Chapter Eleven: Greetings, Diagon Alley

“Hagrid?” Professor McGonagall thought for a moment. She clearly remembered that he was not among those who went to collect the Muggle-born students this year.

“Yes, bringing along our savior, Mr. Harry Potter,” Old Tom said mysteriously and excitedly.

Professor McGonagall suddenly understood—it was Harry, no wonder.

“We’ll keep an eye out for them in Diagon Alley,” Professor McGonagall nodded, then turned to Rogue. “Let’s go; it’s time for you to get your textbooks and wand.”

Upon hearing that Harry Potter was also in Diagon Alley today, Rogue thought about trying his luck—maybe he could meet the savior himself, and perhaps something interesting would happen.

“Where Harry is, Voldemort can’t be far,” Rogue thought, but then he reconsidered. With only a power level of 2.3, he couldn’t afford to waste it on the Dark Lord. Could Harry really flit around like a Dementor?

After bidding farewell to Old Tom, Professor McGonagall led Rogue to the backyard courtyard.

“Count three bricks up from the trash bin, then two bricks across, and tap with your wand…” Professor McGonagall took out her wand and taught Rogue how to open the passage to Diagon Alley.

“...tap three times.” Rogue knew this part by heart, but seeing the hole in the wall gradually widen still made him marvel at the magic world’s wonders.

The hole grew larger until an arched passage appeared. Walking along the passage to the end, one could see Diagon Alley.

“Professor McGonagall, what if someone moves the trash bin?”

“Child, that’s a very good question,” she replied approvingly. “Actually, a restoration charm is set on top of the bin. If anyone deliberately moves it, the bin automatically returns to its original place.”

“I see now!” Rogue suddenly understood.

Professor McGonagall continued, “Moreover, since this entrance was set up, no one has ever tried to move the bin. All wizards passing through know it’s the gateway to Diagon Alley and won’t move it without reason.”

“Even if someone did, we have other ways to enter Diagon Alley,” she smiled mysteriously. “For example, through the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron using Floo powder. So don’t worry, young Rogue, wizards always find a way to reach their destination.”

At first glance upon entering Diagon Alley, one could hardly miss the crooked white building right in the center of the alley—the Gringotts Bank.

“Rogue, that’s Gringotts, our wizarding bank,” Professor McGonagall pointed to the building. “It’s run by goblins. Inside, it holds the wizards’ gold, silver, treasures, and important items.”

“Wow, goblin-run?” Rogue’s eyes widened. “Without any wizards watching, isn’t it risky? Aren’t they afraid of theft?”

“The Ministry of Magic and the goblins are absolutely confident about that. Gringotts has the most advanced anti-theft enchantments to ensure everything inside is perfectly safe.”

“Are there any magical artifacts in Gringotts?” Rogue asked eagerly.

“There are indeed some ancient and pure treasures, but mostly it’s wizards’ cash and important documents,” Professor McGonagall smiled. “For example, the Hogwarts Fund is set up in Gringotts, allowing young witches and wizards from Muggle families to exchange a certain amount of Galleons each year until they graduate.”

She looked at Rogue. “Considering your situation, the school board has agreed to allocate you 100 Galleons.”

“That much?” Rogue’s eyes widened in surprise, but he politely declined.

“Professor McGonagall, thank you very much for your and the board’s kindness, but I have already borrowed my tuition from Uncle Malfoy.” Rogue pulled a bulging coin pouch from his loose robes; it was heavy and made no sound despite shaking.

“The money Uncle Malfoy lent me should be enough.”

Professor McGonagall frowned; she never liked the Malfoy family. “Child, though it’s not polite to say, Malfoy’s help might come with conditions. Are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

Rogue smiled. “Don’t worry, Professor. I’ll use the Galleons wisely. I expect the Ministry’s compensation to come through in a couple of days.”

Professor McGonagall nodded helplessly. Most donations to the school fund also came from the Malfoys, but borrowing money directly from Malfoy was a different matter.

“Well, since you’ve decided, I respect your choice. In that case, opening your student vault at Gringotts can wait a bit.”

“Let’s get your robes and wand first.”

There was a more upscale store in Diagon Alley, but parents uniformly chose Madam Malkin’s Robes for their young witches and wizards. Madam Malkin’s robes were not only warm but also self-repairing and self-ironing.

Usually, Madam Malkin would not sell robes that automatically adjusted to a young wizard’s growing body. A robe that could be worn for seven years would put her out of business. She would never sell such robes unless the customer insisted and paid accordingly.

“Professor McGonagall, I didn’t expect you to personally bring a young wizard to Diagon Alley!” A slightly short and plump witch in deep purple robes greeted them warmly—it was Madam Malkin herself.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Madam Malkin began to introduce the new Hogwarts student robes Rogue needed to purchase.

“Come, child, let’s take a look at these clothes.” Madam Malkin looked at Rogue, unable to imagine how the child could be so thin.

She found the smallest robe in the shop and put it on Rogue, but it still hung loosely and baggily—no wonder his previous clothes needed safety pins.

“This won’t do; it must shrink quickly,” Madam Malkin shook her head, waving her wand. The large robe visibly shrank on Rogue’s frame.

Though thin, Rogue’s bones were developing normally. The shrunken robe fit on the shoulders, but the sleeves and hem were still too short.

“Dear, it seems none of the ready-made clothes fit. The robe, pointed hat, gloves, even the cloak will have to be custom-made according to your measurements.” Madam Malkin fetched a measuring tape that automatically jumped onto Rogue and began taking measurements.

“Dear, would you like a cup of coffee while you wait, or would you prefer to come back later?” She noted down Rogue’s measurements, quietly wondering what the child had been through.

“Will it be ready today, Madam?” Rogue looked helplessly at his small arms and then at Madam Malkin.

“Of course. Why don’t you let Professor McGonagall take you to buy the other things first? I think by the time you’re back, the clothes will be ready.”

“Alright, Madam, thank you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have the clothes ready.” Madam Malkin smiled. “Go now, child, pick out your wand and books. I’ll speed things up to make sure your new robes are ready on time.”

“I suppose your wand won’t need to be custom-made to fit your size,” Madam Malkin joked, and everyone laughed.

Professor McGonagall led Rogue to the far end of Diagon Alley, where a cramped, narrow, and shabby little shop stood.

In the shop window, a wand lay on a faded purple cushion, displayed. The sign above the door was weathered and peeling, bearing the name: Ollivanders, Established 382 B.C.