Diagon Alley was a wonderful place.
A month after his first visit, Andrew finally scraped together enough money to cover the round-trip to London and expenses in Diagon Alley.
The price he paid was a slower-than-expected pace in studying his textbooks and experimenting with magic—but it was necessary.
When he got off at King's Cross Station, he even had the interest to glance at the station signs—according to Professor McGonagall, he would be taking the Hogwarts Express from Platform 9¾ later. But right now, he had no interest in testing whether that platform had opened by ramming his head into the wall.
After a train ride and a transfer to the Underground, he finally arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, the entrance to Diagon Alley, around noon.
"What a great place," he murmured in admiration, standing outside the pub. He took off his backpack, pulled out a cloak and draped it over himself, then took out a cup of ice and tucked it into his chest.
Last time, he had been led here by Professor McGonagall, so he couldn't really help it. But this time, he wasn't about to wander around this wizard-filled area in muggle clothes like some kind of sore thumb. He suspected most wizards strolling through the Alley had mastered some charm to cool the inside of their robes, but he hadn't found anything like that in the first-year textbooks.
Since he hadn't yet learned how ordinary wizards greeted each other—due to the unusual circumstances of his previous visit—he simply pulled up his hood. With Hogwarts' term approaching, Diagon Alley was full of people. A hood would be enough.
Everything went smoothly—except for the stifling heat.
So, the moment he left the Leaky Cauldron, he decisively pulled down his hood, gave up the silly disguise, bought himself a large ice cream, and made his way quickly to the second-hand bookstore.
After a brief negotiation with the shop owner, he was granted access to browse any book outside the premium second-hand section at a rate of one Sickle per hour—and he was even allowed to bring in his half-eaten ice cream.
That was about as far as the goodwill went. Age-based prejudice wasn't easily wiped away; adults rarely took him seriously unless they weren't face-to-face.
"This is exactly why I decided to use rewriting as my first source of income…"
Andrew quickly finished his ice cream, put on a mask, and began flipping through old books.
Unlike last time, when he focused mainly on textbooks, this time he was searching for entertainment material.
Entertainment is a universal human trait—whether you're a Muggle or a wizard.
In simple terms, people like having fun; the only difference is how they go about it.
Andrew didn't expect to invent an entirely new way of entertaining wizards. But once he understood their tastes, he was confident he could produce content the wizarding world would find appealing.
The only flaw in researching this at a second-hand bookstore was that the shop owner didn't stock highly time-sensitive reading material, nor books meant for adult wizards. But for other genres, it was good enough.
Fairy tales and bedtime stories were great material. Twisted versions of childhood classics were secretly beloved by readers—so long as you didn't stray too far from the originals, people read them with glee…
"Be serious, Andrew…" he reminded himself. "You already decided that as your grammar improves, you'll write something with a wider audience."
He told himself to come up with a pen name, then moved on to biographies.
Biographies that made it to second-hand shops were usually widely circulated. Rewriting them into adventure stories was a solid strategy.
Adding some fantasy elements, exaggerating magical effects, and avoiding anything that put the subject in a negative light could result in high praise.
After a general survey of popular magazines, fairy tale types favored by wizards, and a few well-known wizard biographies, Andrew felt like he was getting the hang of things. He selected several books he liked, then reached into his pocket—only to realize he hadn't even exchanged money at Gringotts yet.
After paying the fee for reading time, he asked the owner to set the books aside, then rushed off to Gringotts to exchange Galleons (luckily, since he picked a good day, the queue moved quickly).
"Actually, a lot of storybooks can be found in the Hogwarts library," the shop owner commented, probably noticing how frantically Andrew had been running around.
His real profits came from second-hand textbooks—every year during OWLs or after graduation, he'd collect a ton for cheap.
"That's exactly what I need, sir," Andrew nodded. "Can I also check the premium section for any popular books?"
"Nope, nothing left," the shopkeeper spread his hands. "Lockhart's books are all the rage. His second-hand ones are hard to find—and they're in high demand. Lots of reservations."
"Lockhart?"
"Of course, the most famous adventurer. His stories are incredibly vivid."
The owner was full of admiration—he also had an adventurous heart, but the Galleons he earned from second-hand book sales kept him grounded.
Well, looks like I'll have to get a set of Lockhart's books after all… Good thing I'm not too tight on funds, Andrew thought, packing the classic books he'd selected. "Also, I need an owl. Just a plain, ordinary owl."
About ten minutes later, he arrived at the famous Eeylops Owl Emporium.
Another ten minutes later, he walked out carrying a grass owl—based on the books he'd read, this was one of the most common types in the wizarding world. Even at Hogwarts, most of the school owls were grass owls.
"But," he looked at the bird, "I have this feeling the clerk tricked me. You're… uniquely ugly. Hey—don't!"
The owl's beak lightly nipped at his finger—not hard, but the glare it gave him was unmistakably a warning: say another word, and it would bite harder next time.
That moment made Andrew realize something—the clerk hadn't been lying when they said this owl was smart.
"So that spell to reduce presence in the cage was real too?" Andrew looked closely at the owl. "Alright, since that nip wasn't too harsh, I'll give you a nice name—but not yet. We need to head back first."
The owl gave a small nod, surprising Andrew again. He thought he'd already gotten used to the existence of magic, but still—this was something else.
"The right books, the right target audience, and the right owl…"
Andrew nodded. This outing had been a complete success. Now all he had to do was find a reasonably priced inn to stay the night, and then return to the orphanage from London the next day.
"Hey, buddy, I've got a great idea."
He turned to his owl.
"How about the Leaky Cauldron? Perfect place to pick up a little intel on the wizarding world."
"Hoo."