Professor McGonagall led Julien and his parents into the small backyard behind the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn't much—just a cluttered space with a dustbin tucked against the far wall.
"See this spot, Julien?" she said, pointing at the bin. "Remember the sequence: three bricks up, two across, then tap three times. You'll use your wand, of course—we'll buy that shortly."
"Professor McGonagall, what if the dustbin gets moved?" Julien had been curious about this for ages.
She gave him a dry look. "You really think the entrance is fixed in place? You'll understand later—it's tied to space magic and alchemy."
With no time to chat, she demonstrated. At her precise taps the bricks began to quiver, twist, and rearrange themselves, sliding apart to form a neat archway.
On the other side, bright sunlight poured down on a bustling cobblestone street lined with shops whose windows overflowed with flying brooms, self-stirring cauldrons, and glowing crystal balls. This was Diagon Alley.
"My God…" Clara pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes wide with wonder. Altair looked like a country boy seeing the big city for the first time, staring open-mouthed at a length of rope that was magically bundling parcels by itself outside the nearest shop.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Professor McGonagall said with quiet pride.
They followed the winding cobblestone path until McGonagall stopped at their first stop in the wizarding world:
A towering white building that stood out sharply among the surrounding shops, guarded by strange figures in scarlet-and-gold uniforms.
The guards were much shorter than adult wizards, thin and wiry, with oversized bald heads and sharp, pointed features—long, hooked noses and jutting chins. If Julien had to describe them, they looked exactly like goblins from the comics of his previous life.
Noticing Clara clutching her husband's arm in alarm, McGonagall reassured her. "No need to be afraid. This is the wizarding bank—Gringotts. And these are goblins. They have an extraordinary head for numbers and manage all our finances."
"They don't exactly look friendly," Altair muttered under his breath.
"I completely agree with your assessment," McGonagall replied without missing a beat. "But you can rest easy—your money is safer here than anywhere else. They guard other people's gold even more fiercely than their own."
The great bronze-and-silver doors carried an engraved warning that, if turned into a couplet, would have read:
Top line: Greedy souls, kindly leave
Bottom line: Gold and silver, please come in
Horizontal scroll: Strangers with money, enter here
With McGonagall leading the way, the family stepped inside Gringotts, hearts pounding.
The interior was vast and soaring. Tall counters lined both sides of the hall, each one manned by a goblin who watched every visitor with shrewd, cold eyes.
One of the goblins recognized McGonagall and greeted her at once. "Good morning, Professor McGonagall."
"Hello, Griphook." She guided them to that counter.
After a quick explanation of the frankly ridiculous exchange rates between wizarding currency and Muggle money, Altair and Clara converted some pounds into Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.
As McGonagall had warned, there was a strict limit. Luckily they had come prepared. Clara produced several pieces of gold and silver jewelry plus a small box of uncut gemstones.
"Will these do?" she asked nervously.
The goblin picked up a gold ring, examined it through a magnifying glass, then held a ruby up to the light. A greedy smile spread across his face. "Excellent quality, madam. We can offer you a very… fair price."
The transaction was swift. Moments later Julien's pockets felt satisfyingly heavy. His very first Galleons—and they were all his.
Next stop: school robes.
Between the plain sign of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and the flower-filled elegance of Madam Rosmerta's Wizarding Attire, McGonagall headed straight for Madam Malkin's without hesitation.
Inside it was warm and welcoming, smelling of fresh fabric, starflower, and the faint scorch of an iron. Walls were lined with every kind of robe imaginable—from standard first-year black ones to star-and-moon divination cloaks and ball gowns with blinking buttons.
Clara was dazzled. Even McGonagall couldn't help stealing extra glances at a few of the dress robes.
"Oh, my dear Minerva! Another little Hogwarts witch—or wizard!" Madam Malkin swept forward in a deep-green iris-velvet gown, hair pinned perfectly, her measuring tape wriggling like a living thing between her fingers.
"Let's see… three sets of standard first-year robes, plus a winter cloak with silver fastenings…" Madam Malkin had clearly spotted that this family was not short of Galleons.
Altair and Clara immediately agreed to her suggestions.
The tape measure shot into the air on its own, whipping around Julien—measuring shoulders, arms, waist—at such speed it left motion blur.
Julien stood perfectly still, not daring to move, though he thought wryly, Any faster and this thing's going to truss me up like a Christmas turkey.
"Madam Malkin," he said quietly while his mother and McGonagall were distracted by the formal gowns, "besides the standard robes, could you make me a few more… practical versions?"
"Practical?" Madam Malkin paused. The tape measure hovered in mid-air like a confused snake.
She pushed up her round glasses and stared at the serious-faced boy. "My dear, Hogwarts has very strict uniform rules. You can't turn up to Transfiguration in something out of a rock band. Professor McGonagall would turn you into a slipper." She jerked her chin toward McGonagall's back for emphasis.
"Nothing flashy," Julien hurried to explain. "Just some small improvements on the standard design."
"Improvements? The Hogwarts uniform has been perfected over decades. What exactly did you have in mind?"
"Well, for example," Julien continued calmly, "trousers that are still wizard-style but with slightly narrower legs for easier running."
"Sleeve cuffs with hidden buttons or elastic—so they stay neat when you're working, and, uh, won't get splashed during Potions."
"A cloak lining made of protective material—so if it rains or… well, in case of a Petrification charm or something, at least you won't catch a cold."
"And if you could add a few hidden pockets inside the robes—perfect for quills, potion ingredients, or… a wand."
He demonstrated on his own jacket sleeve. "See this? One quick tug and a dagger slides right out. Don't worry—I haven't bought my wand yet, so I'm just using a knife as an example."