Exploring the Diagon Alley!

Darcie's first lesson ended at 3 in the afternoon.

No books had been used. Nor her mentor had cited any resources. Madam Villanelle had instead focused on outlining the things she would cover in the next few months, and then the things had taken a turn to discuss her adventures.

How time went by once her mentor had mentioned a particular meeting with a 300-year-old vampire? Darcie did not know.

They entertained a few customers, but the crowd, as mentioned by the manager, would remain thin until the new year. From January's end to February's beginning onwards, with the new session of events and competitions, things would get busier.

Madam Villanelle tucked Darcie's purse to her waist and then took out a whistle. "If you encounter anything unpleasant, or feel anything unusual, then blow into it. OK?" she said, her eyes wary and concerned. "No matter where you are, it will let me know your exact location, and I will apparate to you."

Darcie nodded. "I wouldn't have to though," she said, putting the whistle into her purse. "I will have Dobby with me."

"Dobby?!" Madam Villanelle raised an eyebrow.

"Dobby…" Darcie repeated, "Dobby the house-elf."

"Oh!" her mentor nodded knowingly. "That's good. Off you go, then. Remember, keep to the main alley, and as per your parents' instructions, you must be back to either the bookshop or hotel by 5 pm."

Darcie knew it was Madam Villanelle who had suggested this instruction to her parents, but this was scarcely a thing to mention.

For now, she could barely hold herself back from going out.

"Thank you for having me, Mr. Hillam!" Darcie shouted, going against her nature.

A choking voice replied to her from way back into the shop. Madam Villanelle gasped. "Oh, boy! They got him this time…" and then she ran off, taking out her supple, 12 and quarter inches Applewood wand with Unicorn tail hair as its core.

Darcie saw her disappearing behind the pile of books on the counter by the entrance to the back half of the bookshop and helped herself out, the bells chiming on the door as she stepped out.

The chilly gusts had abated with the coming of the afternoon, but it was still cold enough for Darcie to wrap her hands about her. She looked to her right and saw the entrance to the Diagon Alley from the Leaky Cauldron quite far away. Then she looked to her left and decided today she would explore this side.

"Dobby!" Darcie called out.

Crack!

The house-elf appeared beside her, his face freshly bruised. Yet, the moment he saw Darcie, he flung himself to her frock. "Dobby missed Miss Darcie!" he said, rubbing his moist eyes against the soft wool, all the while trembling under his thin clothing.

Nothing could be done about it, for now, Darcie thought. "OK, stop weeping, now," she said, patting his egg-like head. "Come, I want to see Diagon Alley."

Dobby's eyes shone suddenly. He took out an old fork from under his red gown-like robe and spun. "Dobby will protect Miss Darcie," he declared, pointing the fork at a passerby who flinched away in disgust.

Darcie felt amused. "Yes," she nodded. "Dobby, you will be my knight."

She should have not said that to him, Darcie realized. The house-elf looked over his shoulders and his eyes seemed swollen and drowned in tears.

After placating him once more, Darcie and Dobby continued downwards into the alley, side by side.

The very first shop, next to the bookshop, to her left, was Quality Quidditch Supplies. Darcie matched the number 15 to the shop, confirming the map in her mind. Like the bookshop, this one too had lesser customers from what she had heard. Nevertheless, Darcie pushed the door in, Dobby leaping to her front.

One or two customers looked at her, but because of the heavy padding of wool and other clothing, it wasn't easy to associate her with the grand image Daily Prophet had used on its front page. All seemed more interested in Dobby, who was eying everyone as if they were his mortal enemies.

A tall wizard came running to her. "Hello, young lady," he said, smiling at her. "Fancy something? Alone, are you?"

Dobby pushed his way between the wizard and Darcie and straightened his back. "Miss is not alone," he said, narrowing his rather bulging eyes. "Miss is with Dobby."

"A house-elf…" the wizard muttered knowingly.

The presence of House-elf said many things about the person accompanying it. Like wealth, status, and background.

"I am just looking around," Darcie told him after a small greeting.

"Of course, of course," the wizard laughed. "I am the assistant here. If you like something, just let me know. You seem familiar…"

Darcie didn't let the wizard stare at her for long. With a hand on Dobby's shoulder, she walked off, gazing at the dozens of polished brooms and hundreds of different accessories.

After some 10 minutes, Darcie walked out with a large box in her hand. "Dobby," she said, passing the box to him, "this is a Broomstick Servicing Kit. Give it to Draco for me, OK?"

Dobby took the box, snapped his fingers, and the box came to hover by his side.

Then Darcie looked straight across the alley.

Opposite the shop she had come out of, there was J. Pippin's - potions for all ailments shop at number 70.

Though Darcie wanted to dive right into this shop, her father had instructed rather strictly not to let anyone know she knew anything about brewing potions until taught by her mentor.

Reluctantly, Darcie tore her eyes off the shop and the thousands of jars and vials that she could see through its windows, and her gaze then landed on the shop next to it.

Fine Enchanting Cauldrons, at number 69, showcased many cauldrons of different sizes. But she had no interest in checking them out. Not yet. So the pair then carried on down the alley once more.

A gap to her left suggested the entrance to the Horizont Alley.

Just after crossing this gap, at its other corner, was a florist's stall at the same place where Darcie had seen number 16 on the map. Darcie neared it. The owner was a plump witch, and she looked cheerful enough to her. Once the crowd cleared, and her turn arrived, Darcie greeted the witch, and said, "I want to buy some flowers for my mother."

The witch smiled at her, but suddenly her smile stiffened. "You are…"

"Yes?" Darcie asked, knowing well that the witch had recognized her.

"That… oh, never mind," the witch said, shaking her head and regaining the broad smile on her face. "Which ones would you like? I have these little ones who would sing upon smelling them. These here will compliment on beauty, and the tall ones here will tap dance when placed out of the vase."

Darcie looked thoughtful as the witch kept describing one flower after another. "Mmm," she hummed, eying all of them, "one of each will do, then."

"One of each…" the witch repeated, shocked. But then her gaze landed on the purse at Darcie's waist, and once again she shook her head.

Darcie moved on with the florist's eyes planted on her back; one more box, containing the bouquet, hovered beside Dobby's thin arms.

She then gazed enough at different shops, standing by the entrance of Horizont Alley.

Opposite the flower stall was the Daily Prophet's main office at number 68, and a book-publishing storehouse by the name of Whizz Hard Books at 67.

As she carried on, keeping herself to the left, Darcie arrived at shop No. 17, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. This establishment had the most customers Darcie had seen after coming out of the bookshop. It didn't keep her from entering it, though.

The smell of clothes was heavy inside, Darcie observed, keeping Dobby close to her. She knew a few witches here might make a scene over his presence, and it would be good to not give them those chances.

After some 15 minutes, the proprietrix, Madam Malkin, came to her, dressed in a thick, purple gown. She was a squat woman in her fifties, Darcie noticed, and like the florist, all smiles and cheery.

Unlike the florist, however, the witch recognized Darcie the moment she neared her.

"Good evening, Madam Malkin," Darcie greeted. "I would like to see some shawls for my father. He likes to remain in his study room till rather late in the evening."

Madam Malkin opened and closed her mouth at her until Dobby dared to poke the witch with the fork in his hand.

"Oh, yes, of course," she said, flinching. "Only yesterday I was reading the article on you, Ms. Malfoy. Let me help you choose the best piece we have this winter. Here, with me, if you please."

At the mention of Ms. Malfoy, all witches who had their ears perched up in their direction snapped to look at the three of them. Darcie ignored the gazes, the whispers, and the shuffles of feet. She spent quite some time selecting a particular green shawl, listening to Madam Malkin's reasons to buy this one.

"Thank you for helping me with this," Darcie said, after paying for it. "You were ever so pleasant, madam."

The weight of an eerie tension over Madam Malkin's shoulders melted away instantly. She smiled at Darcie amiably, and said, "It's not an issue, dear. Do return anytime you want."

Darcie walked out of the shop, with three things hovering by Dobby's side now.

They then spent a significant amount of time checking out many brooms at Broomstix, which was opposite Madam Malkin's shop and had the number 66 on the map.

Carrying on, Darcie bought a gold-sparkling quill for Madam Villanelle, and a flashing inkpot for Mr. Hillam from Amanuensis Quills, shop no. 18.

Now came the building Darcie had only once visited when she was very young.

At no. 19, Gringotts Wizarding Bank looked as majestic as its images in the newspaper, Darcie observed. It was an imposing snow-white multi-storied marble building, with a set of white stairs leading up to burnished bronze doors, and goblins flanked the doors in a uniform of scarlet and gold.

Darcie stared at the goblins and realized they looked meaner than then their portraits in magazines and books.

Dobby looked up at her mistress and saw her gazing at the goblins. "Goblins are weaker than house-elves, miss," he said proudly. "Dobby is enough to handle these guards."

Darcie patted the house-elf. "Don't talk like that," she told him. "We aren't here to rob the bank."

So, with the last look, they marched on, making their way past the back and ever downward in the alley.

Darcie bought ice cream for Dobby from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, who slurped it down merrily despite it being winter.

As they went on, and it seemed to Darcie she should return now, they had just crossed a second-hand bookshop when her eyes landed on the black building whose windows were glowing gold under the dimming evening light.

At one glance, it looked old, narrow, and shabby, but its name, in thin gold lettering, attracted Darcie to itself with unmatched fascination.

Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

"Let's go, Dobby," Darcie said, crossing the alley already. "One last stop."

***************

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