"It's fine if you can't figure it out right now. Once you set foot in Hogwarts and begin your formal studies, you'll have plenty of time to think it over slowly."
Seeing Dylan stay silent for a long while, Professor McGonagall thought he was stuck and spoke gently to reassure him.
"Strictly speaking, the question you asked touches on the very roots of spellcasting. Many witches and wizards graduate without ever thinking about such things."
The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, drawing a few faint lines at the edges. Her face, usually so strict it bordered on rigid, softened for a moment.
"And you, little wizard, managed to have an insight the very first time you saw magic. That's quite impressive. After you enroll, if you have any questions about Transfiguration, you can always come to me. I would be very happy to discuss it with you."
"Oh? Really, Professor?" Dylan's eyes lit up.
"Of course." Professor McGonagall nodded.
Excellent—connections +1.
He really did have a whole basketful of questions and ideas about Transfiguration.
But those thoughts were obviously not things a Muggle child who had never been in touch with the wizarding world ought to be asking out loud.
He had been worrying that it might be inappropriate to pester her with questions after term started. Now that Professor McGonagall had brought it up herself, it could not be better.
Professor McGonagall was just as pleased as he was.
Such a bright young wizard—so long as he did not go astray, he might very well have a chance to stay on and teach at Hogwarts someday.
With that in mind, Professor McGonagall stood and said, "All right then, remember to take your reply with you. It's time we got going."
The Hawkwoods hesitated, but in the end they both agreed to let Dylan attend Hogwarts.
"Sweetheart, this is our savings. Being a wizard must be expensive, right? Take it all with you." Dylan's mom handed him a backpack.
"Thank you, Mom. I'll study magic hard and take care of you and Dad when you're old," Dylan said seriously.
Maeve looked deeply moved. "All right, off you go then, don't waste the professor's time."
Dylan turned his head and asked, "Professor McGonagall, are we going to Diagon Alley now?"
"Yes. We can get there by Apparition or by Floo Powder, but… this place is rather remote and there's no fireplace nearby, so we can't use the Floo Network."
Professor McGonagall took Dylan's hand.
"Remember, you must hold on to me tightly."
As soon as the words left her mouth, Dylan suddenly felt his body go weightless, and he hurriedly clutched her hand tighter.
The space around them twisted.
A moment later, the strange sensation faded, replaced by the noise of a crowd.
At the same time, a wave of nausea surged up his throat. Dylan reflexively swallowed it back down—
Which only made him feel even more like throwing up.
"Blergh!"
Professor McGonagall seemed used to this. She raised her hand, cast a quick spell, and Dylan immediately felt much better.
"This is a normal reaction the first time you Apparate. Don't fight it; you'll get used to it."
She smiled. "We've arrived."
After a short while, Dylan opened his eyes.
In front of him was a small, grimy pub squeezed between two neat buildings, looking as out of place as could be.
"The Leaky Cauldron—right here on a London street. Only witches and wizards can see it. Stay close to me."
McGonagall went to let go of his hand, but Dylan was still clutching her tightly.
She paused, then simply kept hold of him as she stepped inside.
"Professor McGonagall? Long time no see! Fancy a drink?"
The barkeeper had just finished seating another customer. Spotting McGonagall, he eagerly pulled out a filthy rag and started rubbing a glass.
"Not particularly. And I've got a student with me," McGonagall said with a glance at him, then gestured for Dylan to follow.
They went around the bar and into a small, walled courtyard.
Dylan could not help but ask, "Professor McGonagall, is there really no cleaning spell?"
"Hm? Of course there is."
"Then why is the Leaky Cauldron so filthy? Why doesn't the owner use cleaning magic instead of wiping glasses with a dirty rag?"
McGonagall explained, "Having a spell and choosing to use it are two different things. Quite a few witches and wizards simply don't care about such things… I, of course, am an exception."
"That's why I never drink here. There's a little hidden place I rather like—clean, and with good drinks… That is to say, young man, underage wizards are not allowed to drink."
"I understand, Professor McGonagall." Dylan smiled faintly.
McGonagall drew her wand again. "Watch closely. You can't learn Apparition until you're at least seventeen, at which point you can come straight into Diagon Alley."
"So until then, if you want to come here, you'll have to make your way to the Leaky Cauldron and use this route."
As she spoke, she pointed her wand. "Count three bricks up from the trash bin, then two bricks sideways. Then tap it three times with your wand."
Her wand tapped, and the patch of brickwork in front of them began to quiver and shrink back.
In a moment, it had folded away into an archway, revealing a bustling shopping street beyond.
Dylan peered through.
At first glance, Diagon Alley was not that different from an ordinary market street, except everyone passing by was a witch or wizard, and every shopfront was decorated with a quaint, slightly shabby style.
"We need to go to Gringotts first and exchange the money in your backpack into wizarding currency."
McGonagall looked down at Dylan's bulging backpack. "Your parents clearly love you very much."
"Yes. And I love them too." Dylan smiled.
Fine lines gathered at the corners of McGonagall's eyes. "Follow me."
She took the lead, guiding Dylan to the front of Gringotts.
Dylan's gaze was immediately drawn to the warning carved on the second set of doors: "Enter, stranger, but take heed…"
"Bit overdramatic," Dylan muttered, glancing around curiously.
They passed through the two doors and entered a bright marble hall.
Dozens upon dozens of goblins sat behind a long counter, bending over huge ledgers as they recorded all manner of figures.
"Oh, Professor McGonagall! What can we do for you today?"
The moment she stepped inside, one goblin, clearly recognizing a Hogwarts professor, scrambled over with a fawning smile.
"Just a bit of currency exchange."
"Exchanging money?" The warmth dropped from the goblin's face in an instant. "In that case, I won't keep you."
As the goblin retreated, McGonagall glanced down at Dylan. "Pay them no mind."
Dylan nodded slightly. "I get it, Professor. All they see is money. Just like my dad's manager."
McGonagall froze for a moment, then reached out to ruffle his hair.
Everything after that went smoothly.
Almost none of the goblins spared Dylan a proper look, probably assuming that anyone here to exchange Muggle money was Muggle-born.
The goblins might have lost to wizards in history, but that did not mean they held Muggle-born witches and wizards in any higher regard.
"So British pounds can be exchanged into galleons with no upper limit?" Dylan narrowed his eyes slightly as he took the money.
Wizarding currency was obviously precious. As for Muggle money…
"A rate of one to five? At that rate, I just have to throw some money into a few random stocks and I'm bound to make a killing."
With this exchange rate, either the goblins looked down on Muggles so much they never bothered to study the pound's purchasing power—
Or they were simply blinded by greed, or they did not understand the first thing about economics.
"If there's a chance, even if I can't short Gringotts itself, I should at least give these uneducated guys a taste of how beautiful economics can be."