After a thoroughly pleasant month in my Inner World, I could confidently say:
Allie enjoyed the move just as much as I did.
Now that I could stay here—fully, freely—she'd taken to snuggling up to me at night, burying my face into her… generously soft chest.
Not that I'm complaining.
I'm a grateful man. I happily comply.
We hadn't left the Inner World once this entire month.
Instead, we spent our time together—in peace, with no distractions, no rules, and no cranky Matrons looming over me like Dementors in cardigans.
Magic practice had become so much easier.
Before, I was stuck practicing in secret, which is probably why it took me two entire years just to master three spells.
But in just one month here?
My proficiency with Lumos, Wingardium Leviosa, and Alohomora had skyrocketed.
I could already feel myself growing stronger.
The ambient magic in the Inner World made a huge difference.
The water, the food, even the air—all saturated with mana.
It's supercharging my magic core training.
Faster absorption. Faster circulation.
It's like eating magic-infused protein bars for every meal.
And… I don't want to jinx it, but…
I think I'll hit the Large Grape stage in just a couple days.
Over the past three years, I've also expanded the number of farms in my Inner World to ten.
I would've added more, but space was limited.
The Inner World only expands as its level increases, and to level it up, I need to add more plants—I need metals, rare materials, and other magically significant resources.
So Allie and I were now headed to a place I've wanted to visit ever since I was reborn into this world.
I held Allie's hand and looked up at her striking blue eyes.
"Ready to head to Diagon Alley?" I asked, barely containing my excitement.
She smiled down at me, then effortlessly scooped me into her arms, squeezing me gently against her chest.
"Yes, hubby," she said—her voice warm and teasing.
She carried me out of the house, and we stepped into the cool morning air.
It didn't take long to reach the Leaky Cauldron—just three blocks away.
Still, just looking at the place gave me a little thrill.
Soon, I'd be standing in the legendary Diagon Alley.
Allie carried me through the front door like it was no big deal.
The pub hit me with a mix of grease and tobacco—a weirdly comforting smell, despite it being so early in the morning.
Surprisingly, the place was already busy.
As we stepped inside, every head turned.
They didn't recognize us.
Just strangers walking into a familiar space.
Allie didn't flinch under the attention.
She simply walked toward the back, steady and calm, as if she'd done it a hundred times before.
Eyes followed her, of course. I mean—tall, gorgeous woman with a baby? In a pub?
But one by one, people turned back to their drinks and quiet conversations.
That's when I finally saw it—
The iconic brick wall.
Without a word, Allie drew her wand.
"Three up… two across," she whispered.
She tapped the bricks with practiced ease.
At first—nothing.
Then the center brick sank inward, like a button being pressed.
The wall shuddered, then rippled, folding in on itself until it formed a wide, grand stone archway.
And just like that—
Diagon Alley opened before us.
Shops, restaurants, and market stalls stretched down both sides of the cobbled street. Some had bright umbrellas shading outdoor tables, while others had signs that swung gently in the breeze. It was barely 8 a.m., but Diagon Alley was already alive with motion—witches and wizards bustled from storefront to storefront, arms full of parchment, potions, and pastries.
Allie carried me through the crowd, and I just… took it all in.
I heard her giggle—probably at how much I was trembling with excitement—but I didn't care.
This was it.
Diagon Alley.
For the first time, this new life of mine felt real.
Magic wasn't just something I'd dreamed about anymore.
It was here.
All around me.
Alive in the shop windows. Buzzing in the air. Tucked into every cobblestone and cauldron.
And I was part of it.
I had to take a breath. Slow down.
Focus.
I reminded myself why I came here in the first place:
To upgrade my Inner World.
And for that… I needed plants. Seeds. Magical growth materials.
Once I got what I came for, we could take our time—wander Diagon Alley, enjoy the sights, maybe grab something enchanted and unhealthy for breakfast.
But first: supplies.
I looked up at Allie, still holding me close in her arms.
"We need to find Mulligrubs Materia Medica, Noltie's Botanical Novelties, and Slug & Jiggers Apothecary," I said.
"I'm not sure if Slug & Jiggers sells seeds or usable plants, but it won't hurt to check."
Allie gave a nod and stepped back into the flow of the crowd, weaving through the early morning bustle with practiced ease.
We didn't have to go far. Slug & Jiggers was only a few shops down from the brick archway.
As we approached, I spotted the front window — dozens of glass bottles lined up behind fogged glass, each with a neat white label, their contents swirling or glowing faintly in the morning light.
Allie pushed open the door, still holding me, and we stepped inside.
The shop was dim and cluttered in the best way.
Hundreds of bottles lined the shelves — all shapes, all colors. Some glowed. Some pulsed. Others looked disturbingly still. Jars filled with unidentifiable objects shared space with bundles of dried herbs and vials of strange powders.
It was mesmerizing.
And it smelled… intense.
Like fresh-cut grass left to rot in the rain. Like mold. Like something dead was tucked behind the counter and no one had the heart to throw it out.
I wrinkled my nose but stayed quiet.
After all, this was the smell of magic. Raw, pungent, and unfiltered.
Exactly what I came for.
A bell jingled softly as the door creaked shut behind us, swallowed by the thick, earthy musk of the shop.
For a moment, it felt like no one was there.
Then—
A rustle behind the counter.
A thump.
A muffled curse.
And the sudden appearance of a wiry old man with wild white hair and spectacles the size of teacup saucers. His robes were stained with something green and smoking lightly at the cuff.
"Customers?" he asked, blinking like he wasn't entirely convinced we were real.
"You're not here about the exploding nettle tonic, are you? Because that was absolutely not my fault."
I shook my head quickly from Allie's arms.
"We're just browsing. Looking for seeds and usable magical plants."
"Ah! Brilliant," the man said, brightening. "Name's Thistledown Jigger — proprietor, potion master, and part-time test subject.
Feel free to look around, but do not open the jar with the yellow lid.
Or the blue lid.
Or really, any lid."
With that, he wandered off toward the back, muttering something about sulfur ratios and banana peels.
Allie carried me through the narrow aisles as I craned my neck to see everything.
A jar labeled Moonwort Root shimmered like it held liquid silver.
A cluster of dried purple leaves labeled Feyshade gave off a soft humming sound.
Tiny glass tubes held seeds so black they seemed to swallow the light around them.
Then I spotted it:
A tray marked Starter Growth Pack – Herbology Students Special!
It held bundled clippings of mundane herbs with magical boosts — Flamegrass, Glowmint, and a tiny sprig of Singing Thyme (which really did hum when Allie passed it).
"This," I whispered, pointing like a kid in a candy store. "I want this.
And maybe some of those seeds too."
We piled a few selections in Allie's arms: glowing bulbs, spore capsules in protective cases, a little book titled Beginner's Grafting: Magical Plants That Probably Won't Eat You.
At the counter, Thistledown reappeared with a look of genuine pride.
"Lovely picks. That thyme'll hum louder if you water it with moonwater and sing to it.
Doesn't have to be in key — just sincere."
He rang up our haul, and Allie paid the old man.
Then he handed us a wrapped parcel sealed with wax, the faint scent of lavender and singed parchment curling off it.
I gave Allie a wink.
"One down," I said with a grin, clutching the bundle.
"Two more shops to go."
She smiled warmly, pulled me into a tight hug, and kissed my cheek before walking us out of the shop.
Right across the street from Slug & Jiggers Apothecary stood Mulligrubs Materia Medica — a bustling herbalist shop.
I wasn't sure how I'd missed it before.
The ground in front of the shop was practically overflowing with produce.
Massive pumpkins, easily three to four feet across, sat beside overflowing baskets of tomatoes, potatoes, cucumbers, and squash.
Umbrella-sized mushrooms clustered near the stoop, casting wide shadows over the cobbled path.
The front windows were almost completely hidden behind strings of drying root vegetables and mysterious herbs, some of which still twitched slightly in the breeze.
You had to squint to even tell there was a window behind it all.
Above the door, a large, faded sign hung slightly crooked — but still proudly displayed in bold, golden letters:
Mulligrubs Materia Medica
The bell above the door gave a soft chime as they entered, and the scent of herbs, soil, and something sharp and medicinal wrapped around them instantly.
The shop was a chaotic, beautiful mess — dried plants hung like tapestries from the ceiling, roots curled lazily out of their pots, and moss crept along the corners of the wooden floor.
Glowlight charms hovered near the back, illuminating racks of enchanted flora.
Allie shifted Kuren in her arms so he could see better, and his eyes darted around like he was memorizing everything.
He wasn't here to browse —
He was here to collect.
Behind the counter, Matthew Mulligrubs looked up from a tray of potted gurdyroot, brushing his hands on his apron.
"Welcome," he said cheerfully, his voice as warm as the greenhouse air.
"Looking for anything in particular today?"
"We'll take one of everything," Kuren said plainly.
Mulligrubs blinked.
"Come again?"
"All the seeds and plants you have," Kuren clarified. "Anything unique — just one of each."
There was no hesitation in his voice.
For a three-year-old, he spoke with unsettling clarity.
Mulligrubs glanced at Allie, who gave him a calm, knowing smile.
"He's... ambitious," she said gently. "Money isn't an issue."
Mulligrubs raised a brow but didn't question it further.
"Well, that's a first. Usually I have to beg folks to take a single bouncing bulb off my hands."
He walked around the counter, motioning them toward the back.
"Alright then. Let's do a full circuit."
Kuren took mental notes of everything they passed.
From sopophorous beans to fluxweed, knotgrass, and dittany — he wanted it all.
A jar of wiggentree seeds, a tiny pot of gillyweed, still slick from the tank.
Dried bundles of devil's snare bound in enchanted rope.
Even mandrake starters, complete with tiny earmuffs tied around the leaves.
By the time they reached the end of the shop, Mulligrubs had filled two large crates with packets, jars, wrapped bundles, and preserved cuttings.
"I've never sold this much to one customer," he said, panting slightly as he levitated the crates to the counter.
"You starting a greenhouse?"
Kuren didn't answer.
Allie did.
"Something like that."
Mulligrubs tallied up the order, quoted a sum that would've made most wizards balk—and didn't flinch when Allie calmly passed over the full amount in gleaming galleons.
He stood still for a moment, then gave a low whistle.
"Well, I'll be. You're serious."
He placed a final jar — labeled Puffapod Seeds — into the crate and sealed it with a tap of his wand.
"That should be every unique plant and seed I have in stock.
If it grows, blooms, bites, or shrivels — it's in there."
Kuren smiled faintly, satisfied.
"Thank you."
Mulligrubs nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he watched them go.
"Keep an eye on the snargaluff pods. They get restless in the heat."
As they stepped out into Diagon Alley, Allie floated the crates behind them with a flick of her wand.
Kuren held a smaller pouch of delicate seeds in his lap, watching them sway in their packets.