Chapitre 11: Chapter 11: Goodbye, my tomato scrambled egg flavored ice cream
After a summer apart, the long-awaited reunion of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the famed trio of Hogwarts, finally took place at the foot of the grand marble staircase leading to the entrance of Gringotts.
"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked with a mischievous glint in his eye as they climbed the stairs.
Before his friends could take a guess, Harry, bursting with anticipation, revealed the answer himself, "It was Malfoy! And he wasn't alone, his father was with him too!"
His friends didn't get a chance to respond to his unexpected revelation, because Mr. Weasley, intrigued by the tidbit, interjected urgently, "Did you happen to see what he purchased?"
"They didn't buy anything, I just saw them selling off a some things" Harry clarified.
"It must be because of the Ministry's recent crackdown; he must be nervous," surmised Mr. Weasley, determination sparkling in his eyes. "I'll catch him one of these days."
"Arthur, be careful." cautioned Mrs. Weasley as a goblin bent at the waist, beckoned them into the bank. "The Malfoys are not to be trifled with. Please don't take on more than you can handle."
As they completed withdrawing a few galleons at Gringotts, the group, comprised of the Grangers, the Weasleys, and Harry, decided to split up for the rest of the day. Just as Mr. Weasley was about to express an invitation to Hermione's parents, to join them at the Leaky Cauldron for a round of refreshments, Mrs. Weasley gripped her husband's arm alarmingly tightly exclaiming, "Arthur!"
Her anxiety was palpable as she appeared to lock onto something in the distance, her eyes wide in disbelief. Mr. Weasley, taken aback, hurriedly asked, "What's the matter, Molly? What did you spot...? " His words trailed off as he followed her gaze to a silhouette of a young man.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the younger Weasleys - Fred, George, Percy, and Ginny, seeing their parents exaggerated reaction, curiously shifted their attention in the same direction, where they spotted the handsome figure of a man standing out against the bustling landscape of Diagon Alley.
...
Thanks to their straightforward identification system, withdrawing money at Gringotts proved to be a breeze for Sherlock. The goblin-run bank only required the key and validation of identity to access one's vault, making depositing or withdrawing money a swift ordeal. The vault he inherited from the original owner was modest, and without asking the goblin for the exact number, Sherlock could see it contained a few hundred Galleons at most.
Although humble, it should be ample for a frugal lifestyle in the wizarding world for the next decade or so. After withdrawing roughly fifty Galleons and stashing them in a magical money bag Gringotts had provided, Sherlock made his way out of the bank.
His shopping list was simple, he was mainly looking for essentials like ink, quills, and parchment. Apart from that, he had a robe tailored at Madam Malkin's Robes, chose a barn owl for sending messages at the Magical Menagerie, and picked up a few basic Defense Against the Dark Arts books from Flourish and Blotts. Despite his standoffish appearance, Sherlock, who was actually quite receptive and cheerful, found his first encounter with Diagon Alley rather captivating.
Everyday occurrences were brimming with magic; whether it was children taking off on toy broomsticks, animated puppets inviting customers into their joke shop, or ice cream that transformed flavors according to the consumer's mood. The whimsical charm was so infectious that Sherlock couldn't help but momentarily break character. Sherlock himself was, after all, not like the original owner, who may have well been on the spectrum; his personality was more extroverted and cheerful. Pretending to be aloof all the time in such a place was finally starting to wear on him.
The mood-flavored ice cream, in particular, intrigued Sherlock, it had a magical ability to mirror the consumer's thoughts. Being quite fond of trying new things, he found this prospect particularly adventurous. Whatever flavor one wished for in their mind would be the taste they experienced in their mouth. What a fantastic concept!
Especially after having endured the monotonous, conventional English meals for two months, he now longed for the taste of a simple Chinese dish made of tomatoes and eggs served with rice, which he so dearly missed from his past life. With the magical ice-cream parlor within touch, he was determined to satiate his craving. Besides, the original owner hardly knew anyone in the magical world, so it couldn't hurt to give the tomato scrambled eggs-flavored ice cream a try, right?
Upon deciding to taste this amusing novelty, he approached the ice-cream vendor, his stern expression dissolving into a radiant smile - a rare occurrence ever since his arrival in the magical world. Surprised by this transformation, the vendor, a young witch, was momentarily taken aback. His handsome smiling face made her feel as if she were in a garden full of blooming flowers, everything was so beautiful and marvelous! She took a second before she stammered, "Ah- welcome sir! Would you like an ice cream?"
Just as he was about to retrieve a few coins from his money bag and order himself an ice cream, a voice echoed from behind him.
"Um . . . Sherlock!"
At first, Sherlock was taken aback, then his face immediately froze.
Fxxk!
They used his first name instead of his last name!
Someone familiar!
Having been recognized, Sherlock was surprised and quickly recovered his typical aloof persona, like a Sichuan opera performer changing masks.
Reacting quickly, Sherlock swiftly reverted to his brooding demeanor. "No, I don't need any," he turned down the witch, silently mourning the loss of his tomato and egg flavored ice cream. Turning around, he spotted a group waving to him calling out his name.
Among the crowd, he recognized the unmistakable figure of Harry Potter and the familiar faces of the friendly family that he had used as tools to guide him into Diagon Alley.
A cheerful middle-aged wizard with a crown of red hair called out Sherlock's name. His face lit up with delight as if he had discovered a long-lost relative. Seeing the family more clearly, Sherlock felt a sinking feeling in his heart. He quickly pieced together the clues: Harry Potter, a young girl from a muggle family, and the large, obviously wizarding, family with a bevy of red-haired kids. Although he wasn't familiar with the original plot after the first book, the group was too iconic not to be recognized.
The Weasley family! Evidently, they were the family of Ron, Harry's best friend. The ecstatic middle-aged wizard was none other than Mr. Weasley, whose first name Sherlock couldn't recall, the head of the Weasley family. Upon seeing Sherlock's face, Mr. Weasley's elation seemed to increase even further, as did that of the kind-eyed witch standing beside him, presumably Ron's mother.
Mrs. Weasley couldn't contain her emotions and tears welled up in her eyes. She approached Sherlock and gently held his hand. "Oh, my dear boy! You are finally leaving your house" she said, drying her tears. "It's been almost two years since you quit your job at the Ministry."
Mr. Weasley, overwhelmed by emotion, managed to express his joy. "I can't tell how glad I am to see you well, thank Merlin. Say, Sherlock, how have you been lately?"
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone