Chapter 123: Lesley's General Store
Theo had grown up in Diagon Alley, and except for places like Knockturn Alley—off-limits to children by parental decree—he knew most of the shops fairly well. Through years of casual observation, he had picked up a keen sense of which stores offered good value and which were run by shrewd, sometimes dishonest, shopkeepers. He didn’t need to study hard to know what was going on.
“This is what we call Rag Alley,” Theo explained. “Because everyone says it’s full of junk—old scrap metal and broken trinkets.”
Diagon Alley was still neat and tidy by wizarding standards, but this street was more like the kind of rural market Wade had once seen back in the Muggle world. The sidewalks were piled high with all sorts of clutter, and even the space between the buildings was choked with goods.
At first glance, it looked like a treasure trove—everything seemed to be on display. But a closer look revealed that most of it was worthless trash: yellowed, tattered books; strange, oddly shaped stones; crudely carved wooden trinkets; feather quills with bald tips; torn carpets and cracked water jugs.
Because of the mess, the path through the middle of the alley had become dangerously narrow.
Theo led Wade through the winding chaos, weaving between piles of debris, while casually sharing stories he’d heard from the Elder:
“Uncle Jason told me, you can come here during the day—but don’t come after six. After dark, thieves and even Werewolves show up to sell stolen goods.”
“Everything out here is trash. You’d be better off leaving it on the ground than taking it home. The real good stuff? It’s all kept inside.”
“But most shopkeepers are judge-y—they size you up. Newcomers get ripped off all the time. That’s why Buen Lesley’s place is so much better.”
“He’s straight-up with his prices. Might be a bit more expensive than others, but you get what you pay for. No tricks. No scams.”
They reached the back of the alley, and Wade looked up. A wooden sign, weathered and worn, read: Lesley’s General Store.
Theo pushed open the door, and instantly, a bird-shaped wind chime above it began to sing—cheep-cheep-cheep!—in a bright, cheerful tone. Almost immediately, the entire shop lit up.
Dozens of magical candles flared to life, one after another, starting from the entrance and spreading inward. The dim, dusty little store was instantly transformed into a bright, clean space, every corner illuminated.
A man in a wheelchair glided silently toward them.
His hair—white and black interwoven—was a tangled mess, like a crumpled ball of steel wool. His eyebrows were thick and jet black, strikingly prominent. He wore faded green wizard robes, and a frayed plaid blanket lay across his knees. On top of the blanket sat a completely black cat.
“Mr. Lesley,” Theo grinned warmly. “I brought some friends to buy a few things.”
“Hmm.” The old man smiled in return, glancing at Wade. “Help yourselves. Everything on display has its price clearly marked.”
“Thanks,” Wade nodded, stepping deeper into the shop.
Behind him, Lesley continued chatting with Theo:
“You little one—school starts in a week, right?”
“Just one more week,” Theo replied.
“What are you doing here today? Didn’t Mannick’s boy tell you not to wander off alone?”
“I’m not alone!” Theo insisted. “I’m with Mr. Wenar! Today, my Young Brother and I almost got taken by a Werewolf—Mr. Wenar saved us!”
He said it all without hesitation, no hint of shame or exaggeration.
Lesley’s expression instantly turned serious.
“What happened? Tell me everything.”
Theo began: “It was this morning….”
Inside the shop, the arrangement was surprisingly orderly—like a regular Muggle supermarket. Shelves stood in neat rows, each holding items with clear price tags. Some bore warnings like: Extremely Dangerous, Do Not Handle.
Prices were higher than those in the junk shops outside, but far cheaper than most of the shops in Diagon Alley.
Take wands, for example.
Ollivander’s wands for new students ranged from a few Galleons to over a dozen, and some adult wizards even had wands encrusted with gold and jewels—costing a fortune.
At Lesley’s, most wands were priced at just one or two Galleons. Next to them was a small testing area with a feather, a stone, and a spider—tools to test magical resonance.
These wands were dusty and showed clear signs of use, but they were all intact and functional.
By contrast, the wands on display outside the junk shops were often cracked, hastily repaired, and sold for only a few Sickles.
Wade thought: Using one of those wands for spellcasting? The enemy might not get hit—but the user might end up in St. Mungo’s.
His own wand was made of poplar wood with a unicorn hair core. Poplar wood was known for its loyalty, emotional stability, and consistent magical power—ideal for wizards with strong moral clarity. Unicorn hair produced the most stable magic and was fiercely loyal, but it resisted dark magic.
As Michael once put it: If someone heard the wand’s components, they’d assume you were a Hufflepuff—honest, decent, and dependable.
Wade had sighed at the time. If only the Sorting Hat could see it that way.
For Wade, his wand was like a second limb—responsive, intuitive, and powerful. Though he’d picked up some skill in wandless magic, there was nothing quite like the comfort and strength he felt when holding his wand—especially when casting proper spells, not dark curses.
But even then, there were limits.
Ordinary minor dark spells? The wand still worked. But anything stronger—like a true poison curse—would immediately feel like an obstacle.
He could sense it: if he tried to force his wand to cast something like the Inferno Charm or the Imperius Curse, it might… break. Die, perhaps.
Books on wands warned that unicorn hair could grow melancholy over time—its natural flaw. And if a wizard’s moral integrity was too high? Well, then, they’d need a “bodyguard” with a less scrupulous nature.
After testing a few wands, Wade settled on three that felt right for him:
- A walnut wand with dragon heartstring—symbolizing intelligence and cunning.
- A pear tree wand with phoenix feather—offering excellent defense.
- A pine wand with thunderbird feather—representing independence and originality.
Not expensive, so he bought all three.
He wandered through the shop, browsing casually—then stumbled upon a few surprises.
One such surprise was a mirror that offered fashion advice to its owner. It didn’t know who its previous master had been, but its taste was surprisingly refined, and its compliments were sweet.
As Wade passed by, it chimed in:
“Good heavens! I can’t believe my own eyes! Sir, you’re wasting the beauty the heavens gave you!”
“Listen to me—swap that robe for the silver-gray one over there. Wear the pocket watch on my left. And if you’ve any spare funds, pick up the hat on the shelf. It’ll bring out your brooding, captivating charm!”
Wade laughed.
He studied the mirror carefully, scanning the magical script on its surface to ensure there were no hidden curses or traps. Satisfied, he made up his mind.
He’d buy it.
Fiona would love a mirror that could chat with her about clothes.
(End of Chapter)
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