Jesus wept, we’ve learned a lot over the past four chapters. Thank the Lord Voldemort I am here to guide you all through this perilous journey to magical enlightenment — I know you guys would be nowhere without me, and you’re welcome.
So I hope you all had a very merry Christmas and a happy new year, full of turkey and tings. I hope you all also took a moment to think of what Christmas must’ve been like for POOR OLD HARRY POTTER over the decade of his life at Privet Drive — sometimes I shed a tear thinking about that poor lad’s life, you know.
But anyway, in the spirit of overindulgence and shopping, which are both very topical, Christmassy endeavours, we’re heading to none other than Diagon fucking Alley with Hagrid.
“TAP TAP TAP 🚪”
No that is not the sound of Aunt Petunia the vile old hag knocking on Harry’s cupboard door. No, it’s not the sound of me falling down the stairs after too many pigs in blankys. It’s a fucking owl rapping on the window of that random old shack in the sea that these lot just happen to be on. Perfectly normal.
You may remember that Hag dropped a metric fuck-tonne of life changing info on Harry during Chapter Four, and as we rejoin them in the fifth instalment of heavenly magic we find Harry —
alarmingly completely unphased by his magical heritage — trotting off to London with this gigantic, bearded, pink umbrella-wielding wildling as if its NBD.
As we know, poor, unfortunate baby Potter has had absolutely fucking nothing for his whole life, so when he’s asked to fork out five Knuts for a newspaper delivered by a bloody owl it’s unsurprising to say the least that he has no idea wagwan. His crestfallen face when he realises he has absolutely no coin to buy his school stuff is probably the spitting image of my face on Christmas Day when I found out I wasn’t getting a puppy — hopefully, like Harry’s dollar billz, my puppy is chilling in a vault under London, guarded by goblins and dragons.
Ah yes, Gringotts, the wizard’s bank! I almost cried with excitement when I heard about Harry’s secret fortune — we all know I have harboured a great anger for his shite upbringing for quite some time now. And goblins!!!! They sound like my kinda gadgies. It’s probably worth noting the importance of this here quote at this point, although we’ll probably not discuss it again for a good 87293 blog posts:
“Wizards have banks?
“Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins.”
Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.
“Yeah —so yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it.”
Bad man Hagrid has already used enough magic to land himself in Azkaban (more on that later), and like the irresponsible adult that he is, he’s tapping that umbrella all over the boat to get them whizzing off to shore with a wee boost. Regardless of illegal activity, though, off we trot (I like to imagine I went with them) to London, first stop Gringotts. Haggers had to go anyway on top secret Dumbledore bizniz (exciting), so it’s a killing two birds with one stone scenario.
Let me be clear: Harry Potter is my one true love ♥️️. The boy is also annoying as fuck in this chapter, throwing questions at Hagrid left right and centre and making it stressful for me to write this blog post. If I were to go through all the quizzing and the “who’s that” and the “what’s this” and the “where’s he” and “who’s cousin is that” then we’d be here until 2019, and none of us want that.
Allow me to summarise the learnings from this interrogation period:
- There’s a Ministry of Magic (of course, duh).
- Muggles (non-magic folk, remember) don’t know about the wizarding world ’cause they’re greedy and would all want spells and magic for everything.
- Harry needs a lot of things for school that he has never heard of before, and yes, he can buy them all in London.
- This is not a joke that the Dursleys brewed up.
All questions aside and largely answered, H and H — two men who are not dissimilar to myself when roaming London — end up at the pub. The Leaky Cauldron is the finest name for a wizarding pub I’ve ever heard, TBH. Here we discover, along with Hazzo, just how famous the guy really is. I mean fucking hell, these pub-goers are diving across the room to shake an 11 year old’s hand; it’s a bit weird when you actually think about it.
As this blog post is getting dangerously long and potentially boring, I’ll say no more for now on the encounters at The Leaky Cauldron. Trus’ me that I’ll come back to the mandem on the scene though, especially any turban wearers ❗
If you’ve made it this far through this lengthy post I do applaud you, and you will be richly rewarded for sticking with me. It’s a fucking long chapter I tell you. As Haggers and Hazzers exit the back of the pub, a wee bit of pink brolly magic finds them on Diagon Alley, and it’s lit. There’s cauldrons laying in the street for sale, birds and toads and all sorts of magical creatures peaking out from shop windows, and a cheeky little flying broomstick that may play a vital role in the narrative going forward…
The gents reach the aforementioned Gringotts to pick up some of Harry’s 💰cold hard cash💰 — along with something mighty important that belongs to the bloody headmaster of Hogwarts: Albus Dumbledore (we’ve met him before). Whizzing about underground with Hagrid (and a goblin named Griphook 👀) sounds like my kind of fun anyway, and they’re on their way out of there ladened with dolla billz and a funky parcel in no time.
Back on the mean streets of alternative London and weighed down by the 💰CA$H💯, Hag drops our protag in Madam Malkin’s shop to get some fresh threads while he nips off for a bevvy like the sensible giant he is. Harry here comes face to face with some little bastard called Draco Malfoy, who seems adamant that he’s going to be a proud Slytherin (LIKE ME!!!). Harry of course has no fucking idea what he’s on about. He also has absolutely no idea what Quidditch is, so he’s starting to feel like a bit of a dunce.
After skrrrrting out of Madam Malkin’s, Hagrid comes thru as the MVP of the chapter by buying Harry his animal for ‘warts: a snowy owl! Fancy fuck. He also gives Harry the low-down on some Hogwarts houses and our favourite flying sport.
Yes, guys, there is still more to be said about this chapter, I shit you not. I have done my best to fly through, and have probably missed some vital details, please submit all complaints to me via Twitter.
The boys’ final (thank the fucking lord) stop on Diagon Alley is of course the most exciting of all: Olivander’s wand shop. I am convinced my wand would be elm, 8.5 inches, resilient and accompanied by a nice string of unicorn hair, but that’s a story for another time. Harry himself actually gets more than he bargained for as he enters the weird little dusty shop and is united with the wand for him. Unfortunately his innocent little holly and phoenix feather wand (11 inches, supple) is none other than the twin of the fucking wand that gave him the lightning scar on his forehead. That makes it the wand that ruined his little life when he was just a year old. Absolutely peak.
We leave this chapter with many answers, but also with a lot of questions. We’re also sharing poor little Hazza’s doubts about where he fits into this new wizarding world. All we can do is read on to uncover the mysteries Hogwarts will bring.
THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH ME ‘TIL THE END. FOUR FOR YOU GLEN COCO.