Louis had three main obstacles to entering Hogwarts.
First, the Quill of Acceptance and the Book of Admittance.
These two items were probably Louis's greatest enemies. They could detect and record all children with magical talent throughout Britain, and Hogwarts would send admission letters when they reached the appropriate age.
As a pure Muggle, his name would certainly not be recorded there.
Fortunately, they were inanimate objects. As long as he insisted they had made an error and demonstrated magical talent, he should be able to get by.
Second, purchasing a wand.
Buying a wand required going to Ollivanders in Diagon Alley, where wands were typically chosen one-on-one, and there had to be sufficient signs to be considered suitable for a particular wand.
But for a Muggle, a wand was just a stick - no matter how much you waved it, nothing would happen.
This was manageable - he could probably fool them using Magic Hand and illusions.
Third, there was Dumbledore, the old wizard.
He was an old wizard with rich experience and wisdom, and despite his age, he remained energetic.
He was also a master of Legilimency - he could see through a person's heart with just a glance.
But he was a good person, and good people had principles and would show mercy. This gave Louis room to maneuver in many situations, so he wasn't too difficult to deal with.
The flying motorcycle landed openly on Charing Cross Road, spinning to a stop right at the Leaky Cauldron.
At this hour, there weren't many people on Charing Cross Road, just the occasional drunk passing by. But none of them noticed the motorcycle that had descended from the sky - they just muttered drunken words only they could understand and automatically avoided the area around the Leaky Cauldron.
Because they had stopped directly at the Leaky Cauldron, passing through the range of the Muggle-Repelling Charm, both Louis and Mr. Wilson were unaffected and could immediately see the shabby sign and dusty wooden door.
"So this is the Leaky Cauldron? It certainly looks very mysterious," said Mr. Wilson, whose legs were a bit weak from riding the invisible motorcycle the whole way, as he climbed down using Louis's shoulder for support.
"You're the first Muggle to say that. Usually they complain about this place being too run-down," Hagrid boomed.
"That's understandable. Your storefront really isn't done very well. Although it's very mysterious, it's also too heavily aged. But I can understand - I imagine this place isn't open to ordinary people," Mr. Wilson shrugged.
"There was a time when it was indeed open to Muggles, and the wizards here welcomed Muggle visitors. But you know, oh wait, you don't know - wizards have always been oblivious to others. The topics they discuss are too bizarre for Muggles, and many Muggles couldn't accept it and just left directly."
Hagrid parked the motorcycle and picked up his broken umbrella. "Let's go, time to head inside."
The doorbell chimed "ding-dong" as Hagrid pushed the door open. In the empty pub, only an old man was using magic to direct a cloth to wipe glass cups.
"Oh, Hagrid, haven't seen you in a while. What have you been up to lately?" The old man glanced at Hagrid but didn't notice the other people standing behind his large frame.
Mr. Wilson wasn't dissatisfied with being overlooked - he was curiously watching the cloth that could move by itself, his hands itching to touch it.
"Tom, good evening. We indeed haven't seen each other in a long time. I've been doing work for Dumbledore - can't say what specifically, but there's one thing I can tell you." Hagrid pulled Harry out from behind him. "Look, who's this?"
The old man called Tom glanced over casually at first, then suddenly seemed to remember something, his gaze stopping on Harry's forehead.
"Oh my goodness, he's Harry Potter!" Tom stood up from behind the bar, nearly knocking over his glass.
Harry was startled by the reaction and tried to hide behind Hagrid, but Hagrid held him firmly in place.
Mr. Wilson was equally startled. He looked at Tom, then at Harry, then moved closer to Louis and said, "It seems the Dursleys' little nephew has quite an extraordinary status here."
Of course it was extraordinary - this was the Boy Who Lived.
Louis thought this but didn't say it aloud, just nodded with the restraint befitting a normal underage Muggle wizard.
"That's right, Harry Potter, the great Harry Potter," Hagrid laughed heartily, looking proud by association.
"Hagrid, is there something wrong with me?" Harry had never experienced this kind of attention before. He felt some joy in his heart but was also somewhat uncomfortable.
"Nothing's wrong. You're a hero here, because you killed You-Know-Who when you were little," Hagrid patted Harry's shoulder. "Alright Tom, enough talk. Give us three rooms. It's getting late and we should rest. Tomorrow we still need to take little Harry and young Mr. Wilson here to buy school supplies."
"No problem, third floor," Tom said, tossing over three keys. "If you need anything, just call me and I'll send the cleaning lady up."
"Thanks, I'll come drink here another day," Hagrid waved his large hand and led Harry and the Wilson father and son upstairs.