The cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley shimmered with the heat of summer.
*Smack!*
No sooner had Ron finished speaking than Mrs. Weasley's freckled hand landed squarely on his messy red hair.
It didn't hurt, but the SOUND was crisp and loud, drowning out even the cooing from the owl post office at the street corner.
Ron stumbled half a step, clutching the back of his head. The vine patterns on Gringotts' bronze doors flickered faintly beside his flushed ears.
"Mom!"
Mrs. Weasley shot Ron a glare. "Who taught you to talk about a classmate like that? And a lady, no less! Arthur, look at the fine son you've raised!"
Ron didn't dare make a peep.
Mr. Arthur shrank back, just like his son.
Seeing Ron get scolded by Mrs. Weasley, Hermione stood off to the side, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. A subtle hint of glee crept onto her face.
But she quickly caught herself, tucking a curl behind her ear with her left hand, pretending to fix her hair.
Her brown eyes, however, had already curved into crescents, her lashes trembling softly in the shadow cast across her nose. Hermione pressed her lips together, stifling a laugh as she glanced at Ron's parents.
"Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, hello! My parents are just over there."
After greeting everyone, Hermione turned and waved enthusiastically at her mom and dad.
The Grangers stepped forward, noticing the sizable group at the entrance—people their daughter seemed to know.
Hagrid, in particular, stood out. His towering frame exuded an unintentional sense of intimidation.
The couple appeared slightly uneasy.
The dentists' neatly pressed shirt collars stood out starkly against Hagrid's mud-stained moleskin coat, white as two clouds drifting above Diagon Alley.
Hermione didn't seem fazed. Her voice suddenly took on the crisp, rehearsed tone she used when reciting *A History of Magic*, eagerly introducing everyone.
"This is Harry, this is Ron, and this is Dylan—the real top student of our year."
"These are Ron's parents, and this is Mr. Hagrid, one of the caretakers at our school."
"Hello, hello…"
The Grangers followed their daughter's lead, exchanging greetings with everyone.
When their eyes landed on Dylan, they paused for a moment.
So this was the classmate who could match their daughter's perfect scores in every subject?
Dylan politely seized the moment to introduce himself. "Sir, Madam, hello. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"You too, you too," the Grangers replied quickly.
As Dylan bowed slightly, sunlight from Gringotts' domed ceiling filtered through the crystal chandelier, casting a faint golden halo around his hair. The Grangers blinked, momentarily stunned.
What a fine young man!
He certainly looked like prime academic material!
If he studied with them, he'd surely make an excellent dentist one day!
Since Dylan didn't have any money stored at Gringotts, he naturally didn't need to withdraw anything.
But the Weasleys and Harry did.
So Dylan tagged along—he'd never seen what Gringotts' underground world looked like, after all.
As for Hermione and her parents, though they'd already exchanged money for her, they joined the group at everyone's invitation, hopping into the goblin-driven cart.
"Wow! It's like riding a roller coaster!—Not that I've ever been on one." Hermione's cheeks flushed faintly with excitement.
The vault cart whizzed through the rocky tunnels, her curly hair swirling into caramel-colored spirals in the rushing air.
She gripped the rusty copper handrail tightly, her knuckles whitening from the effort, and shouted back to her parents, "It's got to be at least sixty miles an hour!"
Before she finished, the cart plummeted vertically. Mrs. Granger's pearl necklace traced a shimmering arc through the air.
"Urgh!"
When they disembarked, the dentist couple hurriedly supported each other, lips pressed tight to hold everything in.
The rest of the group climbed out of the cart as well.
The Weasleys didn't mind everyone tagging along.
So when their family vault was opened, Dylan caught sight of a modest pile of silver Sickles and a single, lonely Galleon.
The group waited outside while Mrs. Weasley stepped in alone.
Though the coins were few, she carefully tucked each one into a patched velvet pouch. She searched every corner, ensuring not a single coin remained, before stepping out.
They piled back into the cart and ventured deeper.
After a series of twists and turns, they arrived at the vault Harry's parents had left for him.
Calling it a vault "prepared" by the Potters might be a stretch.
In truth, the wealth inside had been amassed by generations of Potter ancestors.
When the goblin swung open the vault's heavy doors, a dazzling golden light poured out like molten sunshine.
Dylan peeked inside.
Piles of gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts gleamed in heaps, the interwoven glow so soothing it was almost therapeutic to look at.
"Talk about eye candy!"
Compared to this, the wealth Dylan had at his disposal was utterly incomparable to Harry's.
"No way. I can't let Mom and Dad keep gallivanting around on vacations. Time to drag them back and put them to work earning me some money!"
Dylan rubbed his chin.
"Tsk tsk, potions sure are lucrative. Maybe I should whip up a few myself and sell them under Professor Snape's name. I bet I could corner the market in no time."
To say Dylan wasn't jealous of this vault's riches would be a lie.
With that kind of money, he could probably upgrade his suitcase to the deluxe edition!
But that fortune had been built up over generations.
The Potter family traced its lineage back to the three brothers, a prestigious pure-blood clan who even owned the Invisibility Cloak, one of the Deathly Hallows.
The family's founder, Linfred of Stinchcombe, had invented numerous potions, including widely used ones like Skele-Gro and Pepperup Potion.
The success of these potions quickly built the Potters' initial wealth.
Later, the family remained a powerful force in the wizarding world, with many members serving on the Wizengamot.
As the highest court in the wizarding world, the Wizengamot held authority even above the Ministry of Magic.
Dumbledore currently served as its Chief Warlock, a position he'd held for years.
On top of that, Harry's grandfather, Fleamont Potter, had invented Sleekeazy's Hair Potion—a magical concoction that instantly beautified your hair—multiplying the family's fortune several times over.
Interestingly, one of the potions Dylan had previously gifted Snape had been a tweak on Sleekeazy's formula.
"Ugh, coming up with a bestseller potion these days isn't so easy anymore."
Dylan watched Harry, who, despite facing a vault full of riches, showed no trace of arrogance. In fact, he seemed a little embarrassed in front of the Weasleys.
Harry quickly grabbed a sack of Galleons, then had the goblin shut the vault doors.
—This kid's actually pretty decent.
The group piled back into the goblin-driven cart.
The Weasleys, well aware of the Potters' wealth, weren't fazed in the slightest.
Ron, on the other hand, was dumbfounded. He'd never imagined that Harry—whose socks were so worn they had holes his mom had to mend—could possess such an enormous, almost unbelievable fortune! For a moment, it felt like his buddy wasn't really his buddy anymore.
Ginny didn't care about any of that; her face was full of admiration.
Percy remained unfazed, his expression calm.
The Weasley twins, though, grew oddly quiet.
Dylan watched them, guessing that some idea was probably sprouting in their mischievous minds.
He sighed inwardly once more.
"Relying on Mom and Dad alone, the money comes in way too slow. Maybe in my spare time, I could research some Dark Magic potions—those wouldn't have any trouble selling."
"Or better yet, I could figure out how to short Gringotts. I've got that other identity to work with, after all…"
Dylan rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he followed the group back to the surface.
Ron and Hermione chattered nonstop around Harry.
Ron stared at Harry's leather pouch stuffed with Galleons, his Adam's apple bobbing three times before he finally spoke. "You should buy some new socks."
"I will," Harry mumbled, awkwardly lowering his head.
The group soon split up.
Dylan naturally went shopping with Hermione and Harry.
Percy's quill had broken, so he needed a new one.
George and Fred had plans to meet friends in Diagon Alley.
Ginny was about to start school, and aside from a few hand-me-downs, Mrs. Weasley had to get her some new essentials.
After all, being a girl, Ginny couldn't reuse a lot of things.
Seeing everyone ready to go their separate ways, Mr. Arthur seized the moment. With a light cough, he pulled a car spark plug from the inner pocket of his robe and showed it to the Grangers.
"Perhaps you two would like to join me at the Leaky Cauldron for a taste of Firewhisky? Of course, I mean, if you happen to know a thing or two about internal combustion engines, we'd surely get along famously."
—Clearly, he was actually eager to ask the Grangers more about the Muggle world.
"While we don't exactly study that sort of thing, we'd still love to chat with you," they replied.
Hermione's parents had never tried wizarding liquor and were curious about it. Besides, they'd already given Hermione her money—if she needed anything, she could shop with her friends without them hovering. So, they stood beside Mr. Arthur.
"Then let's take an hour and a half to do whatever you want, but after that, we're meeting at Flourish and Blotts!" Mrs. Weasley declared, shooting a glance at Mr. Arthur.
He nodded hastily with a sheepish grin, the chain of his pocket watch glinting in the sunlight streaming through the window. "No problem!"
The Grangers blinked, exchanging amused looks that rippled with suppressed laughter.
Mr. Granger adjusted his glasses with a finger, while Mrs. Granger blinked in surprise.
—Wizards could be henpecked too?
They shared a smile, and their earlier unease faded considerably.
After parting ways, Dylan didn't have much he wanted to buy—just a trip to the bookstore later would do.
"It's getting hot. How about some ice cream? The cold treats at Florean Fortescue's are pretty good," Dylan suggested, glancing at the others.
"I know that place! Their strawberry ice cream is the best—especially with the chocolate nut bits on top!" Ron chimed in.
Hermione blinked and gave a slight nod. "Let's give it a try, then."
The ice cream shop wasn't far from Gringotts—just a few steps away.
Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour had frosted windows. As Dylan, Harry, and the others stepped inside, the copper bell above the door jingled, and a cool, sweet scent laced with elderflower hit them full force.
Florean greeted them warmly. "Hey, kiddo, brought some friends today?"
Dylan nodded and introduced Harry and the others to Florean.
Ron pressed his nose almost against the misty display case, his breath fogging up the glass in round patches. "I want the one with the crushed cockroach pile!"
—He'd clearly mistaken the chocolate flakes for some magical creature.
"It's cocoa bean bits, not a cockroach pile! You're ruining my appetite," Hermione corrected, her fingertip brushing the frosting on a raspberry sorbet.
Dylan leaned against the spruce counter, chatting with Florean while watching him drizzle blueberry sauce over a sundae.
The deep purple syrup trickled down the vanilla ice cream, eerily reminiscent of the Shrinking Solution he'd brewed during private lessons with Snape.
When they left the shop, each of them held a free ice cream sundae.
They stopped by the stationery store next, picking up some fresh parchment. Hermione also grabbed several bottles of ink.
"This parchment is great for drafts—it's made with ink from color-changing giant squids. Once you're done with rough notes, the writing just vanishes," she explained, turning to her friends. "Too bad it only lasts three weeks, so I'm not stocking up."
Dylan grinned. "Otherwise, one sheet could last a lifetime, and how would they make money off that?"
"Plus, no magic lasts *that* long anyway."
As they passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, Ron gestured animatedly at the Nimbus 2000 in the display case. "Broomsticks are all pretty much the same. I've been flying every day lately, and I don't notice much difference."
Harry, a Quidditch enthusiast with a knack for brooms, naturally picked up the conversation with Ron.
They went from brooms to Quidditch in no time.
Hermione and Dylan chimed in now and then.
The group wandered around, occasionally buying what they needed.
Finally, as the agreed-upon time approached, they headed toward Flourish and Blotts.
Even from a distance, Dylan and the others could see a crowd gathered at the bookstore's entrance, bustling and impenetrable.
"What's going on?"
"There's a banner up there!"
They looked up and saw a bold red banner with gold lettering hanging from the second-floor window, proclaiming in eye-catching fashion:
"Famous Wizard Gilderoy Lockhart Signing Copies of His Autobiography *Magical Me* On-Site!"
Gilderoy Lockhart's name shimmered on the fluttering banner, bursting into a dazzling firework effect every ten seconds, tinting the passersby's hair with a blinding golden glow.
The crowd at the bookstore entrance buzzed with excitement.
Hermione's eyes widened as she let out a series of gasps.
"We're so lucky! We actually get to meet Lockhart! He's *really* famous!"
Ron blinked. "He *is* famous. Even our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor told us to buy his books—and a ton of them too!"
Dylan raised an eyebrow.
Truth be told, after spending so much time at the Weasleys', he wasn't entirely sure if their planned trip to Diagon Alley with Hermione and the others would line up with meeting Lockhart. Yet here they were.
—Could this guy be hawking his books at Diagon Alley's bookstore every single day lately?
"Let's hurry inside! My mom's a huge Lockhart fan—I bet they're already in there," Ron said.
The crowd at the entrance was thick, but since Dylan and the others were just kids, the witches and wizards parted slightly to let them through. After some squeezing, they managed to slip inside.
The moment they entered, the 3D cover of *Magical Me* nearly smacked Dylan in the nose.
"Where's your mom?" Dylan asked, rubbing his nose and glancing around. All he could see were witches—mostly women—and for a moment, he couldn't spot Mrs. Weasley.
—It dawned on him that the men waiting outside were probably the husbands of these witches.
No wonder some of the wizards out there had looked so grumpy when Dylan, Harry, and the others were jostling through. He'd assumed they were just annoyed at being shoved around.
"Thank goodness you're here—you're right on time!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, standing with the Grangers, her face flushed with excitement.
Spotting Dylan and Harry, she hurried over, pulling them close and brushing off imaginary dust from their clothes.
Hermione, the moment she stepped in, darted to her parents' side, craning her neck toward the signing area.
Dylan eyed the throng of ecstatic witches around him and quirked a brow.
"Meeting your idol in person—this kind of joy could count as a happy memory, right?"
It reminded him of his own childhood in his past life, when he'd been thrilled to snap a photo with Piggie侠 at an anime-themed restaurant.
"If that kind of excitement could summon a Patronus, casting the Patronus Charm would be a whole lot easier."
"Lately, as I've gotten more insights from studying magic, the process itself has started to excite me more and more. I think that could be tapped into for the Patronus Charm too, couldn't it?"
Ever since getting the Patronus Charm training method from Dumbledore, Dylan hadn't had much chance to test it in practice.
He figured he'd give it a shot when he had some free time later.
"I wonder if the Patronus Charm could be combined with Dark Magic somehow—maybe create a more powerful move, something that could even backfire on an opponent with devastating force."
"And while casting Dark Magic itself doesn't exactly make me happy, using it to rob Galleons from other dark wizards *does* feel pretty satisfying. Maybe that memory could work for the Patronus Charm too."
"If I summoned a Patronus with that memory, would it mean Dark Magic could, in some way, blend with the Patronus Charm?"
Dylan's mind buzzed with thoughts.
Once inside the bookstore, he first grabbed all the books required on the school list and tucked them under his arm.
—He planned to have Lockhart scribble a few extra signatures on them later. Back at school, he could just tear them out and use them.
"Holy smokes," he muttered.
As the crowd surged forward, Dylan finally caught sight of Lockhart.
But it wasn't the man himself—it was a photograph.
—A massive one, like a painting.
The giant image was made up of countless smaller photos of Lockhart.
—In every single one, his smile was dazzling.
Pearly white teeth, sparkling eyes.
Dylan took one look and felt like his mind had been mildly assaulted.
He rubbed his temples. "If Lockhart ever did a toothpaste ad, he'd make a fortune."
—Not that he wasn't raking it in already.
Hermione's dad couldn't help but click his tongue. "Teeth *that* healthy? First time I've seen it. I wonder if he's had them fixed or if they're naturally like that."
Her mom pondered too. "Maybe it's magic?"
Hermione turned back to them. "Dad! Mom! Stop obsessing over people's teeth! Honestly, you should read Mr. Lockhart's books—every one of them is absolutely brilliant!"
The Grangers exchanged a glance. "But his teeth *are* really nice—"
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome… Gilderoy Lockhart!" a bookstore staff member announced loudly.
Hearing that, Dylan started forward, ready to get Lockhart's autograph.
But the women around him erupted into a frenzy, shoving him right out of the way.
"…"
Dylan stood there, clutching his seven books, dumbfounded.
Hold on, were these people insane?
So many of them, all here for Lockhart's signature?
What was so great about his autograph anyway?
Gritting his teeth, Dylan resolved to push back in.
But just then, Lockhart spotted Harry in the crowd.
"Oh! No way—Harry Potter?"
Lockhart's eyes lit up. He yanked Harry from the throng, pulling him to his side to face an old, scruffy *Daily Prophet* reporter.
Camera shutters clicked nonstop.
Wizards clapped, and the women let out slightly shrill squeals.
Harry, utterly bewildered, hadn't even processed what was happening before Lockhart had him in a tight embrace.
His expression soured.
—Sure, Hogwarts students used to cheer for him endlessly too, but they'd gotten used to him over time.
It'd been a while since Harry had been the target of such fervent stares.
—And now, without even asking, Lockhart had thrust him right back into it.
"What an exhilarating moment! Now, I have an announcement to make—"
Lockhart raised his voice, and the crowd instantly hushed.
"Young Harry came to Flourish and Blotts because he admires me and wanted to buy my autobiography—*Magical Me*!"
Lockhart scooped up a towering stack of books from the side.
"Here you go, little Harry! Every single one of these has *ten* of my personal signatures. How about that? You must be thrilled right now, huh?"
Harry opened his mouth to say he didn't want them and wasn't the least bit excited.
But before he could, Lockhart boomed again—
"And! What's going to thrill Harry even *more* is this: when September rolls around and Hogwarts reopens, he'll truly have the magical me!"
"That's right! Yes! Just as you're all thinking—I must announce it here and now: come September, I will be joining Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as its newest professor!"
"It was Headmaster Dumbledore himself who recognized my magical talents and personally invited me to take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! And I, of course, graciously accepted!"
The crowd froze for a split second before erupting into gasps and exclamations.
Lockhart shoved Harry aside, sat down, and began preparing to sign books for his adoring fans.
By the time Harry, like Dylan, got bum-rushed out of the way by the throng of witches, he was still dazed.
Ron, who'd never bothered squeezing in and had stayed on the outskirts, walked over when he saw Harry stumble out. Scratching his head, he said, "These people are nuts."
Dylan rushed forward too, his eyes gleaming as he zeroed in on the stack of books in Harry's arms—essentially a pile of golden tickets.
*Ten signatures per book?*
By Voldemort's nose, this was too perfect!
"Hey, Harry! Can I ask you a favor?"
Harry looked up, still in a fog. "Huh? What?"
"Those books you're holding—could you swap them with mine? I promise, these are brand new too!"
"What? You want these?" Harry paused, then thrust his arms out. "Here, take them all."
*(Chapter End)*