Alan followed Professor McGonagall out of the alley.
After crossing the road, the two of them arrived between a large bookstore and a record shop. For some reason, this place always gave Alan an indescribable sense of weirdness.
Professor McGonagall noticed his puzzled expression and smiled. "Does it feel a bit strange? Look closer."
After a moment, Alan suddenly realized that the scenery before his eyes had changed. Between the bookstore and the record shop, a dilapidated building began to manifest. A simple sign hung at the entrance: The Leaky Cauldron.
This was magic, Alan's subconscious told him.
Professor McGonagall led him into the pub. Just like the impression given by its dilapidated exterior, the inside was equally dim and old, with a bar counter, a few tables, and messy portraits hanging all over the walls. It didn't look like a pub—that was Alan's first impression.
"Don't pay any attention to strangers," Professor McGonagall instructed him like a mother.
They didn't linger, passing straight through the public area to the backyard. Curiously, the backyard here was surrounded by walls on all sides, with only a single trash can leaning lonely against the wall.
"Remember this trash can, Alan. Count three bricks up, then two across."
Professor McGonagall found the right spot and tapped the stone brick lightly. Immediately, the brick began to quiver and slide to both sides, forming an archway wide enough for two people to pass through. Behind it was a winding alley, its sides densely packed with all sorts of buildings. Some of them completely defied common physical laws. It had a very magical world atmosphere.
This must be Diagon Alley.
"Follow me," Professor McGonagall reminded Alan, who was looking around. "We'll go buy a wand first; that's the most important thing."
She led him through the bustling crowd, explaining, "Hogwarts has a special fund set up for students like you. The cost of all necessities will be covered by the fund."
"Of course," she added sternly, "this is limited to school supplies and does not include sweets or other extra expenses."
Alan nodded.
"In fact, it's been a long time since anyone used this fund," Professor McGonagall said conversationally. "In recent years, you're the only student from a children's home. The last time was..."
She shook her head slightly and let the thought trail off. "Ollivander's wand shop is just ahead. We're almost there."
Although Alan found it a bit strange, he wasn't very interested in the matter, so he didn't ask further.
Ollivander was an interesting old man, at least in Alan's opinion. Picking out a wand didn't take very long. After using an ill-fitting wand to send a chair flying and blow out the shop's only light bulb, Alan successfully chose the one that suited him.
Hornbeam, Thestral tail hair, twelve and three-quarter inches.
Alan had thought a wizard's wand would have all sorts of special effects, or at least be set with a gemstone, but unfortunately, he only got a thick, black stick. Aside from some uneven grain, there was nothing on it. If he were given another one, he might even be able to use them as chopsticks.
When Alan finished his selection, Ollivander seemed even more excited than he was.
"Hornbeam and Thestral tail hair. A fine choice, Mr. Black." Ollivander waved his arms. "It might be a bit stubborn. My own wand is also hornbeam. Wands made of this material tend to choose masters with strong wills and support them fully."
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."
"You're welcome. That will be seven Galleons. Would you like a wand maintenance kit as well?"
Alan politely declined.
"Really?" Ollivander wore a look of regret. "You must take good care of your wand, child."
Alan continued to refuse Ollivander's sales pitch. After all, he wasn't the one paying.
Professor McGonagall took a heavy velvet pouch from inside her robes and carefully counted out seven glittering gold Galleons onto the counter.
"Come again," Ollivander said as he skillfully swept the gold coins into a drawer, winking at Alan. "A hornbeam wand hates being neglected. Remember to use it often. You'll build an extraordinary rapport."
It was nearly noon when the two of them stepped out of the wand shop. Although the most important item had been selected, they still had a lot to buy.
"This might take longer than I thought," Professor McGonagall said. "Aside from the wand, I suggest you buy the rest of your things secondhand. That will save you money to use as pocket money later."
"What if I buy everything new?" Alan asked.
Professor McGonagall stopped and looked at him seriously. "The choice is yours. However, if you do that, the fund will only cover the cost of school supplies, and you won't have any pocket money for this semester." She added, "Hogwarts provides room and board, but there will always be times when extra expenses are needed."
Alan sighed. Truly the troubles of poverty. He wondered if Hogwarts had any extra scholarships.
Fortunately, he didn't have any problem with secondhand items. It was just a minor issue. Aside from his toothbrush, the items he used in the children's home were basically all secondhand, or they were supplies donated by kind-hearted people.
However, Alan had heard from the caregivers that the government provided sufficient funds for daily living expenses, enough to buy new necessities. He wondered whose pocket that money eventually ended up in. It was truly terrifying to think about.
Shopping took some time. Wand, textbooks, glass phials, telescope, brass scales, cauldron. Next, only various clothing items remained.
"Don't worry about that," Professor McGonagall said. "Diagon Alley has a shop specifically for secondhand robes."
The secondhand robe shop was in a quiet alley on the north side. The shop was surprisingly quiet, with several rows of clothing racks neatly arranged, filled with all sorts of robes. A faint scent of camphor drifted in the air, along with music resembling jazz coming from somewhere unknown.
The shopkeeper was an old woman wearing half-moon spectacles.
As soon as Alan entered, he was drawn to something placed in the corner. It was a skeleton—a human one. Perfect proportions, like a piece of carved jade. The curves of the skull were regular, the sutures tightly fitted; the ribs of the thoracic cage spread out distinctly with a translucent quality, and the bones of the limbs also maintained perfect form.
Alan couldn't tear his eyes away. He felt a strange heat blooming in his chest, like a fanatical collector who had encountered a long-dreamed-of treasure.
Fortunately, he quickly snapped out of it and didn't behave in any unseemly manner. But why was such a human skeleton placed in a secondhand robe shop? Using it as a clothes mannequin was also somewhat inappropriate.
Unlike Alan, Professor McGonagall was quite calm. There were even dancing skeletons in the wizarding world; a human skeleton was nothing special. Besides, this skeleton couldn't possibly be real—the real ones were all in the neighboring Knockturn Alley.
The process of choosing robes went smoothly. But until they had bought everything, the image of that human skeleton still lingered in Alan's mind.
Damn, he's not really a pervert, is he?
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