Chương 30: Chapter 29
The sensation of Apparating wasn't exactly pleasant, but… bearable. Shaking my head to clear it, I adjusted my hair and looked around. Here we are in London… and there's the entrance. By the way, the anti-Muggle charms also affect some of the area around the entrance. Otherwise, the wizards Apparating here would attract too much attention from regular people.
But for now, I'm not interested in the passage to the Alley. I'm heading to the bookstore next to it.
Entering the shop, I immediately made my way to the counter.
"What can I do for you, sir?" the elderly man behind the counter asked, sizing me up from head to toe.
"A map of the British Isles."
"Oh, an unusual request. That'll be three Galleons." The old man bent down behind the counter to retrieve something.
Hmm… Old Dickmald is still alive after all. Two hundred and forty… seven, or was it eight years? Doesn't matter.
This ancient wizard has owned this little shop for centuries and is, of course, a wizard. He's a bit of an unusual pureblood, too. Not many of us would sell books to Muggles… There are some magical tomes here, of course, but they are dwarfed in comparison to the Muggle ones.
As for the old man's age, it's not particularly remarkable for a wizard. Powerful wizards can last even longer. How old was the previous Headmaster of Hogwarts again? Three hundred fifty-four, I think. Dumbledore, in canon, could have lived to see four hundred. He was stronger as a wizard, especially if we compare them at a hundred years of age. Which is why I don't understand the Dark Lord's fear of death. Why was he in such a hurry? Better to be an old man than what he became in canon. Was he afraid of being killed? Someone who dealt with death so often?
A few seconds later, a large map was placed on the counter.
"Thank you," I nodded with a touch of respect, quickly leaving the shop.
Stopping near the entrance to the pub, I immediately unfolded the map and then suspended it in the air with Leviosa, the precursor to the spells Hermione Granger loved to lecture about.
Shifting my gaze to Northern Ireland, I quickly found the coastal — or rather, ocean-side — city I was looking for. Whatever. After locating it, I slipped the map into the wide-open compartment of my wallet.
One of the most useful spells — extension charms — worked flawlessly, swallowing the large object with ease.
Visualizing Dublin Castle in my mind, or rather, an unremarkable spot from which there was access to it, I spun on the spot once more.
Glancing around to make sure no one had witnessed my Apparition, I headed toward Ireland's main magical settlement. Unfortunately, I'd never been to Belfast, which was closer to the city I needed, so I'd have to buy a Portkey — and if I'm lucky, they'll have one available.
Otherwise, I'd have to endure the hassle of a train ride and erasing the memories of a bunch of people. Sadly, Apparition's major drawback is that you need to know or remember the place you're teleporting to. When it comes to entirely new or secret locations, you're forced to use less perfect means of travel.
And where would I find a picture or photograph of a small, out-of-the-way town? The age of information technology hasn't arrived yet.
…Damn. I just realized — this could be something to think about later. Muggle-borns who are familiar with the regular world will be able to get practically anywhere… and I'm playing for the other side, so to speak.
The entrance, as you might guess, was located in one of Ireland's famous pubs.
It was almost in the center of the city, but as usual, Muggles ignored it, as if the spot next to the castle was just an overgrown garden and not a rather noisy establishment.
Pubs were originally popular among Irish wizards, known for their lively and often boisterous nature. And since the Statute of Secrecy has always been relatively weak in Ireland, regular people quickly embraced and refined the idea.
Because of this weakness, the Emerald Isle is full of myths about fantastical creatures, and these legends aren't fading anytime soon.
Stepping through the open door, I winced slightly — the noise inside was even more intense. It seems someone did bother to cast a noise-dampening charm here to muffle the sound of the drinking Irishmen.
"Can I get you something?" The bartender asked in fluent Irish Gaelic — not the Irish dialect of English that most Irish people now speak — as he looked me over.
A wizard-bartender… well, it's their business.
"No, thanks. Maybe later," I replied, in the same Irish Gaelic, though with a noticeable accent, thanks to my previous visit when I learned this fascinating language. "I need the passage to An Pháirc Ghlas." Carefully pronouncing the name, which translates rather banally as "Green Field" but in the local style, I gave the man a meaningful look.
"Hmm. It's been a while since we've had guests from Germany," the wizard nodded slightly, becoming more welcoming. There's a nuance here. While wizards don't usually let Muggle conflicts bleed into their international relations, magical nations have had their own disagreements. Back during the Tudor conquest of Ireland, English wizards notably helped the kings in their efforts.
Naturally, this met with resistance from the Irish wizards, who were closely tied to the local people.
Since then, relations between them have been cool, to say the least.
On the other hand, German wizards, at the time, helped the Irish. As mercenaries, of course, for a good fee, but still — facts are facts.
"So?" I prompted the wizard, not wanting to delay my mission any longer.
"I wouldn't dare hold you up. Go ahead." He smirked slightly and waved his hand toward a wall covered in vines and similar plants.
At his gesture, the plants slowly parted, revealing the view of the magical settlement beyond.
"Thank you," I said, tossing a few Galleons onto the bar as I walked away, carefully dodging wizards who didn't even seem to notice the passage opening.
As in Britain, this kind of portal from the regular world (where the Leaky Cauldron and this pub are located) to the magical world (where the settlements are) is a man-made and very old creation. Exactly whose work it is, though, is unknown. The records have been erased or lost in most sources. Maybe there's information hidden in Hogwarts' secret archives or the Ministry's vaults, but it's definitely not publicly available.
At least, no information about these passages — of which there are variations in nearly every European country — has survived in our family's records. Perhaps it's in the main archive of the Wolfs, but mother stays silent about that better than any spy. Only when I become the rightful head will I have access to that knowledge. And, given the magic involved, it's not just a legal status. Considering our opposition to the official bureaucratic system, that's even more evident.
Things are a bit more… complicated. Though not beyond comprehension.
Finally stepping through the passage, I squinted slightly as the bright sunlight hit my eyes. It had been quite cloudy in the regular world, and such a sudden change in the environment wasn't exactly pleasing to my eyes.
Weather shifts in the magical world are strange, with no logical patterns to them.
As they say, pure randomness.
The place before me was obviously a large forest clearing. I couldn't determine the exact size — such things are tricky to gauge — but overall, it was somewhat smaller than Londinium. The area resembled more of a large village than a town.
Scattered all around were single-story, and occasionally two-story, houses, blending with the surrounding green hills. In the hills themselves, there were… windows and doors. Tiny ones, only ten or twenty centimeters, but they were there.
Who lived in them? Oh, obviously, leprechauns. The most populous magical race in Ireland and, in general, one of the largest in the world. In Europe and North America, they are definitely the second-largest race after house-elves.
Standing about six inches tall, with green skin, regular hair, a humanoid appearance, elfish ears (though slightly larger), and clothing made from plant materials.
"What are you staring at, wizard?" a female leprechaun asked, eyeing me with unusual suspicion on her small face. Yes, there were females of this species — viviparous, after all.
"It's just that I haven't seen a representative of your kind in a while, especially one as lovely as yourself." I turned on the charm, my face instantly displaying admiration. I didn't spend years practicing for nothing, after all…
"T-this…" The little one blushed momentarily, her green cheeks turning a bit red. But within a second, she shook her head and glared at me even more suspiciously. "Trying to fool me, wizard?" She squinted at me, her tiny face full of doubt.
"Nine, mein junge, but beautiful Fräulein." Knowing perfectly well the allure of being an actual foreigner, which works on some women, I spoke with an even thicker accent. This leprechaun girl definitely seemed to fit the criteria for this effect. "I just wanted to ask a knowledgeable member of the leprechaun race where I might purchase the best Portkeys, or portals."
"I know what a Portkey is!" she snapped, her tiny nose wrinkling in annoyance, looking strikingly similar to Tinker Bell — just without wings and with a different skin color. "But fine, I'll tell you. Your politeness is commendable and deserves a minor reward, which will be my answer to your question." She rocked back and forth on her heels in a rather entertaining manner. "Go to Vinnie! She may not look particularly formidable, but she's hardworking and smart! She can tell our gold from real gold in an instant! And her portals are good. Unlike that awful miser MacKillian. Horrid, grumpy, and rude! Best not to deal with him, or you might catch something unpleasant." She wrinkled her small nose again. "And don't listen to his shouting, thinking he can attract buyers away from Vinnie…" She started prattling on, having clearly forgotten her earlier suspicion of me.
Magical creatures don't need much these days. Simple human decency is enough. Especially in light of the absurd policies of the British Ministry of Magic, from whose jurisdiction Magical Ireland recently broke away.
Even among purebloods, sadly, there are many who follow the latest trends and treat sentient magical creatures with disdain. Yet they are much closer to us than Muggle-borns, even though we share the same species.
Magical races live their entire lives immersed in the magical world, following its customs and principles, unlike the Muggle-born, who come from the regular world.
"I humbly thank you, Fräulein," I bowed again, finding this whole interaction to be quite an amusing game. A unique, but still enjoyable, form of relaxation. "Might I ask your name?" I decided to inquire, as one can never have too many acquaintances.
After all, leprechauns live just as long as wizards, essentially being a type of wizard themselves, though not particularly powerful ones.
"Hmph! Very well… People call me Elga," she said with a satisfied nod. "And… and what's your name, wizard?" she asked, hesitating slightly.
Amusing. Let's pretend her reddening ears don't exist and never did.
"Adalbert, of the noble house of Stahlwolfs. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, but I must be off. Business calls, business calls. Until we meet again." I introduced myself, and with a nod to the redheaded leprechaun, who was trying to pronounce my name, I walked away. Fortunately, during her ramblings, Elga had mentioned how to find Vinnie's house, which doubled as her shop.
Her house certainly stood out — both in size and in its overall state of neglect. The phrase "blending with nature" couldn't have been more fitting here.
Opening the slightly ajar door, I gently knocked on it with my knuckles and stepped inside. There were no wards in place to deter visitors, so I took that as a sign I could enter. That's just how the unspoken rules work among wizards…
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