"Can't British pounds be used in the magical world?" Alan asked, shifting his bag.
"You can exchange Muggle currency for Galleons at Gringotts. Five pounds equals one Galleon, but there is a strict limit; the maximum exchange is only one hundred Galleons per person," Professor McGonagall replied. Having handled admissions for years, she was well-versed in these details, though she didn't expect a boy from an orphanage to have significant savings. She assumed he just had some pocket money he wanted to convert.
"I see. In that case, I have enough." To McGonagall's surprise, Alan pulled out a thick wad of British pounds. He counted the notes with practiced ease. "This should cover everything, with a bit left over for the trip back."
McGonagall led Alan out of the orphanage and into a nearby deserted alley. "Normally, I would take you to Diagon Alley using Muggle transport or the Knight Bus, but the magical world is rather unsettled lately. I'm afraid you'll have to endure Apparition."
She drew her wand and offered her arm. "Take hold of my hand, Alan."
*Unsettled?* Alan turned the word over in his mind as he reached out.
With a sharp crack, the alley vanished.
"Ugh!" The moment they landed, Alan slumped against a brick wall, retching. The sensation was hideous—like being shoved into a pressurized vacuum and spun at high speeds until his bones felt like they were being squeezed into a tiny ball.
"I apologize. Most people find the first time quite distressing," McGonagall said gently. She pointed her wand at him, and a soft, warm stream of light flowed into his chest. The nausea began to recede.
Fortunately, Alan's physical conditioning and sense of balance were excellent. After a few deep breaths, he managed to stand straight.
*Is this magic? It feels a bit primitive,* Alan thought, though his face remained a mask of calm. *I expected a portal, not being put through a meat grinder.*
"Where to next? Do we have to do that again?"
"That wasn't just teleportation; it's Apparition. It is the standard mode of travel for adult wizards. You will be eligible to learn it in your seventh year." She gestured toward the street. "And don't worry, we are nearly there."
They walked for a few minutes until they reached a stretch of road between a record shop and a bookstore. Alan noticed a small, grubby-looking pub wedged between the two. It looked completely out of place, yet the people walking past didn't even glance at it.
"Can they not see that building?"
"Excellent observation, Alan. The pub is under heavy concealment charms. Muggles simply can't see the Leaky Cauldron."
"Professor, you keep using that word, 'Muggle.' Does it just mean people who can't use magic?"
"Yes. It refers to non-magical humans. Due to the International Statute of Secrecy, they are kept unaware of our existence." McGonagall's expression darkened slightly. She wondered how much longer that secrecy would hold given the current climate in Britain.
"I see. Then my parents were Muggles, too." Alan thought of his parents. He had looked into their records at the orphanage and found nothing out of the ordinary. He assumed his own magical talent was a byproduct of his reincarnation rather than heritage.
"Perhaps an ancestor was a wizard, or perhaps you are simply the first in your line. Hogwarts exists to help you master what is already inside you."
They entered the pub. It was dim and smelled of old wood and spilled ale. A few solitary figures sat in the shadows, and the barman was quietly wiping down glasses.
"Tom, how is business?" McGonagall asked.
"What can I say, Minerva? It's getting worse by the day. Aurors were brawling with someone in Knockturn Alley again last night. The blasts nearly took out my windows. People are staying home," Tom grumbled, sounding like a man who hadn't had a proper conversation in days.
"That's enough, Tom. I have a new student with me."
Tom glanced at Alan. "A first-year? Best hurry inside, then. It isn't safe out here once the sun goes down."
"Thank you, sir," Alan said politely.
"Good lad. Get along now," Tom replied, clearly appreciative of the manners.
McGonagall led Alan to a small walled courtyard behind the pub. "This is the entrance to Diagon Alley. Watch carefully, as you will need to do this yourself in the future."
She tapped her wand against the brick wall. "Three up, two across from the dustbin."
The bricks began to quiver and shift, folding away to form a wide archway.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley, Alan."
Alan watched the wall move with genuine fascination. Beyond the arch lay a cobblestone street lined with shops that defied the laws of physics. However, the street wasn't the bustling marketplace he had imagined. Several shops were boarded up, and the pedestrians weren't browsing—they were moving quickly, many of them in long trench coats, scanning the shadows.
"Professor, those people in the coats... they look like they're on patrol."
"Those are Aurors. As I mentioned, things are a bit tense, but this remains the heart of our commercial district. You are safe here, and you will be safe at Hogwarts. I promise you that."