"Gryffindor!" Professor McGonagall answered without a moment's hesitation. "I see remarkable courage in him. As Head of Gryffindor, of course I hope he'll be sorted into my House."
"I agree," Dumbledore nodded, the two Gryffindors finding common ground in their hopes.
"But…" he continued, a twinkle in his eye, "he might also be suited for Ravenclaw. The composure he showed when facing the Runespoor—that's classic Ravenclaw material."
"True!" McGonagall nodded reflexively. "I suppose for the Sorting Hat, placing Wyzett won't be an easy task."
"A Hatstall!" Dumbledore said with amusement, stroking his beard. "If I recall, the Sorting Hat spent quite some time debating between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for you as well."
"Not long now—less than two months until term starts!" McGonagall's tone brimmed with anticipation. "I remember Harry Potter… He'll be starting this year, won't he?"
"Almost," Dumbledore replied, gathering up his papers. "Harry's birthday is at the end of July. I'll arrange for someone to deliver his letter then."
"Time flies," McGonagall sighed. "Have you found a suitable candidate for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post?"
"That's never an easy job!" Dumbledore gave a soft sigh. "Fortunately… Quirinus has sent me a transfer request."
"A transfer?" McGonagall adjusted her glasses. "He was teaching Muggle Studies. Switching to Defense Against the Dark Arts… won't that be a bit much for him?"
"If he's willing to try, we ought to give him the chance." Dumbledore picked up his quill and scribbled a note on the file. "I'll interview him in a day or two."
After being truly accepted by the Lovegood family, Wyzett learned their financial situation was even tighter than he'd imagined.
Xenophilius could barely scrape by with the sales from The Quibbler—just enough to keep himself and Luna afloat.
With Wyzett's arrival, the strain only grew. Xenophilius rummaged through drawers and cupboards, but could only find a handful of Sickles and Knuts.
Luckily, Hogwarts provided a scholarship—thirty Galleons for first-years to buy their school supplies.
Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts—the currency of the wizarding world. If you wanted to buy anything magical, you needed wizarding money.
At dawn, with the sun just peeking over the horizon, Wyzett was already up and ready, quietly waiting downstairs.
A street for wizards alone—just the thought of it made his heart race.
Luna was up as well, clutching a garden gnome sculpture she'd made—a homemade piggy bank.
"Take this with you! I know you might not have enough… to buy everything on the list."
Her silvery eyes met his, and for a moment, Wyzett was at a loss for words.
Having lost her mother so young, Luna was wise beyond her years—far more so than Xenophilius realized.
"I applied for a scholarship. I'll get the money today, once we reach Diagon Alley." Wyzett shook his head gently. "I heard Diagon Alley is amazing. Is there anything you want as a gift?"
"I don't need anything." Luna smiled softly, shaking her head as well.
Knock, knock, knock!
A thunderous series of knocks shattered the morning quiet.
Standing outside was a giant, well over three meters tall, clad in a massive moleskin overcoat stitched with countless pockets.
His hair and beard were wild and tangled, and his beetle-black eyes twinkled with warmth.
"You're Wyzett, aren't you?" The giant's beard quivered as he spoke, his voice friendly and booming.
"I'm Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. I'll be taking you to Diagon Alley today… It should've said so in your letter."
Wyzett nodded. "Hello, Mr. Hagrid. I didn't expect you so early."
"Mr. Hagrid!" Luna appeared beside Wyzett, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Come in, please!"
This was the wizarding world, after all. As Hagrid approached, the two-meter-high doorframe stretched and widened, growing just large enough to let him pass through with ease.
"Would you like a biscuit?" Luna offered a tin of treats with practiced cheer. "I'll go wake Dad—"
"No need! No need!" Hagrid waved his huge hands, nearly knocking Luna over with the breeze. "I'm just here to take Mr. Wyzett to Diagon Alley."
"First-years have loads to buy, so we'd best get moving… Is there a Floo Network here?"
"No." Luna shook her head. "Dad said we never really need it, so he didn't have the Ministry set one up."
The real reason, of course, was the price—Xenophilius simply couldn't afford it.
"Well, never mind!" Hagrid shrugged. "Good thing I came early—we've still got time to use another way."
"Take the biscuits, then." Luna stuffed the tin into Wyzett's arms. "You haven't had breakfast yet."
With the biscuits in hand, Hagrid led Wyzett down a winding dirt path.
Wyzett noticed Hagrid clutching a pink umbrella, his arm raised high. He ventured, "Are we… waiting for a bus?"
"Exactly! That's why I didn't eat the biscuits. You shouldn't either—"
Before Hagrid could finish, a triple-decker, violently purple bus materialized out of thin air, shuddering to a halt right in front of them.
The conductor was a young man in a garish purple uniform, his ears sticking out at improbable angles.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. I'm your conductor, Stan Shunpike… Stick out your wand hand, step aboard, and we'll take you anywhere you need to go."
Despite his youth, Stan wore an expression of utter boredom, reciting his lines as if he'd long since lost faith in the future.
Just like at Luna's house, the narrow bus door instantly expanded, wide enough for Hagrid to squeeze inside.
Wyzett felt as though he'd stepped into an ancient, dimly lit dormitory. There were no seats or windows—just six brass beds, illuminated by stubby candles on either side.
Stan Shunpike asked in a flat monotone, "Where to?"
"Diagon Alley, London." Hagrid found a bed and sat down. The frame groaned in protest, sounding ready to collapse.
"That'll be thirty-four Sickles, or two Galleons if you prefer." Stan finally perked up a little, holding out his hand.
Wizarding currency was notoriously confusing—one Galleon equaled seventeen Sickles, or four hundred ninety-three Knuts. As conductor, Stan had done the math in a flash.
Hagrid reached into one of his many pockets, pulled out two gold coins, and handed them over.
Wyzett took the bed across from Hagrid. "I'll pay you back for the fare once we get to Diagon Alley."
Hagrid covered his mouth, his voice muffled. "Remember to grab the rail—this bus is a wild ride. We'll talk more when we get off. It's about to—"
Before he could finish, the Knight Bus shot forward like a cannonball.
Wyzett grabbed the nearest rail, barely bracing himself against the lurching inertia.
Hagrid let out a strangled gag, his beetle-bright eyes squeezed shut—clearly, he was no fan of magical travel.
Wyzett, on the other hand, felt a surge of curiosity. He leaned forward, peering through the grimy windshield, eager for his first glimpse of the magical world speeding by.
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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