Gerald stared at the words "Albus Dumbledore," frozen on the spot.
Things seemed to be getting a little magical.
-Surely this isn't a dream?
Was this the London from the world of "Harry Potter"?
Gerald steadied himself and kept reading.
Dear Mr. Green:
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of the books and equipment you will require. The term begins on September 1st. We will await your reply by owl no later than July 31st.
Deputy Headmistress
Minerva McGonagall
Gerald finished the letter, read it again, then looked up.
The owl was still perched there, patiently waiting for his reply.
Outside the window, the night breeze stirred the attic curtains, and a few dog barks drifted in from the distance.
The town's night was as quiet as ever, like every night of the past nearly twelve years.
But everything was different now.
Having calmed down, Gerald opened the second sheet of paper in the envelope and looked at the densely written list of textbook titles, his head spinning.
He of course knew these things had to be bought in Diagon Alley, but he had no idea where exactly it was.
And even if he did, he couldn't actually go there himself.
Beyond that, there were two troublesome matters to deal with right now.
First, how was he supposed to explain this to Grandpa Henry and Uncle Jack?
Second, he had no money. Never mind wizard robes and a wand-even these textbooks weren't cheap.
-I remember that for Muggle families, the school sends a professor to visit in person and guide them.
At that thought, Gerald turned on the light, pulled out a few sheets of letter paper, and spread them on the desk.
He tapped the desk lightly a few times with his knuckles, then wrote on the paper.
Dear Professor Minerva McGonagall:
I was delighted to receive your letter. If this is real, I would be very happy to attend your school. It's just that regarding the required books and equipment enclosed with the letter, I'm truly at a loss. I don't even know where to buy them, or how much they cost... If possible, I hope you can give me some guidance.
Wishing you well, and all the best.
Gerard Green
After writing this, Gerald rubbed his eyes and looked at the owl standing on the wooden crate, staring at him.
He of course knew these things needed to be bought in Diagon Alley-he just couldn't say so.
And at that moment the owl was tilting its head, watching him.
Gerald frowned slightly, as if something had occurred to him.
He quickly got up and ran down from the attic to Grandpa Henry's kitchen, rummaging up and down for a while before he found a small piece of dried meat.
By the time he returned to the attic, the owl had grown a little impatient and was making "hoo-hoo" sounds.
Gerald glanced at the letter on the desk. The ink was completely dry.
He folded the letter into the envelope, wrote [To Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall] on the front, then walked over to the owl.
"This is a reply for Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Sorry for the trouble-please take it to her."
Gerald raised the envelope in his hand, then broke the small piece of meat he'd taken from the kitchen into a few chunks and held them up to its beak.
The owl, seeing this, unhurriedly swallowed them.
Then, somewhat happily, it spread its wings, reached out its talons to grasp the reply, and with a flutter, flew out.
-Next, it was just a matter of waiting.
But do I really have magic?
Over these eleven years, aside from cultivating the technique in his mind to absorb spiritual energy and temper his body, he didn't seem to have displayed any special abilities.
Otherwise he wouldn't have thought this world had no supernatural powers.
With such doubts, Gerald gradually drifted off to sleep.
Professor McGonagall arrived faster than Gerald had imagined.
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The next morning, Gerald and Grandpa Henry had just finished breakfast, and Gerald was helping clear the dishes from the table.
Old Henry sat in the rocking chair by the window, leafing through a crumpled newspaper.
Although the paper was three days old, in this small town, the timeliness of news had never been anything important.
It was at this moment that the yard gate was knocked on.
"So early-who could it be?"
Gerald quickly crossed the narrow hallway and pulled open the somewhat warped wooden door.
Standing outside was a middle-aged woman.
She wore a dark green robe of tailored cut, with a silver brooch pinned at the collar.
"Good morning, Mr. Green."
The middle-aged woman's voice was as crisp and decisive as she was.
"I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If it's convenient, I'd like to speak with your guardian about your enrollment."
Gerald quickly stepped aside, a smile on his face: "Please come in, Professor McGonagall. My grandfather happens to be home."
Nearly twelve years old, Gerald had clean features, a high nose bridge, and two dimples when he smiled.
It had to be said he had a certain charm.
McGonagall gave a slight nod and stepped over the threshold.
"Grandpa Henry, this is Professor McGonagall from Hogwarts School. She hopes I can go there to study."
Gerald helped the old man up from the rocking chair.
"Hogwarts?"
Grandpa Henry stood up, instinctively wiping his hands on his trousers, then somewhat awkwardly extended his hand to McGonagall.
"Hello, ma'am. I'm Hen-Henry Hall, sort of this child's grandfather."
McGonagall shook his hand.
"Mr. Hall, pleased to meet you. As the boy said, I come on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your grandson, Mr. Gerard Green, has been formally accepted by our school, and I'm here to discuss enrollment matters with you."
"A magic school?"
Grandpa Henry frowned, clearly confused by the term.
He turned to glance at Gerald, then looked back at McGonagall.
"Ma'am, this Hogwarts you mention... what kind of school is it? How come I've never heard of it?"
Professor McGonagall sat down in the chair Gerald had brought over, her back held perfectly straight.
She seemed prepared for this question, and took a document from her robes, placing it on the table and pushing it over.
"Hogwarts is a boarding school with a long history, founded around the tenth century AD. In nature, you can think of it as a private elite school on the same level as Harrow School and Eton College. It's just that our admission standards... are somewhat more special."
Grandpa Henry took
the document and casually flipped through a few pages.
He hadn't had many years of schooling, and this thick document gave him a headache just looking at it, but he had clearly heard McGonagall's words.
"On par with Harrow School and Eton College?"
Harrow School and Eton College-those were aristocratic schools famous throughout England.
In this small town, no one's child had ever gotten in.
But immediately after, Grandpa Henry's expression dimmed.
He was silent for a moment, put the document back on the table, and rubbed his rough fingers along the edge of the table.
"Ma'am, to be honest with you, I'm not this child's real grandfather. His grandfather and father passed early, and his mother too... ah, the school you mention is good, but..."
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He paused, as if weighing his words.
"A private school like Harrow, the tuition alone must be several thousand pounds a year, right? Not to mention room, board, and uniforms."
As he spoke, Grandpa Henry raised his cloudy eyes and looked earnestly at Professor McGonagall.
"I'm just a farmer. What I mean is, could you give me a little time to scrape together the tuition? But rest assured, even if I have to sell everything I own, sell this old house, I'll still put Gerald through school."
Professor McGonagall's gaze rested on the old man's face for a few seconds.
Her usual stern expression didn't change much, but the look behind her spectacles seemed to soften considerably.
"Mr. Hall, regarding the tuition, you needn't worry."
"Hogwarts tuition, room, and board are all free. In addition, there is a dedicated bursary fund and scholarships to assist students with outstanding talent but difficult family circumstances."
Professor McGonagall looked at the old man across from her, who was listening with full attention, and continued.
"In view of the exceptional potential Mr. Gerard Green demonstrated in his admission assessment, our headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore, has specially approved the highest level of bursary for his first academic year."
Grandpa Henry was stunned.
"No tuition, no room and board fees, and you're giving a bursary?"
"No fees. Not only that, if Gerald maintains excellent academic results, this funding can continue through the entire seven years of study. In addition, our school has some work-study positions and scholarships."
Old Henry fell silent, a flicker of wariness in his eyes.
Gerald could tell—Grandpa Henry was suspicious.
He couldn't blame him.
As an old man who had lived over sixty years, he had naturally seen his share of scams.
But free attendance at an elite school sounded a hundred times more unreal than those.
Grandpa Henry was silent for more than ten seconds before speaking again, his tone growing somewhat distant.
"Ma'am, this Hogwarts you mention-where exactly is it? How come I've never seen its name on TV or in the newspapers? If it's a school on par with Harrow, it shouldn't go completely unreported, right?"
Professor McGonagall seemed unsurprised by this.
"Mr. Hall, when I said Hogwarts is a 'magic school,' that was not a metaphor."
She raised her right hand and pointed at the teapot on the table.
The white porcelain teapot, missing its spout, suddenly trembled, and then, under Grandpa Henry's dumbfounded gaze, slowly floated up.
The teapot rose into the air and hovered motionless at a height of about four feet.
Grandpa Henry's mouth opened.
"This..."
He shot to his feet and stared at the middle-aged woman before him, his expression changing drastically.
"This is what I meant by 'special talent.'"
Professor McGonagall calmly pointed at Gerald, who stood to the side.
"And your grandson Gerald, like me, is a wizard."
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