Butler Tom nodded solemnly.
Dumbledore added, "I know you're quite wealthy, but Gringotts has strict rules about exchanging gold nuggets for Galleons."
Erwin replied, "Better safe than sorry. Money isn't everything, but without it, you're stuck."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "What a refreshingly straightforward view. Simple, yet spot on."
Erwin chuckled. "Whether it's the wizarding world or the Muggle one, the basics never change. The only twist here is the magic."
"Experience does sharpen the mind," Dumbledore said warmly. "Mr. Cavendish, you'll make an exceptional wizard."
Erwin inclined his head. "Thank you, Headmaster."
Moments later, Butler Tom returned lugging two sturdy black suitcases. "All set, young master."
Erwin nodded. "Ready when you are, Professor. Mind if I bring along some help? I might need a hand with the shopping—I'm not exactly built for hauling trunks yet."
Dumbledore smiled. "Not at all. Let's be off."
Rivers lingered nearby, his eyes wide with unspoken envy. The wizarding world called to him like a siren's song, but Erwin pretended not to notice.
"Rivers, mind the house," Erwin said firmly. "And try using that brain of yours for once. No more blunders, alright?"
Rivers mumbled an "oh" and fell silent, not daring to argue.
Dumbledore led the way out of the old Cavendish manor, Butler Tom trailing with the luggage. At the threshold, Butler Tom asked, "Shall I fetch the car, young master?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "No need for that. Just hold onto my wrist."
Erwin gripped it without hesitation, snatching one suitcase from Butler Tom as the butler took point. Dumbledore made no visible gesture, no incantation—nothing.
Then the world twisted. Erwin felt like he'd been flushed down a drain, a wave of dizziness slamming into him like a rogue Bludger. He staggered but held his ground.
Back at the manor, Rivers gaped as a swirling vortex swallowed the trio whole. They vanished in an instant. He glanced at the patrolling guards nearby. "Did you see that?"
The man frowned. "See what?"
Rivers shook his head. No one else had noticed. Wizards' tricks—terrifying stuff.
They rematerialized in a dingy London alley, before a weathered pub that looked ready for the wrecking ball. To Muggle eyes like Butler Tom's, it was just a grimy wall. Passersby bustled past, oblivious to their sudden arrival.
Butler Tom, face ashen and years weighing heavy, doubled over and retched. Erwin, paler than usual, drew deep breaths to steady himself. Youth or raw talent, he fared better than the butler—but it still felt like his insides had been rearranged.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Remarkable resilience. Many young witches and wizards suffer far worse on their first Apparition. You'll take to it like a natural in your seventh year."
Erwin exhaled sharply, composing himself. "Fingers crossed."
Butler Tom straightened, wiping his mouth. Dumbledore gestured ahead. "Right, then. In we go, Mr. Cavendish. Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron—the gateway to our world."
He pushed open the door, and the hidden pub sprang into view for Butler Tom: a cozy, smoke-hazed den crammed with odd patrons in robes and pointed hats. The butler blinked, awe and dread mingling. How? A wizard's secret, no doubt. But his young master— the brilliant heir of the Cavendish line—was stepping into this realm.
Excitement gleamed in Erwin's eyes, sharp and calculating.
No more Muggle constraints. From this moment, he belonged among the extraordinary.
Inside, the chatter died as heads turned. Wizards nodded respectfully to Dumbledore, who returned the greetings with a genial wave.
The barkeep, a grizzled fellow also named Tom, bustled over. "Professor Dumbledore! Long time no see. And who's this?"
"A promising first-year, Mr. Cavendish," Dumbledore said. "A fine young man."
Tom beamed. "Pleasure, Mr. Cavendish. I'm Tom—everyone calls me Tom the barman around here."
Erwin nodded politely. "Charmed, sir."
He carried himself with easy grace, silver hair catching the dim light.
Tom tilted his head. "You move like pure-blood stock. One of the old families?"
Dumbledore interjected smoothly, sensing Erwin's unfamiliarity with the term. "Not quite—he's Muggle nobility, through and through. But we mustn't dawdle; shopping awaits, and time's short. Until next time, Tom."
The barkeep nodded. "Safe travels, Professor. And welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, Mr. Cavendish."
Erwin flashed a gracious smile. Dumbledore ushered them toward the rear courtyard, weaving past curious stares.
Even as they slipped into the alley, snippets of conversation drifted after them.
"A Muggle noble? Blimey."
"Polite sort, with that silver hair—almost Malfoy-esque."
"No way. Malfoys are platinum blondes. This lad's got proper silver."
"Foreign pure-blood, maybe?"
"Who knows? Hogwarts taking international students now?"
"Speaking of, heard Harry Potter's enrolling this year. The Boy Who Lived!"
Erwin's lips quirked in amusement. Pure-blood? That held no allure. But wizarding nobility? Now that sparked his interest. The Cavendishes already commanded respect in Muggle circles. Here, he'd forge a new legacy—starting with himself. The name would echo through these halls one day, a beacon of wizarding prestige.