Parting from the magical-world version of Selfridges left Iain feeling oddly reflective.
"Mr. Ollivander's old mouth was practically dripping with honey, but when it came time to take my Galleons, he didn't shave off even a fraction. No wonder his family's managed to keep that monopoly going."
The young wizard glanced back at the wand shop slowly receding behind them. He knew full well that Ollivander's riddle-like praise was the kind of thing anyone who came through that door would probably receive in abundance.
When it came to emotional validation, Ollivander was a hundred years ahead of the Muggle world.
In fact, one might say that long before modern sales pitches of we're practically giving this away to the family, Ollivander had already perfected the art of premium service.
"The materials that go into a wand are far more extraordinary than you imagine, Iain. In truth, seven Galleons is already the price after Ministry subsidies."
Dumbledore had begun using the moment to teach the young wizard a little practical knowledge about the wizarding world.
Sadly,
"That's only because the times haven't moved on yet. It's still basically a cottage industry. Nobody's shown up to drive wand prices down."
Iain, of course, had his own entirely different perspective, one completely unlike the deeply ingrained thinking of pure-blood wizards.
No sooner had he finished speaking than his gaze was caught by an alchemical device displayed in the glass of the next shop.
It was a model of the solar system, full of glittering stars, slowly rotating all by itself.
"The wizarding world simply does not have enough people to absorb the surplus of large-scale production."
Dumbledore, clearly, understood the heart of the issue perfectly well.
By then, Iain was practically pressed up against the display case.
"But the Earth certainly has plenty of people."
He was trying to identify the location of Earth among the swirling stars. It was only an offhand comment from the young wizard, yet Dumbledore did not answer at once.
"That would be very dangerous..."
Dumbledore only said it quietly, and then shifted the subject.
"It seems you did not truly believe Ollivander's story after all."
There was a faint note of teasing in his voice, and the topic changed smoothly.
"My super-brain liking it was enough."
Iain had already paid for the solar-system model.
A little farther on, they passed a shop selling pet supplies, and Iain darted inside to buy a cat teaser supposedly made from dragon sinew.
It was not cheap.
But Lord Iain had money.
Ancestral wealth he could never possibly spend fast enough.
Then they passed a small, not especially famous bookshop. Iain disappeared inside for nearly half an hour, and when he came out he was carrying a stack of books taller than his own head.
Introduction to Alchemy
Intermediate Alchemy
Principles of Metallic Transmutation
Forms of Matter and Magical Energy
An Overview of Magical Materials
And one particularly questionable-looking volume whose cover showed a tiny figure climbing out of a cauldron:
Alchemy and the Brewing of Artificial Life
Definitely a miscellaneous book.
"It seems you are very interested in alchemy."
Dumbledore glanced at the spines of the stack with a touch of curiosity.
They passed another stall selling hats, and Dumbledore bought one for Iain.
"Happy birthday, Iain."
He spoke as he handed it over. Sewn into the side seam of the hat was a little golden Snitch, its wings faintly fluttering.
"Hm?"
Iain had not even known it was his birthday.
He had only just opened his mouth to ask something when the hat began to sing.
"I am a hat, I am a hat, a hat that sings a song~
If you wear me on your head, you're a boy who wears a singing hat all day long~~~"
It had no actual intelligence. It was simply a glorified musical box.
"I want to design a Sorting Hat even better than the real Sorting Hat. One that can spot anything suspicious during sorting and just eat the dark little brain right out of a future dark wizard."
The young wizard's attention was instantly diverted by a new idea. Truthfully, he did not care all that much about his birthday. He was simply still obsessed with his grand Dark Wizard Eradication Plan.
"Birthdays are always special... but when we have company, we often forget that."
Dumbledore stopped with him outside a sweetshop.
He bought two treacle tarts, each wrapped in a paper bag, one for each of them.
"If there's cake involved, Professor, then whatever you say is right."
Iain took a bite. The sweet-and-tart filling burst across his tongue, while the hat on his head was still singing I am a hat that sings a song, and together the two created a sensory experience so bizarre he had no idea how to describe it.
They sat at the corner of the street and finished their tarts. Dumbledore checked his pocket watch, folded up his paper bag, and tucked it away.
"Come along, Iain."
He got to his feet and straightened his robes.
"We have one final stop."
Dumbledore drew out his wand.
"Hm? Where are we going?"
Iain curiously reached out and caught hold of the old headmaster.
"To do something I believe I ought to do for you."
Dumbledore smiled lightly and waved his wand.
At once, the world began to spin madly.
Apparition really was like that. Once you had done it a few times, it was not so terrible. No particular feeling at all. Expressionless.
And when Iain's vision cleared again, he and Dumbledore were standing on a London street.
They stood on a Muggle pavement.
The sidewalk was paved in grey cement slabs. On both sides stood rows of shops, their windows displaying electronics and mannequins in fashionable clothes.
There was nothing unusual about the street at all. It looked like any ordinary part of London.
Cars passed beside them, engines rumbling low, exhaust pipes blowing out white vapor.
A man in a coat walked past carrying a briefcase, hurrying along, never noticing the two who had just appeared from nowhere on the pavement.
"A Muggle-Repelling Charm."
Iain had no idea when exactly Dumbledore had cast it.
"Aren't we going back to Godric's Hollow?"
He looked around. This was an utterly ordinary Muggle street, with no trace of magic anywhere.
"It is still early, is it not?"
Dumbledore set off ahead. Iain followed behind him, passing a mobile phone shop. In the window, the display models were still the old kind with aerials sticking out of them.
Inside, the shopkeeper was watching the news and complaining about Prime Minister Thatcher along with a friend.
Everything felt so normal.
So exactly like every ordinary time Iain had ever known.
Simply the capital of an empire slowly sliding into sunset.
"What exactly does Professor Dumbledore want to do?"
Iain kept glancing at the old man ahead of him. But the old man gave away nothing at all and simply continued walking.
At last, he stopped in front of a building.
From a Muggle's point of view, it was an ordinary abandoned department store. It had glass walls, disused automatic doors, and a red sign above the entrance.
On the sign were the words Purge & Dowse Ltd.
"St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries?"
As a wizard, Iain naturally saw something very different. He read the building's true name and immediately felt dazed.
Why had Dumbledore brought him to a hospital?
To visit an old patient?
To try volunteer work?
His mind churned with possibilities, and then he received an answer he had not expected at all.
"Hello. I made an appointment with Healer Maylene Stello. She agreed to help me with a small problem."
Dumbledore rested a hand on top of Iain's head as he walked toward the reception desk.
"????"
The young wizard had the distinct feeling the old man was trying to pat the brain inside his skull.