o. STUMBLING PAIR OF WIZARDS
chapter three.

    The front door is open when Alfie comes down the stairs. It allows him to see his Uncle standing outside of the cabin, twirling a polished wooden cane in his right hand. He's dressed rather modestly, and the only thing that stands out about his appearance is a simple, black hat that shades part of his face from the sun.

Phil wants them to use discretion. His parents' deaths has been on the front-page of multiple newspapers for weeks, and his appearance in Diagon Alley would surely draw the eye of anyone who reads the newspaper. They don't need that type of attention.

"Alfie!" Calls Phil, his hand—the one not occupied by the cane—beckoning his nephew out of the house. "Viens! [ Come on! ] We haven't got all day."

"Oui, Oncle," [ Yes, Uncle ] said Alfie, trudging his way through the front door (it closes behind him automatically) and into the sunny clearing, which has been stripped bare of any flowers or shrubbery. As someone who appreciates beauty in all of it's forms, he finds the sight to be quite painful. He had asked about it once, on an early Sunder morning, but all Phil would tell him was 'I was never the one who took care of the garden.' Alfie learned not to ask certain things after that day.

When he gets close enough to Phil, the man takes him gently by the arm.

"Can you apparate?" He asks, fumbling with his wand. The question almost sounds like it was addressed to himself.

Still, Alfie nods his head. "I can, but I've never travelled very far before. I was never allowed."

"Ah, yes. Sorry. I'm afraid that my memory is quite rubbish now."

He cracks a grin. Phil, old?. He's so lively, Alfie has found in the several weeks he has spent living with the man. Every old person he has met has always been grouchy, preaching to him to take advantage of his youth. But never Phil. No, he seems to enjoy his age.

"When's your birthday?" His Uncle queries.

"It's on the sixth of April."

"It'll be the Easter holidays then, won't it?"

"I will. Why do you ask?" Asks Alfie, wary.

"Oh, don't worry," he says. "I won't throw you a party or something ridiculous like that. I'm sure you wouldn't appreciate it very much."

"You're not wrong."

Signalling the end of their short conversation, Phil claps his hands together, almost knocking his cane into the side of Alfie's head had he not dodged. "Alright, then. Do you know about Side-Along Apparation?" Alfie noddnodsd. "Good, because that's how we'll be getting to London. I'd use the Floo, but my fireplace is need of a good cleaning. Just hold firmly onto my arm and don't let go. We wouldn't want you splinching or anything as equally disastrous."

Alfie hums and does as he was instructed to do. He winds his arm around his Uncle's and holds his bad close.

Phil raises his wand into the air, and, with a quick swish, they're gone, no trace of their existence in that field except for the small crack that echoes in the clearing.

"Do you have the list?"

"List? What list?"

"Putain, Oncle!" [ Fuck , Oncle] Shouts Alfie, eyes wide with disbelief. "The list that contains everything we need to purchase? The reason we even left the house in the first place!"

They have apparated into a narrow alleyway that connects to a bustling street. It is dirty and smells terrible, and Alfie would give just about anything to get out of it. However, they have taken a minute to right themselves as Apparation—let alone Side-Along Apparation—is always tricky business. While they adjusted their clothing, Alfie mentally checked off everything they need for today.

Obviously, because the universe hates him, they end up bringing everything but the list.

"We need to apparate back. We can't do anything without it," insists Alfie.

"Oh, I don't know about that," says Phil, a sly grin pulling at his lips. Alfie narrows his eyes.

"What do you mean? Of course we do!"

"What I mean is, I have the list right here," he says, procuring the list from his coat pocket with an unnecessary flourish. He waves in front of Alfie who stood in a state of minor shock. Then he brings it back to himself and proceeds to straighten out any creases or folds. Alfie, his shock quickly thawing, leans forward to snatch the list from his Uncle's hands.

"Why on earth would you do that?"

"I thought I'd have a bit of fun. You really are too easy, Alfie. Learn to take things less seriously."

His right eye twitches. "Sure."

"Anyway," says Phil, "enough dilly-dallying, we have a list to get through."

Plucking the paper back out of Alfie's fingers, Phil rushes them both into the main street. Alfie considers about refusing, saying his mood has spoiled and that he wants to go back to the cabin, but before he cn=an even open his mouth to argue, they are thrusted into the mass of muggles.

They blend in quite well, their clothes dark and unassuming. Alfie keeps his eyes trained on his Uncle's back, following him almost step for step, ignoring everything in him that wants to find the nearest exit and flee. He never did well in crowds; they are too loud and overwhelming. And that's just in the Magical World. Here, among the dirty muggles, he wants to vomit.

Eventually, Phil comes to a stop in front of a dark, modest building tucked between a Muggle bookshop and a record shop. A stylised, iron-wrought sign hangs above the doorway. Underneath the writing, which spells out The Leaky Cauldron, is a small black cauldron. Alfie looks around them and notices everyone he shared the pathway with appears to ignore the building. He knows immediately what it is.

"Welcome, kiddo, to the entrance to Magical Britain," says Phil, voice low, gesturing grandly to the building.

Alfie tilts his head, his curls swinging into his face. "It's a little underwhelming."

Phil lets out a huff next to him. It makes Alfie smile. "Don't be like that. It's one of the most renowned pubs in all of the British Isles."

Alfie seriously doubts that. The building, under the glamour used to conceal it from the Muggles, looks rundown. If he wasn't already aware that people use it to access Magical Britain, he would think it abandoned.

"And who said that?" Asks Alfie.

"Me. Just now." Phil says cheerily. He goes up to the black door and pulls on the doorknob, revealing a dimly lit room Alfie cannot see much of. "Are you coming?" He asks rhetorically, grinning, and walks inside.

And Alfie, with a great sigh, follows.

•

you could consider this chapter a filler, but i think it progresses their relationship quite a lot. also, i love phil with all of my heart so fiTe me. anyway- we're getting diagon alley next. we meet a vv important character too, so be vigilant.

love you guys, byee