Welcome to Diagon Alley!

The scenery beyond the windshield flew past, constantly shifting between fields, rivers, ponds, villages, and more.

With the help of magic, obstacles like rubbish bins, lampposts, and mailboxes all jumped aside to make way whenever the Knight Bus passed.

About twenty minutes later, the Knight Bus finally stopped, pulling up in a narrow alley.

The broad bus shrank to the size of a wooden crate and parked in the cramped alley. Only in a world where magic existed could something like that be done.

Hagrid climbed off the bus on trembling legs and leaned against the wall at the corner of the alley, retching for a while.

Beyond the alley was a commercial street lined with signs.

But they had arrived too early. None of the shops had opened yet, and there were only hurried passersby on the road.

"That was awful!" Hagrid's face looked terrible, and he was still unsteady as he walked. "Wizet, help me look around. Find a place called the Leaky Cauldron."

All kinds of shops could be seen along the commercial street—fast-food restaurants, clothing stores, jewelry shops, cinemas, everything one could ask for—except there was no Leaky Cauldron like Hagrid had mentioned.

It was not until Wizet passed a bookstore that a sign appeared out of thin air.

The sign was extremely old, forming a sharp contrast with the bright signs around it.

It was covered in traces of smoke and scorching, and painted with the image of a black cauldron with a broken bottom.

"Hagrid, is it that one?" Wizet asked, pointing at the sign.

Hagrid retched, then nodded and said, "That's right! You'd never guess when this pub was founded."

"When was it?" Wizet showed a strong curiosity toward everything in the magical world.

"I remember it was the early sixteenth century..." Hagrid frowned in thought. "Anyway, it was earlier than the enactment of the International Statute of Secrecy! Let's go in!"

Four centuries of existence had not given the Leaky Cauldron much historical depth, but it had certainly allowed enough grime to settle into its walls and floor.

Hagrid must have been a regular here. The moment he entered the Leaky Cauldron, the place immediately grew lively, and the patrons waved and smiled at him.

Compared with the deserted commercial street in the morning, the dim interior of the Leaky Cauldron seemed especially bustling.

"Same as before?" A bald old man came to the bar, took out two beer mugs, and knocked them together with a pleasant sound.

Hagrid waved repeatedly. "Not today, Tom. I've got proper business to handle! Get me a Carsickness Potion... Wizet, do you want something to eat?"

Wizet thought of the state of Luna's family finances and lifted the snacks in his hand. "No need. Luna gave me this!"

The pub suddenly fell quiet. The patrons' expressions became somewhat strained, even carrying a hint of wariness.

Tom shrank back a step and asked cautiously, "He's Wizet? That Obscurial?"

"My fault!" Hagrid understood what these patrons were wary of and slapped his forehead hard, letting out a thunderous sound. "He's a good kid! Why didn't you react like this just now?"

"Sorry..." Tom looked a little embarrassed. "You're right. I overreacted."

"All right, we should get going!" Hagrid dropped a silver coin and downed the Carsickness Potion in one gulp.

He led Wizet through the pub and into the small courtyard at the back.

It was much cleaner here than inside the Leaky Cauldron, with only a few clumps of weeds and a rubbish bin.

"Wizet, you need to remember this..." Hagrid raised the umbrella he carried with him. "Count three up from the rubbish bin, then two across..."

The umbrella struck the wall bricks with a crisp sound. The entire wall shook and rearranged itself until a broad archway appeared.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley!"

The morning sunlight was very soft, falling across the various signs in Diagon Alley and lighting up the names of the shops.

There were many wizards in Diagon Alley, and the shops had put out all sorts of novel goods, giving Wizet the illusion that he was attending a market fair in his previous life.

Hagrid pointed at a snow-white marble building and said, "That's Gringotts Bank. We need to take out your scholarship money."

Among a row of shops stood a towering building, its pure white exterior especially striking.

Wizet looked toward Gringotts and asked, "Hagrid, that guard... is he a goblin?"

"That's right!" Hagrid nodded with a smile. "Goblin-made currency can't be forged, so Gringotts is run by them."

The decoration of Gringotts was extremely grand. The two bronze doors on the outside stood open, and inside there were two more gleaming silver doors.

When Wizet and Hagrid approached, the welcoming goblin immediately bowed, indicating that they should continue inside.

A long string of words was engraved on the silver doors: Enter, stranger, but take heed... Thief, you have been warned. Beware, for what awaits you may not be treasure, but retribution.

The words were all warnings, reminding Wizet of a famous warning from his previous life—the warning of the Tomb of Tutankhamun.

It was said that the first people to enter the Tomb of Tutankhamun had all been killed by the curse contained within.

Wizet was somewhat curious about this so-called "retribution." "Hagrid, if thieves really did break in, what methods would the goblins use against them?"

"Oh, there are far too many!" Hagrid lowered his voice and pulled Wizet a few steps farther inside. "Aside from Hogwarts, this is the safest place in the magical world!"

"If a thief touches the doors, the doors will suck them inside and they won't be able to get out! As for the vaults hidden deep underground, the goblins have trained trolls and dragons to protect them."

Wizet asked curiously, "Dragons? There are dragons here too?"

"Of course there are! Dragons can be kept here legally! Brilliant!" Hagrid's eyes shone. "I'd like to raise a dragon too. Those little cuties are just too fascinating..."

Hagrid had studied dragons in depth and could describe the characteristics of each breed of dragon.

But Wizet found it rather hard to imagine why dangerous magical creatures at least five meters long could be called "little cuties."

Hagrid talked animatedly the whole way, showing an extreme obsession with dragons.

They made their way to the very back of the hall, and Hagrid handed the application form to the goblin receptionist. "We're here to collect a student grant."

"All right!" The goblin receptionist stretched out a finger, and a wisp of flame sprang from its sharp, pointed nail, setting the application form alight at once.

After it burned away, the application form left not so much as a speck of ash behind. Only a beautiful, flowing signature floated in the air.

"Please wait a moment!" Once it had confirmed everything was in order, the goblin receptionist hopped down from the front desk and vanished into the shadows.

Wizet asked, "Hagrid, if I have Muggle money, can it be exchanged for wizarding money?"

"Of course!" Hagrid went on rummaging through the pockets on his body. "Underage wizards can only exchange fifty Galleons a year. Adult wizards can exchange a hundred Galleons a year."

"Why is there a limit?"

"Because Muggle money's far too easy to get. Their banks aren't safe at all. So there has to be a limit, to avoid affecting the magical world."

"Finally found them! These are good stuff!" Hagrid suddenly laughed and reached out in front of Wizet.

In Hagrid's hand lay a dozen or so eggs the size of handballs, their surfaces covered in orange-red patterns.

Wizet found the eggs before him somewhat familiar. "Could these be... Runespoor eggs?"