Vale's mind raced. Dedalus Diggle, wild as a startled peacock, stood before him.
The man's appearance, an explosion of purple velvet and twinkling trinkets, was as flamboyant as his personality. A familiar existence, now that he thought about it a little further.
'Right..!'
Vale knew from his extensive lore that Diggle was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a loose group that fought for the downfall of You-Know-Who—or Lord Voldemort to those unable to utter the dreaded name.
Interesting.
"Quite the commotion you've caused, Sir." Vale remarked, keeping his tone light, "Perhaps we should get you some help with that."
Gesturing to the debris with a hint of sadness in his eyes as they flitted about the wreckage. If only everything had been sorted better…
'Treating all these tomes in such a way breaks my heart.' Vale lamented.
"Nonsense!"
Diggle proclaimed, already halfway through untangling himself from a rogue stack.
"A little chaos is good for the soul, wouldn't you agree?"
"…Indeed,"
Vale agreed, his sad eyes suddenly twinkling. An idea popped into his mind just then.
"Especially for someone as... enthusiastic as yourself, good Sir."
He let the word hang in the air, subtle but loaded. He'd gleaned from his memories that Diggle was easily flattered, especially by compliments from anyone with a hint of 'holiday spirit.'
Diggle beamed at his words.
"Why, thank you! I do believe in embracing the unexpected, always keeping a spark of magic alive."
He patted Vale's shoulder with a surprisingly forceful gesture, nearly sending the child off balance.
Vale suppressed a shudder. The man's energy was chaotic, almost overwhelming.
On second thought, he needed to play this carefully.
"It seems you're quite passionate about magic," Vale observed, shifting his gaze to the nearby shelves. "Perhaps you could tell a newcomer like myself about some of its… more fascinating aspects?"
Diggle's smile widened, his eyes sparkling. "Fascinating? Why, it's magic! The very essence of wonder and possibility!"
'…And there it is,' Vale's eyes reflected Diggle's sparkling gaze.
The man launched into a rhapsody about spells and potions, conjuring images with his hands and voice. Vale listened patiently, soaking in the information, picking out nuggets of useful knowledge to confirm from his stories.
After all, he had seen the initial butterfly effect at play with Neville and Hannah.
What if this world in and of itself was different?
Thus, this was a good time to get his bearings.
He highlighted Diggle's hints at the Ministry of Magic, its bureaucracy and various departments.
Diggle, unknowingly, provided snippets about Hogwarts and its known professors, even dropping names — Slughorn, particularly, who was sure to be worth knowing.
Vale basked in Diggle's enthusiasm, letting the man weave his own little tapestry of fantastical details. He was a seasoned storyteller, embellishing every anecdote with theatrical flair.
"Oh, and that reminds me," Diggle boomed, eyes twinkling, "wand testing! Ollivanders, dear boy, Ollivanders! A truly magical experience."
He mimicked the chime of a bell, a theatrical flourish that made Vale suppress a sigh. "Why, when I first got my wand, there was a right ruckus! Shelves practically jumped off the walls! Magical outbursts everywhere!"
Vale feigned exaggerated shock, adding, "Goodness gracious! Quite a spectacle. Mine wasn't as grand as such,"
Diggle chuckled, puffing out his chest with pride.
"Indeed! It seems wand choosing is a bit... dramatic for most, wouldn't you say?" He leaned in conspiratorially. "It's said your wand chooses you, you see. It finds a soul connection, a proper match."
Vale nodded thoughtfully, confirming the information he had experienced firsthand. Having a new wizard in Ollivander's was indeed a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds.
Diggle, oblivious to Vale's quiet contemplation, continued to wax lyrical,
"And don't get me started on Hogwarts! Freshmen, dressed in their best robes—oh, a magnificent sight! They're practically overflowing with mischief and magic. You'll see. It's an adventure waiting to unfold!"
He paused, his eyes softening. "And of course, the wizard food! You simply must try a Butterbeer." Diggle licked his lips, eyes glazed with longing.
"Creamy, frothy, slightly sweet…just a bit alcoholic, mind you. Quite the treat, especially when you're surrounded by excitement and a touch of illusion." Wine on the verge of a revelation. He could picture himself savoring the drink, experiencing its complexities.
"…" Vale wasn't sure about recommending alcohol to minors, 'Oh well, I guess there might be a spell that helps with intoxication… right..?'
Meanwhile, Diggle continued to speak,
"And the chocolate frogs," he added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Each one comes with a famous witch or wizard card. Imagine, you could collect them all! Every legendary figure, right at your fingertips."
Vale's eyes narrowed slightly at that. Memories of the time before his death spoke of days where he meticulously maintained his own collections of cards.
"I do enjoy my treats, particularly those with a little… surprise," Vale acknowledged, a thin smile playing on his lips.
'Gacha is life,' he nodded inwardly to himself.
Diggle beamed at Vale's enthusiasm while the latter listened patiently, absorbing the former's enthusiasm.
To an outsider, it might have seemed like genuine interest, but Vale saw through the theatrical flourishes. This giddy old man was a walking, talking source of easy information, and Vale intended to milk him dry.
He thus had to keep his voice light, with his eyes sparkling with fabricated innocence.
"Fascinating indeed, Sir Dedalus." He paused, gauging the other party's reaction to this mode of address, "Though, what about the…less pleasant aspects of magic? Surely there are downsides to such power?"
A shadow crossed Diggle's face, momentarily dimming his sparkling aura. There was a hint of hesitation now.
Perhaps because the inquirer was a child of eleven years of age.
"Ah, my dear boy," he murmured, his voice hushed yet laced with gentleness, "well, there are always shadows in every light, wouldn't you say?"
Diggle sighed, a wistful sound.
The air around him seemed to thicken, a subtle shift that Vale registered instantly. This man's lighthearted facade crumbled at the mere suggestion of darkness.
"Magic is a powerful force," Diggle continued, gazing into the distance as if recalling a painful memory. "It can be used for good, for progress, for healing. But it can also be twisted, corrupted…turned into something terrible."
He reached out, a hand encased in a purple velvet glove, and tapped Vale's shoulder softly.
"It's a responsibility, you see." His voice dropped to a serious whisper. "That's why we need to be vigilant, to guard against those who would misuse its power."
Vale nodded slowly.
"Indeed," he agreed, his voice a quiet echo of Diggle's seriousness. He kept his gaze fixed on Diggle's hand, its delicate movements a stark contrast to the weighty words he spoke.
"There are…whispers…" Diggle began, his voice barely a murmur, "Whispers of shadows lurking in the very heart of magic. Traditions forbidden, magic outlawed. Secrets kept hidden for good reason."
He leaned closer, eyes burning with an intensity Vale had never seen before. "And some…some say that even good magic can become dangerous in the wrong hands."
Vale felt a jolt of something akin to excitement dart through him.
Forbidden magic.
Outlaws.
Using good intentions to create mass destruction.
'How… poetic,' he thought with an inward smile.