Swinging The Great Sword At Hogwarts

Chapter 02 Diagon Alley and the Giant

Chapter Two: Diagon Alley and the Giant

On the morning of July 30th, a knock echoed through the Wick household. When the door swung open, a tall woman stood framed in the doorway. She wore deep green robes, and her severe expression was punctuated by a pair of square spectacles. Her look alone left no room for doubt—this could only be the Quidditch-loving Deputy Headmistress.

“Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts professor and Head of Gryffindor House,” John thought immediately, trying to hide his astonishment.

McGonagall nodded politely, then addressed John, who was staring wide-eyed. “Minerva McGonagall. John Wick, may I come in?”

The reality of meeting a character from his books dawned on him, and, shaking off his surprise, John flashed a bright smile and ushered her inside. Meanwhile, his skeptical parents, the Wicks, exchanged glances, clearly wondering if their son had hired an actor to keep up this “wizard” charade. Holding on to their doubts, the pair settled onto the sofa, while McGonagall took a seat opposite them. John, now acting more like a butler, dutifully offered tea to each guest.

After a moment, Watson was the first to break the silence. “So, you’re really a teacher at… this Hogwarts place?”

His tone and expression conveyed disbelief, which McGonagall, having encountered countless parents like him, handled with grace. She corrected him with quiet dignity. “It’s Hogwarts, actually. And I’m not just a teacher; I’m a professor.”

The couple turned to look at John, their skepticism beginning to waver. Could it be that their son hadn’t been lying after all?

John wore an innocent expression, as if to say, I told you it was true. Watson, however, wasn’t one to believe so easily. He leaned forward, gesturing with both hands, a skeptical edge in his voice.

“So, you’re telling me my son is a wizard? And do you all… pull out the nails of the dead, or nail black cats to people’s doors?”

The rude and suspicious tone wasn’t exactly friendly. Even McGonagall’s brow furrowed as she answered sternly, “Mr. Wick, only dark wizards do such things. Hogwarts is a true school of magic.”

“My apologies,” Watson said, realizing his words had been a bit harsh. But even so, accepting this was still a stretch.

McGonagall, understanding the challenge of revealing magic to a Muggle family, took out her wand and gave it a flick. Instantly, the teacup Watson held transformed into a mouse, which scurried up his sleeve, making him yelp in fright.

It was John’s first time witnessing magic, and not just any magic—high-level Transfiguration. He couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement.

With this demonstration, Watson finally accepted that his son was indeed telling the truth. After all, no magician, no matter how skilled, could turn a teacup into a live mouse from across the table.

After sending McGonagall off that day, Watson turned into an inquisitive child.

“John, turn the cup into a mouse.”

“John, can you make the broom sweep the floor by itself?”

“John, can you fly on a broomstick?”

“John…”

John was absolutely fed up. Finally, he had no choice but to use his trump card and have Mrs. Wick intervene, forcing Watson out of the room.

July 31st.

John had to prepare for his school enrollment.

“This should be it.”

Charing Cross Road.

The dingy, cramped pub stood in stark contrast to the large bookstores and record shops lining the street. Yet, this oddly conspicuous place was completely ignored by the passersby.

Muggle Repelling Charm.

Anyone who’s read Harry Potter would be familiar with this place. It was where Harry’s adventure began and the gateway to Diagon Alley.

This shabby, small pub had a famous name: The Leaky Cauldron.

Before entering the pub, the beautiful Mrs. Wick voiced her concerns. “John, you’re still a child. You can’t go into a pub.”

John, however, assured her with confidence, “I won’t.”

After all, in all honesty, this kind of environment wasn’t exactly inviting.

Upon entering the Leaky Cauldron, the strange combination of sweat and sour beer filled the air, causing the Wick family to wrinkle their noses. They had thought the outside was bad enough, but the inside was even more shocking.

John was even curious about how the wizards in this pub managed to endure the smell, especially a man wrapped in a scarf, who seemed to contribute at least 60% of the foul odor. The air was thick with a hundred different scents, and that person alone accounted for the majority.

The bald pub owner, having spotted the well-dressed family, immediately knew who they were.

“Come on, you’re blocking the way, and you’re making me lose a few Knuts,” he grumbled, clearly irritated by their presence. His impatience with the trio made Mrs. Wick uncomfortable, thinking that wizards could be rather rude.

With a grunt, the owner led them toward the entrance to Diagon Alley.

“Here’s how you do it,” he said, showing them how to activate the entrance. “Count three bricks above the trash can, then two bricks horizontally.”

As he tapped the wall, it parted, revealing a magical pathway—John was left in awe, the two worlds suddenly blending before his eyes. Even years from now, he knew this moment would remain unforgettable.

“Excuse me, coming through,” a rough voice called from behind them.

Turning around, they saw a towering figure, at least three meters tall, wearing a massive mole-skin coat that smelled oddly of either wild animals or someone who hadn’t bathed in far too long. Beside him stood a small, emaciated boy, his oversized clothes hanging off his frail body. His round glasses and bright green eyes were unmistakable.

When John noticed the lightning-shaped scar beneath the boy’s hair, he immediately recognized him. The iconic boy who lived—Harry Potter.

“It’s Hagrid and Harry,” John murmured under his breath, recognizing the unmistakable combination. Even though it had been years since he’d last read about them, the scene was so vivid that it was impossible not to remember. The boy who survived the Dark Lord.

John murmured under his breath, and his parents were already too stunned to respond. Turning a cup into a mouse had been magical enough, but the sheer height of Hagrid, which was clearly beyond human proportions, was enough to shock them into silence.

Watching the odd pair—Hagrid and Harry—walk away, John refocused his thoughts. Although he was tempted to approach them and make small talk, now was clearly not the right moment. There was still so much to buy, and he had to make a stop at Gringotts first to exchange some money.

Ignoring the confusing exchange rates at Gringotts, the Wick family wasn’t exactly poor. John’s father, Mr. Wick, worked as a manager for a company, while his mother ran a beauty salon. They exchanged £2000 for 400 Galleons, and John couldn’t help but recall the greedy, shrewd expression of the goblin at the counter. It felt like they’d been taken advantage of.

Nevertheless, with this exchange, John now had the funds to begin shopping. He tuned out his father’s grumbling as they moved through Diagon Alley. There were so many things to see, and the sight of dragon liver nearly set off his food cravings. Being from a culinary background, his instincts wanted to buy some and try it, but for his parents, it was nothing more than a pile of bloodied, unappetizing organs.

At Lihun Bookstore, Mr. Wick almost had his fingers bitten by a book titled The Book of Monsters. John, meanwhile, diligently followed his list, buying all the required books, along with a few extra volumes about the magical world. One book in particular, Hogwarts: A History, was so thick that he had to force himself to look away.

At Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, Madam Malkin was a short, chubby witch with a warm, infectious smile. She seemed very pleased with John, commenting that he was a natural when it came to clothing—everything fit him perfectly. After John left, Harry Potter arrived at the shop and noticed the spoiled Draco Malfoy.

At The Cauldron Shop, John tried to convince his father not to buy an automatic stirring cauldron to add to the collection, fearing it would make a mess at home. However, Mr. Wick thought it might double as a useful stew pot. Upon hearing this suggestion, Mrs. Wick firmly overruled the idea, effectively squashing his enthusiasm.

Finally, at The Apothecary, the family was horrified by the strange, mysterious creatures floating in jars filled with liquid. Mrs. Wick quickly covered John’s eyes to shield him from the sight, while Mr. Wick turned a pale shade of green, his stomach clearly revolting at the sight. They hastily exited the shop, eager to leave the unsettling place behind.