was genuinely a little curious.
“Us? We both come from Wizarding families, I suppose. My parents—that is, your grandparents—were both Wizards, but going further back, there doesn’t seem to be any Wizarding bloodline.” Edward replied, “But your mother is a bit different from me. She used to be part of the Burke Family. According to some Wizards’ ‘pure-blood theory,’ she’s considered a noble.”
“Used to?” Cohen knew about this “Burke” family. Although it was one of the “Sacred Twenty-Eight Families,” it seemed to have fallen into decline.
The only place where the surname Burke could still be seen was Borgin and Burke’s shop in Knockturn Alley, but the only shop owner visible was Mr. Borgin; “Mr. Burke” had never appeared.
“She was disowned by her family because she was dating me.” Edward sighed, “But according to her, even if she hadn’t been disowned, she wouldn’t have stayed there.”
“That family was involved in Dark Arts dealings, especially during You-Know-Who’s reign when they were most active. They even threatened to throw her, a ‘worthless failure,’ into a pile of Inferi—no wonder your mother was sorted into Gryffindor; her courage is something I, a Hufflepuff, can never hope to achieve.”
“Although you’re a bit lazy, very playful, and even left me at the zoo for three hours last time.” Cohen patted Edward’s shoulder from the back seat, “But you’re a good dad. I unilaterally approve of you—thank you.”
No matter how many minor flaws Edward had, he truly loved his family and Cohen, this Dark Arts experiment.
For the good things one has, one should enjoy and cherish them, rather than focusing on some imperfections.
Edward was clearly touched by Cohen’s sudden gratitude. Cohen could see Edward’s scruffy face trembling slightly in the rearview mirror.
“We’ve arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.”
The car stopped between a bookstore and a record store. Cohen could see a low, dilapidated pub entrance nestled between the two bright, colorful shops, with a somewhat peeling sign hanging above it.
The Leaky Cauldron
“This is a very famous place in the Wizarding World, and it’s also the entrance to Diagon Alley.”
Edward quietly wiped the corner of his eye after getting out of the car, not forgetting to introduce it to Cohen.
“Back in the day, I was quite the famous figure in Diagon Alley.”
Pushing open the creaking wooden door, the clamor of the Leaky Cauldron and the mingled aromas of various foods and drinks rushed towards Cohen.
Several old women sat in the corner, drinking sherry.
Soul Strength: 27
Very high soul strength. These old ladies didn’t look like easy targets.
But Cohen couldn’t understand why the old woman in the middle could drink and smoke at the same time. Did she have two esophagi?
Behind the bar, the middle-aged man, Tom, who was almost bald and looked like a shriveled walnut, was wiping glasses and chatting with a customer beside him.
Soul Strength: 19
Boss Tom still needs more practice; this soul strength isn’t even as high as Rose’s, who has always lived in Muggle society.
Edward and Cohen’s arrival attracted a few glances, but no one recognized Edward, thinking he was just a passing Wizard.
This made Edward a little awkward at first.
“Ha, it seems not coming back for ten years really makes you a stranger…” Edward pushed Cohen through to the other end of the pub, “Let’s go buy your school supplies first.”
Passing through the noisy long tables, Cohen was led to a brick wall in the pub’s backyard.
However, through his observations just now, Cohen had more or less figured out a question that had been puzzling him: the soul strength of adult Wizards was roughly between fifteen and forty, without exception for any Wizard in the entire Leaky Cauldron.
Edward’s 10 points of soul strength were abnormally low, possibly hiding some special reason, but if Edward and Rose were unwilling to disclose it, Cohen didn’t plan to press for answers.
Let everything develop normally for now; he still needed time to grow before he could establish himself securely in this Wizarding World.
Fortunately, Dumbledore seemed to implicitly allow Cohen, this Dark Arts experiment, to continue existing, otherwise Cohen might have had to worry about his identity.
“…Two bricks across, and three bricks up…” Edward muttered, reading from the note Rose had given him, and tapped a brick three times with his wand.
Cohen’s mouth twitched twice. Who designed this stone gate to Diagon Alley that required a gesture password to open—
Would Muggles enter the Leaky Cauldron? Was there a need for such a secondary security door?
“It’s because people often get drunk at the Leaky Cauldron and cause trouble in Diagon Alley.” Edward put the small note back in his pocket. “Good thing Rose remembered, otherwise I would’ve almost forgotten how to get in after not coming here for ten years.”
The brick he had tapped began to tremble and move, and a small hole appeared in the middle, growing larger and larger.
Within a few seconds, a wide archway appeared before Cohen, leading to a winding, seemingly endless cobblestone street.
“Oh, oh, oh~”
Although Cohen had fantasized about walking down such a street when he read novels and watched movies in his previous life, he still couldn’t help but exclaim when he truly entered Diagon Alley.
The morning sun cast its brilliant rays on every reflective surface: cauldrons, gilded shop signs, lenses, and various metal instruments.
The air buzzed with the calls of shopkeepers and the chatter of Wizards, as if the entire world had been contained within this single street.
Crowds of people bustled, stopped, and moved on, the street filled with a cloying sweetness of souls.
Cohen couldn't help but unwrap a toffee and pop it into his mouth, just in case he passed by a few young Wizards and accidentally took a sip of their souls.
Led by Edward, Cohen passed by Prince's Potions, Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Eeylops Owl Emporium—
“Want an owl?” Edward paused specifically in front of Eeylops Owl Emporium.
“Is it a fairy?”
Cohen was actually quite unsure about owning a pet:
“I mean, can it just eat and not poop? Or not eat and not poop, that’s fine too—”
“What are you thinking…?” Edward found Cohen’s erratic thoughts a bit hard to comprehend.
“Of course, it eats and poops—but you don’t have to think of owning an owl as such a hassle.”
“Hogwarts has an owlery; you just need to go feed it some snacks occasionally to build up your relationship.”
“It depends on what animal you like.
If you like kittens, puppies, or salamanders, we can go to the Magical Menagerie next door and pick out other pets,” Edward quickly changed his tune, sensing Cohen wasn’t very interested in owning an owl.
“Once you have an owl, you won’t need to run to the post office to send me letters anymore… Let’s go with an owl.
Compared to other animals, it seems easier to care for.”
Cohen considered his pet-raising experience and still felt that the probability of keeping an owl alive at Hogwarts was higher—after all, Hogwarts had an owlery, but no cat or dog shelters.
Speaking of which, animal souls were actually not very useful to Cohen; although he could absorb them, they tasted like chewing on wax.
Cohen had once tried to absorb the soul of a small gray mouse that appeared in his bedroom, but he gave up after just a small taste—it was no different from drinking plain water and offered no help in improving his soul’s completeness.
Owls should be similar; they couldn’t be used as soul restoratives.
“First, let’s buy a wand, then we’ll come back here to pick one you like,” Edward ruffled Cohen’s hair.
“If you see anything you like on the street, just say so.
Your mother left us a shopping budget of seventy-seven Galleons plus a pouch of Sickles—”
“Perhaps I’ll buy a few more books.
It’s always good to learn more.”
Cohen thought for a moment, feeling he needed to compare the magical books easily available in bookstores with those he could buy in the Benevolence Shop to see if there was any overlap, which could save him some Benevolence Points—after all, besides books, the shop also had some rare magical creatures and magical artifacts.
Mr. Ollivander’s wand shop was a small, dilapidated “doorway,” and it wasn’t until Cohen stepped inside that its long, deep interior dispelled the stereotype of “this shop is small.”
Thousands of boxes, almost stacked to the ceiling, lined both sides of the walls.
The long room’s structure, coupled with a silence so profound that even breathing echoed in the aisle, felt like someone had entered a strictly managed Library.
“It’s bigger on the inside…” Cohen raised his eyebrows.
He thought of a certain blue telephone booth.
“‘Undetectable Extension Charm in Architecture’ is an excellent professional book,” a soft voice said.
“You are a child who likes to study; this book might be very suitable for you.”
An old man slid down from the ceiling on a movable lift, and only then did Cohen notice that even the ceiling above was piled high with wand boxes—they even formed an archway made of boxes.
“Good morning.” Ollivander’s eyes were very light, a stark contrast to Cohen’s pitch-black pupils.
“Good morning, Mr. Ollivander,” Edward greeted politely.
“This is my son, Cohen, Cohen Norton.”
“Edward! Good to see you again.
The last time I saw you was thirty years ago… Alder wood, Unicorn hair, thirteen and a half inches, reasonably flexible, you’re still using it, aren’t you?”
“Ah, yes, yes,” Edward showed off his wand, indicating that he had always taken good care of it—but Cohen saw Edward secretly cast a silent cleaning charm on the wand behind his back.
“Hmm…” Ollivander clearly saw through Edward’s little trick but didn’t expose it.
Instead, he turned his gaze to Cohen.
“Come, little Mr. Norton, let me see… Which arm do you use to wield a wand?”
“Right hand.”
Cohen smelled a sweet scent in the air, the scent of souls, but it didn't come solely from Ollivander in front of him.
The scent grew stronger and stronger; a large number of souls were approaching Cohen’s location.
Cohen instantly understood why.
It was the wands.
The wands were choosing the Wizards entering the shop; this must be some kind of tradition—but Cohen seemed not to be a good target.
Oh my, do wands really have souls?
Cohen swallowed, feeling as if someone had placed a delicious cake under his nose…
But doing so would surely scare those wands out of their wits—because Cohen clearly felt that all the wands’ souls had shrunk back after just approaching him.
I haven’t done anything bad yet.
Besides, these wands were reacting a bit excessively.
Cohen noticed that they didn’t have a “soul strength” tag, and even if they smelled good, he couldn’t seem to “eat” them at the moment.
After Ollivander expertly introduced Cohen to the composition of wands and the axiom of “the wand chooses the Wizard,” he began to move between the shelves, busy selecting long boxes to bring down.
“Try this one first, little Mr. Norton.”
Ollivander picked a box and was about to open it.
“Made of beechwood and Dragon heartstring, nine inches, very flexible—”
“Crack! ! !
”
Before the wand could even be drawn from the box, it crackled and emitted a dazzling red flash, then snapped the box shut by itself.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Seeing Ollivander and Edward looking at him with strange eyes, Cohen immediately raised his hands to clarify.
“Strange… strange…” Ollivander muttered.
“Not this one, perhaps this one?”
The next startled victim was a seven-inch-long maple and Phoenix feather wand.
“Rip!”
This one’s reaction was even more violent.
The moment the box was opened, it pierced through the cardboard seal like an arrow and flew rapidly towards the back of the shop.
Until it impaled itself on the deepest wall.
“No, not this one either…”
Cohen suspected that Ollivander had no effective way of discerning the connection between wands and Wizards.
Perhaps every young Wizard, like Harry or himself, would have to try almost every wand in the entire shop to find one that truly belonged to them.
After some unknown amount of time, Cohen and Edward were sitting in the shop, dozing off.
Yes, Mr. Ollivander only needed to run around changing wands, while Cohen and Edward had much more to consider: when to eat lunch, when Cohen would pick out an owl, and when Edward could rush to attend the Hellfire Club’s D&D (Dungeons & Dragons) tabletop game session…
Finally.
“Whew…”
Ollivander let out a big sigh of relief after opening the last wand box and not hearing the wand emit an unidentifiable shriek and flee.
“Elder wood, Unicorn hair, twelve inches long—let me rest for a moment—a strange combination…”
Cohen curiously stood up and leaned forward to look at this wand that seemed unafraid of him.
Strange… Is it because elder wood, representing death, is paired with Unicorn, representing goodness and purity?
No, is something wrong with a Dementor using a wand made of Unicorn hair?!