Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel Chapter 455 456: The Crowded Diagon Alley

Sean had been to Diagon Alley many tis, but never for such a simple, leisurely stroll as this. Along the long, cobblestone street, lined with the most alluring wizarding shops in the world, Sean felt almost baked through by the sun.

His mind wandered over everything that had happened since Christmas: the destroyed diadem, the restless ghost, the burning ring, and the counterfeit locket he had secured. Finally, his thoughts settled on the Resurrection Stone. This Hallow was cursed with a terrible blight that offered the wizard almost no room to maneuver. It required a magical being to wear it for the curse to take effect; otherwise, the stone remained inert. As for why it required a magical being, Sean guessed that Voldemort simply wouldn't care to leave anything for a non-magical creature. The curse could not be undone, only endured—much like the liquid in the cave. Voldemort's mastery over curses had surpassed every other wizard in the modern age; at least, to Sean's eyes, there was no hope of breaking it.

How, then, could I possibly use it?

The long, sun-drenched day crawled on. Wizards bustled in and out of shops, dining under brightly colored umbrellas outside the cafés. Beside Marcus, Sean could hear custors showing off their purchases to one another: "Old chap, this is a moon-charting lens—no more fiddling with moon charts, eh?" or discussing the rits of various magical schools: "Personally, I think Hogwarts is the finest school in the world; I wouldn't dream of sending my children anywhere else."

Marcus grew restless the mont he laid eyes on the ice cream parlor. "Ice cream, of course—that's marvelous." Before Sean could protest, he was dragged into the bright sunlight outside Florean Fortescue's. Every half hour, Marcus insisted on ordering another round for their table.

"Oh, ti flies, my good lad, you'll be in your third year before you know it..." As Marcus spoke, the ice cream lting into his beard quivered.

Not long after, they dived into Quality Quidditch Supplies. Marcus enjoyed these monts: the shop was packed with people. They squeezed inside, jostling past excited wizards and witches, until they reached a newly erected display platform. With a grand flourish, Marcus bought a Nimbus 2001.

"I haven't participated in a Quidditch match in a long ti," Sean said, trying to discourage him.

"Nonsense, that's just fine—toss in a bottle of polish, sir," Marcus commanded boisterously.

The owner of Quality Quidditch Supplies bead, his face lighting up with greed, and shared a piece of exclusive news: "Yes, at ten o'clock, the most mysterious shop in Diagon Alley opens its doors to the public. Legend has it that the illustrious Mr. Hers is unveiling a new magical invention."

"That is truly..."

The mont Marcus spoke, Diagon Alley began to transform. Vivid, multi-colored posters were hung everywhere—even plastered onto the walls of the Quidditch shop.

"That mysterious shop has brought an incredible amount of foot traffic to the Alley," the owner chuckled, watching a young wizard hang up yet another poster.

The air above Diagon Alley was soon filled with a peculiar creature: Puffskeins. Their bodies were like spheres covered in soft, cream-colored fur. Sean knew they were gentle magical creatures—you could hug them, toss them around, and they'd remain completely unbothered. They had always been popular pets among wizards. Naturally, they also carried a high price tag. Now, enchanted with special magic, they floated through the brilliant sunshine of Diagon Alley. Their long, pink tongues held promotional fliers; if you touched one, it would deposit the paper right into your hand.

Diagon Alley was in a frenzy. n and won scrambled in excitent to snatch the fliers from the Puffskeins. But in truth, if they had simply looked up, they would have seen that the posters on the walls and the fliers in their hands contained the exact sa ssage:

[Mr. Hers is about to reform the wizarding world—are you still relying on fireplaces and owls?]

[Magic Hand Mirrors: Breaking the barriers of space!]

[While other children are speaking face-to-face with their families from magical school, is your child still waiting in vain for an owl's reply?]

The variety of slogans filled the wizards' eyes, and an inexplicable anxiety took hold of them—they had to know what this "Magic Hand Mirror" was. It had been advertised by every major newspaper for days.

Before they even had to go searching, a group of well-dressed wizards began Apparating to escort them.

"The Fairy Tale Workshop is open for a limited ti at Shop 77, Diagon Alley. If you are in a hurry, please take my hand."

"No crowding, no waiting in line, but please rember: each wizard may only remain in the Workshop for half an hour. Whether you make a purchase or not, please depart afterward. We appreciate your understanding."

"Respected Madam, please take my hand..."

Marcus was utterly bewildered by the commotion, but he was clearly moved by the line about children waiting for owls. Waiting? That was an understatent—he was the one who spent his days constantly waiting for owls.

"What is a Magic Hand Mirror?" he asked one of the ushers.

"You may go to the Fairy Tale Workshop to see for yourself," the usher replied, politely extending a hand.

"I'm not so old that I need to use your Apparition," Marcus refused, looking back at Sean with a mixture of hope and impatience. "Shall we go and see?"

Minutes later, they arrived at the Fairy Tale Workshop, which was already overflowing with wizards. Fortunately, the shop had been expanded several tis with an Undetectable Extension Charm; otherwise, it could never have held the hundreds of wizards cramd inside.

"Give another one! Sir! Just one more!" a wizard shouted.

"The rule of the Fairy Tale Workshop has always been one per person, sir. Please do not make things difficult for us," the attendant replied decisively.

"Are there any Pegasus versions left? Or a Dragon one?"

"I need a three-way mirror, Slimline edition. Galleons are no object—"

"Is the cara function real? Can I finally stop using that bulky cara?"

The cacophony of voices blended into a blur, making one's ears ring. Just then, an attendant near Marcus remarked casually: "There are only three hundred in the first batch. Mr. Hers never intended to sell them, really, but he has changed the entire wizarding world once again by sheer happenstance..." The well-dressed wizard spoke with pride; he seed very satisfied with his work, and not just because of the generous salary Mr. Mall was paying.

Marcus had already begun fiddling with a Magic Hand Mirror. As he grasped the full extent of what this magical artifact could do, his breath began to quicken.

"Sir, hurry—get one—"

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