The Knight Bus and Diagon Alley

London's morning offered a rare glimpse of sunshine.

It was only a thin sliver leaking through the thick clouds onto the wet streets, and before long, the shadows swallowed it again.

Gavin stood outside 18 Upper Grosvenor Street rather than waiting inside.

He had risen early that day, carefully timing his departure to avoid Mrs. Carlos's breakfast.

"That was close. Half a minute later, and I'd have been pinned to the breakfast table, wrestling with bread again." He glanced at his Pocket Watch. "I'm not laying bricks today."

Nine o'clock sharp.

A figure appeared at the end of the street, right on time.

Black Robes, a black witch's hat, and a measured pace—as though even the paving stones beneath her feet behaved better than everyone else's.

"Good morning."

The newcomer stopped at the doorway, her gaze settling on Gavin's face, her tone calm.

"You must be Mr. Gavin Gu."

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall." Gavin gave a slight nod.

In his reply to the acceptance letter, Gavin had explained his circumstances to Professor McGonagall and arranged the time for this meeting.

Professor McGonagall looked him over, apparently checking something.

"Before we leave, I need to confirm this once more. As a rule, Hogwarts requires a guardian's knowledge and consent. Are you certain this has been properly addressed?"

"Yes, Professor."

Gavin pulled a document envelope from inside his clothes with the practiced ease of a lawyer preparing to go to court.

"This is my Oxford acceptance letter, this is the guardianship authorization from my parents, and these are Professor Roscoe's explanation of my academic arrangements and his signed authorization."

Naturally, a doctoral student could not commute from home. Gavin's parents were busy running their business and could not stay with him all the time, so they had felt perfectly comfortable leaving him in the professor's care.

But who could have imagined that Professor Bill would simply let Gavin escape to add a few years to his own life? To send the king of overachievers packing and enjoy a few peaceful days, he had even signed a whole series of humiliating treaties.

Professor McGonagall took the documents and read through them page by page.

The more she read, the more her brow relaxed.

Finally, she looked up, a faint trace of surprise in her expression.

"You've prepared very thoroughly."

"I don't much like leaving my fate to improvisation."

Professor McGonagall put the documents away.

"That is a good habit." She paused, then added, "In most circumstances, at least."

"So how are we getting there?" Gavin asked.

Floo Powder? A Portkey? Or Apparition? Gavin waited eagerly.

Professor McGonagall glanced at him.

"You don't know any magic yet, and the other methods wouldn't be suitable for you."

She raised her Wand and gave it a light wave, then extended her other hand toward the road. "We'll take the Knight Bus."

The next second.

With a roar, a garishly purple triple-decker bus burst out almost against their noses, forcing its way into reality from an empty stretch of road.

Its body rocked violently, its tires screeching before it came to a firm stop in front of them.

The doors flew open with a bang.

A young man in a purple uniform, thin as a clothes pole, stuck his head out, his enthusiasm bordering on manic.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus! The best choice for witches and wizards in distress! Need a hand?"

Professor McGonagall said, "The Leaky Cauldron."

"Right you are! Twenty-two Sickles for the two of you! Of course, if you need hot-water bottles, toothbrushes, or chocolate, we also provide—"

"No, thank you."

"Understood!" The young man briskly stepped aside, his smile undiminished.

"Then hop aboard, and enjoy your journey!"

Before stepping through the doors, Gavin noticed that the interior was much larger than he had imagined.

Once aboard, he discovered that instead of seats, the bus contained rows of beds secured to brass posts.

"..."

He looked up at Professor McGonagall. "The British wizarding world has a pretty forward-thinking approach to public transport."

"Hold tight," Professor McGonagall said calmly.

"What?"

"Hold tight."

The next second.

The Knight Bus lurched as though someone had given it a savage kick from behind.

The entire bus shot forward.

Gavin barely managed to grab a bedpost before his body nearly made intimate contact with the floor. The street outside instantly stretched into blurred ribbons of color. Buildings on either side frantically moved out of the bus's way as though they had seen a ghost, while lampposts, postboxes, and newspaper kiosks all leaped aside on their own.

"Does this thing... not have suspension?!"

"It does." Professor McGonagall stood perfectly straight, without so much as a wobble of her hat brim. "But evidently not much."

Ten minutes later.

Near Charing Cross Road.

Outside the Leaky Cauldron.

Gavin leaned against the wall and contemplated a slotted drain cover for a long time. Mostly because if he opened his mouth right then, he would probably throw up first.

"Are you all right, Mr. Gu?" Professor McGonagall asked politely from beside him.

Gavin slowly raised his head, his face rather pale.

"Professor."

"Yes?"

"Nobody told me I'd have to pass a 3D motion-sickness test before learning magic."

The corner of Professor McGonagall's mouth seemed to twitch. "You'll get used to it after a few rides."

"Well, that's bad news."

After quite a while, Gavin finally straightened and followed Professor McGonagall through the door of the Leaky Cauldron.

The pub was small and old. Compared with the London outside, it looked like a corner forcibly gouged out of another era.

People of all ages sat inside, wearing all kinds of Robes. The air smelled of Butterbeer, tobacco, wood, and some strange spice.

Many people nodded in greeting when they saw Professor McGonagall.

But even more soon turned their attention to Gavin.

"A new student?"

"Probably."

"Doesn't look British."

"Japanese? His eyes don't look that small, though."

"..."

Gavin tried hard to open his eyes wider so he would not look Japanese.

Passing through the noisy pub, they reached the backyard. A few barrels and miscellaneous items were piled there, and the wall looked perfectly ordinary. Professor McGonagall stepped forward, raised her Wand, and lightly tapped several bricks.

The bricks began to move.

First a small section in the middle, then widening circles turned and unfolded, like an eye slowly opening.

Soon, a long cobbled street appeared before them.

Diagon Alley.

For once, Gavin fell silent for several seconds.

Crooked shops crowded together on either side of the street. Their windows were packed with moving quills, books that turned their own pages, bubbling cauldrons, glittering sweets, and all sorts of merchandise that looked neither scientific nor remotely interested in making sense. Owls flapped past in the distance as people wove through the street, the hems of wizarding robes mingling with the mist of the Muggle era like a painting come to life.

"What do you think?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"It's enchanting," Gavin murmured. In that moment, he felt as though he were watching Harry enter Diagon Alley in the film for the first time all over again, struck by that same profound sense of wonder.

Professor McGonagall's lips curved slightly. For the second time, she felt that the person before her was still a child.

Their first stop was Gringotts.

White marble, an extravagantly high vaulted ceiling, and goblins in scarlet uniforms standing at the entrance, their gazes respectful yet tinged with hostility.

"Welcome to Gringotts." One goblin spoke in a high, thin voice, his tone sounding more like a warning than the greeting at the entrance. "Will you be exchanging currency or conducting vault business?"

Professor McGonagall said, "Exchanging currency."

A short while later, Gavin looked at the piles of Galleons, Silver Sickles, and Knuts on the table, gaining his first clear understanding of "wizarding currency."

"Who set this exchange rate?" he asked quietly. "The Ministry of Magic, or some drunken medieval accountant?"

The goblin's ears twitched, and he looked up to give Gavin a cold stare.

"I suggest you refrain from discussing that subject in Gringotts, Mr. Gu," Professor McGonagall warned.

"Understood." Gavin nodded. "Trade secrets."

Once they left Gringotts, the shopping spree began.

A Robes shop, an apothecary, a cauldron shop, a bookshop... Gavin examined everything along the way, outwardly composed, while questions began bubbling up inside him.

"What's the underlying logic behind this thing?" he muttered, watching a self-stirring cauldron.

"What?" Professor McGonagall turned around.

"Nothing." Gavin's expression remained unchanged. "I was thinking I could automate my cooking, too."

After buying the other supplies, Professor McGonagall brought him to a narrow, shabby shop that somehow made it impossible to look away.

The sign above the door read:

Ollivander: makers of fine Wands since 382 BC.

"We're here," Professor McGonagall said.

They pushed open the door, and a bell gave a soft chime.

The shop was quiet, so quiet that even the dust seemed afraid to drift out of place.

Long, narrow boxes covered all four walls up to the ceiling, and the air held the scent of wood, dust, and something strange he could not quite identify.

"Good morning."

A voice sounded, so soft it seemed to drift from a crack in the wall.

Mr. Ollivander emerged from behind one of the shelves, his silvery eyes settling on Gavin as though he could see straight into his bones.

"Ah, Mr. Gu. Interesting. Very interesting."

"You know me?" Gavin asked.

"I try to remember every new Hogwarts student," Mr. Ollivander said with a smile. "Especially... unusual children like you."

Gavin fell silent. He was very curious about how Ollivander had known his name immediately, but before he could ask, he was interrupted.

"Mr. Gu, which is your wand hand?"

Mr. Ollivander took out a measuring tape and began measuring him as though fitting him for clothes.

"Uh... my right."

Mr. Ollivander quickly finished taking all his measurements, returned to the counter, and handed him the first Wand.

The wand trials began.

"Beech, dragon heartstring, ten inches, pliable."

Gavin gave it a wave.

Pop.

A nearby quill exploded.

"Not this one." Mr. Ollivander swiftly took it back and offered a second. "Holly, unicorn tail hair, eleven inches, exceptionally springy."

A wave.

Three boxes in the corner took flight and crashed into one another.

"Not that one either."

The third wand.

The fourth.

The fifth.

Gradually, the shop grew rather unsettled.

Some Wands made the lights flicker, others sent boxes tumbling down, and one nearly shook all the dust from the ceiling onto Mr. Ollivander's head.

Professor McGonagall watched from the side, her expression growing increasingly complicated.

"New students usually don't need to try this many."

"I was thinking the same thing." Gavin looked at the seventeenth Wand in his hand. "But so far, every one of them seems to have its own opinion about me."

"Interesting. Truly fascinating." Mr. Ollivander's eyes shone ever brighter, as though he had spotted some rare animal. "Try this one. Ash, dragon heartstring, twelve inches. Powerful, and rather bad-tempered."

This time, the moment Gavin took the Wand, he felt a slight tingling in his fingers.

It was like a faint electric current traveling up his arm before giving a gentle knock deep inside his mind.

He suddenly remembered feeling something similar while meditating.

He looked at the Wand in his hand as though it were a mouse that felt fairly comfortable, but not quite perfect.

Perhaps I could make an adjustment? With that thought, Gavin took a deep breath, observed his own state as he would during meditation, and tried to adapt himself to the Wand.

A scattering of tiny, bright golden sparks quietly sprayed from its tip. Nothing exploded, nothing flew wildly around, and nothing suffered.

For the first time, the shop fell quiet.

"Oh?" Mr. Ollivander's eyes slowly widened. "I see."

"What is it?"

"It isn't the wand best suited to you," Mr. Ollivander said softly, staring at him. "But you seem... able to adapt to it."

Gavin lowered his gaze to the Wand in his hand.

It was a strange feeling.

How could he describe it? It was like adjusting a mouse's settings within the operating system of his brain.

"Do you have anything that's a better fit?"

"In theory, I should." Mr. Ollivander murmured, "But now I'm suddenly not quite sure whether the Wands are choosing you, or you're screening the Wands."

Over the next hour, Mr. Ollivander dragged out nearly half the shop's stock.

By the end, opened boxes covered the floor, the tables, and the counter.

Professor McGonagall had given up offering her opinion entirely.

And Gavin finally picked the Wand that felt most natural from a pile he had judged as "feels all right," "output a bit high," "not very stable," and "a little too much recoil."

Black walnut, dragon heartstring, eleven and a quarter inches, extremely rigid.

According to Mr. Ollivander, walnut wood Wands were often drawn to highly intelligent wizards, particularly inventors and innovators. Dragon heartstring meant great power, while the extreme rigidity meant Gavin would not usually compromise.

Gavin said, "This is the one."

Mr. Ollivander held the bill, looking somewhat dazed.

"Mr. Gu."

"Yes?"

"I've been making Wands for many years."

"I can tell."

"But I've never met anyone like you."

"You could say I'm rather adaptable."

"No." Mr. Ollivander shook his head, his silvery eyes fixed unblinkingly on Gavin. "I would prefer to call it—dangerous."

Gavin paused briefly, then smiled. "Thank you for the compliment."

After they left the Wand shop, Professor McGonagall remained silent for a while.

Only when they passed an owl shop did she speak. "Mr. Gu."

"Professor, you can call me Gavin."

"All right, Gavin." She looked ahead without turning.

"Did you feel anything unusual while trying those wands?"

Gavin thought for a moment. "Like my arm had gained another segment."

Professor McGonagall faltered in her stride.

"More precisely, an extension and amplification of my arm." Gavin raised his hand and looked at the Wand in his palm. "It isn't simply a tool. It's like some sort of amplifier, but also a feedback device. It can clearly draw out certain things in my mind that were vague before."

At those words, Professor McGonagall gave him a truly searching look for the first time.

"That is a rather... unusual way of putting it."

Afterward, they bought textbooks, potion ingredients, and other supplies.

When they passed the pet shop, Gavin chose neither a cat nor an owl. Instead, he set his sights on an oddly colored toad with a vacant expression.

"Are you sure you want this one?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Quite sure."

"Why?"

Gavin looked at the toad and gave it some serious thought. "Because it looks very hardy. It should be a good companion for a few slightly less dangerous experiments."

Professor McGonagall said, "..."

Professor McGonagall seriously doubted whether Gavin's experiments would really be as safe as he claimed.

In the end, she said nothing.

She merely sighed inwardly for the toad.

By the time they finished shopping, dusk was approaching.

They returned to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Will you be going home tonight?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"No." Gavin glanced up at the sign overhead. "I'm planning to stay here for a few days."

"Why?"

"I don't want to ride the Knight Bus again," Gavin said, still shaken by the experience.

"..."

Professor McGonagall nodded.

That sounded like a perfectly reasonable explanation.

"Then I shall see you at school on September first."

"All right, Professor."

Professor McGonagall turned to leave.

Her Robes fluttered gently in the evening breeze, and she soon disappeared into the crowd.

Carrying his new purchases, Gavin stood at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, lowered his head, and felt the Wand tucked into his sleeve.

He murmured to himself, "The Wand chooses the wizard? It doesn't seem to depend on the heart, or the blood, or some nebulous talent."

"It should depend on the brain."

"Or rather... consciousness?"

At that thought, he suddenly smiled.

"Interesting."

Night slowly fell.

And Gavin's magical world was only just beginning.