The Complete Idiot's Guide to the World of Harry Potter (23 page)

London is a city of nearly 8 million Muggles, but it’s also the place for wizards to mingle, shop, take care of Ministry business, and cure what ails them. Although carefully hidden, the magical sections of London are, indeed, wizard hotspots. Come on in, and enjoy the wizarding sights and sounds of London!

Diagon Alley, deep in the heart of London, has to be one of the most creative destinations ever invented. Located off Charing Cross Road— which is, arguably, the best street for bookstores (both new and used) in the entire world, the alley is accessible only to wizards and to Muggles who are there with their wizard children. The alley travels “diagonally” from Charing Cross (hence, the name), and can be reached on foot, by vehicle, or through any of the wizard means of transportation (see Chapter 5). If arriving on foot, visitors must first enter the Leaky Cauldron, and proceed through that pub to the alley.

It is not surprising that J.K. Rowling would use a pub as a gateway to the magical world within London. After all, Great Britain is teeming with pubs—in fact, Edinburgh, Scotland, has more pubs per square mile than any other city in Europe. And Limerick, Ireland, boasts a place called the Cauldron Pub.

The Leaky Cauldron, unlike its Muggle counterparts throughout Great Britain, is a wizard-only gathering place (it’s both a pub and an inn; the inn faces Charing Cross Road). It isn’t much to look at—small and shabby—but it’s the entrance to one of the coolest wizard shopping centers on the planet, if you know how to get through the brick wall behind the pub. Tap the bricks with your wand and they slide back, revealing a street of shops and window-shopping wizards.

Just inside the entrance to Diagon Alley, the first store is a cauldron shop that sells—you guessed it—cauldrons of all sizes and materials. Some even have magical spells put on them to make the stirring process easier. Cauldrons, which are bulbous pots, usually with a collapsible handle, are used to brew potions by boiling herbs, pieces of magical animals, and other objects.

Cauldrons have been used since the dawn of time. The witches in
Macbeth
are, perhaps, the most well-known witch-users of cauldrons, but cauldrons have been in existence for millennia as simple cookpots. From the Latin
caldarium
, for “hot bath,” cauldrons were staples of kitchens. The Celts may have been the first to use cauldrons to makes stews and soups, hammering them from silver. Later, cast copper and bronze were used, and finally, cast iron was introduced. Rowling names all but cast iron as materials, and she also mentions pewter (required at Hogwarts) and gold, which were, perhaps, used in some areas of the world, where those metals were prolific.

Cauldrons are also used in each Olympic Games; the Olympic torch, which is often carried throughout the country in the weeks or months before the games begin, lights the Olympic Cauldron and, thus, marks the beginning of the games.

The cauldron shop on Diagon Alley remains nameless in the novels, but Warner Brothers found it necessary to name this shop in the DVD tour given in the
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
movie. In that tour, it is called Pottager’s Cauldron Shop. A pottager is a small garden, arranged in a grid pattern, that incorporates flowers, herbs, and vegetables, all items that would be used in stews and soups made in cauldrons.

Like apothecaries in Muggle history, this store is the equivalent of a modern pharmacy. Today, pharmacies sell “potions” that have already been brewed, but apothecaries of the past sold the ingredients only; it was up to the purchasers to brew the medicines themselves. (This is kind of like buying the ingredients for dinner at the grocery store, versus getting take-out that’s already made for you.) The wizard Apothecary sells herbs, roots, and powders (see Chapter 10 for more on uses of specific herbs), as well as other wizard tools of the trade, like the feathers, eyes, horns, claws, livers, spleens, and dung of various animals.

Although this store is called only “the Apothecary” throughout the
Harry Potter
novels, in
The Sorcerer’s Stone
movie, it is referred to as Slug & Jiggers Apothecary. A slug is both a unit of mass (equal to 32.2 pounds) and another name for a shot (as in, “a slug of whiskey”), while a jigger is both a unit of volume (equal to 1.5 fluid ounces) and a quantity of alcohol (as in, “a jigger of whiskey”). Such precise measures fit perfectly with the apothecary business.

Because owls are both pets and an important communication link in the wizarding world, nearly every wizard household has an owl. And with that many owls in that many wizarding homes, owl-specific stores are bound to pop up. Eeylops Owl Emporium sells all sorts of owls (tawny, screech, barn, brown, and snowy), as well as owl treats and nuts.

Eeylops is a tougher word to translate than one might imagine. However,
ops
is the Greek word for “eye” (think Cyclops, which is
ops
combined with the Greek
kyklos,
meaning “circle or wheel”). So, in this case,
eeyl
likely means big, wide, or night, relating to the qualities of owls. I say “likely” because modern Greek does not show such a word. Ancient Greek, however, included the word
ey,
which meant “well,” and that translation (well-eyed) makes sense: owls have particularly good vision; in fact, being called “owl-eyed” refers to one’s exceptional eyesight.

One of the favorite hangouts of wizard kids, this ice cream shop used to serve ice cream of all varieties and flavors to wizards sitting at small tables placed on the sidewalk. As Chapter 4 points out, food is one of the few areas of crossover between Muggles and wizards—with the exception of some candies and other magical treats, food choices among the two groups are surprisingly similar, and ice cream is no exception.

The parlor owner’s first name, Florean, is reminiscent of fluorine, the chemical element commonly called fluoride that’s added to water to counteract the effects of sugary ice cream and keep teeth from decaying. With no dentists in the wizarding world, perhaps Mr. Florean Fortescue’s ice cream contains a product that’s similar to cavity-fighting fluorine. Fortescue is a common last name in both the wizard and Muggle worlds. A Mr. Fortescue was a headmaster at Hogwarts, and Sir John Fortescue wrote the history of the British Army; Father Adrian Fortescue was a notable writer, and Fortescue Arms is a bed & breakfast in South Devon.

Mr. Fortescue, the parlor owner, was, by the look of things, “dragged off” in Harry’s sixth year. The general assumption is that he was, in some way, connected with the Dark Arts, and was kidnapped or killed (but check out Chapter 16 for the final word). This doesn’t mean he was a Dark Wizard, but that he had some connection, and that connection went south. Think of Dark Wizards like the Mob; you cross them, and they’ll break your thumbs,
capice?

Flourish and Blotts, the wizard bookstore, is aptly named: a “flourish” is writing in an ornamental style, while a “blot” is a spot or stain from spilled ink.

Like any good Muggle bookstore, Flourish and Blotts is full of shelves of books stacked nearly to the ceiling and offers periodic book signings by favorite authors. The difference between a Muggle bookstore and Flourish and Blotts is in the books themselves: they may be leather-bound or covered in silk; book sizes range from so tiny you can barely see them to so huge you can barely lift them; the books may be written in strange languages or with runes (see Chapter 13) or may even be blank; the books may bite, snap at, or even fight you; and the titles are all appropriate to the wizarding world alone, with topics ranging from Hogwarts textbooks to books for the wizard general public, including self-help, how-to, autobiographies, histories, and sports books. Compare this to the usual offerings at Muggle bookstores: hardcopy or paperback; all virtually the same size; in the (rather mundane) categories of fiction, children’s, self-help, cooking, travel, business, and so on. If visiting a Muggle bookstore is a delightful experience (as it is to most book lovers), just imagine what walking through such a store must be like!

Until the appearance of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes (discussed later in this chapter), Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop used to be the only place to buy irreverent, fun, jokey items in Diagon Alley (although Zonko’s Joke Shop in the city of Hogsmeade also sells such items). In spite of recent competition, however, from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, discussed later in this chapter, Gambol and Japes is still the best place to find Dr. Filibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks. What are they? Fireworks, of course, but with a twist. You can start them when wet, and they can’t burn you. What could be better?

This shop’s name couldn’t be more appropriate: to “gambol” means to frolic, jump about, and skip, while to “jape” means to jest, joke, or play tricks. And that’s exactly what you’ll find at this shop—items that are excellent for joking and playing tricks, as well as items that encourage jumping about and skipping.

Madam Malkin’s is
the
place to go for wizard clothing of all sorts. Whether you’re a witch looking for everyday robes or a wizard shopping for dress robes, you’ll find them all here. As Chapter 3 points out, most wizards wear black for every day; Hogwarts uniform robes are also black. But when dressing up (or for the wizard who doesn’t mind spending a little more for everyday wear), robes appear in whatever color you can imagine.

As at any high-quality clothing store, Malkin’s robes are fitted and altered, as needed, by Madam Malkin herself. The owner’s name is a bit of a mystery, however; “malkin” means “a sloppy, slovenly (and even slutty!) woman.” The proprietor of this clothing store would hardly be described as “slovenly.” Secondary meanings are a mop, a scarecrow, a rabbit, and a cat, none of which makes any more sense than the first meaning. If Madam Malkin were at all unkind or unpleasant, her name could be seen to mean “bad folk,” from the French
mal
(bad) and the English
kin
(family; relatives; kinfolk). But aside from being rather nervous, the shopkeeper has displayed only a happy, pleasant demeanor. On the other hand, Malkin is a common surname in England; perhaps that is the only meaning we can glean from the name.

Twilfitt and Tatting’s is the alternate store to Madam Malkin’s, selling the same sorts of goods, and perhaps even a higher quality of robes and cloaks. It may or may not be located on Diagon Alley. “Twill” is a way of weaving cloth; “fit” refers to how clothing drapes on a body; and “tatting” is a fine lace. Thus, Twilfitt and Tatting’s name certainly reflects its contents.

Like Muggle resale shops and Goodwill or Salvation Army stores, another place to shop for robes and cloaks is in a second-hand shop. Owners of robes resell them as they outgrow them, which makes for great bargains. In Rowling’s novels, shopping at second-hand stores is a matter of deep embarrassment; among American teenagers in the Muggle world, not so much, given the current popularity of Salvation Army and Goodwill Stores as a means of expanding one’s wardrobe.

Ollivanders may be the most intriguing store in Diagon Alley. Makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.E., the small, dusty store has nothing but boxes upon boxes of wands, stacked one on top of the other. Some wands, without a doubt, have been sitting there, gathering dust, for 2,300 years!

Mr. Ollivander, the proprietor of the store and, we assume, something like the ninety-fifth generation of Ollivander to work there, has an incredible memory for wands. He remembers every wand he ever sold: the wood used; the length; the flexibility of it; and the magical core of it.

Mr. Ollivander is a tough nut to crack. Is he evil, or is he good? Did he join the Dark Side when Voldemort publicly returned in Harry’s sixth year, or was he kidnapped or otherwise dragged off, causing his store to close? Harry certainly gets a strange vibe from Mr. Ollivander when the man talks about Voldemort. And Harry Potter fans have pointed out that “Ollivander” is an anagram for “an evil lord.” On the other hand,
ander
is German for “other,” and
oliv
is German for “olive,” so the man’s name could mean “other olive.” Of course, that wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense. Check out Chapter 16 for the last word on Mr. Ollivander.

Two other shops are named in the DVD tour of Diagon Alley (on the companion DVD to
The Chamber of Secrets
movie) that are not named in the book: