Only Sofia and the nanny were home at the time. The two women sat silently opposite each other in the living room, each cradling a cup of steaming black tea, waiting for Ethan to return.
Sofia actually had countless questions swirling in her mind, but they were all too chaotic and tangled; she had no idea where to start.
"Mum, I'm home!" Ethan called out as he pushed open the front door.
"Ethan, hurry! A professor from your school is here for a home visit!"
"Professor? We don't have professors at primary school. I've never heard of that before." Ethan walked toward the living room, genuinely puzzled.
Professor McGonagall rose to her feet with perfect posture. "Good afternoon, Mr Jones. I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts."
Ethan's face instantly lit up with delight. "Professor McGonagall! Hello!"
"Good afternoon. We have not received your reply for quite some time and were concerned you might be experiencing difficulties. The Headmaster sent me to visit and confirm your final decision regarding enrolment at Hogwarts."
Ethan explained hurriedly, "We've been waiting for someone from the school! Of course I want to attend Hogwarts, but I couldn't find an owl to send the letter, so we never managed to reply."
"Ah, I see. That was our oversight. The owl that delivered your acceptance letter returned straight to the castle and has not been seen since."
We assumed something had gone wrong, which explained the lack of response. But now that I've met you in person, certain things make far more sense.
Professor McGonagall smiled faintly, giving Ethan an appraising look from head to toe.
At this point Sofia finally gathered her thoughts. "Professor McGonagall, could you please tell us more about Hogwarts? We know absolutely nothing about the school, and I'm worried whether Ethan will be able to adapt."
Seeing the open concern on the mother's face, McGonagall began patiently. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded over a thousand years ago in the tenth century by four of the greatest witches and wizards of the age…"
Ethan listened with rapt attention. He had long forgotten—or perhaps never truly grasped—these details. Hearing the history from the real, living Professor McGonagall made it feel far weightier than anything the films had ever conveyed.
He kept raising questions, some of which even stumped the professor.
"Professor, why aren't the exchange rates between Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts nice round numbers? Even the pound is strange with its twenty shillings, but still…"
These were questions Professor McGonagall had clearly never considered. Her only reply was a mild, "It is wizarding tradition."
Ethan clicked his tongue. "Okay."
Perhaps sensing the boy could keep going for hours, McGonagall wrapped up the brief history lesson and basic wizarding-world introduction, then rose to leave.
"I shall return promptly at ten o'clock on Saturday morning to escort Mr Jones to purchase his books, robes, and all other necessary equipment."
With that, she prepared to Apparate, but Sofia stopped her. "Professor, one more thing—how do we obtain wizarding currency?"
McGonagall paused, realising her omission. "My apologies; I became rather caught up answering your son's questions."
The wizarding world has its own bank—Gringotts—run by goblins. Muggles may exchange pounds for Galleons up to a limit of two hundred. Gold and precious gems, however, may be exchanged without restriction.
Seeing Ethan open his mouth again, McGonagall vanished with a soft crack before another question could escape.
"I was only going to say goodbye…" Ethan shrugged innocently at his mother.
Sofia laughed and ruffled his hair. She had never known her usually quiet son could talk the hind legs off a donkey.
That evening, when Albert returned home, Sofia told him about the planned Saturday shopping trip. Curiosity instantly won; he cancelled all weekend plans to see the wizards' shopping district for himself.
Saturday arrived in a flash.
Professor McGonagall knocked on the Jones residence at exactly ten o'clock.
Noticing the heavy backpack sagging from Ethan's shoulders, she asked curiously, "What on earth are you carrying? We won't need food; we'll be finished long before lunch."
"Gold, Professor. Two hundred ounces." Ethan's blunt answer left McGonagall momentarily speechless.
The Jones home already screamed wealth, but two hundred ounces of gold carried so casually was another level entirely. Having grown up in the Muggle world herself, the professor knew exactly what that amount represented.
"Are you planning to buy out the entirety of Diagon Alley?" she asked, half-joking.
Ethan only smiled and said nothing.
In truth, this was the result of lengthy negotiation. His father had insisted "the more money the better," and the two hundred ounces were merely what Ethan could physically carry. He still remembered Albert's words that night:
"Son, I don't know what the wizarding world is like, but money always speaks. Being rich is never a disadvantage."
"Let us be off. Our first stop is the Leaky Cauldron in London."
Though the couple had no idea where this peculiar pub was located, at McGonagall's insistence Albert drove them himself in the family car—no driver allowed, to avoid exposing unnecessary Muggles.
Albert, who hadn't driven in years, navigated the London streets with exaggerated care.
Ethan sat in the front passenger seat; Professor McGonagall and Sofia occupied the back.
"Professor, how do wizards normally travel? Do you use cars too?" Ethan asked, already knowing the answer but wanting conversation.
"No, wizards are forbidden from enchanting Muggle artefacts on a large scale. Our preferred methods are broomsticks, Floo powder, Portkeys, the Knight Bus, and of course Apparition—which you will learn in your sixth year."
"Only broomsticks? Wizards can't fly without them?"
He feigned surprise—he distinctly remembered certain dark wizards, Voldemort included, flying unaided in the films.
"I'm afraid not every wizard is like the fairies in Muggle stories, Mr Jones. You will understand better once term begins."
Ethan opened his mouth for another question, but McGonagall cut him off—they had arrived.
Albert parked and stared around in confusion. "This is it? I only see a bookshop and a record store. Where's the pub?"
Ethan realised at once: as Muggles, his parents literally could not see the Leaky Cauldron.
After finding a discreet parking spot, the family followed Professor McGonagall toward what, to Albert and Sofia, looked like a blank brick wall between the shops.
To Ethan, the battered black sign reading The Leaky Cauldron swung gently in the breeze, welcoming them into the hidden heart of magical Britain.