"Knock, knock, knock, knock—"
The wooden door was being knocked so forcefully that the impatience of the person outside was evident from the urgent sound.
"I already told you I don't have any money..."
Raising his hand to open the door, Mr. Richard, who was a bit financially embarrassed due to not hitting autumn wind, muttered softly.
The man's face at the door turned even darker than before. He took a deep breath, his pitch-black pupils staring intently at the boy in front of him, his words squeezed out through clenched teeth, "I am a professor at Hogwarts, Severus Snape—"
"...A professor at Hogwarts?"
Looking at the black bat outside the door, William's face still showed a hint of doubt.
Snape obviously noticed this too and was furious. It took him a while to barely squeeze out a nasal sound, "Mm—" from his nostrils.
"Oh, I apologize, Professor Snape." Realizing such an identity couldn't possibly be impersonated by a vagrant, William quickly stepped aside to let Snape into the house, "I just saw you picking up trash in the yard and thought..."
"I was..." Snape quickly walked into the living room, attempting to explain his behavior but ultimately choosing to drop it, and looked around, "So, where is your father?"
"...I don't have a dad."
"Then you..."
"I don't have a mom either." William blinked somewhat confusedly, "So the Wizard School doesn't do background checks before admissions? They just ask these questions directly face to face?"
"..."
Snape was silent for half a minute due to the short exchange of three sentences.
Hogwarts did make a background check; Minerva McGonagall, the deputy headmistress, was always diligent and responsible, unlikely to forget these — except Snape never looked at it. He rarely took on new students during the summer, especially not transfer students in their fifth year. This was supposed to be Professor McGonagall's task — but with Muggle-born little wizards being unusually numerous this year, an overwhelmed Professor McGonagall had to choose between Snape and Rubeus Hagrid —
And the outcome was obvious.
"...William Richard?"
Snape forced himself to clear his throat with a feigned calm.
"That's me."
William nodded, it seems the greasy-haired professor plans to let this matter slide.
"Since you're an orphan...of Muggle descent and willing to enroll at Hogwarts, you must be very curious about the Magic world—" Swallowing the word "orphan" back, Snape began in a very peculiar tone.
"Of course."
William's face showed just the right amount of curiosity and excitement, like a Muggle who has never witnessed magic.
"That's good. I'll show you the wonders of the Magic World."
Snape nodded with satisfaction; Minerva's taught process was useful — though his wording was a bit inconsistent with his temperament. He revealed his hand hidden under the cloak, and his distinct-jointed fingers were pinching a slender wooden stick.
Snape scanned the room and finally looked at the dirt in the corner of the living room, lightly waving the magic wand in his right hand.
"Tergeo—"
As if an invisible force surged from the stick, the stubborn stains on the floor vanished in the blink of an eye. Having done all this, Snape turned around and stared at William standing at the dining room entrance.
"Wow, is this magic?" A completely unconvincing exclamation, William was truly not a thespian.
"...Certainly. Next, I'll take you to Diagon Alley to procure the supplies you need for school, and once you have your own Magic Wand, I'll teach you some basic knowledge about magic."
Though the boy's reaction felt odd, Snape continued following Professor McGonagall's taught process.
"Diagon Alley? Where is that? How do we get there?" William asked, "By subway?"
"No...Since you're already in the fifth grade..."
Snape raised his hand to push back the hair in front of his eyes, revealing a slight smirk before reaching out to grab William's arm.
Then he grasped air.
"?"
"Uh, Professor, the bathroom is behind you—" Instinctively dodging the oily-haired hand, William looked up at the baffled Snape and pointed to a spot behind him.
"...What do you mean?" Snape widened his eyes, staring at William intently.
"There's shampoo by the sink...Though it's not magical shampoo; I mean, if your hair requires special shampoo." William tried to use a more tactful tone.
But these words seemed quite offensive to Snape, who stared at William with growing anger.
"You..."
"Alright, pretend I never said it, so Professor, what should I do?"
Pivoting to stand beside Snape, William interrupted Snape, preventing the impending eruption.
Snape, seemingly reminded of his professor status by this, suppressed his growing rage, "Grab my arm."
"Oh."
"Snap—Snap—"
With a piercing "snap" sound, the two standing in the living room vanished from sight.
...
London, Diagon Alley.
"Ahem—Ahem—"
William took a deep breath, easing the churning sensation in his stomach — he still wasn't used to the sensation of Apparition; compared to this method of travel, akin to being squeezed through a soft tube, he preferred Floo Powder or a Broomstick.
"This is Diagon Alley." With no sign of the nausea William expected, a somewhat dissatisfied Snape shook off the boy's hand from his arm, "I need to attend to some matters; you can wander around here by yourself. After two hours, meet me at Flourish and Blotts — I don't like being late."
With that, he swirled his cloak and turned to leave.
"Wait, Professor—"
"...What?"
"My scholarship, Professor McGonagall promised me in her letter—"
Hogwarts has excellent policies for little wizards without guardians, including scholarships — William's letter mentioned his lack of funds, which was the truth, since the werewolf had nothing besides a box of ingredients and was equally penniless.
Snape grunted, pulling a heavy pouch from his cloak and casually tossed it to William, "Use it sparingly; Hogwarts scholarships aren't meant for you all to waste."
"Thank you, Professor."
Watching the disappearing silhouette in the crowd, William turned back to the Diagon Alley he had long missed. Pulling out the shopping list sent by Hogwarts from his pocket, William hesitated for a moment before heading towards Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop—
To grab a bite first.
...
Harry Potter's face showed an expression of panic.
He had just escaped from the Borgin and Burkes shop, unsure of his current location, but the shops lining the streets, clearly related inescapably to Dark Arts, unmistakably told him —
He definitely wasn't in Diagon Alley.
Harry raised his hand to press on his broken glasses, striving to observe his surroundings — Harry had already forgotten about Malfoy and his father, and his immediate priority was clearly to escape this place.
Squinting hard, Harry tried to read a road sign outside a shop selling poison candles, but just as he backed up trying to focus, he felt as if he bumped into someone.
"Sorry, I..."
Harry quickly turned to apologize, but when he clearly saw the people before him, he immediately regretted why his glasses were only broken and not lost — this way, he could pretend not to recognize the group before him.
"Harry—Potter, why are you here?"
Snape squinted, staring at the boy who shouldn't be in this place, word by word, while behind him stood Malfoy father and son, who had just sold things at Borgin and Burkes.