#2

The next day, Ted casually mentioned to Mammy, in a half-joking tone, that he had received a letter from a school called Hogwarts, claiming it taught magic. He even told her he'd already sent a reply.

Mammy chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Oh, little Ted, don't be silly. Someone's probably playing a prank on you."

Ted didn't argue. Instead, he continued his daily routine—performing in the streets, earning a steady stream of coins and small bills.

Waiting for a response felt like watching an old computer reboot—agonizingly slow, but requiring patience.

By now, Ted had become somewhat of a familiar sight at the bustling marketplace. Every day, a small crowd gathered to listen to his music. If they had spare change, they'd toss it into his open guitar case. He always acknowledged them with a grateful nod.

His voice had a raw, natural quality to it, something that resonated with passersby. One elderly woman, touched by his singing, once told him, "Your voice is kissed by an angel, dear. I hope it stays just as lovely when you grow up."

Ted adjusted his guitar, twisting the pegs to retune it. The instrument was old, and it often fell out of tune.

"Alright, it's getting late. This will be my last song—'Scarborough Fair.'" His fingers found the strings, and he began to sing softly:

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. Remember me to one who lives there, She once was a true love of mine~..."

The melody drifted through the marketplace, silencing the usual chatter. There was something timeless about the song, a piece of history woven into its lyrics. Even though he was just a child, the song seemed to fit him in an odd way.

Unbeknownst to Ted, a silver-tabby British Shorthair cat sat perched on a railing nearby, watching him with keen eyes. The cat's ears twitched, as if taking in every note.

Scarborough Fair had not only been a popular market in Muggle history, but centuries ago, it had also been a hub for England's wizarding world. Though now long past its magical heyday, echoes of its past remained, carried through music like this.

As Ted finished the final verse, the small audience erupted into applause. Some clapped, others hummed along, and a few more coins landed in his guitar case. He bowed in thanks before packing up his things.

Instead of heading straight back, he wandered toward a homeless man sitting at the edge of the marketplace. The man's hat held only a few scattered coins—it seemed like today hadn't been kind to him.

Ted crouched down, scratched the scruffy dog lying beside the man, and dropped a handful of pennies into the hat. "Wish us both good luck, sir."

The man nodded in thanks, murmuring something Ted didn't quite catch.

Just then, Ted noticed the silver-tabby cat still sitting on the railing. Without thinking, he reached out and gave it a few firm strokes, ruffling its fur.

The cat froze for a moment, then suddenly bolted, leaping off the railing and darting away with surprising speed.

Ted smirked. "Guess my cat-handling skills have gone downhill."

He slung his guitar case over his shoulder and started back toward the orphanage. He hadn't noticed that the tabby cat was now trailing him, watching his every move with sharp, calculating eyes.

As soon as he stepped through the orphanage's front door, he greeted Mammy as usual. But before he could say much more, there was a knock at the door.

Mammy raised an eyebrow and went to open it. Standing outside was a tall woman, dressed impeccably, her hair pulled into a tight bun. Her spectacles glinted in the evening light, and her expression was serious. She looked down at Ted with a scrutinizing gaze, taking in his thin frame and dark eyes.

"Mr. Ted Epifani?" she asked in a crisp, authoritative voice.

Ted hesitated. "Uh, yes, that's me."

The woman nodded. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Wait!" Mammy's voice wavered in surprise. "You mean a school that teaches actual magic? You're not just…"

She trailed off, her words of doubt never fully forming. There was something about the woman standing before her—Professor McGonagall's presence commanded respect. Years of authority and experience radiated from her, making it difficult to brush off what she was saying as mere nonsense.

Before Ted could respond, Professor McGonagall produced a wand from the folds of her robe and gave it a precise flick. She uttered something in a language Mammy didn't understand, and in an instant, her expression softened.

"Oh! Welcome, Professor McGonagall," Mammy said with unexpected warmth. "I do hope little Ted can attend your school. That would be wonderful. Please, make yourself comfortable—I'll go make some tea." With that, she hurried off to the kitchen.

Ted's eyes darted to the wand in McGonagall's hand. "Was that… magic?" He hesitated. "It won't have any bad effects on Mammy, right?"

Professor McGonagall's stern expression eased slightly, the corners of her mouth lifting just a fraction. "Rest assured, Mr. Epifani, this spell won't harm her. She will simply believe you have been accepted into an excellent school and feel at ease about it."

With another tap of her wand, she transformed the plate on the coffee table into a small sparrow. It flapped its wings, taking a quick lap around the room before returning to the table and morphing back into a plate.

Ted's face lit up with pure amazement. "Wow! That's incredible!"

Professor McGonagall nodded approvingly. "Mr. Epifani, have you noticed yourself doing things that others cannot?"

Ted instinctively glanced at his guitar. He doubted his singing abilities were what she meant.

"You mean… this?" He extended a hand toward the cup on the table.

The cup trembled slightly before lifting off the surface and floating toward him. He caught it effortlessly.

"Oh, very well done," Professor McGonagall remarked, now observing him with keen interest. Few young witches or wizards could control their magic before formal training. This boy had promise.

"Now then," she continued, "come with me. We have supplies to purchase."

"Wait, Professor, I should let Mammy know."

Professor McGonagall waved a hand dismissively. "That won't be necessary. Muggles—ordinary people—cannot fully grasp our world. She will simply believe you were accepted into a prestigious boarding school."

Ted hesitated. "Should I bring my things?"

"No need. You'll return here after our trip, and term doesn't begin for another two months."

—

Outside, as they walked, Ted admitted, "Uh… Professor McGonagall, I don't have much money. I only have twenty-two pounds and sixteen pence. Is that enough?"

Professor McGonagall's lips twitched slightly. "Mr. Epifani, I do not believe that will be a concern."

"You can just call me Ted."

"Very well, Ted."

She explained that Hogwarts provided a financial assistance program for students in need. A small, interest-free loan would cover his school essentials, repayable only after graduation.

Ted's mind whirled. Wait—wasn't the last student who got a school loan named Tom? That thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Professor McGonagall led him into a narrow alleyway, her expression subtly amused. "Ted, to save time, we'll be using magic to travel. It may feel a bit uncomfortable, so brace yourself."

"Alright," he agreed, though he wasn't quite sure what to expect.

"Take my hand… Apparate!"

The world spun. It felt like being sucked through a tiny tube, his entire body compressed, twisted, and then suddenly released. His feet hit solid ground, but his stomach lurched, and he wobbled unsteadily. It took a few seconds before the nausea passed.

Professor McGonagall remained composed, watching him closely. "You handled that well," she said with mild approval.

Ted wasn't so sure. He had serious doubts that this wasn't some form of magical hazing.

Professor McGonagall certainly seemed to enjoy letting him experience the 'wonders' of magic firsthand. Maybe this was some kind of subtle payback. Ted had a feeling that this older cat-lady had a mischievous streak.

'She seems to be having fun for a moment there, did she do this on purpose? I didn't know Prof. McGonagall could be so sadistic, I'll remember this, Professor...'

Just then, a system chime rang inside his head,

______________________________

[Ding ~ Task Triggered:]

[You can do it again and again, pet her! (green)]

What's wrong with petting a cat? Seriously, what's the harm?

Target: Pet Professor McGonagall in her Animagus form again.

Reward: 250 experience, +Level 1 Transfiguration.

______________________________

'Damn, that's kind of risky in doing... But totally worth the reward! Just gotta wait for the right moment...'

Before he could dwell on it more, she gestured ahead. "We've arrived. This is the Leaky Cauldron, on Charing Cross Road."

Ted blinked. The building before him was unimpressive, a worn-looking pub squeezed between a large bookstore and a record shop. A creaky wooden sign swung above the entrance, displaying an image of a cauldron with a crack down its side. Despite its odd placement, Muggles passing by didn't seem to notice it at all.

Professor McGonagall led him inside. The interior was dimly lit, the flickering glow of oil lamps casting long shadows. Wooden tables, some round, some long, were scattered around, occupied by oddly dressed witches and wizards murmuring over drinks. The air smelled of old wood, ale, and something vaguely herbal.

Several patrons greeted McGonagall with nods or small waves. Behind the counter, a bald man polished a glass. His face lit up when he spotted her.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall! Long time no see. Picking up this year's first-years?"

"Yes, Tom," she confirmed. "I'm taking Ted here to Diagon Alley for his school supplies."

"Oh, wonderful!" Tom grinned. "My granddaughter's starting this year, too."

After exchanging pleasantries, McGonagall led Ted out the back door into what seemed to be a dead end, save for a weathered brick wall and a few empty barrels.

"Now, watch closely," she instructed. "To open the entrance, use your wand to tap the third brick from the left above the dustbin, then count two bricks down. Like so—"

She tapped the wall in a precise rhythm.

With a low rumble, the bricks shifted, folding backward like puzzle pieces to reveal an archway leading into a bustling street lined with shops. Wizards and witches in robes wandered between storefronts, owls hooted from perches, and the scent of parchment, potions, and something sweet filled the air.

Ted's eyes widened.

Professor McGonagall gave him a knowing glance. "Welcome to Diagon Alley."