The Magic Shop: If Dudley Dursley had a Magical Daughter

Chapter Eight

"When can we go to Diagon Alley?" Azalea asked for what felt like the umpteenth time.

"Soon," her father promised, like he had all the other times she'd asked.

"Why not now?" Azalea persisted. "School starts in less than a week!"

"I know, I just . . ." Dudley trailed off. To Azalea, his face appeared to be many things: exhausted, apprehensive - afraid, even.

"Just what? It's not like either of us have anywhere to be. Today is a good a day as any."

Dudley sighed. "Yes, I guess it is." He frowned, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I invited your grandparents over for dinner, so it will have to be quick. And we still have to go over what we're going to tell them."

"The truth," Azalea interjected sternly.

Dudley winced. "Let's just go. Get a jacket and I'll meet you by the car."

"So now you're excited to be going to Diagon Alley," Azalea teased. Her father rolled his eyes and exited the room as Azalea hurried to grab a jacket and put on her shoes. Then she quickly followed her father out the door.

"Is this it?" Dudley asked, pulling up to a rackety-looking pub on Charing Cross Road, directly beside the music shop that Great-Uncle Alvin had bequeathed to Azalea.

"I think so," Azalea replied. "Its address says 1 Diagon Alley."

"It does?" Dudley asked vaguely. He parked the car, and they got out and entered the pub. Dudley looked around, appearing to Azalea like the most uncomfortable person in the world. Azalea glanced around herself, then led him through the pub to the back, remembering Professor McGonagall's directions on how to get into the Alley.

"Ready?" Azalea asked her father.

He hesitated a minute before saying, "Let's go."

Azalea grinned. She tapped the brick with her knuckle and waited for it to open. McGonagall had said something about it being easier with a wand, but it obviously worked for those without wands, too, since the bricks shifted to allow her and her father passage through.

"Wow," Azalea breathed, her eyes sweeping across the alley. Stores lined each side of the cobblestone street. Some stood out - like the bright-orange shop with a man in a top hat labeled "Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes" - and the crooked bank-looking building with "Gringotts" printed across the front.

"Wow is right," Dudley agreed.

"We need to go there," Azalea said, pointing to Gringotts. "And exchange currency."

"Wizards have a different currency?"

"Yes. Weren't you listening to Professor McGonagall?" Honestly, sometimes Azalea was the parent, and her father was the child.

"I was! Just not that closely." Dudley took a single, hesitant step into the alley. "Let's just go."

Azalea grinned and skipped down Diagon Alley toward Gringotts, practically dragging her father behind her. They reached the door and Azalea got in line. It wasn't until she was at the counter that she realized that all the clerks were goblins. Literal goblins.

Well. That was magic.

Azalea gave the goblin frowning down again her a sweet smile. "I would like to exchange currency."

"How much?" the goblin asked in a gravelly voice.

Azalea looked at her father. "A hundred pounds?"

He frowned. "Can you exchange credit card money? I didn't bring cash."

The goblin frowned even more profoundly than he had before. "Yes." He reached out his hand, and, after hesitating a moment, Dudley placed his credit card in the goblin's palm.

The goblin disappeared from view and headed into the back room, while Azalea and Dudley stood waiting in tense silence. He reappeared a moment later and handed Azalea - decidedly not Dudley - a bag filled with golden, bronze, and silver coins.

"Thank you," Azalea said politely. She took the bag and led her father out of the bank.

"Where to now?" Dudley asked. He stared around the alley, seeming overwhelmed by the magic-ness of it all.

Azalea scanned the street. One storefront stood out: the bright orange building labeled "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes".

"There," she said determinedly, and set off across the street.