Hogwarts : I am Dark Lord

"It's okay if you don't fully understand it now. Once you start your studies at Hogwarts, you'll have plenty of time to figure things out." 

Professor McGonagall, noticing Dylan's prolonged silence, assumed he was struggling to grasp the concept and gently reassured him. 

"Honestly, the question you just asked touches on the very foundations of magic. Many witches and wizards graduate without ever considering these things." 

A slight smile appeared on her lips, softening the otherwise stern lines of her face. 

"For a young wizard like you, to have such insight the very first time you encounter magic is truly impressive. If you ever have any questions about Transfiguration after you start school, feel free to come find me. I'd be more than happy to discuss it with you." 

"Really, Professor?" Dylan's eyes lit up. 

"Of course." Professor McGonagall nodded. 

Nice! A new connection secured! 

Dylan actually had a ton of questions about Transfiguration. 

Of course, those thoughts weren't exactly the kind of thing a Muggle-born kid with no exposure to the wizarding world should be asking just yet. 

He had been worried about whether asking too many questions after starting school would be inappropriate. But now that Professor McGonagall had invited him to, it was perfect. 

Seeing Dylan's enthusiasm, McGonagall was pleased as well. 

Such a bright young wizard—so long as he stayed on the right path, he might even have a future teaching at Hogwarts. 

With that thought, she stood up. "Alright, make sure to take your reply letter. It's time for us to go." 

After some hesitation, Mr. and Mrs. Hawkwood finally agreed to let Dylan attend Hogwarts. 

"Honey, this is our savings. I imagine being a wizard must be expensive, right? Take all of it." Dylan's mother handed him a backpack. 

"Thanks, Mom. I'll study hard and take care of you when you're older," Dylan promised sincerely. 

Maeve was touched. "Alright, hurry along now. Don't keep the professor waiting." 

Dylan turned to McGonagall. "Professor, are we heading to Diagon Alley now?" 

"Yes. We can get there by Apparition or Floo Powder. But since we're in a rather remote area with no fireplaces nearby, Floo Powder isn't an option." 

She took Dylan's hand. 

"Hold on tight to me, no matter what." 

The moment she finished speaking, Dylan suddenly felt his whole body go light. Instinctively, he tightened his grip on McGonagall's hand. 

The space around them twisted violently. 

A second later, the odd sensation subsided, and the sound of chattering voices filled the air. 

At the same time, a wave of nausea hit him, rising straight to his throat. Reflexively, he swallowed—only to make it worse. 

"Urgh!" 

McGonagall, seemingly used to this reaction, casually cast a spell to ease his discomfort. 

"This is a normal response to your first time Apparating. Just get used to it, don't fight it." 

She smiled. "We're here." 

After a moment to steady himself, Dylan opened his eyes. 

In front of him stood a small, shabby-looking pub, sandwiched between two neat and modern buildings. It looked completely out of place. 

"The Leaky Cauldron. It's right here in London, but only wizards can see it. Stay close to me." 

McGonagall moved to let go of his hand, but Dylan was still holding on tight. 

She hesitated, then simply led him inside. 

"Professor McGonagall! Haven't seen you in a while. Care for a drink?" 

The bartender, having just seated another patron, spotted her and eagerly wiped a glass with a rag that looked anything but clean. 

"Not particularly, and I have a student with me." McGonagall glanced at the bartender before signaling for Dylan to follow. 

They passed the bar and stepped into a small enclosed courtyard. 

Dylan couldn't help but ask, "Professor, aren't there cleaning spells?" 

"Hmm? Of course, there are." 

"Then why is this place so filthy? Why doesn't the owner just use a spell instead of wiping glasses with that nasty rag?" 

McGonagall explained, "Knowing a spell and choosing to use it are two different things. Many wizards simply don't care about such things... though I, of course, am an exception." 

"That's why I never drink here. There's a little private bar I prefer—it's much cleaner… Not that it matters for you, young man. Underage wizards aren't allowed to drink." 

"I understand, Professor." Dylan grinned. 

McGonagall drew her wand again. "Pay attention. You won't be able to learn Apparition until you turn seventeen, which means you'll have to use this route to get to Diagon Alley for now." 

She pointed with her wand. "Count three bricks up from the trash bin, then two across. Tap it three times with your wand." 

As soon as she finished, the bricks trembled and slid aside, forming an arched doorway. 

Beyond it lay a bustling marketplace. 

Dylan took it all in. 

At first glance, Diagon Alley wasn't all that different from an ordinary market, except that the people walking about were all wizards. And every shop had a distinctly old-fashioned look. 

"We need to visit Gringotts first to exchange the money in your backpack for wizarding currency." 

McGonagall glanced at the stuffed bag. "Your parents must love you very much." 

"They do. And I love them too," Dylan replied with a smile. 

McGonagall's eyes softened. "Come along." 

She led him to the entrance of Gringotts. 

Dylan immediately noticed the warning inscribed on the second set of doors: 

**Enter, stranger, but take heed…** 

"Pretty intimidating," he muttered, scanning the surroundings. 

They stepped inside a grand, marble-floored hall. 

Dozens of goblins sat behind long counters, scribbling away in enormous ledgers. 

"Ah, Professor McGonagall! What can I do for you today?" 

One of the goblins beamed as soon as she walked in. 

"Just exchanging some Galleons." 

"Currency exchange?" At the mention of money, the goblin's smile vanished. "Well then, I won't waste any more time." 

As he walked away, McGonagall turned to Dylan. "Pay them no mind." 

Dylan nodded. "I get it, Professor. All they care about is money—just like my dad's manager." 

McGonagall blinked, then patted his head. 

The exchange process was smooth. 

None of the goblins spared Dylan a second glance—they probably assumed anyone exchanging Muggle money was Muggle-born and therefore beneath their notice. 

Even though goblins had lost to wizards in history, that didn't mean they respected Muggle-borns. 

"Wait a second… So there's no limit to exchanging pounds for Galleons?" Dylan narrowed his eyes as he held the freshly exchanged wizarding money. 

Wizard currency was undeniably valuable. But Muggle money? Not so much… 

"A 1:5 exchange rate? I could make a killing just by investing in a few stocks." 

Either the goblins looked down on Muggle money so much that they never bothered evaluating its true worth… 

Or they were just blinded by greed. 

Or they simply had no clue how economics worked. 

"One day," Dylan thought, "I might not be able to short Gringotts itself, but at the very least, these uneducated goblins are going to learn just how fascinating economics can be." 

(End of Chapter)