Birthday morning came quickly and suddenly. It would seem yesterday I just closed my eyes in bed, blinked, and now it’s time to get up. As always, I did my exercises, washed my face, and went down to breakfast. He had just greeted the Knights when the doorbell rang.

“And who is impatient to visit our home early in the morning.” the foster father was indignant, getting up from the table and going to open the door. A minute later, he entered the dining room, accompanied by a lady in her early fifties. Tall and stately, in a black dress and green robe, she looked at Sarah and me with a stern look. ​​

“Good morning. I am Minerva McGonagall. I am the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, and I am authorized to convey to Mr. Maximilian Knight an invitation to study at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” she said in a dry voice, taking a yellowish envelope from the sleeve of her robe and handing it to me.

“Hello, nice to meet you,” we greeted, and I took the letter.

“Have a seat …” Father hesitated.

“Just a professor,” McGonagall said and sat down at the proposed seat.

I, in turn, opened the envelope and found there a letter on yellow parchment – the most common invitation to study at Hogwarts and a list of necessary things.

“I see you’re not particularly surprised,” McGonagall said, and it was only now that I noticed that the Knights weren’t really surprised.

“That would explain some of the weirdness that was happening to Max,” John said calmly, and Sarah just nodded.

“I see. What is required from me, and where to buy all this?”

McGonagall told me that accompanying me for shopping was her second purpose of visiting us. I was sent to pack. At the same time, the Knights discussed financial matters with the professor.

I got dressed in my black business suit. Knights are somewhat conservative, so having at least a few suits in your wardrobe is a must. I also put on a black shirt. I just want it, and that’s it.

I went downstairs wholly ready to travel, and McGonagall was already waiting for me on the doorstep. The father handed over a small bundle of money for exchange and ordered to buy the highest quality, functional and necessary.

“Take my hand, Mr. Knight,” McGonagall told me, and I followed the directions. “Get ready. It’s pretty frustrating the first time.”

It was as if I was twisted into minced meat and pulled forward by the navel. One moment, and I’m already standing on the sidewalk in London, holding the professor’s hand. I was nauseous, but compared to yesterday’s adventure, this is just annoying trouble.

The professor praised my restraint and headed for the door of the nearest establishment, the sign of which read: “The Leaky Cauldron.” I followed her and found myself in a gloomy gothic tavern with a not very pleasant contingent. People here looked like they were homeless. Just a little bit.

We silently walked through the Leaky Cauldron hall and out into the backyard of the establishment. The professor took her wand out of her sleeve and touched it to the bricks in the wall. They instantly began to disperse to the sides, opening the passage.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley,” the professor said without unnecessary emotions and led me forward.

Diagon Alley was really diagonal. Numerous Old English-style houses and shops looked oblique. People in all sorts of clothes walked everywhere. Sometimes, there were really unique characters that looked more like regular clients of the local mental hospital. Every now and then, owls flew overhead with letters or parcels in their paws, teenagers in robes scurried about. The adults were actively bargaining at the counters. In general, the place is impressive, contrasting when compared with the ordinary world.

The professor and I first went to Gringotts, a local bank. On the way, she briefly explained to me the local currency system. It was a majestic three-story building. Inside, it looked more gloomy and darker. Throughout the hall, high racks stretched in two rows, behind which small goblins in tailcoats were engaged in important matters – imitating work. We went to one of these racks, and I turned to the goblin.

“Good day, sir. I would like to exchange pounds for galleons. Will you provide a similar service?”

“Of course,” the goblin replied hoarsely, and I handed him a packet of pounds. The goblin quickly counted them and began pulling out stacks of gold Galleons. For one Galleon, he sold me a simple coin purse with an invisible extension. In the end, I got ninety-six Galleons and some change at my disposal.

Further purchases were completely uninteresting. We bought a school chest. I took a simple backpack with an invisible extension, into which I later put books for the first year, scales, a telescope, and so on.

Potion-making ingredients were bought in a kit and shipped to Hogwarts on their own. Delivery. The chest, by the way, was reduced by the professor and handed to me with instructions to lay it out on the floor at home – the spell will last exactly four hours.

The purchase of robes and dragon gloves went through a routine. In Madame Malkin’s store, two more guys were buying robes, but they were older. I was put on a stool, measured with enchanted instruments. About the desired fabric, I said that it would be nice if the material is non-marking, wear-resistant, and does not look like a bag of potatoes. Madam Malkin nodded and muttered something about the middle price range. Twenty minutes later, I became the owner of a set of three everyday robes, a winter raincoat, dragon-hide gloves, and other little things. Also, I had to take a school uniform in dark gray.

We went to buy a wand, of course, to Ollivander’s shop, whose family, according to the peeling gilded inscription above the entrance, began doing this even before our era.

Once in a slightly dusty, poorly lit room, I began to examine the shelves behind the counter, on which lay many small boxes.

“Hello!” Ollivander said suddenly. He emerged like a devil from a snuffbox from some dark corner. “Oh, mister…”

“Knight. Max Knight” I interrupted him, for he definitely recognized me.

“Yeah, let’s write it down,” he played along, coming closer. “As far as I understand, you came here for your first magic wand?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Great!” the wonderful gray-haired old man threw up his hands. “Which hand do you prefer to use?”

“Right, sir.”

After my words, different meters and rulers flew up to me through the air. They measured everything along and across and even the circumference of the head. After that, the master brought out a dozen boxes and began to suggest that I try to take one wand after another. The eighth came up. Dark in color. As soon as I took it in my hands, a bright bundle of multi-colored sparks fell from the tip of the magic wand.

“Perfectly! Amazing!” Ollivander took my wand and started packing it back into the box, and even put the sheath inside for it. “Flexible, biting, twelve and a half inches. Acacia and Dragon heartstring. Loyal and powerful, very powerful, and most importantly – suitable for any magic, but prefers something new and extraordinary, like its owner’s thinking. I am sure you have a great future, Mr. Knight.”

“Certainly, sir,” I nodded gratefully to Ollivander, paying according to the price list.

At this, our purchases ended, and the professor apparated with me to the doorstep. She handed over a train ticket, said goodbye, and disappeared in one direction she was guided by. It turned out somehow chaotic.