The Scourge

On Banking Transactions

“Not standin’ in the way of Frank’s punishment for ya when he hears about this, but we’ll help,” Logan finally agreed.

- August 4th, 1996 (16 Years Old) -

- Diagon Alley -

By majority agreement Harry and Logan decided they would go back into the magical alley and see what they could find out without Wade tagging along. (Wade wasn’t even allowed to vote, due to his penchant for making every situation into either a bloodbath or a dissertation about proper Mexican food.) Hopefully they could find that Grenguts place the crazy girl had told him to go check out. He wasn’t feeling too optimistic about finding some random guy named ‘Tom’, but he could at least ask around subtly. (As subtle as Wolverine and Scourge could be. Probably better than Deadpool, but not by much.)

Harry felt good about having Logan at his back while they went on this little recon. (His dad would have been a better choice, but needs must.) Frank would very much approve that he had chosen the responsible adult out of the two available to him. (And maybe not rip him a new one for having gone off half-cocked in the first place – Yeah, no, that was wishful thinking on Harry’s part.)

Harry took Logan to see the Leaky Cauldron. He didn’t think that he could stomach actually eating inside the pub after his last experience in the place. Just the thought of actually eating there made his skin crawl. So, they grabbed some dinner of Tikki Masala before their journey into the magical land of what the fuck. (No, they didn’t eat chimichangas, thank you very much, Wade.) A much better choice, seeing as the dive restaurant had no magical walls to fall through. Logan even grumbled his approval.

Taking Logan through the Leaky Cauldron, he could tell that the man’s hackles were raised. When Harry asked what was wrong, he merely grunted about a weird smell coming off of a couple of the people there.

“Like bad B.O. or somethin’?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Nah, like… some sorta animal. Some of ‘em almost feel feral. Wild. A little like me, but also a little different. Don’t like it. Don't like it one bit.” Taking a deep sniff, he shook his head and gave a small growl. He flashed a bit of his long eye teeth at a couple of the more dubious looking patrons then walked with Harry further to the back of the pub, toward the wall.

Harry understood his feelings. These people felt, well, off.

They reached the back wall and Harry pointed at the swirling and shimmering magic, trying to see if it was visible to Logan as well.

Logan just shrugged and said it must be some magic mumbo jumbo that only magical people could see. (Like Frank, he wasn’t too keen on the whole magic thing. He much preferred tactile fighting with his claws.) He said he could smell something, though, but couldn’t see any damn movin’ bricks. They looked just like normal bricks to him.

Harry took a deep breath and using the same pressing on the bricks technique that he used to get through the wall earlier that day, he opened the wall for the both of them. Logan stepped back, briefly lifting a brow in mild surprise. (His stoic facial expressions sometimes rivaled Frank’s – Harry assumed he was surprised.)

They walked through the hole in the wall, Logan going first with Harry on his six. People were not as loud this time around, and there were not as many milling around. They must have made a strange pair, standing out against the ‘normal’ clothing of the other people in the alley. Logan looked savage and hostile, sporting his classic leather coat, white muscle tank, worn jeans, scuffed black boots and (somewhat ridiculous) wild sideburns. Harry was still dressed in all black, same as the last time he had come, but he decided to add his leathers for comfort. (Anything to help him go into this bizarre situation.)