"Do you know if there have been any suspicious individuals, like dark wizards, spotted in Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley recently?" Alan asked Tom.
"Dark wizards? You mean Death Eaters, right?" Tom glanced at Alan, curious as to why a young student would care, but he answered truthfully. "Diagon Alley is currently plastered with wanted posters for those lot. Most dark wizards are deep in hiding; they wouldn't dare show their faces here. As for Knockturn Alley, I'm not so sure. The situation there is always muddy, and most wizards who go there don't pass through my front door; they mostly use the Floo Network or the entrance by Borgin and Burkes."
Alan nodded, offering a small smile. "I see. I was just curious. I'll stop bothering you for today; I still need to pick up a few things in the Alley. We can catch up properly another time."
With that, he walked through the pub toward the backyard patio. Tom watched him go, noting that the boy had changed significantly in the last two years. There was something in their brief conversation that felt off, though the barman couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.
After stepping out, Alan expertly tapped the bricks to open the gateway. Diagon Alley was bustling, a stark contrast to the deserted, fearful scene of three years prior. People surged through the street, and many wizards had set up temporary stalls along the curbs, creating a vibrant, chaotic atmosphere.
"The wizarding world certainly prospers in peacetime."
Alan scanned the area with interest before ducking into a side street. He pulled a compass-like device from his robes, checking the needles.
"If the display is correct, Yaxley is hiding right here in Diagon Alley. To stay here safely, he's either under family protection or another Death Eater is harboring him. Either way, the harvest won't be small," Alan muttered with a sneer.
During the confrontation before Christmas, Alan had tampered with Yaxley's belongings, implanting newly developed, needle-thin magical locators in his shoes, clothes, belt, and even his underwear. These locators synced with the 'tracking disc' in his hand. Currently, all the needles pointed toward the same coordinate. It was definitely Yaxley.
Alan pulled on a dark cloak to conceal his face and followed the disc's guidance. Past Gringotts, on the north side of the Alley, he found his target.
It was an ancient stone building, three stories tall, separated from its neighbors by narrow, one-meter-wide footpaths. The ground floor had no storefront or signage, giving it the appearance of a private residence rather than a business. However, this was prime real estate. Even if it wasn't in the busiest section, the rent would be astronomical. For someone to hold a street-facing building without running a shop, it had to be the private property of an old, wealthy family.
Alan stood across from the building; the needle pointed straight at it. When he moved into the narrow alleyway beside the house, the needle shifted, tracking the interior. This was the place. But the main door was bolted shut, and he didn't know the layout or who else was inside. He couldn't just rush in; he needed intelligence.
Circling the block, Alan began to map the surroundings. To one side was Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions Shop. On the other was another unmarked house. Directly opposite stood the Floo Powder Company, its doors tightly shut. Next to that was the Diagon Alley Coffee House.
Through the window of the coffee house, Alan spotted a familiar face: Emmeline Vance. She was sitting by the window, leisurely sipping coffee, but her gaze occasionally drifted toward the house where Yaxley was hidden.
"The Aurors—or rather, the Order of the Phoenix—have noticed this place too. My intuition was right; Dumbledore has set his sights on Yaxley to follow the trail."
Alan pulled his hood lower. "But why haven't they moved in? Is there something special about the owner of this house?" He concluded that he needed more information, and he couldn't get it from the coffee house without exposing himself to Emmeline. The only other option was the beauty shop.
Alan pushed open the door to Madam Primpernelle's. The shopkeeper had been in a wonderful mood lately. Since the curfew had been lifted, business had returned to normal, and foot traffic was higher than ever. Hearing the bell, she turned, expecting a customer in need of a complexion fix.
"Welcome, dear lady! You seem to be in need of a Beautifying Potion. Please, don't be shy. No matter how terrible the blemish, your troubles can be resolved here—"
Madam Primpernelle froze mid-pitch as the customer lowered his hood to reveal a young, handsome male. She was momentarily speechless. Was this a boy? A very masculine woman? Or an idiot who had bungled a potion and transformed themselves? She had seen it all—even a witch who had accidentally given herself the face of a cat.
Before she could settle on how to address him, Alan spoke.
"Hello. I'm looking for a gift for an elder in my family. Do you have any recommendations?" Alan asked, noting the shopkeeper's dazed expression.