Wayne didn't expect that Humphrey would say something like this. It was clear he must have gone back home yesterday and researched a lot about the magical world through channels in Downing Street.
He quickly explained Humphrey's job to Professor McGonagall, feeling a bit touched at the same time. The reason Humphrey investigated these matters was also for his nephew. Although the information was somewhat outdated, Wayne understood.
Professor McGonagall regarded Wayne thoughtfully. The status of this young wizard's family in the Muggle world was indeed quite high. They held a noble title that in the magical community was comparable to the well-established Pure-Blood Thirty. Many of the wizards born to Muggle families at Hogwarts, but it seemed there weren't many like Wayne.
However, that seemed fine; at least she wouldn't have to worry about explaining the myriad questions posed by various parents. Wayne readily accepted the existence of magic.
"Mr. Lawrence, since you have no questions, let's head to Diagon Alley," McGonagall said. "Oh, and bring some Muggle cash; you'll need to exchange it for wizard currency."
Taking a quick glance at the time, it wasn't even 9:30 yet, but McGonagall still appeared very anxious. Typically, guiding Muggle-born students for enrollment was a task shared among several heads of houses. However, this year McGonagall had a heavier workload because Professor Sprout was visiting a former student in the U.S., and Snape had been pulled away by Dumbledore. In the afternoon, she also needed to visit a young wizard's home, someone named Granger, if she recalled correctly.
"Please wait a moment," Wayne said obediently, nodding as he rushed upstairs to grab a backpack before coming back down. McGonagall took a glance, noticing it looked heavy, but didn't say much more. She placed a hand on Wayne's shoulder.
"Hold your breath; it may be a bit painful, but it will be over quickly."
Before Wayne could answer, McGonagall activated the Disapparition charm. With a loud pop, their forms spun and vanished, as if being sucked down a toilet. Wayne felt a whirlwind of dizziness, but as his vision sharpened, he realized they had arrived in a narrow alley.
"Disapparition," McGonagall explained. "It's one way wizards travel over short distances. The first time can be a bit disorienting, but it gets easier. Are you alright, Mr. Lawrence?"
"Nothing serious; just a bit dizzy," Wayne replied, quickly recovering and rubbing his slightly sore brow. He hadn't slept all night, and after the previous ordeal, he was feeling a bit fatigued.
Following McGonagall, they arrived at the entrance of a bar. The door was very dilapidated, standing in sharp contrast to the nearby record shop and bookstore. Passersby didn't seem to notice the bar's existence or perhaps didn't realize it was even there.
As the two entered the bar and saw McGonagall's face clearly, the previously noisy environment suddenly quieted considerably. Several wizards instinctively stood up, appearing tense, which made Wayne want to laugh. Most of the wizards in England were Hogwarts graduates, and many present had once been McGonagall's students. Now, seeing their former teacher brought back memories of the fear they had felt under her command, much like mice in the presence of a cat.
"Professor McGonagall," the bar owner Tom greeted with a smile. "Oh, this young wizard is quite charming. Is he a new student this year?"
Wayne smiled shyly. McGonagall nodded, "That's right. I'm bringing him to purchase textbooks and supplies. By the way, Tom, I remember your child is going to Hogwarts this year, right?"
"Of course!" Tom's face lit up. "Hannah has been looking forward to this day for so long, though she'll most likely be a Hufflepuff student."
McGonagall chuckled, "If a member of the Abbot family were to end up in Gryffindor, that would definitely make the front page of the Daily Prophet."
Many others laughed along. The Abbot family is also one of the Pure-Blood Thirty, whose members have all been Hufflepuffs for centuries without exception.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, McGonagall led Wayne through the bar and into a small courtyard surrounded by walls. Aside from a trash bin and some weeds, there was nothing else.
"Count three bricks up, then two bricks sideways," McGonagall murmured, pointing her wand at a brick that was conspicuously recessed compared to the others. She tapped it lightly three times.
The brick began to tremble and small holes appeared, which then widened, eventually revealing a winding cobbled path.
"Remember this brick and my movements, Mr. Lawrence, so you can come to Diagon Alley on your own in the future."
Wayne quietly asked, "Professor McGonagall, what if... I mean, what would happen if..."
"What if that trash bin were moved or replaced with a bigger or smaller one?"
McGonagall twitched her lips, looking at Wayne incredulously. The mere thought made her feel a bit panicked!
"Mr. Lawrence, there were once two young wizards who had the same idea as you, and they moved the trash bin to another side."
At this point, McGonagall pursed her lips, her expression turning grave: "Hogwarts received complaints, and as a result, their house lost... 50 points."
"After that incident, the trash bin was permanently glued and cannot be moved or replaced."
Wayne wisely refrained from asking which house those two young wizards belonged to. Given McGonagall's expression, he could guess.
Following the witch, Wayne stepped through the archway and set foot on the cobbled path. The bustling heart of the British magical community unfolded before his eyes. Countless shops lined both sides of the long cobbled street, many signs crooked and askew. Wizards were bustling about, and the sounds of Disapparition crackled in the air.
In the distance, a bright white building split Diagon Alley into two diverging paths.
"First, let's exchange some money, then we'll buy your wand."
All the while, Wayne's eyes wandered, roaming between the various shops. McGonagall had seen this scene countless times, but she couldn't help but smile at Wayne's eager silhouette as he hurried into Gringotts.
She recalled the question he had just asked and had a nagging feeling that this little fellow was not as obedient as he appeared.