After settling the money issue, Professor McGonagall led Lewis into a nearby alley.
Surrey Orphanage was already located in a remote area.
And this alley? Not a single person in sight.
Lewis immediately felt a sense of unease.
Then he heard McGonagall speak.
"Mr. Lewis, to save time, we'll need to use magic to reach our destination. It may be a bit uncomfortable—please bear with it."
"Y-Yes… alright."
Lewis already knew what was coming.
"Then, hold onto my hand… Apparate!"
In an instant, his entire body twisted with discomfort, as if he had been stuffed into a washing machine drum—and someone had set it to spin dry.
A single second stretched into what felt like an eternity.
When his feet finally touched solid ground again, Lewis nearly collapsed. His stomach churned violently, and the cheap bread he had eaten for breakfast was on the verge of coming back up.
McGonagall gently patted his back and handed him a Chocolate Frog.
"My apologies, Mr. Lewis. How are you feeling?"
"We have quite a few new students to receive these days, so I had no choice but to travel this way. Have some—you'll feel better."
"I-I'm… fine, Professor McGonagall."
He placed the cool Chocolate Frog into his mouth.
The sensation of its legs twitching faintly, combined with the rich sweetness, instantly surpassed every low-quality dessert he had eaten in the past eleven years.
As expected—even just for the sake of good food, Hogwarts was worth it.
[You have personally experienced Apparition. Due to your discomfort, you have comprehended the spell: Dimensional Anchor.]
[Dimensional Anchor: Temporarily locks space, preventing others from using spatial movement magic.]
Why did I learn Dimensional Anchor instead of Apparition?!
Lewis felt a sudden pang of regret.
If his first reaction had been enjoyment instead of nausea, would he have mastered that overpowered mobility skill?
Then again, Dimensional Anchor blocked all forms of spatial movement—at least it was more versatile than spells that only countered Apparition.
Lewis raised his head.
Before him stood a tiny storefront—barely a third the size of the orphanage gate. At a glance, it could easily be mistaken for a public restroom entrance.
On either side were a bookstore and a record shop.
Compared to the flashy neon lights of its neighbors, this place looked ancient. Its sign was just a wooden board with no words—only a crude drawing of a cracked cauldron, large enough that Lewis felt he could crawl inside it.
It stood out in its oddness—yet passersby didn't even glance at it.
"This is our destination—the Leaky Cauldron, on Charing Cross Road," McGonagall explained. "It's protected by Muggle-repelling charms. Muggles can't see it."
She pushed open the door and led Lewis inside.
The interior was dim, lit by oil lamps.
Lewis felt that with lighting like this, adding a disco ball would turn it into a nightclub.
Unfortunately, the magical world didn't use electricity.
For such a famous place, it was surprisingly dirty and chaotic. Long wooden tables—rectangular, square, and round—filled the room. Wizards sat around drinking and chatting, each one looking just as peculiar as the bar itself.
As soon as they entered, several people greeted McGonagall.
Behind the counter, a balding man set down his glass and waved at them.
"Oh, Professor McGonagall! Haven't seen you in a while. Picking up new students this year?"
McGonagall nodded. "Yes, Tom. A Muggle-born wizard. I'm taking him to Diagon Alley to purchase supplies."
"Welcome, young man," the owner said warmly, nodding at Lewis. "Fine lad, you are. My granddaughter's starting this year too—you'll be classmates."
Lewis could feel it—his passive ability, Charm Person, had taken effect.
"Hello, Mr. Tom. I'm Lewis Green. It's an honor to be in the same class as your granddaughter."
After a brief exchange, McGonagall led Lewis out through the back door of the Leaky Cauldron.
They emerged into what appeared to be a dead-end alley, with a trash bin against the wall.
McGonagall stepped forward.
"Watch carefully," she said as she demonstrated. "Count three bricks up from the bin, then two across, and tap it with your wand."
The next moment, the solid brick wall began to shift.
Clack, clack, clack!
The bricks slid and rearranged themselves, forming an archway.
Beyond it lay a winding cobblestone street stretching into the distance.
Lewis followed McGonagall inside.
On both sides of the street were shops selling cauldrons, animals, herbs, books, and broomsticks.
Wizards in all kinds of attire moved in and out of the stores. Owls flew overhead.
This was Diagon Alley—the gateway to the magical world.
The dazzling sights left Lewis staring in awe. It was far more vivid than anything from the movies.
McGonagall smiled faintly. "There will be plenty of time for you to marvel later. For now, let's head to Gringotts. You have quite a lot to buy."
She quickened her pace, guiding Lewis forward.
After five or six minutes, they reached a fork in the road, where McGonagall finally stopped.
Across from them stood a three-story white building—Gringotts.
Among the otherwise ordinary wooden structures, this towering stone building stood out like a crane among chickens, grand and imposing from afar.
Though that impression didn't quite hold up close.
As they approached, Lewis noticed something disturbing—
The white marble pillars outside were crooked.
And not just slightly crooked—each one leaned in a different direction.
They weren't aligned at all. In fact, they didn't even lean the same way.
For someone with a technical mindset and mild OCD like Lewis, this was unbearable.
He silently swore that if he ever had the chance, he would renovate the place properly.
On either side of the bronze entrance doors stood goblin guards in red uniforms trimmed with gold.
They were short, but their expressions were arrogant, and the way they looked at people made Lewis uncomfortable.
Ignoring them, the two walked further inside to a silver door engraved with bold words:
"Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed."
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
"What do you think of this?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking at Lewis.
Unlike a typical young wizard, who might show awe and dutifully offer some standard observation, Lewis merely snorted.
"I only see their bluster, masking their cowardice."
Professor McGonagall paused, taken aback. After a moment, she nodded. "You're… right."
She suddenly realized that the child beside her was not only more mature than she'd expected, but also sharper.
She knew well that goblins excelled at metalwork but held a uniquely greedy and stubborn belief: anything they made was theirs. The payments they received were merely rent. Once the original owner died, they claimed the right to reclaim their creations.
This even included the Sword of Gryffindor.
This belief had caused numerous conflicts between goblins and wizards, even sparking several wars—all of which, of course, ended in goblin defeat.
Though the goblins ran the wizarding world's only bank and supposedly cooperated with wizards on equal terms, they were secretly uneasy and fearful. Unwilling to give up their greedy and prideful beliefs, they struggled to maintain appearances, but the shadow of their defeats forced them to abide by wizards' rules.
Bluster masking cowardice was a remarkably apt assessment.
Inside the vast hall, behind the tall counters on either side, Professor McGonagall quickly secured Lewis's loan.
The goblins had designed their counters to be extraordinarily high—higher than Lewis himself—in order to emphasize their superior position.
As a result, the chairs behind the counters were also very tall; Lewis suspected one needed a little ladder to get up and down.
"All right, Lewis, you have your loan." McGonagall led him out of the unpleasant place. "Now, the first thing we need to buy is your wand."