Capítulo 4: The Brick Wall
An hour later, Ted was now sitting on a wooden bed on the second floor of the Leaky Cauldron.
After Tom heard Ted's story, he offered him to stay there; according to him, anyone who lost track of their child in the alley would check here at one point or another.
Ted found it quite odd. After all, why would anyone who lost their child in the middle of Charing Cross road ever go to the most rundown building in the street?
But the old bartender seemed nice, and the tug in his stomach never came back. So after a short consideration, he finally agreed to Tom's offer. Either way, he didn't have many other options; leaving the pub could lead him right back to his pursuer, something he obviously wished to avoid. This meant staying was the best option.
With his 'mother,' who was supposedly searching for him, doomed to never show, Ted, who had nothing else to do, chose to close his eyes, sailing away into the land of dreams...
<==============>
In the Blake's mansion, the main study was a room full of elegance and antiquity. The room is enveloped in the rich embrace of dark wood, its old panels and furniture still looked new, seemingly unaffected by the passage of time.
The focal point is a substantial oak desk, a bit worn yet sturdy, adorned with only the essentials — a computer, a pen, a scattering of loose papers, and a solitary, weathered photograph.
Against one wall, a modest bookshelf stands, showcasing a select few volumes that carry an air of significance. The absence of an elaborate rug allows the slightly worn dark wooden planks to reveal their age with a soft, occasional creak. Soft light emanated from a new black chromed lamp on the desk, casting a glow on the simple, functional furnishings.
In the dimly lit room, behind the imposing table, sat a middle-aged man. His eyes and hair, as dark as coal, were complemented by a pair of elegantly silver-framed spectacles perched on his face, creating a serious and cold vibe throughout the space.
The cold glint in the man's eyes, coupled with furrowed brows, unmistakably conveyed his anger. This was Ted's father, Cassius Blake, a man not to be trifled with.
Before him stood a tall figure, draped in a dark raincoat, head bowed, eyes fixed on the wooden floor. The room fell into a heavy silence as Cassius's stern gaze bore into the man.
"What the hell do you mean he disappeared!" Cassius's face flushed with frustration. His voice, though controlled, carried the weight of authority. "I gave you one, just one, simple task—follow an 8-year-old and keep him safe! How can you even blow that?!"
Had Ted been present, witnessing this tense interaction, he wouldn't have believed his eyes. The man before his father was the very one he had been trying to escape, or so he thought. The feeling in his stomach hinted at danger but offered no clue about its source.
The tall figure, still with head bowed, nervously began to recount the events, detailing Ted's activities until he mysteriously vanished. "Sir, I was just following him, just like you ordered. He spent most of his time in a bookshop until it got dark outside. Then, when he left, he started browsing some shops, until suddenly he began walking faster and looking around more. At some point, he approached a small bookstore before he finally disappeared."
Cassius, unmoved by the explanation, continued to scrutinize the man. He spoke with measured intensity, "You will go back and search for clues. You won't return until you find any leads."
As the man exited, Cassius's gaze shifted to a picture on the desk. In it, a beautiful young woman with silver hair and bright, starry eyes held a bundle of cloth, from which a small head peeked out. "Elara..." Cassius sighed, the frustration replaced by profound grief as memories flooded back.
<===================>
Upon opening his eyes, Ted looked at the unknown ceiling. Recalling the events of the last night, he rose from the unfamiliar bed and ambled towards a window that offered a view into a narrow alley.
The soft glow of the morning light barely illuminated the scene outside.
The alley stretched before him, revealing a different side of London from Charing Cross Street. The worn cobblestones and the aged buildings carried an air of history in the quiet morning air.
Ted observed modest storefronts lining the alley, each with distinctive signs that attracted his eyes, with vibrant colors and interesting designs. The enchanting aroma of fresh pastries wafted from a nearby bakery, adding warmth to the cool morning air.
Realizing it was around 6:30 am, Ted hurriedly came up with a plan for the day. As Ted left the room and walked down a beautifully decorated lamp of oak-made stairs, he once again looked at the Leaky Cauldron, this time with calm eyes.
Even in this early morning hour, various patrons still set around the warm cozy pub, conversing loudly over various seemingly imaginative topics as they drank from large mugs and ate their breakfast.
"Good morning Ted!" called a cheery voice from the bar; Tom, who noticed Ted's descent down the stairs, greeted him loudly.
"Good morning." Ted answered simply as he walked towards the old bartender.
"Hope you slept well; here, take your breakfast." Tom pushed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him as well as a mug filled with a drink that looked suspiciously like beer.
"Yes, thank you." Ted answered politely as he took the plate and set by an empty oak table, on it was a newspaper someone had left behind.
Eating his breakfast slowly, Ted's interest was piqued as he observed the passing people. To his surprise, none of them had actually left through the door where he entered.
Some guests entered through it, with a few choosing to sit and dine, while the rest seamlessly crossed the pub and disappeared into an enigmatic back room. Adding to the intrigue, he also noticed that some patrons seemed to emerge from that very same mysterious back room.
When Ted finally finished his plate, he intended to thank Tom, but as he reached the counter, the latter seemed to be busy talking to some other customers.
With his curiosity getting the better of him, Ted finally headed towards that back room.
As he passed through the door, Ted was surprised by the sight in front of him, a simple small open-air garden with a small metallic garbage can placed in the corner. The walls of the room were made of some simple bricks. Just some generic space by all means.
But this sight left Ted even more dumbfounded. After all, for the last hour or so, he had seen tens of people leave the pub through this very same door, while only a few entered from it. where did they all disappear to?
Ted, left bewildered, sat on the floor right in front of the trash can. his back leaned against one of the walls, his eyes staring at the wall that faced the door. As his brain stormed, searching for some reasonable explanation to the disturbing phenomena, a hint of a memory that somehow eluded him until now floated in his mind.
It was something he read in his mother's library, in one of the newer fantasy books named "Magical Establishments Through the Ages" by Araminta Thistlewick; it was just this old fiction that spoke of various imaginary locations, among them was a pub by this one's very name. 'The Leaky Cauldron.'
"The Leaky Cauldron. Nestled within the vibrant tapestry of Diagon Alley, this venerable establishment stands as a testament to the resilience and adaptability of magical spaces throughout time. From its humble origins to becoming the conduit between the wizarding and Muggle realms, the Leaky Cauldron's story is interwoven with the very fabric of magical society."
The book also told of one of the largest magical shopping districts, a magical street called Diagon Alley, and their connection, the entrance that was in a stone wall, placed at the back of the magical pub.
"I..It can't be..." Ted murmured slightly; he had dreamt of such a thing since the first time he read a book in his mother's library, but it seemed nothing short of impossible.
Touching the brick wall with his right hand, Ted glided his hand across it as he closed his eyes to recall the text he read so many years ago. "Seven from the left, ten from the bottom," he started mumbling as he pressed on a certain brick.
"Eight from the left, nine from the bottom," he tapped another brick,
"Eight from the left, seven from the bottom," his hand once again touched a brick that was just a bit below the former.
"And lastly, seven from the left, eight from the bottom!" this time his mumbling became more of an exclamation.
For a moment, nothing happened, and Ted started doubting himself; it was common knowledge that magic was nothing but myths and tales, and he was very quick to ridicule himself for being so naive.
It was then the clicking sound came, and a small hole formed in the brick wall, giving the shocked Ted a small glimpse into the magical Diagon Alley.
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
TheDeath_Angel
TheDeath_Angel Hi again, gonna say that this is almost definitely the last chap for this week, when monday comes, I will see how much free time I have on my hands. if I have time I might continue writing.
there will be at least one chap next week!
Pls comment and share any ideas and request you have regarding the book and its direction, although i cant promise to follow them you can be sure ill read every last one.
Like it ? Add to library！
Creation is hard, cheer me up!
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder