The next day, Morris woke up very early.
After a quick wash, he went to the sitting room and found Harold already waiting for him.
The man in charge was pacing restlessly-this seemed to be a habit of his.
He glanced at the clock on the wall now and then, clearly looking forward to their upcoming trip to Diagon Alley.
"I've been waiting for you for ten minutes," Harold said, straightening his tie. "Anything we need to bring?"
"No," Morris replied.
Still, he brought his wand along-even though it was useless at present, it was just to make him look more like a wizard.
He noticed that Harold had made a point of changing into a neat suit today and had carefully combed his hair.
He almost looked respectable.
The two hurried to the entrance, where the car was parked.
Harold patted the hood rather proudly and said, "See this? A classic 1980 model... older than you, but it runs more smoothly than plenty of new cars."
Morris knew nothing about cars, but that one looked quite expensive.
Could running an orphanage make you rich?
He pondered this as he climbed into the passenger seat.
At the same time, Harold inserted the key and started the engine.
"All right, off we go," he said enthusiastically.
Yet thirty seconds passed, and the car remained where it was.
"Are we waiting for something?" Morris couldn't help asking. "Or has the car broken down?"
"No, we're not waiting for anything, lad." He tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel and whistled. "Actually, we're mainly waiting for you-you see, my car can go anywhere, provided I know the destination. I don't know where in London there's a place called Diagon Alley."
Only then did Morris realize that he had never told Harold exactly where Diagon Alley was.
However...
"Mr. Green, I hope you won't be angry."
"What is it?"
"I don't know exactly where Diagon Alley is either..."
"!?"
Harold turned toward him, somewhat speechless, and took a deep breath, seemingly struggling to remain patient.
"Wait." He rubbed his temples. "You mean you don't know where Diagon Alley is?"
"You catch on pretty quickly," Morris said calmly.
"..."
A second before Harold could lose his temper, Morris quickly added, "But I remember there was a very large bookshop beside it, and a record shop."
Harold had the persistent feeling that the boy before him was messing with him, but he had no proof.
"That isn't enough to find the exact location," he said coldly.
"That's all I know." Morris spread his hands. "Maybe we could drive around. I'll remember when I see the place. A big bookshop and a record shop-there shouldn't be too many combinations like that."
Harold stared at Morris for a few seconds, seemingly trying to judge whether he was joking. Finally, he sighed helplessly and gripped the steering wheel again.
"All right, we'll start with Charing Cross Road," he muttered as he shifted into gear. "It has more bookshops than anywhere else in London. Hopefully, we won't have to turn the whole city upside down."
Fortunately, it didn't take them very long.
The Leaky Cauldron was halfway down Charing Cross Road.
Although Harold couldn't see it, they made it inside the pub without trouble under Morris's guidance.
As far as Harold could see, he had merely taken two steps across an empty space before finding himself in this completely unfamiliar place.
"Don't pay any attention to strangers."
Morris repeated what Professor McGonagall had once told him.
Harold immediately obeyed, looking nervous.
The two walked into the backyard, one behind the other.
It was just as it had been before, with walls on all sides and a dustbin.
"Three bricks up, then two across..."
Harold held his breath as he watched Morris draw his wand and tap that particular brick three times.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Morris said softly.
Diagon Alley.
Harold looked around, unable to help feeling a little excited.
He had been to Charing Cross Road more than once, but had never imagined that a place like this lay hidden here.
This was the magical world!
He saw a snowy-white owl fly past the sign of Flourish and Blotts, while a copper kettle outside a nearby cauldron shop hummed a tuneless song all by itself.
Strange yet pleasant smells drifted through the air, leaving him feeling refreshed.
Morris reminded him, "Now we should have a look around. By the way, how much money did you bring?"
Harold instinctively covered his pocket and asked warily, "What do you want money for?"
"Admission," Morris said with a straight face. "Surely you didn't expect a tour of the magical world to be free?"
Harold's eyes widened as he stared at him in disbelief. "You never told me that. And... do wizards use ordinary people's money too?"
"I remember you saying yesterday that you'd give me pocket money," Morris said, already heading toward the white building. "We're going to Gringotts. They can exchange your pounds for Galleons and Sickles there-that's wizarding money. I happen to want to buy a few odds and ends besides textbooks, too-follow me."
Harold followed him, asking, "Do they take credit cards?"
Making their way through the bustling crowd, the two arrived at the entrance to Gringotts.
Several goblins stood at the doors.
It was Morris's first time observing these creatures up close. They were even shorter than he had imagined, with dark, wrinkled skin, long, pointed ears stretching backward, and a shrewd gleam in their eyes.
Honestly, they were a bit ugly.
As the two passed, the goblins even gave them slight bows.
"They seem very polite," Harold whispered to Morris. "Are they human?"
"They're goblins," Morris replied.
Inside the main hall stood a long row of counters, with goblins sitting on tall stools, busily working away.
Morris led Harold straight to an unoccupied counter that handled currency exchange.
"Hello?"
Morris tilted his head back to greet the goblin-with his height, that was his only option.
The goblin looked up from behind a tall ledger and said expressionlessly, "What business do you need handled?"
"I'd like to exchange some pounds for Galleons, sir," Morris said.
The goblin looked Morris up and down, then nodded knowingly. "A new Hogwarts student from the Muggle world, is that right?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Morris frowned slightly.
"Everything, of course." The goblin tapped the counter with his slender fingers. "If you weren't a Hogwarts student, we wouldn't exchange currency for you at all. Muggle money is of no use to us-we only agree to provide this service for Hogwarts' Muggle-born wizards."
"All right, I'm a new Hogwarts student." Morris nodded.
The goblin gave a faint snort and took out an exquisite set of scales. "Under the regulations, you may exchange no more than fifty Galleons a year."
Fifty Galleons? Morris was a little disappointed.
Still, that was reasonable enough.
For a wizard, earning pounds was far easier than earning Galleons.