Chapter 72: The Leaky Cauldron and Knockturn Alley

At the start of July's holiday, the wand shop was still closed — not only because Garrick Ollivander had no time to run the store, but also because the new students hadn't received their acceptance letters yet.

It would probably be another month before the owls delivered the letters to this year's new students; that was when the wand shop would truly open.

Garrick Ollivander stayed in his room for a week, and during that time Silven was basically in his own room poring over those dry wand-making books.

Once he got to Hogwarts, he realized his theoretical knowledge was still rather lacking, so naturally he had to make up for it when he had the time.

Still, he didn't read the whole time. When he got bored, he'd go to the Leaky Cauldron to relax, order a butterbeer, and listen to those drunks brag about the glorious deeds of riding Swedish Short-Snouts into the Giant War.

As for whether they actually dared to get close to a Swedish Short-Snout, or whether they'd have been scared stiff by giants… that didn't matter — everyone around seemed to be having a good time.

"I knew you lot wouldn't believe me, but it doesn't matter…" The middle-aged wizard in the cowboy hat took a huge swig and slumped tipsily against the bar.

"After all, when I was trampling giants underfoot… burp, underfoot… you lot were still shivering in your boots from the Death Eaters… I won't stoop to your level…"

Seeing his bragging grow wilder and even turn into an indiscriminate broadside, a wizard in a purple robe could sit still no longer and called out loudly:

"John, then which giant did you trample — Gurg or Golgomath."

"Y-yes, Gurg!" the cowboy-hatted wizard called John stammered.

"Really?" The purple-robed wizard first looked shocked, then immediately reined himself in. "I don't believe it — that giant definitely wasn't called Gurg!"

"You think I'm lying?" John flushed red. "That giant was called Gurg, I remember it perfectly."

After a brief silence, the Leaky Cauldron erupted in a burst of cheerful laughter; even the candle flames on the ceiling trembled along with it.

People clutched their stomachs, rocking back and forth with laughter, while John sat there in a daze, not knowing what they were laughing at.

In the end it was Tom (the pub's owner, not the cat that refuses to come home from the Forbidden Forest) who couldn't stand watching any longer and quietly told John that Gurg was a title for a giant chieftain, like Headmaster of Hogwarts or Minister of Magic — just a title, not a name.

The tips of John's ears instantly turned bright red, bright red, like charcoal licked by a fire salamander. He clumsily tried to stand up and argue, but nearly tripped over his own cloak.

"What do you lot know!" he drunkenly slapped the table. "Back then I… back then I…"

"Back then you were definitely so scared you stayed home and didn't dare come out!" someone finished the sentence for him.

More than a dozen years ago, You-Know-Who had won over giants to attack the Wizarding World, causing enormous panic and destruction; any wizard who'd been involved couldn't possibly not know what "Gurg" stood for.

"I bet he can't tell the difference between a giant and a troll, unless the troll is wearing a cowboy hat too!" This line sparked a fresh round of laughter; the laughter in the whole pub nearly shook the Leaky Cauldron's old signboard down.

Silven watched John fall silent like a defeated cockatrice and knew the show was over. He drained the rest of his butterbeer in one gulp and headed back to Diagon Alley from the back yard.

Passing a certain fork in the road, he instinctively paused.

This was the entrance to Knockturn Alley. He'd come here a few days ago to see if there were any good, cheap wand-core materials.

Silven had lived in Diagon Alley for several years, so even in Knockturn Alley there were people who knew him.

Of course, these wizards mainly knew Garrick Ollivander, and were willing to give the old wandmaker some face and not make things difficult for Silven.

The premise was that Silven didn't go deep into Knockturn Alley — the wizards living there weren't normal in the slightest; even Dumbledore's name was useless there, let alone Garrick Ollivander's.

Silven naturally knew this too, so normally, even when he came here, he'd only stay near the entrance and wouldn't go past Borgin & Burkes.

But strangely, a lot of unfamiliar faces had recently appeared in Knockturn Alley.

Last time he came, the vendor who'd sold dark creatures' hearts and toes was gone, replaced by an old witch with moss growing on her teeth.

"Forget it, we'll see." To be safe, Silven gave up on the idea of shopping in Knockturn Alley and made his way back to the wand shop.

What a surprise — his grandfather had actually been willing to leave the house.

Silven looked at Garrick Ollivander behind the counter and said in surprise, "That fast? You already figured it out?"

"Almost."

"Then why are you out here," Silven said. "It's only the first week of the holiday — it's still way too early for the new students to get their acceptance letters."

"No, it's something else." Garrick Ollivander looked at Silven. "Interested in taking a trip?"

"A holiday trip?" Silven shook his head. "Not interested. I'd rather listen to the wild tales about goblin rebellions and the Giant War in the Leaky Cauldron."

"No, not just a trip." Garrick paused, then continued, "I'm taking you to a few special places. Haven't you always wanted to know where the dragon heartstring, unicorn tail hair, and all the wand woods here come from?"

"Hmm?" Silven, who had been about to head upstairs, stopped in his tracks, turned and said, "But didn't you say before that, by tradition, you'd only take me after I graduated?"

"Under normal circumstances, yes, that's right — the reason being not to waste those precious materials." Garrick nodded. "It was only after I graduated from Hogwarts that your Ceng Zumu first took me to Romania, but I don't think you need to wait that long…"

Whether or not he was thinking of that unicorn-hair wand, Garrick's expression grew stranger and stranger.

How on earth did he manage… oh no, forget it, forget it quick!

Silven watched Garrick inexplicably start slapping his own head while muttering under his breath, and for a moment was a bit dumbfounded… what kind of procedure is this now? Is his grandfather really okay?

"I'm fine." As if guessing what Silven was thinking, Garrick spoke up directly: "So this trip to Romania…"

"Still not interested." Silven shrugged.

If it had been a year ago, or somewhere else, Silven would have been glad to accompany Garrick on the trip, but Romania was out.

Unlike his grandfather Garrick, he wanted an entire dragon heart, not just a single dragon heartstring, or heart nerve, or the like.

But would the people at the Romanian Dragon Reservation agree to that request?

Anyone could tell the answer was no!

After all, whether for potions or alchemy, a dragon heart was one of the most precious materials, and the competition was fierce.

Since this trip to the dragon reservation was bound to end in disappointment, it was better not to go in the first place. Even if one day he needed dragon heart nerves, he could just ask Garrick for help.

……

(End of chapter)