Driving to pick them up was, of course, a method used in Muggle society. But after the three of them chatted over breakfast, the professor drove out of the city and stopped the car in a deserted area.
"We're going to London next, so the car won't be of any use. We'll fly there."
Standing by the roadside, Su Ming looked around to make sure no one was passing by. He still did not want the memory-wiping people from the Ministry of Magic cleaning up after him. This was still a time when they needed to keep a low profile.
Mr. Granger rubbed his hands together. As a middle-class white man, having breakfast at Manchester's most luxurious Radisson Hotel was nothing remarkable to him. But when it came to flying with magic, the middle-aged man wore the same yearning expression as a young boy.
After all, who had never dreamed of becoming a Mage? Flying through the skies, reciting spells, fighting dragons, and the like.
Unfortunately, for most ordinary people, such dreams gradually faded with age, soon replaced by the realities of making a living.
The Grangers were dentists and lived fairly well, which meant they had the luxury of dreaming. If they had been poor people at the bottom of society, they would probably only have worried every day about what they would eat for their next meal.
"Flying? You mean flying without relying on an airplane?" He looked eagerly at Su Ming, wanting to see what the mysterious wizard would do.
The answer was actually simple. Su Ming could fly himself, but having Strangle carry the others through the air would not look very good. In the end, this job still had to go to the Cloak of Levitation.
Come to think of it, whenever he arrived in