Professor McGonagall led Morris out of the alley.
After crossing the road, they arrived between a large bookshop and a record shop.
For some reason, this place always gave Morris an indescribably strange feeling.
Professor McGonagall noticed Morris's puzzled expression and smiled. "Does something feel a little strange? Take another good look."
After a moment of haziness.
Morris suddenly discovered that the scenery before him had changed. Between the bookshop and the record shop, a dilapidated building began to appear.
A simple sign hung by the entrance: the Leaky Cauldron.
This was magic, Morris's subconscious told him.
Professor McGonagall led him into the Leaky Cauldron.
Just as its shabby exterior suggested, the pub's interior was equally dim and worn, with a bar, a few tables, and walls covered in a jumble of portraits.
It didn't look like a pub. That was Morris's first impression of the place.
"Don't pay attention to strangers," Professor McGonagall cautioned Morris like a mother.
Neither of them stopped. They went straight through the communal area into the back courtyard.
Strangely, the courtyard was enclosed by walls on all four sides, with only a solitary dustbin standing against one wall.
"Remember this dustbin, Morris. Count three bricks up, then two across."
Professor McGonagall located the spot and tapped the stone brick lightly.
Immediately afterward, the brick she had tapped began to tremble and slide apart to either side, forming an archway wide enough for two people to pass through.
Beyond the archway lay a winding alley, densely lined with all sorts of buildings.
Some of the buildings completely defied the laws of physics.
It really had the atmosphere of a magical world.
Presumably, this was the Diagon Alley Professor McGonagall had mentioned.
"Follow me," Professor McGonagall reminded Morris, who was looking around. "We'll buy your wand first. That's the most important thing."
She led Morris through the bustling crowd, explaining as she went, "Hogwarts has a special fund for students like you. The cost of all your necessities will come out of it."
"Of course," she added sternly, "that only covers school supplies, not sweets or other extra expenses."
Morris nodded to show he understood.
"In fact, no one has used this fund in a long time," Professor McGonagall said conversationally. "In recent years, you've been our only student from an orphanage. The last time was..."
She shook her head slightly and swallowed the rest of her words. "The Ollivander Wand Shop is just ahead. We're almost there."
Although Morris found it a little strange, he wasn't particularly interested in the matter, so he asked no further questions.
Ollivander was an interesting old man. At least, Morris thought so.
Choosing a wand didn't take very long.
After sending a chair and the shop's only "light bulb" flying with wands that didn't feel right in his hand, Morris successfully found the one that suited him.
Hornbeam, Thestral tail hair, twelve and three-quarter inches.
Morris had thought wizards' wands would have all sorts of special effects, or at least an inlaid gemstone or something. Unfortunately, all he got was a thick black stick.
Apart from some uneven markings on its surface, there was nothing on it.
If he were given another one, perhaps he could use them as chopsticks.
Once Morris had made his choice, Ollivander seemed even more excited than he was.
"Hornbeam, Thestral tail hair, an excellent choice, Mr. Black," Ollivander said, waving his arms. "Though it may be a little stiff. My own wand is hornbeam too. Wands made from this material give their full support to a strong-willed master."
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."
"You're welcome. Seven Galleons in total. Would you like a wand-care kit as well?"
Morris politely declined.
"Really?" Ollivander looked disappointed. "Be sure to take good care of your wand, my boy."
Morris continued to turn down Ollivander's sales pitch.
After all, he wasn't the one paying.
Professor McGonagall took a heavy velvet pouch from inside her robes, carefully counted out seven gleaming gold Galleons, and placed them on the counter.
"Do come again," Ollivander said, deftly sweeping the gold coins into a drawer and winking at Morris. "Hornbeam wands hate being neglected. Remember to use it often, and the two of you will develop an extraordinary understanding."
It was nearly noon when they left the wand shop.
Although they had already chosen the most important item, his wand, they still had a great many things to buy.
"This may take longer than I expected," Professor McGonagall said. "Apart from the wand, I suggest you buy everything else secondhand. That will save you quite a bit of money to use as pocket money later."
"What if I buy everything new?" Morris asked.
Professor McGonagall stopped and looked at him seriously. "The choice is yours. But in that case, the fund will only cover your school supplies, and you'll have no pocket money at all this term."
She added, "Although Hogwarts provides room and board, there will always be times when you need to spend extra."
Morris sighed.
The troubles of being poor.
I wonder if Hogwarts offers any extra scholarships.
Fortunately, he had no objection to secondhand things.
It was only a minor issue.
Apart from his toothbrush, practically everything he used at the orphanage was secondhand.
Otherwise, it was supplies donated by kindhearted people and organizations.
However, Morris had heard from a carer that the government provided ample funding for everyday living expenses, enough to buy new daily necessities as well.
Who knew whose pockets that money had ended up in?
The more he thought about it, the more frightening it became.
The shopping took some time.
A wand, textbooks, glass phials, a telescope, brass scales, a cauldron...
All that remained now was clothing.
"There's no need to worry about that," Professor McGonagall said. "Diagon Alley has a shop specifically for secondhand robes."
The secondhand robe shop was in a quiet alley on the north side.
The shop was surprisingly quiet inside, with several rows of neatly arranged clothing racks hung with all sorts of robes.
A faint scent of camphor wood drifted through the air, along with music resembling jazz from somewhere unknown.
The shopkeeper was an elderly woman wearing half-moon glasses.
As soon as Morris entered, something standing in the corner caught his attention.
It was a skeleton. A human one.
Perfectly proportioned, like a carved piece of jade.
The curves of the skull were regular, its sutures fitted tightly together, and the ribs spread out distinctly within the rib cage, with a translucent quality. The bones of its limbs likewise maintained a perfect shape...
Morris couldn't help staring, transfixed.
He felt an inexplicable heat rise within him.
It was like a fanatical collector encountering a treasure he had dreamed of obtaining.
"..."
Fortunately, he quickly came to his senses without doing anything improper.
But why was a human skeleton like this in a secondhand robe shop?
Even using it as a clothing mannequin seemed rather inappropriate.
Unlike Morris, Professor McGonagall was quite calm-there were even dancing skeletons in the Wizarding World, so a human skeleton was nothing remarkable.
Besides, this skeleton couldn't possibly be from a real person-the real ones were all next door in Knockturn Alley.
Choosing robes went smoothly.
Even after they had bought everything, the image of that human skeleton still lingered in Morris's mind.
Damn it, was he really a pervert?